THE
LADY'S MUSEUM.

S I do not fet out with great promifes
to the public of the wit, humour, and
morality, which this pamphlet is to
contain, so I expeſt no reproaches to
fall on me, if I ſhould happen to fail in any, or all
of theſe articles.

My readers may depend upon it, I will always
be as witty as I can, as humorous as I can, as
moral as I can, and upon the whole as entertaining
as I can. However, as I have but too much reaſon
to diſtruſt my own powers of pleafing, I ſhall uſher
in my pamphlet with the performance of a lady,
who poſſibly would never have ſuffered it to ap-
pear in print, if this opportunity had not offered.

If her ſprightly paper meets with encourage-
ment enough to diſpel the diffidence natural to a
young writer, ſhe will be prevailed upon, I hope, to
continue it in this Muſeum; I ſhall therefore, with-
out any farther preface, preſent it to my readers.

NUMB. I.

B

The

2

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

The TRIFLER.

[NUMBER I.]

CAST your eyes upon paper, madam; there you may look innocently, faid a polite old gentleman of my acquaintance to me, one day, in the words of a wit to a fine lady. A compliment is no unpleasing way of conveying advice to a young woman, and when that advice may be so construed, as to become perfectly agreeable to her own inclinations, it is certain to be well received, and quickly complied with. It is indeed very clear to me, that my friend in this borrowed admonition recommended reading to eyes which he probably thought were too intent upon pleasing; but I, with a small deviation from the sense, applied it, to what is I freely own my predominant passion; and therefore resolved to write, still purfuing the fame darling end, though by different means.

So frankly to acknowledge the desire of pleasing to be my predominant passion, is in other words, to confess myself, one of that ridiculous species of beings, called a coquet.---This will be faid by some, and thought by others, for all do not say what they think on such occasions.

Yet to that laudable principle, in women miftaken for coquetry, we owe the thunder of eloquence in the fenate, as well as the glitter of drefs in the draw-

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

drawing-room. An animated speech, and a well-
chosen silk, are equally the effects of a desire to
pleafe, both in the patriot and the beauty: and if
the one is ever observed to be silent, and the other
without ornaments, it is because he is perfuaded,
that silence is most expreſſive; and ſhe, that ne-
gligence is most becoming.

But for this active principle, the ſtateſman would
be no politician, and the general no warrior.
The desire of fame, or the desire of pleafing,
which, in my opinion, are ſynonimous terms, pro-
duces application in one and courage in the other.
It is the poet's infpiration, the patriot's zeal, the
courtier's loyalty, and the orator's eloquence. All
are coquets, if that be coquetry, and thofe grave
perſonages and the fine lady are alike liable to be
charged with it.

But it will be objected, that the diſtinguifhing
characteriſc of a coquet is to uſe her powers of
pleafing to the ungenerous purpose of giving pain;
the fame may be ſaid of each of the others. All
human excellence, as well as human happineſs, is
comparative. We are admired but in proportion
as we excel others, and whoever excels is ſure to
give pain, to his inferiors in merit, either from
envy or emulation; paſſions which produce ſen-
fations nearly alike, although their conſequences
are very different.

I hope I have now fully proved, that I, tho'
a woman, young, ſingle, gay, and ambitious of
pleafing, deferve not the odious appellation of
coquet; I ſay, I hope, I have proved it, for I am

B 2

but

4 THE LADY's MUSEUM.

but eighteen, and not used to be contradicted in
an argument.

“ If seldom your opinions err;
“ Your eyes are always in the right,”

fays the gallant Prior. Hence it follows that we always triumph in a dispute, though I cannot help allowing, that we often triumph without victory.

Universally as I could wish to please in this
paper, yet I shall be contented, if it finds only a
favourable acceptance with my own sex, to whose
amusement it is chiefly designed to contribute.

To introduce it to them under the denomination
of a trifle may be thought an affront to their un-
derstandings. But in the choice of my title, I re-
membered the fable of the mountain that brought
forth a mouſe. That I have promised little is my
security from censure; if I give more it will be
my best claim to praise. I should indeed have
thought some apology neceſsary for an undertaking
of this kind, had I not been perſuaded, it was a
mighty easy one, from its being so frequently at-
tempted, and by perſons too of my own ſex.

The ſubjects I propoſe to treat of will be ſuch as
reading and obſervation ſhall furniſh me with; for,
with a ſtrong paſſion for intellectual pleaſures, I
have likewife a taſte for many of the ſashionable
amuſements, and in the diſpoſition of my time, I
have contrived to gratify both theſe inclinations;
one I thought too laudable to be reſtrained, the
other I found too pleaſing to be wholly ſubdued.

I am

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

I am already aware that I have talked too much
of myself: it is indeed a subject one cannot easily
quit, and perhaps I am not sorry, that in introduc-
tory papers of this sort, the writers have generally
given some account of themselves. Every one
knows that long custom has the force of a law;
and, in obedience to this, I shall fill up my first
paper with a short history of myself.

I am the daughter of a gentleman remarkable
only in this, that during the course of a pretty
long life, he never lost a friend, or made an ene-
my. From which singular circumstance I leave
the reader to collect his character. My mother
was generally allowed to be a well bred-woman,
and an excellent economist. In her youth she was
extremely indulged by her parents, who, on ac-
count of a flight disorder in her eyes, would not
suffer her to use her needle, or look into a book,
except on Sundays or holidays, when she was per-
mitted to read two or three verses of a chapter in
the Bible.

My mother therefore grew up, not only without
any taste, but with a high contempt for reading;
and those of her female acquaintance who had made
any proficiency that way were sure to be diffin-
guished by her, with the opprobrious term of be-
ing *book-learned*, which my mother always pro-
nounced with a look and accent of ineffable scorn.

My fitter, who is a year younger than myself,
so entirely engrossed her affection, that I was
wholly neglected by her. My fondness for reading,
which I discovered very early, encreased her diflike
of me. As she seldom chose to have me in her fight,

I had

B 3

6 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

I had opportunities sufficient to indulge myself in
this favourite amusement, for I had taken possession
of all the books my brother left behind him,
when he went to the university; but having great
sensibility of soul, I was so affected with my mother's
partial fondness for my fister, and neglect of
me, that young as I then was, I often paft whole
nights in tears, lamenting my misfortune.

But this sensibility entirely ruined me with my
mother; for, being one day excessively shocked at
some new instance of her partiality, I went up
fobbing to the nurfery, and had recourse to a book
for my relief. It happened to be Æsop's Fables :
I opened it at the following one, which striking my
imagination, then full of the preference given by
my mother to my fiter, I followed a sudden impulse,
and sent it to my mother, defiring she would
be pleased to read it; for I did not doubt but
she would make a proper application of it.

" An ape had twins : she doated upon one of
" them, and did not much care for the other. She
" took a sudden fright one day, and in a hurry
" whips up her darling under her arm, and took
" no heed of the other, which therefore leaped
" atrimide upon her shoulders. In this hafte down
" she comes, and beats out her favourite's brains
" upon a stone, while that which she had on her
" back came off safe and found."

My mother, surprised at the novelty of the request,
read the fable, and immediately afterwards
came up to the nurfery in great wrath, and corrected
me severely, for calling her an ape, prophe-
tically declaring that a girl who at nine years old

could

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

could be so wicked, as to compare her mother to
an ape, would never come to good.

Every one who came to the house was told the
horrid crime I had been guilty of, the servants
held me in the utmost detestation for comparing
my mother to an ape, never mentioning it, with-
out lifted up hands and eyes, in abhorrence of such
early undutifulness.

My father, who had loved me with great ten-
derness, was dead when this incident happened;
and the most effectual way of paying court to my
mamma being to care for my sister, and take no no-
tice of me, I met with very few friends, either at
home or abroad.

In this state of humiliation and disgrace my bro-
ther found me, at his return from the university.
When my sister and I were presented to him, my
mother did not fail to relate the crime for which I
had suffered so much, shewing him the book, which
she had kept carefully ever after, with the leaf
doubled down, at the fatal fable, declaring she
thought herself very unhappy in having given birth
to a child who was likely to prove so great an af-
fliction to her; " for may not every thing that is
" bad, said she, be expected from a girl who at
" her years could compare her mother to an ape?"

My brother read the fable, and my mother leav-
ing the room to give some necessary orders, he ran
eagerly to me, snatched me up in his arms, and
gave me a hundred kijfs. My little heart was so
feminously affected with a tenderheart to which I had
not been accustomed, that I burst into tears.

B 4

My

## 8 THE LADY's MUSEUM.

My mother at her return found me sobbing,
with the violence of my emotions, and did not
doubt but my brother had been chiding me. He
told her gravely, that since I was so fond of read-
ing, he would regulate my studies himself, and
take care I should read no books which might
teach me to be undutiful.

To this dear brother I owe the advantage of a
right education, which I had like to have misled.
After my mother's death he took me entirely under
his own care. My sister chose to refide with an
aunt, whose heir she expects to be; and while she
is a slave to the caprices of an old woman, I have
the pleasure of being the mistrels of a well-ordered
family, for I keep my brother's house; and by en-
deavouring to make him an useful as well as agree-
able companion, enjoy the sweet satisfaction of
flewing every day my gratitude for obligations it
can never be in my power to return.

OF

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

9

OF THE

STUDIES proper for WOMEN.

Translated from the French.

TO prohibit women entirely from learning is treating them with the same indignity that Mahomet did, who, to render them voluptuous, denied them souls; and indeed the greatest part of women act as if they had really adopted a tenet so injurious to the sex, and appear to set no value upon that lively imagination, that spightly wit which makes them more admired than beauty itself.

When we consider the happy talents which women in general possess, and how successfully some have cultivated them, we cannot without indignation observe the little esteem they have for the endowments of their minds which it is so easy for them to improve. They are, as Montaigne says, flowers of quick growth, and by the delicacy of their conception, catch readily and without trouble the relation of things to each other. It is a melancholy consideration that the most precious gifts of nature should be trifled, or obscured by a shameful neglect.

The charms of their persons, how powerful forever, may attract, but cannot fix us; something more

10 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

more than beauty is necessary to rivet the lover's
chain. By often beholding a beautiful face, the
impression it first made on us soon wears away.
When the woman whose person we admire is incapable
of pleasing us by her conversation, languor
and fatiety, soon triumph over the taste we had
for her charms: hence arises the inconstancy with
which we are so often reproached; it is that barren-
ness of ideas which we find in women that renders
men unfaithful.

The ladies may judge of the difference there is
among them, by that which they themselves make
between a fool who teases them with his impertinence,
and a man of letters who entertains them
agreeably; a very little labour would equal them
to the last, and perhaps give them the advantage.
This is a kind of victory which we wish to yield
them. We would, without envy, see them dividing
with us a good, whose value is always
greater than the labour by which it is acquired.

The more they shall enlarge their notions, the
more subjects of conversation will be found between
them and us, and the more sprightly and
affecting will that conversation be. How many
delicate sentiments, how many nice sensibilities
are lost by not being communicable, and in which
we should feel an increase of satisfaction could we
meet with women dispirited to take them !

But what are the studies to which women may
with propriety apply themselves? This question I
take upon myself to answer; and I intreat the ladies
to pardon me, if among all the sciences which
exercise the wonderful activity of the human mind,

I

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

II

I pronounce that only some are fit to be cultivated by them. I would particularly recommend to them to avoid all abstract learning, all thorny researches, which may blunt the finer edge of their wit, and change the delicacy in which they excel into pedantic coarseness.

If their sex has produced Daciers* and Chatelets†, these are examples rarely found, and fitter to be admired than imitated: for who would wish to see assemblies made up of doctors in petticoats, who will regale us with Greek and the systems of Leibnitz. The learning proper for women is such as best suits the soft elegance of their form, such as may add to their natural beauties, and qualify them for the several duties of life. There is nothing more dissuasive than those female theologians, who, adopting all the animosity of the party they have thought fit to join, assemble ridiculous fynods in their houses, and form extravagant sects. A Bourignon‡ a virgin of Venice §, a madame

* Anne le Fevre, wife of monfieur Dacier. She translated Florus, Terence, and Homer, and added very learned notes of her own.

† Gabriella Emilia de Bréteuil, marchioneſs du Châtelet. She explained Leibnitz, translated Newton, and commented upon him. We have philosophical institutions of hers, which prove the force of her wonderful genius to all who have learning enough to render them capable of judging of it.

‡ Antoinette Bourignon, a celebrated vifionary, who purchased the island of Nordstrand, to establish a sect of myſticks there. She composed nineteen large volumes, and wafted a very considerable fortune by her attempts to propagate her ex-travagant dreams.

§ The virgin of Venice, an old woman, who, ſupported by Poſtel, called herſelf the Meſſiah of women.

Guyon,

12 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

Guyon *, are characters more detestable than libertines, like Ninon †.

It is in such parts of learning only as afford the
highest improvement that we invite women to
share with us. All that may awaken curiosity, and
lend graces to the imagination, suits them still better than us. This is a vast field where we may
together exercise the mind; and here they may
even excel us without mortifying our pride.

History and natural philosophy are alone sufficient to furnish women with an agreeable kind of study. The latter, in a series of useful observations and interesting experiments, offers a spectacle well worthy the consideration of a reasonable being. But in vain does nature present her miracles to the generality of women, who have no attention but to trifles: she is dumb to those who know not how to interrogate her.

Yet surely it requires but a small degree of attention to be struck with that wonderful harmony which reigns throughout the universe, and to be ambitious of investigating its secret springs. This is a large volume which is open to all; here a pair of beautiful eyes may employ themselves without being fatigued. This amiable study will banish languor from the sober amusements of the country, and repair that waste of intellect which is caused by the diffusions of the town. Women cannot

* Madame Guyon, a lady of great beauty and fortune, who in the reign of Louis XIV. preached the doctrine of pure love, and renewed the extravagances of quietism.

† Ninon Lenclos, a woman of gallantry in the last age.

be

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

be too much excited to raise their eyes to objects
like these, which they but too often debase to such
as are unworthy of them.

The sex is more capable of attention than we
imagine: what they chiefly want is a well directed
application. There is scarcely a young girl who
has not read with eagerness a great number of idle
romances, and puerile tales, sufficient to corrupt
her imagination and cloud her understanding. If
she had devoted the same time to the study of hi-
story, she would in those varied scenes which the
world offers to view, have found facts more inte-
resting, and instruction which only truth can
give.

Those striking pictures, that are displayed in
the annals of the human race, are highly proper to
direct the judgment, and form the heart. Women
have at all times had so great a share in events, and
have acted so many different parts, that they may
with reason consider our archives as their own:
now, there are many of them who have written me-
moirs of the several events of which they had been
eye-witnesses. Mademoiselle de Montpenier, Mad-
dame de Némours, Madame de Motteville, are of
this number. Chriftina of Pisan, daughter to the
astronomer, patronized by the Emperor Charles
the fifth, has given us the life of that prince; and
long before her, the princess Anna Comnenus
wrote the history of her own times. We call upon
the ladies to afford their rights, and from the study of
history to extract useful lessons for the conduct of
life.

This

14 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

This study, alike pleasing and instructive, will naturally lead to that of the fine arts, which it is fit the ladies should have a less superficial knowledge of. The arts are in themselves too amiable to need any recommendation to the sex: all the objects they offer to their view have some analogy with women, and are like them adorned with the brightest colours. The mind is agreeably soothed by those images which poetry, painting, and music trace out to it, especially if they are found to agree with purity of manners. It was these three charming arts, which, in the last reign, rendered Mademoiselle Chéron so celebrated; a lady in whom the talents of Sappho, of M..., and of Rosalba were united.

To familiarize ourselves with the arts is in some degree to create a new sense. So agreeably have they imitated nature, nay, so often have they embellished it, that whoever cultivates them, will in them always find a fruitful source of new pleasures. We ought to provide againft the encroachments of languor and weariness by this addition to our natural riches; and surely when we may so easily transfer to ourselves the possession of that multitude of pleasing ideas which they have created, it would be the highest stupidity to neglect such an advantage.

There is no reason to fear that the ladies, by applying themselves to these studies, will throw a shade over the natural graces of their wit. No; on the contrary, those graces will be placed in a more conspicuous point of view: what can equal the pleasure we receive from the conversation of a woman who is

more

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

more solicitous to adorn her mind than her person ?
In the company of such women there can be no
fatiety; every thing becomes interesting, and has a
secret charm which only they can give. The de-
lightful art of faying the most ingenious things
with a graceful simplicity is peculiar to them : it
is they who call forth the powers of wit in men,
and communicate to them that easy elegance which
is never to be acquired in the closet.

But what prefervative is there againft wearineſs
and difguſt in the ſociety of women of weak and
unimproved understanding ? In vain do they en-
deavour to fill the void of their converſation with
inſipid gaiety: they ſoon exhauß the barren funds
of fashionable trifles, the news of the day, and
hackneyed compliments; they are at length obliged
to have recourse to ſcandal, and it is well if they
ſtop there : a commerce in which there is nothing
ſolid muſt be either mean or criminal.

There is but one way to make it more varied
and more interesting. If ladies of the first
rank would condescend to form their tafte upon
our best authors, and collect ideas from their use-
ful writings, converſation would take another caſt:
their acknowledged merit would banish that ſwarm
of noisy impertinents who flutter about them, and
who endeavour to render them as contemptible
as themselves: men of fenſe and learning would
then frequent their affemblies, and form a circle
more worthy of the name of good company.

In this new circle gaiety would not be banilhed,
but refined by delicacy and wit. Merit is not au-
ſtere in its nature; there is a calm and uniform
chear-

16 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

chearfulneſs that runs through the converſation
of perſons of real understanding, which is far pre-
ferable to the noify mirth of ignorance and folly.
Thoſe Societies formed by the Sevignes, the Fayetts,
the Sablières, with the Vivonnes, the La Fares, and
Rochefoucaults, were ſurely more pleafing than
the affembliés of our days. Among them learn-
ing was not pedantic, nor wifdom ſevere; and ſub-
jects of the higheſt importance were treated with
all the ſprightlineſs of wit.

The ladies muſt allow me once more to repeat
to them that the only means of charming, and of
charming long, is to improve their minds; good
ſenſe gives beauties which are not ſubjeſt to fade
like the lillies and roſes of their cheeks, but will
prolong the power of an agreeable woman to the
autumn of her life*. If the ſex would not have
their influence confined to the ſhort triumph of a
day, they muſt endeavour to improve their natural
talents by ſtudy, and the converſation of men of
letters. Neglect will not then ſteal upon them in
proportion as their bloom decays; but they will
unite in themſelves all the advantages of both
ſexes.

We live no longer in an age when prejudice
condemned women as well as the nobility, to a
ſhameful ignorance. The ridicule with which pe-

* It was by her wit that the Dutchefs of Valentinois charm-
ed three ſucceſſive monarchs, and preferved her influence to
an extreme old age. It was to their wit that Madame de
Vérac, Madam Tencin, and ſeveral other ladies owed their
power of charming when their youth was fled. The graces
of a fine understanding, improved by ſtudy, never grow old.

dan.

18 THE LADY's MUSEUM.

merit but beauty, and brought with her to the
house of a man whose fortune was already ruined
nothing but a taste for luxury and expence, with-
out the means of gratifying it.

Harriot, the eldest daughter of this couple, was,
like her mother, a beauty, and upon that account,
as well as the conformity of her temper and incli-
nations to hers, engrossed all her affection.

Sophia she affected to despise, because she wanted
in an equal degree those personal attractions, which in
her opinion constituted the whole of female perfec-
tion. Meer common judges however allowed her
person to be agreeable; people of discernment and
taste pronounced her something more. The striking
sensibility of her countenance, the soft elegance of
her shape and motion, a melodious voice in speaking,
whose varied accents enforced the sensible things
she always said, were beauties not capable of striking
vulgar minds, and which were sure to be
eclipsed by the dazzling luster of her fitter's com-
plexion, and the fire of two bright eyes, whose
motions were as quick and unfettled as her
thoughts.

While Harriot was receiving the improvement
of a polite education, Sophia was left to form her-
felf as well as she could; happily for her a just
taste and solid judgment supplied the place of
teachers, precept, and example. The hours that
Harriot waited in drefs, company, and gay amufe-
ments, were by Sophia devoted to reading.

A good old gentleman, who was nearly related
to her father, perceiving this taste in her, encouraged

THE LADY'S MUSEUM. 19

raged it by his praisęs, and furnished her with the means of gratifying it, by constantly supplying her with such books as were best calculated to improve her morals and understanding. His admiration encreasing in proportion as he had opportunities of observing her merit, he undertook to teach her the French and Italian languages, in which she soon made a surprising progress; and by the time she had reached her fifteenth year, she had read all the best authors in them, as well as in her own.

By this unwearied application to reading, her mind became a beautiful store-house of ideas: hence she derived the power and the habit of constant reflection, which at once enlarged her understanding, and confirmed her in the principles of piety and virtue.

As she grew older the management of the family entirely devolved upon her; for her mother had no taste for any thing but pleasure, and her fitter was taught to consider herself as a fine lady, whose beauty could not fail to make her fortune, and whose sole care it ought to be to drefs to the greatest advantage, and make her appearance in every place where she might encrease the number of her admirers.

Sophia, in acquitting herself of the duties of a house-keeper to her mother, shewed that the highest intellectual improvements were not incompatible with the humbler cares of domestic life: every thing that went through her hands received a grace and propriety from the good sense by which she was directed; nor did her attention to family-

C 2

affairs

20 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

affairs break in upon her darling amusements reading.

People who know how to employ their time
well are always good economists of it. Sophia laid
out hers in such exact proportions, that she had
always sufficient for the several employments she
was engaged in: the business of her life, like that
of nature, was performed without noise, hurry,
or confusion.

The death of Mr. Darnley threw this little fam-
ily into a deplorable state of indigence, which
was felt the more severely, as they had hitherto
lived in an affluence of all things, and the debts
which an expence so ill proportioned to their in-
come had obliged Mr. Darnley to contract, left
the unhappy widow and her children without any
resource. The plate, furniture, and every thing
valuable were seized by the creditors. Mrs. Darn-
ley and her daughters retired to a private lodging,
where the first days were passed in weak defor-
dence on the part of the mother, in passionate re-
pinings on that of the eldest daughter, and by So-
phia in decent forrow and pious resignation.

Mrs. Darnley however, by a natural consequence
of her thoughtless temper, soon recovered her former
gaiety. Prefent evils only were capable of af-
fecting her; reflection and forecaft never disturbed
the settled calm of her mind. If the wants of one day
were supplied, she did not confider what inconve-
niences the next might produce. As for Harriot she
found ressources of comfort in the exalted ideas she
had of her own charms; and having already laid it
down

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

down as a maxim, that poverty was the most shame-
ful thing in the world, she formed her resolutions
accordingly.

Sophia, as soon as her grief for the loss of her
father had subfused, began to consider of some
plan for their future submissibility. She forbore
however to communicate her thoughts on this
subject to her mother and sister, who had always
affected to treat every thing she said with contempt,
the mean dissquise which envy had assumed to hide
their consciousness of her superior merit; but she
opened her mind to the good old gentleman, to
whom she had been obliged for many of her im-
provements. She told him that being by his gene-
rous cares qualified to undertake the education of
a young lady, she was desirous of being received
into the family of some person of distinction in the
quality of governors to the daughters of it, that she
might at once secure to herself a decent establish-
ment, and be enabled to affift her mother. She
hinted that if her sister could be also prevailed upon
to enter into the service of a lady of quality, they
might jointly contribute their endeavours to make
their mother's life comfortable.

Mr. Herbert praised her design, and promised to
mention it to Mrs. Darnley, to whom he conceived
he might speak with the greater freedom, as his near
relation to her husband, and the long friendship
which had subfifted between them, gave him a right
to interest himself in their affairs. The first words
he uttered produced such an emotion in Mrs. Darn-
ley's countenance, as convinced him that what he
had farther to say would not be favourably re-
ceived. She coloured, drew herself up with an

C 3

air

22 THE LADY'S MUSEUM,

air of dignity, looking at the fame time at her
eldest daughter with a cornful smile.

Mr. Herbert, however, continued his discourſe,
when Harriot, with a pertneſs which ſhe took for
wit, interrupted him with a loud laugh, and aſked
him, if going to ſervice was the beſt provifion he
could think of for Mr. Darnley's daughters ?

Mr. Herbert, turning haſtily to her, replied with
a look of great gravity, and in a calm accent,
“ Have you, miſs, thought of any thing better?”

Harriot, without being disconcerted, retorted
very brilſkly, “People who have nothing but advice
“ to offer to their friends in diſtrefs, ought to be
“ filent till they are aſked for it.”

“ Good advice, miſs, replied the old gentle-
“ man with the fame compoſure, is what every
“ body cannot, and many will not give; and it is
“ at leaſt an inſtance of friendſhip to hazard it,
“ where one may be almoſt ſure of its giving of-
“ fence.” But, continued he, turning to Sophia,
“ my young pupil here has I hope not profited ſo
“ little by her reading as not to know the value of
“ good counſel; and I promiſe her ſhe ſhall not
“ only command the beſt that I am capable of giv-
“ ing, but every other aſſistance ſhe may ſtand in
“ need of.” Saying this, he bowed and went away,
without any attempts from Mrs. Darnley to detain
him.

Poor Sophia, who was ſuppoſed by her ſilence
to have acquiſced in the old gentleman's pro-
poſal, was expoſed to a thouſand reproaches for her
meannefs of ſpirit. She attempted to ſhew the uti-
lity, and even the neceſſity of following his advice;
but ſhe found on this occaſion, as ſhe had on many
others,

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

others, that with some persons it is not safe to be
too reasonable. Her arguments were answered
with rage and invective, which soon silenced her,
and increased the triumph of her imperious fitter.

Mr. Herbert, apprehensive of the ill treatment
she was likely to be exposed to, offered to place her
in the family of a country clergyman, and to pay for
her board till such a settlement as she desired could
be procured for her; but the tender Sophia, not
willing to leave her mother while she could be of
any use to her, gratefully declined his offer, still
expecting that the increasing perplexity of their
circumstances might bring her to relish his reasonable counsels, and that she might have the sanction
of her consent to a step which prudence made necessary to be taken.

A legacy of a hundred pounds being left her by
a young lady who tenderly loved her, and who
died in her arms, she immediately presented it to
her mother, by whom it was received it with a
transport of joy, but without any reflection upon
the filial piety of her who gave it.

Sophia's good friend, though he did not abso-
lutely approve of this exalted train of tendernefs,
yet did not fail to place the merit of it in the fulleſt
light; but Harriot, who never heard any prafes of
her fifter without a visible emotion, interrupted him,
by faying, that Sophia had only done what ſhe
ought; and that ſhe herself would have acted in the
fame manner, if the ſum had been twenty times
larger.

The fame delicacy which induced Sophia to di-
veft herself of any particular right to this ſmall

C 4

legacy,

24 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

legacy, made her see the misapplication of it without discovering the least mark of dislike. Harriot, who governed her mother absolutely, having represented to her, that the obscurity in which they lived was not the means to preserve their old friends, or to acquire new ones; and that it was their business to appear again in the world, and put themselves in the way of fortune, which could not be done without making a decent appearance at least; Mrs. Darnley, who thought this reasoning unanfwerable, consented to their changing their present lodgings for others more genteel, and to whatever expences her eldest daughter judged necessary to secure the success of her scheme.

Sophia lamented in secret this excess of imprudence; and to avoid being a witness of it, as well as to free her mother from the expence of her maintenance, she resolved to accept of the first gentle place that offered; but the natural softness and timidity of her temper made her delay as long as possible mentioning this design to her mother and fister, left it should be construed into a tacit reproach of them for a conduct so very different.

Indeed her condition was greatly altered for the worse, since the present she had made of her legacy. Her mother and fister had never loved her much, and their tendernefs for her was now entirely lost in the uneasy conficouſneſs of having owed an obligation to her, for which they could not resolve to be grateful. They no longer confidered her as an insignificant perſon whole approbation or dislike was of no fort of conſequence, but as a faucy cenſurer of their actions, who allured to herself a ſupe-

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

periority, on account of the poultry affiftance ſhe
had offered them: every thing ſhe ſaid was con-
ftrued into upbraidings of the benefit ſhe had con-
ferred upon them. If ſhe offered her opinion
upon any occafion, Harriot would ſay to her with
a malicious ſneer, " To be ſure you think you
" have a right to give us laws, becauſe we have had
" the misfortune to be obliged to you." And Mrs.
Darnley, working herſelf up to an agony of grief
and refentment for the fancied inſult, would lift
up her eyes and cry, " How much is that mother
" be pitied who lives to receive alms from her
" child!"

Poor Sophia uſed to anſwer no otherwife than by
tears: but this was ſure to aggravate her ſault;
for it was ſuppoſed that ſhe wept and appeared
aſſiſted only to ſhew people what ungrateful re-
turns ſhe met with for her goodneſs.

Thus did the unhappy Sophia, with the ſoftest
ſenſibility of heart and tendereſt affections, ſee her-
felf excluded from the endearing expressions of a
mother's fondneſs, only by being too worthy of it,
and expoſed to ſhocking ſuspicions of undutifulneſs
for an action that ſhewed the highest filial af-
fection: ſo true it is, that great virtues cannot be
underſtood by mean and little minds, and with
ſuch, not only loſe all their luſtre, but are too often
miftaken for the contrary vices.

While Sophia paſſed her time in melancholy re-
flections, Harriot, being by her generous gift en-
abled to make as ſhewy an appearance as her mourn-
ing habit would permit, again mixed in company,
and laid baits for admiration. Her beauty ſoon

pro-

26 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

procured her a great number of lovers; her poverty
made their approaches easy; and the weaknesses of
her understanding, her infidel gaiety, and pert af-
fection of wit, encouraged the most licentious
hopes, and exposed her to the most impertinent
addreffes.

Among those who looking upon her as a conquest
of no great difficulty formed the mortifying design
of making a mistress of her, was Sir Charles Stanley,
a young baronet of a large estate, a most agree-
able person, and engaging addrefs: his fine qua-
lities made him the delight of all who knew
him, and even envy itself allowed him to be a man
of the strictest honour and unblemished integrity.

Persons who connect the idea of virtue and
goodness with such a character, would find it hard
to conceive how a man who lives in a constant
course of diffimulation with one part of his species,
and who abuses the advantages he has received
from nature and fortune in subduing chastity, and
enfraining innocence, can possibly deferve, and efta-
blish a reputation for honour! but such are the illu-
sions of prejudice, and such the tyranny of custom,
that he who is called a man of gallantry shall be at the
fame time esteemed a man of honour, though gal-
lantry comprehends the worst kind of fraud, cruelty,
and injustice.

Sir Charles Stanley had been but too successful
in his attempts upon beauty, to fear being rejected
by Mfs Darnley; and knowing her situation, he
resolved to engage her gratitude at least before he
declared his designs. He had interest enough to

pro-

THE LADY's MUSEUM.

procure the place her father enjoyed for a gentleman who thought himself happy in obtaining it, though charged with an annuity of four score pounds a year for the widow of his predecessor.

Sir Charles, in acquainting Mifs Darnley with what he had done in favour of her mother, found himself under no necessity of infinuating his motive for the extraordinary interest he took in the affairs of this distreft family. Harriot's vanity anticipated any declaration of this fort, and the thanks she gave him were accompanied with such an apparent confidence of the power of her charms as convinced him his work was already more than half done.

He was now received at Mrs. Darnley's in the quality of a declared lover of Harriot's; and although amidft all his affiduities he never mentioned marriage, either the mother and daughter did not penetrate into his real designs, or were but too much dispoſed to favour them.

The innocent heart of Sophia was at first overwhelmed with joy for the happy provision that had been made for her mother, and the prospect of such an advantageous match for her fitter, when Mr. Herbert, who knew the world too well to be imposed upon by these fine appearances, gently hinted to his young favourite, his apprehensions of the baronet's dishonourable views.

Her delicacy was so shocked by this fuspicion, that she could scarce forbear expressing some little resentment of it; but reflecting that this ardent lover of Harriot's had not yet made any propofals of marriage, her good sense immediately fuggested to her that such affected delays in a man who was

abſo-

28 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

absolutely independent, and with a woman whose situation made it a point of delicacy to be early explicit on that head, could only proceed from intentions which he had not yet dared to own.

Chance had so ordered it, that hitherto she had never seen Sir Charles Stanley; whenever he came, she was either employed in the family-affairs, or engaged with her books, which it was no easy matter to make her quit. Besides, as she had no share in his visits, and as her fitter never shewed any inclination to introduce her to him, she thought it did not become her to intrude herself upon his acquaintance. Sir Charles indeed, knowing that Mrs. Darnley had another daughter, used sometimes to enquire for her, but was neither furprised nor disappointed that she never made her appearance.

Sophia, however, was determined to be in the way when he came next, that she might have an opportunity of observing his behaviour to her fitter; and fondly flattered herself that she should discover nothing to the disadvantage of a person whom her grateful heart had taught itself to love and esteem as their common benefactor.

Sir Charles at the next visit found Sophia in the room with her fitter. He instantly saw something in her looks and person which inspired him with more respect than he had been used to feel for Mrs. Darnley and Harriot; a dignity which she derived from innate virtue, and an exalted understanding. Struck with the uncommon sensibility of her countenance, he began to consider her with an attention which greatly disconcerted Harriot, who could

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

could not conceive that where she was present any
other object was worthy notice.

Sophia herself was a little disconcerted by the
young baronet's so earneftly gazing on her; and
in order to divert his looks, opened a conversation
in which her fitter might bear a part. Then it was,
that without deigning it, she displayed her whole
power of charming: that flow of wit which was
so natural to her, the elegant propriety of her lan-
guage, the delicacy of her sentiments, the animated
look which gave them new force, and lent them
directly to the heart, and the moving graces of the
most harmonious voice in the world, were attractions,
which though generally loft on fools, seldom fail of
their effect on the heart of a man of sense.

Sir Charles was wrapt in wonder and delight; he
had no eyes, no ears, but for Sophia: he scarce
perceived that Harriot was in the room.

The insolent beauty, aftonifhed at such unufual
neglect, varied her attitude and her charms a thou-
fand different ways to draw his attention; but found
all was to no purpose. Had she been capable of
ferious reflection, she might now have discovered
what advantages her fitter, though far inferior to
her in beauty, gained over her, by the force of her
underftanding: she might now have been,

"How beauty is excelled by modeſt grace,

"And wifdom, which alone is truly fair."

But too ignorant to know her own wants, and too
conceited to imagine she had any, she was ftrangely
perplexed how to account for so fudden an altera-
tion in Sir Charles.

Her

30

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

Her uneafineſs, however, grew so great, that ſhe was not able to conceal it. She ſhifted her ſeat two or three times in a minute, bit her lips almost through, and frowned so intelligibly, that Sophia at laſt perceiving her agitation, ſuddenly recollected herſelf, and quitted the room upon pre- tence of buſineſs.

When ſhe was gone, Harriot drawing herſelf up, and affuming a look which expreſſed her confidence in the irrefiſtible power of her charms, ſeemed resolved to make her lover repent the little notice he had taken of her in this viſit by playing off a thouſand ſcornful airs upon him; but ſhe was more mortified than ever when upon turning her eyes towards him, in full expectation of finding his fixed upon her, ſhe ſaw them bent upon the ground, and ſuch a penſive neſs in his countenance as all her rigors could never yet occafion.

She was considering what to ſay to him to draw him out of this reverie, when Sir Charles, on a ſudden raſing his eyes, turned them towards the door with a look of mingled anxiety and impatience, and then, as if disappointed, ſighed and addreſſed some indifferent converſation to Harriot.

The lady, now quite provoked, had recourse to an artifice which her ſhallow understanding fuggeſted to her, as an infallible method of awakening his tenderneſs, and this was to make him jealous. Without any preparation therefore, ſhe introduced the name of Lord L—, a young nobleman who was just returned from his travels, and lavishing a thouſand encomiums upon his perſon, and his elegant taſte in drefs, added, “ That he was the beſt “ bred man in the world, and had entertained her

“ so

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

“ so agreeably one night at the play, when happen-
“ ing to come into a box where she was with a lady
“ of her acquaintance, that they did not mind a
“ word the players said, he was so diverting.”

Sir Charles coldly anſwered, “ That Lord L.
“ was a very pretty youth, and that he was intimate-
“ ly acquainted with him.”

“ Oh then, cried Harriot, with a great deal of
“ affected joy, I vow and proteſt you ſhall bring
“ him to fee me.”

“ Indeed you muſt excufe me madam,” ſaid Sir
Charles, with ſome quickneſs.

Harriot, concluding her ſtratagem had taken ef-
fect, was quite tranſported, and renewed her at-
tacks, determined to make him ſuffer as much as
poſſible; but the young baronet, whose thoughts
were full of Sophia, and whose emotion at the re-
quest Harriot had made him, was occasioned by
fears very different from thofe he ſuſpected, took
no further notice of what he ſaid, but interrupted
her to ask how old her ſifter Sophia was ?

“ I dare engage, replied Harriot, you would
“ never have ſuppoſed her to be younger than I
am.”

The baronet ſmiled, and looking at his watch,
feemed ſurprisſed that it was so late, and took his
leave.

Mifs Darnley following him to the door of the
room, cried, “ Remember I lay my commands
“ upon you to bring my Lord L. to fee me.”

Sir Charles anſwered her no otherwife than by a
low bow, and ſhe returned, delighted at the part-
ing pang which ſhe ſuppoſed ſhe had given him.

Vanity

32 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

Vanity is extremely ingenious in procuring gratifications for itself. Harriot did not doubt but that she had tormented Sir Charles sufficiently; and it was the unshaken confidence which she had in the power of her charms, that hindered her from discovering the true cause of the new diffluence she had conceived for her fitter. However, it was so great that she could scarcely speak to her civilly, or endure her in her fight: yet she found an increase of pleasure in talking to her mother when she was prefent of the violent passion Sir Charles Stanley had for her, and in giving an exaggerated account of the проfeffions he made her.

Sophia did not listen to this fort of discourse with her usual complaisance. Her mind became infenfably more dispoſed to ſuppect the fincerity of the baronet's passion for her fitter: ſhe grew penſive and melancholy, ſought ſolitude more than ever, and loved reading leſs.

This change, which her own innocence hid from
herself, was quickly perceived by Mr. Herbert,
who loved her with a parent's fondneſs, and thought
nothing indifferent which concerned her. He took
occasion one day to mention Sir Charles Stanley to
her, and asked her opinion of his perſon and un-
derstanding, keeping his eyes fixed upon her at the
fame time, which disconcerted her so much that
she blushed; and though she commended him
greatly, yet it was easy to discover that she forbore
to say all the good she thought of him, for fear of
faying too much.

Mr. Herbert no longer doubted but this dan-
gerous youth had made an impreſſion on the inno-
cent

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

cent heart of Sophia, which was still ignorant of its own emotions.

He had perceived for some time that Sir Charles had changed the object of his purSUITS: his visits now were always short, unless Sophia was in the way: he brought her all the new books and pamphlets that came out which were worth her reading: he adopted the purity and delicacy of her sentiments, declared himself always of the side he espoused: he talked of virtue like a man who loved and practised it, and set all his good qualities in the fairest light: he presented Harriot from time to time with fashionable trifles, and set Sophia books enough to furnish out a little library, confiding of the best authors, in English, French, and Italian, all elegantly bound, with proper cafes for their reception: he praised whatever she approved, and appeared to have great respect and consideration for Mr. Herbert, because he observed she loved and esteemed him.

That faithful friend of the virtuous Sophia trembled for her danger, when he considered that by this artful management the baronet was strengthening himself every day in her good opinion, and seducing her affections under the appearance of memoriting her friendship; yet he did not think it proper to give her even a hint of her situation. A young maid has passed over the first bounds of reservedness who allows herself to think she is in love.

Mr. Herbert would not familiarize her with so dangerous an idea: he knew her extreme modesty, her solid virtue; he was under no apprehensions

Nº. 1.

D

that

34 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

that she would ever act unworthy of her character; but a heart so nicely sensible, so delicately tender as hers, he knew must suffer greatly from a disappointed passion; and this was what he wanted to prevent, not by wounding her delicacy with fugitive feeling to her that she was in love, but by preferring her from the encroachments of that passion.

He reminded her of the design she had formerly mentioned to him of entering into the service of a lady, and was rejoiced to find that she still continued her resolution. Harriot's natural insolence and ill temper, irritated by the change she now plainly saw in Sir Charles, made home so disagreeable to Sophia, that she wisbed impatiently for an opportunity of providing for herself, that she might no longer live upon the bounty of her fitter, who often infinuated that their mother's annuity was her gift.

Mr. Herbert, who had other reasons besides those she urged, from freeing her from so uneasy a dependence, promised to be diligent in his enquiries for something that would fuit her.

Neither Mrs. Darnley nor Harriot opposed this design, which soon came to the knowledge of Sir Charles, who had bribed a servant of the family to give him intelligence of every thing that paffed in it.

Impatient to prevent the execution of it, and tortured by the bare apprehension of Sophia's abdication, he resolved to break through that confluence he had so long laid upon himself, and acquaint her with his passion.

But

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

But it was not easy to find an opportunity of speaking to her alone. At length having contrived to get Harriot engaged to a play, and prevailed upon a maiden kinfwoman of his to invite Mrs. Darnley to a party of whift, he went to the house at his usual hour of visiting this little family, and found Sophia at home, and without any company.

Not all the confidence he derived from his rank and fortune, his fine understanding, and those personal graces which gave him but too much merit in the eyes of many women, could hinder him from trembling at the thought of that declaration he was about to make. As soon as he came into Sophia's preference he was awed, disconcerted, and unable to speak; such was the power of virtue, and such the force of a real passion! Two or three times he resolved to begin, but when he looked upon Sophia, and saw in her charming eyes that sparkling intelligence which displayed the treasures of the soul that animated them; when he observed the sweet severity of her modeft countenance, the composed dignity of her behaviour, he durst not own a passion which had views left pure than the perfect creature that inspired it.

His conversation for near an hour was so confused, so disjointed, and interrupted by such frequent musings, that Sophia was amazed, and thought it so disagreeable, and unlike what it used to be, that she was not sorry when he seemed dispirited to put an end to his visit.

Sir Charles indeed rose up to be gone, but with so deep a concern in his eyes as increased Sophia's

D 2

per-

36 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

perplexity. She attended him respectfully to the door of the room, when he suddenly turning back, and taking her hand, "Do not hate me, said he, " nor think ill of me, if I tell you that I love and " adore you."

Sophia, in the utmost confusion at such a speech, disengaged her hand from his, and retiring a few steps back, bent her eyes on the ground, and continued silent.

Sir Charles, emboldened by her confusion, made a tender, and at the same time respectful declaration of the passion he had long felt for her.

Sophia, not willing to hear him enlarge upon this subject, raised her eyes from the ground, her cheeks were indeed overspread with blushes, but there was a grave compofure in her looks that seemed a bad omen to Sir Charles.

"I have hitherto flattered myself, sir, said she, "that you entertained a favourable opinion of me, "how happens it then that I see myself to-day exposed to your raillery?"

The baronet was beginning a thousandth protestations, but Sophiaopt him short. "If your proffessions to me are sincere, said she, what am I to "think of those you made to my fitter?"

Sir Charles expected this retort, and was the least perplexed by it, as he needed only to follow the dictates of truth to form such an answer as was proper to be given. "I acknowledge, said he, "that I admired your fitter, and her beauty made "as strong an impression upon me as mere beauty "can make upon a man who has a taint for higher "excellencies. I fought Mils Darnley's acquaint-

" ance.

THE LADY's MUSEUM.

" ance. I was so happy as to do her some little
" service. I wishe d to find in her thofe qualities
" that were neceffary to fix my heart---Pardon my
" freedom, Mifs Sophia, the occafion requires that
" I should ſpeak freely. Mifs Darnley, upon a
" nearer acquaintance, did not anſwer the idea I
" had formed to myſelf of a woman whom I could
" love for life; and the proſeffions I made her, as
" you are pleafed to call them, were no more than
" expressions of gallantry; a fort of homage which
" beauty, even when it does not touch the heart,
" exacts from the tongue. My heart was not so
" eafy a conqueſt---tell me not of raillery, when I
" declare that none but yourſelf was ever capable
" of infpiring me with a real paſſion."

The arrival of Mr. Herbert proved a grateful
interruption to Sophia, in whose innocent breast the
tenderneſs and apparent ſincerity of this declaration
raſed emotions which ſhe knew not how to dif-
guife.

Sir Charles, though grieved at this unfeafonable
viſit, yet withdrew, not wholly deſparing of ſuc-
cers. He had heedfully obſerved the changes
in Sophia's face while he was ſpeaking, and
thought he had reaſon to hope that he was not
indifferent to her. Loving her as he did with ex-
čeſſive tenderneſs, what pure and unmixed faſis-
faction would this thought have given him, had he
not been conſcious that his deſigns were unworthy
of her! The ſecret upbraidings of his conſcience
disquieſted him amidſt all his flattering hopes of
ſucceſs; but cuſtom, prejudice, the inſolence of
fortune, and the force of example, all conſpired to

D 3

ſup-

38 THE LADY'S MUSEUM,

supprefes the pleadings of honour and justice in fa-
vour of the amiable Sophia, and fixed him in the
barbarous refolution of attempting to corrupt that
virtue which made her so worthy of his love.

Mr. Herbert having, as has been already men-
tioned, interrupted the conversation between Sir
Charles and Sophia, was not surprised at the young
baronet's abrupt departure, as he seemed preparing
to go when he came in; but upon looking at So-
phia, he perceived so many signs of confusion and
perplexity in her countenance, that he did not
doubt but the discourse which his entrance had put
an end to, was a very interesting one. He waited
a moment, in expectation that she would open her-
felf to him, but finding that she continued silent
and abashed, he gently took her hand, and looking
tenderly upon her, "Tell me, my child, said he,
" has not something extraordinary happened, which
" occasions this confusion I fee you in ?"

" Sir Charles has indeed been talking to me, re-
plied Sophia blushing, in a very extraordinary
" manner, and such as I little expected."

Mr. Herbert press'd her to explain herself, and
she gave him an exact account of Sir Charles's dif-
course to her, without losing a word; so faithful
had her memory been to all he said.

Mr. Herbert liftened to her attentively, and
found something so like candor and sincerity in the
baronet's declaration, that he could not help being
pleased with it. He had never indeed judged
favourably of his views upon Harriot, but here the
cafe was very different.

Har-

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

Harriot's ignorance, vanity, and eager desire of
being admired, exposed her to the attacks of lib-
ertinism, and excited prefumptuous hopes.

Sophia's good sense, modefty, and virtue, placed
her out of the reach of temptation. No one
could think it surpris-ing that a man of sense should
make the fortune of a woman who would do ho-
nour to his choice, and where there was such ex-
alted merit as in Sophia, overlook the disparity of
circumftances.

But juſtly might it be called infatuation and folly,
to raife to rank and affluence a woman of Harriot's
delpicable turn; to make a companion for life of
a handsom ideot, who thought the highest excel-
lencies of the female character were to know how
to drefſs, to dance, to ſing, to flutter in a drawing-
room, or coquet at a play; who miftook pertneſs
for wit, confidence for knowledge, and inſolence
for dignity.

While he was revolving these thoughts in his
mind, Sophia looked earneſtly at him, pleafed to
obſerve that what the baronet had faid seemed
worthy his confideration.

Mr. Herbert, who read in her looks that ſhe
wifhed to have his advice on this occafion, but
would not aſk it, left ſhe ſhould ſeem to lay any
ſtreſs upon Sir Charles's declaration, told her it
was very poffible the baronet was ſincere in what
he had faid to her; that his manner of accounting
for his quitting her ſifter, was both ſenſible and can-
did; that ſhe ought not to be ſurpriséd at the pre-
ference he gave her over Mifs Darnley, ſince ſhe
deſerved it by the care ſhe had taken to improve

D 4

her

40 THE LADY's MUSEUM.

her mind, and to acquire qualities which might
procure her the esteem of all wife and virtuous
perfons.

He warned her, however, not to trust too much
to favourable appearances, nor to suffer her incli-
nations to be so far engaged by the agreeable per-
son and specious behaviour of Sir Charles Stanley,
as to find it painful to renounce him, if he should
hereafter shew himself unworthy of her good opi-
nion.

He advised her, when he talked to her in the
fame ftrain again, to refer him to her mother and
to him for an answer; and told her that he would
fave her the confusion and perplexity of acquaint-
ing her mother and fister with what had happened,
by taking that taſk upon himself.

"You will, no doubt, added he, be expofed to
"fome fallies of ill temper from Mifs Darnley, for
"robbing her of a lover; for envy is more irre-
"concileable than hatred: but let not your senſi-
bility suffer much on her account: if you deprive
"her of a lover, you do not deprive her of one
"she loves: she is too vain, too volatile, and too
"greedy of general admiration, to be affected with
"the loſs of Sir Charles, any farther than as her
"pride is wounded by it: and one would ima-
"gine she had foreseen this defertion, by the pains
"she has taken about a new conquelt lately."

Mr. Herbert was going on, when Mrs. Darnley
knocked at the door. Sophia, in extreme agitation,
begged him to fay nothing concerning Sir Charles
that evening. He promised her he would not, and
they

J

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

they all three conversed together upon indifferent
things, till Harriot returned from the play.

Mr. Herbert then took leave of them, after in-
viting himself to breakfast the next morning; which
threw Sophia into such terror and confusion, that
she retired haftily to her own room, to conceal her
disorder.

Mr. Herbert came the next morning, according
to his promise; and Sophia, all trembling with her
apprehensions, retired immediately after breakfast.
He entered upon the business that had brought
him thither; but sensible that what he had to say
would prove extremely mortifying to mifs Harriot,
he thought it not amifs to sweeten the bitter pill
he was preparing for her, by sacrificing a little flat-
tery to her pride.

" You fine ladies, said he, addressing himself to " her with a smile, are never weary of extending " your conquests; but you use your power with so " much tyranny, that it is not surprising some of " your slaves should affume courage, at last, to " break your chains. Do you know, my pretty " cousin, that you have loft Sir Charles Stanley ; " and that he has offered that heart, which you " no doubt have deconfed, to your fister Sophia?"

Mifs Darnley, who had bridled up at the begin-
ning of this speech, loft all her affumed dignity to-
wards the end of it: her face grew pale and red
by turns; she fixed her eyes on the ground, her
bofom heaved with the violence of her agitations,
and tears, in spite of her, were ready to force their
way.

Sir

42 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

Sir Charles had indeed for a long time discontinued his addressees to her, and had suffered his inclination for her filter to appear plainly enough; but still her vanity fuggested to her, that this might be all a feint, and acted only with a view to alarm her fears, and oblige her to sacrifice all her other admirers to him.

What Mr. Herbert had said therefore, struck her at first with astonishment and grief; but solicitous to maintain the fancied superiority of her character, she endeavoured to repress her emotions; and taking the hint which he had designedly thrown out to her to fave her confusion,

“Sir Charles has acted very wisely, said she, putting on a scornful look, to quit me, who always despirited him, for one who has been so little used to have lovers, that she will be ready to run mad with joy at the thoughts of such a conquest: but after all, she has only my leavings.”

Mr. Herbert, though a little shocked at the grossness of her language, replied gravely, “However that may be, Mifs, it is certain that he has made a very open, and to all appearance, sincere declaration of love to Mifs Sophia, who, not knowing how to mention this affair to her mother herself, commissioned me to acquaint her with it, that she may have her directions how to behave to Sir Charles, and what to say to him.”

“One would have imagined, interrupted Mifs Darnley eagerly, that she who sets up for so much wit, and reads so many books, might have known what to say to him.”

“Pray,

THE LADY'S MUSEUM,

“ Pray, Mifs, said Mr. Herbert, what would you
“ have had her say to Sir Charles?”

“ Why truly, replied she, I think she ought to
“ have told him that he was very impertinent, and
“ have shewn him the door.”

“ Sure, Harriot, said Mrs. Darnley, who had been
“ silent all this time, You forget that Sir Charles
“ is our benefactor, and that I am obliged to him
“ for all the little support I have.”

“ It is not likely I should forget it, retorted
“ Mifs Darnley, since I am the person who am most
“ obliged to him for what he has done; if I
“ mistake not, it was upon my account that he in-
“ terested himself in our affairs.”

“ Well, well, Harriot, replied Mrs. Darnley, I
“ have been told this often enough; but why should
“ you be angry at this prospect of your fitter's ad-
“ vancement?”

“ I angry at her advancement, madam! ex-
“ claimed Mifs Harriot, not I really: I wish the
“ girl was provided for by a suitable match with
“ all my heart; but as for Sir Charles, I would
“ not have her let her foolish heart upon him; he
“ is only laughing at her.”

“ It may be so, said Mr. Herbert, though I think
“ Mifs Sophia the last woman in the world whom
“ a man would chuse to laugh at. However, this
“ affair is worth a little consideration---Mifs So-
“ phia, madam, purfued he, addressing himself to
“ Mrs. Darnley, intends to refer Sir Charles en-
“ tirely to you. You will be the best judge whe-
“ ther the passion he professes is sincere, and his
“ intentions honourable; and I can answer for my
“ young

44 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

“young cousin, that she will be wholly governed
“by your advice, since it is impossible that you
“can give her any but what is most advantageous
“to her honour and happiness.”

Harriot, no longer able to supprefs her rage and
envy, was thrown so far off her guard as to burst
into tears. “I cannot bear to be thus insulted,
“cried she; and I declare if Sir Charles is permit-
ted to go on with his foolery with that vain girl,
“I will quit the house.”

“Was there ever any one so unreasonable as
“you are, Mifs, said Mr. Herbert, have you not
“owned that you despised Sir Charles; and if your
“fifter is a vain girl, will she not be sufficiently
“mortified by accepting your leavings, as you said
“just now?”

“I am speaking to my mother, sir, replied Har-
riot, with a contemptuous frown; depend upon
“it, Madam, purfued she, that I will not stay to be
“facrificed to Mr. Herbert’s favourite---either she
“shall be forbid to give Sir Charles any encourage-
ment, who after all, is only laughing at her, or I
“will leave the house.”

Saying this, she flung out of the room, leaving
her mother divided between anger and grief, and
Mr. Herbert motionless with astonishment.

[To be continued.]

The

46 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

On reading a POEM written by a Lady of
Quality.

I.

A FRAID to be pleas'd, and with envy half fir'd,
Still wishing to blame, while by force I admir'd,
New beauties appearing as farther I read,
At laft in a rage to Apollo I faid:

II.

Oh thou whom the lean tribe of authors adore !
And proud of thy gifts, are content to be poor :
Say, why muft a peereſs thus put in her claim,
For the poet's poor airy inheritance, fame ?

III.

Needs that brow which a coronet circles be bound
With the wreath that your glorious ſtarv'd fav'rites have
crown'd.

Why fhould ſhe who at eafe in gilt chariots may ride,
Our tir'd Pegasus mount, and ſo skilfully guide ?

IV.

With Gallia's rich vintage, her thirſt ſhe may ſlake,
Then why ſuch large draughts from our Helicon take ?
And bleft here with corn-fields, and meadows, and pastures,
Has ſhe need of grants in the realm of Parnaſtus ?

V.

Thus I : nor to anſwer Apollo diſdain'd,
My Stella from fortune thoſe trifles obtain'd ;
In wit I decreed her ſupremely to ſhine,
When were titles and riches ſuppos'd gifts of mine ?
But your clamours to ſtop, and your anger to tame,
She ſhall ſmile on your works, and her praeſe ſhall be fame.

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

47

An ODE.

I.

HOW long from thy inchanting fway
Shall I my freedom, Love, maintain!
The young, the beauteous, and the gay
Still spread the pleasing snare in vain.

II.

The study'd air, the borrow'd grace,
All affectation's numerous wiles,
Send blunted darts from ev'ry face,
Conceal'd in blushes, fighs, and smiles.

III.

For these my heart feels no alarms,
Whose honest wish is but to prove
The genuine force of artless charms,
The soft simplicity of love.

IV.

The heaving bosom's fall and rife,
Compassion only should display.
The glance that can my soul surprise
To wit must owe the pointed ray.

V.

The smile that would my soul inflame,
Good nature only must beLOW.
Sweet modefty, ingen'ous flame,
Must give the kindling cheek to glow.

Mere

48

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

VI.

Mere outward charms the mind delude
To own a short compulsive reign,
By wit, and virtue when subdu'd,
She forges for herself her chain.

To DEATH. An irregular ODE.

I.

OH death, thou gentle end of human pain,
Why is thy stroke so long delay'd?
Why to a wretch, who breathes but to complain,
Doth thou refuse thy welcome aid?
Still wilt thou fly the plaintive voice of woe,
And where thou'rt dreaded, only aim the blow.

II.

Oh leave, fantastick tyrant, leave,
The young, the gay, the happy, and the free:
On them bestow a short reprieve,
And bend thy fatal shafts at me.
The beauteous bride, or blooming heir,
Let thy refiftlefs power spare,
And aim at this grief-wounded heart
That springs half way to meet the welcome dart.

III.

Still must I view with streaming eyes,
Another, and another morn arise;
Are my days length'ned to prolong my pain?
Do grief and fickneſs waste this frame in vain?
A finifh'd wretch e'er youth has ceas'd to bloom,
By early forrow ripen'd for the tomb.

THE

[ 49 ]

THE
HISTORY
OF THE
DUTCHESS OF BEAUFORT.

IT has been asserted by the enemies of our sex, that it is the fear of shame which keeps many women virtuous. Had those detractors lived in an age when vice ceased to incur blame in proportion as it appeared in splendor, when riches procured guilt the distinction due to virtue, and indigence drew on virtue the contempt merited by guilt, when centiounfnefs of conduct was the road to grandeur, and every courtezan expected to be a peerefs; they would be forced to confefs that she who in such corrupt times preserved a purity of manners was virtuous upon principle, since shame was no longer to be dreaded as the attendant on vice.

To such of my fair readers as love virtue for her own
fake, I present the history of the dutchefs of Beaufort,
miftrefls to Henry IV. of France. Here they will see
grandeur purchased by crimes, and posſessed with
anxiety; ſchemes of ambition carried far into
futurity, suddenly defeated by an immature and
horrible death; and hence they may learn to rejoice
in that innocence which is at once their merit and

Nº. 1.

E

their

50 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

their reward. The amours of Henry the Great
have been recorded by many writers, who, altho'
they indeed abound with facts, yet are they
adorned and embellished with so many circum-
stances as have the appearance of being imaginary,
that the whole seems either a tale invented to amuse
than a real and interesting narrative :

To avoid being misled by those lively authors, I
shall extract the history of the dutchefs of Beaufort
solely from the Memoirs of the Duke de Sully,
prime-minister to Henry the Great, one of the
wiser and most virtuous men of his age; and the
reader will have the pleasure to see many passages
in the words of that admirable writer.

Gabriella D'Etrees, afterwards so famous under
the name of *Dutcheſs of Beaufort*, was descended
from an ancient family in Picardy, to which the
honourable poſt of grand-master of the artillery
had been in a manner hereditary.

This young lady was so exquisitely beautiful,
that she obtained the surname of Fair, to express
the pre-eminence of her charms over all those of
her sex and time. Henry IV. who was born a
hero, and who at the most early age was called by
fortune to the exertion of those qualities which so
defervedly procured him the epithet of Great, had
also the weak points of heroes, that alloy in his cha-
acter otherwise so truly noble which serves to shew
us that nothing is perfect here below. Glory was
not more his passion than love; and if on certain
occasions he was capable of sacrificing his tender-
nefs to his fame, on others he made no scruple to
hazard his fame to gratify his tenderneſs. At the
time that Henry fell in love with mademoiselle

D'Etrees,

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

51

D'Etrees, he was at war with his own subjects. Rebellion, fanatically justified by the name of religion, had given rise to the League, in which all the princes and great men of France were engaged.

The design of this formidable party was to exclude him from the succession on account of his being a protestant, and Henry III. his immediate predecessor, lost his life by the hands of an affaffin, for maintaining the rights of his injured kinsman. Henry, when fighting for a kingdom, found love a stronger passion than ambition. An accidental fight of mademoiselle D'Etrees inspired him with so violent a passion for her, that he often risqued his crown, his honour, and his life, for the satisfaction of talking to her a few moments. Once in particular, when he was in a manner besieged in his camp by the duke of Parma, he disguised himself in the habit of a peasant, and passed through the enemy's guards to make her a short visit.

It is not certain whether the fair Gabriella repaid this excessive tenderness with equal sincerity. In such attachments few women separate the lover from the king. Mademoiselle D'Etrees had not understanding enough to be capable of the refinements of a delicate passion. She was interested, vain, and ambitious: she raised her hopes to the throne, and not only practised upon the weaknesses of Henry for this purpose, but formed cabals and intrigues to secure the successes of her designs, which would in all probability have reduced her royal lover once more to the condition of an exile: yet she had the addresses to perfuade him that she really loved him; or rather this thought was so necessary to his happiness,

E 2

52 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

pinefs, that he affifted the crafty miftrels in deceiv-
ing himself.

The Duke de Sully mentions a fum of money
which ſhe lent the king in his diſtreſſes. How
great thoſe diſtreſſes were the reader may conceive
by the humorous repreſentation which Henry him-
felf gave of them in the following billet to the duke
of Sully *.

“ I am very near my enemies, and ſcarcely a
“ horſe to carry me into the battle, nor a complete
“ ſuit of armour to put on; my ſhirts are all
“ ragged, my doublets out at elbow, my kettle is
“ ſeldom on the fire, and theſe two laſt days I have
“ been obliged to dine where I could, for my pur-
“ veyors have informed me, that they have not
“ wherewithal to furniſh my table.”

The king's paſſion for mademoiselle D'Etrees
was at first so far diſcountenanced by her parents,
that they kept her in a ſevere confinement; and al-
though Henry in his impatience to be with her
would ſometimes neglect to reap the fruits of a
dear-bought victory, and quitting the purſuit of
the enemy, turn aside to the road that led to her
houſe, yet a diſtant fight of her was all he could
obtain. Monsieur D'Etrees, fuppoſing his daugh-
ter would be more ſecure from the king's at-
tempts when ſhe was married, peremptorily in-
fifted upon her giving her hand to Nicholas D'A-
merval, lord of Liancourt.

Gabriella continued obſtinate in her diſobedi-
ence, till the king, who had made ſure of mon-
fieur de Liancourt, ſent her word to comply, as

* Sully's Memoirs, Vol. I. page 343, the Quarto Edition.

7

the

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

the only means of freeing herself from her present restraint.

It was certainly no proof of Henry's understanding, though a great one of that blind passion which tyrannised over his heart, that he so securely relied upon the honour of a man who, to serve his designs, could consent to be a nominal husband, and upon the fidelity of a woman who entered into the most solemn engagement with a fixed purpose to break through it: however, an accident happened which awakened his suspicions. It is thus related by the duke de Sully.

“ His majesty having sent Alibour, his first physician, to visit Madame de Liancourt, who was indisposed, (this was in the beginning of his addresse to that lady.) At his return he told the king, that she was indeed a little disordered; but that he need not be uneasy, for the consequence would be very good. But will you not bleed and purge her ? said the king to him. I shall be very careful of doing that, replied the old man with the fame simplicity, before she has gone half her time. How! interrupted the king, anato-nised and disordered to the last degree; what is it you say, friend? surely you rave, and are not in your right heads.”

“ Alibour supported his assertion with good proofs, which the king thought he should destroy, by telling him upon what terms he was with the lady. I know not what you have done, or what you have not done, replied the old physician with great compunction; and, for a complete proof, referred him to fix or seven months from that time.”

E 3

“ The

54

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

“ The king quitted Alibour in great rage, and
“ went immediately to reproach the sick fair one,
“ who, no doubt, knew well enough how to new
“ drefs all the good man had ignorantly faid ; for
“ it was not perceived that any misunderstanding
“ happened between the king and his miftrels.

“ It is certain, however, that the event was ex-
“ actly conformable to Alibour’s prediction: but
“ it was thought that Henry, after a more strict
“ examination, was brought to believe, that he had
“ been miftaken in his reckoning, ſince, inſtead
“ of diſowning the child that madam de Liancourt
“ lay in of at Coucy, during the ſiege of Laon,
“ he acknowledged it openly, and had it baptized
“ by the name of Cæsar.”

Gabriella found it no difficult matter to perſuade
the king, that ſhe loved him alone. She affected
the tender ſolicitude of a wife for his perſon and
ſafety, when he left her to put himſelf at the head
of his army; tears, ſwoonings, and paſſionate com-
plaints, expreſſed her ſtrong apprehenſions of his
danger. She continued to lend him money in his
exigencies; and we find in Sully’s *Memoirs* an
order to him from the king to repay madame de
Liancourt four thouſand crowns he had borrowed
from her. It may eafily be imagined that Henry
was reduced to great ſtreights when he conſented
to receive this affiſtance from his miftrels.

Henry, while the affairs of his kingdom were
ſtill in the utmoſt confusion, and while ſeveral of
the chiefs of the League were in arms againſt
him, ſome of whom he was endeavouring to bring

over

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

over to his party by negotiations, and reducing
others by force, found leisure for the soft anxieties of
love.

He was in Picardy, where, finding himself unable to support the absence of madame de Liancourt, he wrote to his faithful friend the duke of Sully, then marquis of Rofny, to conduct that lady to him.

In this journey the fair Gabriella was in imminent danger of her life. The duke of Sully gives a particular account of it, which I shall transcribe for the sake of the observation he makes at the end of it *.

“ At Maubuiffon I met madam de Liancourt, with whom I took the road to Clermont. I rode seven or eight hundred paces before the litter in which this lady was, and which was followed at some distance by a great unwieldy coach that carried her women; before and behind this coach march-ed several mules loaded with baggage.

“ About a league from Clermont, where the road was very narrow, a steep hill on one side, and a hanging valley on the other, leaving only room enough for two carriages to go a-breast; the coachman alighting on some occasion or other, one of the mules pafling near the side of the coach after it stopped, by its neighing and the found of its bells, so terrified the horfes, which unfortunately were young and fkittish, that, taking the bit between their teeth, they drew the coach with fuch rapidity, that, meeting with two

* Sully's Memoirs, Vol. L page 383, Quarto.

E 4

“ other

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

“I stopped them and gave them to my do-
meſticks to hold, after which I flew to relieve
“Madame de Liancourt, who was half dead with
“fear. I went next to the coach and affifted the
“women to get out of it: they were for having
“the coachman hanged; and I was complaifant
“enough to give him two or three ſtrokes with my
“cane. At length their terrors being entirely diſ-
“ſipated, and the carriage refitted, we resumed
“our journey; and till we arrived at Clermont I
“continued to ride close to Madame de Lian-
“court's litter.

“The king had fet out for this place to meet
“his miftręſs, and arrived there a quarter of an
“hour after us. I did not fail to inform him im-
“mediately of what had happened; and while I
“was relating this adventure, I obſerved him at-
“tentively, and ſaw him grow pale and tremble.
“By theſe emotions, which I never ſaw in him in
“the greateſt dangers, it was eafy to gueſs the vio-
“lence of his paſſion for this lady.”

In the year 1596 the king created his miftręſs
marchionefs of Monceaux: his paſſion for her en-
creased to ſuch a degree that he ſuffered no one to
be ignorant of it. He paſſed through Paris, with
this lady by his ſide; and by the tenderneſs which
he took pleafure to ſhew to her in public, he ſeemed
to invite the adorations of his courtiers to this idol,
who made her influence be univerſally felt.

Gabriella, under the appearance of a diſintereſted
love for the king's perſon, concealed a boundleſs
ambition, which made her not ſcruple to ſacrifice
the honour of her royal lover to any profit of

ag-

58 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

aggrandizing herself. She contracted her son Cæsar, whom she had by the king, to the opulent heires of the house of Mercœur.

The Duke of Mercœur, who was then in arms against his sovereign, found himself by this alliance restored to his favour, without suffering the least diminution of his honours and estates; and Henry, anxious only to please his miftres, condescended to treat upon almost equal terms with a rebel subject, whom he had it in his power to crush at a blow.

The Duke of Sully did not fail to make very lively remonstrances to his master upon this occasion; but the whole affair was concluded before he had been made acquainted with it.

The ceremony of the contract was performed at Angers, with the fame magnificence as if the little Cæsar had been a son of France born in marriage. He was then but four years old, and his betrothed wife but fix.

The birth of a second son drew from the king an increase of tendernefs and honours. Gabriella now quitted the title of Marchionefs of Monceaux for that of Dutchefs of Beaufort. As she had for a long time fet no bounds to her ambition, she affairs at nothing lefs than being declared queen of France; and Henry's passion for her, which encreased every day, gave her hopes of accomplishing her defigns.

When she was informed that the king's agents at Rome were commissioned to folicit the diffolution of his marriage with Margaret of Valois, and that his majesty was upon the point of fending the Duke of Luxembourg to that court, with the title of am-

baf-

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

baſſador, to haſten the conclusion of it, ſhe looked upon this to be a favourable opportunity; but ap-
prehenſive that thoſe agents and the new ambaſ-
fador would not enter into her views, ſhe resolved to get Sillery, then minifter of ſtate, and who was already deep in her intereſts, to be nominated for this embaſſy. As ſhe well knew what was moſt likely to tempt him, ſhe promiſed him the ſeals at his return from Rome, and the poſt of Chancellor when it became vacant.

At this price Sillery engaged with all the oaths ſhe exacted of him to neglect nothing that might prevail upon the pope to legitimate the two chil-
dren which ſhe had by Henry, and to diſolve his marriage with Margaret.

This firſt ſtep taken, few obſtacles remained to hinder her advancement to the throne. She eaſily found reaſons to make the king approve of the ambaſſador ſhe had choſen. The Duke of Luxembourg was only ſuffered to ſet out, to be recalled as ſoon as Sillery ſhould be in a condition to take his place.

The Dutchefs affiſted herſelf in preparing his equipages, and prevailed upon the king to give the neceſſary orders for Sillery's appearance with all the pomp and magnificence by which the ſucceſs of his negociation might be ſecured.

To prepare the French at the fame time for the
change which ſhe meditated for her children, ſhe
prevailed upon the king, who had no leſs tender-
neſs for them than the mother, to let the ceremony
of her ſecond ſon's baptiſm be performed at Saint
Germain, where the king then was, with the fame

mag-

60 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

magnificence and honours which in this ceremony
are only obferved to the children of France.

“ Although I could pardon this lady, fays the
“ Duke of Sully, for an intoxication in which ſhe
“ was kept by the ſervile ſ respect the courtiers ex-
“ preſſed for the children, and the adorations they
“ offered to herſelf, yet I could not have the fame
“ indulgence for Henry, who was ſo far from
“ taking any meaſures to undeceive her with regard
“ to the extravagant hopes ſhe had entertained,
“ that he gave orders for the baptiſm of this child
“ with a readineſs that ſhewed how agreeable the
“ requeſt was to him.

“ I declared my ſentiments, purſues the duke,
“ of this conduct, with great freedom; I endea-
“ voured publickly to oppoſe the inferences which
“ the courtiers would make from it in favour of
“ theſe children’s pretenſions to the crown. The
“ king himſelf, when the ceremony was over, be-
“ came ſenſible that his orders had been exceeded;
“ and this I had no difficulty to believe.

“ The child was named Alexander, as the eldeſt
“ had been Cæsar; and the court-flatterers, by a
“ kind of ſecond baptiſm, gave him the title of
“ *Monfieur*, which in France no one is permitted
“ to bear but the king’s only brother, or the pre-
“ ſumptive heir to the crown.

“ The miſtrefs did not ſtop here; ſhe began to
“ aſſume all the airs of a queen: not indeed ſo
“ much of her own accord, for I think ſhe knew
“ herſelf well enough not to have ventured on any
“ ſuch notion, but driven on to take that ſtep by
“ the

THE LADY'S MUSEUM. 61

" the continual solicitations of her creatures and relations.

" Madame de Sourdis, Cheverny, and Frefne, " seconded her so well on their parts, that it became " insensibly the public talk of the court, that the " king was going to marry his miftrefs; and that " it was for this purpose he was soliciting his " divorce at Rome.

" I was shocked at a report so injurious to the " glory of this prince; I went to him and made " him sensible of the consequence of it. He ap- " peared to me affected, and even piqued at it: his " first care was to justify Madame de Beaufort, " who, he positively assured me, had not contri- " buted to the report; for which, all the proof he " had was, that she had told him so.

" He threw the whole blame upon Madame de Sourdis and Frefne, to whom he shewed that he " was capable of pardoning a conduct so little re- " fpectful to him, since although he was assured " they were guilty, he gave them not the flightest " reprimand.

" One circumstance added great weight to the " steps I took in this affair, both in public and pri- " vate. Queen Margaret, with whom the affair " of the approaching dissolution of her marriage " obliged me to keep a correspondence by letters, " was the last who heard of what was faid and " done at court with regard to Madame de Beau- " fort's pretenfions; as soon as she was inform- " ed of them she wrote to me, and gave me to " understand, that she had not changed her mind " concerning a separation from the king; but " that

62 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

“ that she was so much offended at their intending
“ to give the place she resigned, to a woman so in-
“ famous as the Dutchefs was, by her commerce
“ with the king, that although she had at first
“ given her consent, without annexing any con-
“ ditions to it, she was now determined to infiſt
“ upon the exclusion of this woman; and no treat-
“ ment whatever should oblige her to alter her
“ reſolution. I ſhewed this letter to the king,
“ who judging by it how much his marriage with
“ his miſtrefs would irritate the beſt of his ſub-
“ jects againſt him, began, in reality, to change
“ his ſentiments and conduct.

“ I was of opinion, that if madame de Beaufort
“ was acquainted with the contents of this letter,
“ it might probably produce the fame effects upon
“ her. I would not take this trouble upon my-
“ ſelf, being unwilling to meet the insolence and
“ rage of a woman, who looked upon me as a
“ ſtumbling block in the way of her advance-
“ ment; but I communicated the letter to Chi-
“ verny and Fresne, who immediately informed
“ Madame de Sourdis of it, and ſhe almoſt in
“ the fame moment the Dutchefs of Beaufort.

“ But this lady's counſellors were not so easily
“ alarmed; they were very ſenſible that the ſtep
“ they had undertaken to prevail upon the king,
“ would not fail of meeting with many difficulties,
“ and they had ſettled their behaviour upon each :
“ the reſult of their deliberations had been to
“ haſten, as much as poffible, the conclusion of
“ the affair, perſuading themselves, that when it
“ was once over, they might give it a colour that

“ ſhould

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

“ should make it excusable; or at worst, matters
“ might be compofed after a little talk, as always
“ happens when things are without remedy.

“ They knew well the difpoſition of the French
“ nation, especially the courtiers, whose first law
“ it is to be always of the fame mind with the fo-
“ vereign; and whose ſtrongest paſſion the desire
“ of pleasing him. In a word, they thought
“ themſeves ſecure of every thing, provided the
“ king himſelf did not fail them.

“ Fresne having drawn up the warrant for the
“ payment of the heralds, trumpeters, and other of-
“ ficers of the crown who had attended at the ce-
“ remony of this baptiſm, it was brought to me
“ as well as the reſt of the counſellors, that I might
“ give my order for its diſcharge. As soon as I
“ caſt my eyes upon this writing, a tender concern
“ for the king’s honour made me look upon it as
“ a laſting witneſs of his weakneſs, which was go-
“ ing to be handed down to poſterity. I heſitated
“ not a moment to return it, and cauſed another
“ to be drawn up in terms more proper.

“ The titles of Monſieur, ſon of France, and
“ all that could give any notion of that kind were
“ ſuppressed, and conſequently the household fees
“ were reduced to the ordinary ſum, with which
“ they were highly diſsatisfied. They did not fail
“ to renew their efforts; and in their diſcontent
“ quoted monſieur de Fresne, and the law by
“ which their claims were regulated. At first I
“ reſtrained myſelf before theſe people, whose bad
“ intentions I was not ignorant of; but growing
“ impatient at laſt, I could not help ſaying to
“ them

66 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

“ His coach not being ready soon enough for
“ his impatience, his majesty got into mine, and
“ as we drove to the dutchefs's lodgings, he told
“ me that he would never have cause to reproach
“ himself, that, through his complaisance for a wo-
“ man, he had banished, or even disglutched servants,
“ who, like me, were only solicitous for his glory
“ and interest.

“ Madame de Beaufort, upon my leaving her
“ apartment so haftily, had expected to see the
“ king soon after; and during that time had taken
“ sufficient pains to adorn her person; believing
“ like me that the victory which one or other of
“ us was to gain would be the happy or miserable
“ preface of her fortune.

“ As soon as she was informed of the king's ar-
“ rival, she came as far as the door of the first
“ hall to receive him. Henry without faluting
“ her, or shewing any part of his usual tender-
“ nefs, Let us go, madam, said he, to your chamber,
“ and suffer no one to enter but yourself, Rofney, and
“ me, for I want to talk to you both, and make you
“ live together upon friendly terms.

“ Then ordering the door to be shut, and that no
“ one should be suffered to remain in the chamber,
“ wardrobe, or closet, he took her hand, holding one
“ of mine at the same time, and with an air that
“ she had good reason to be surprised at, told her,
“ that the true motive which had determined him
“ to attach himself to her, was the gentlenefs he
“ had observed in her disposition; but that her
“ conduct for some time past, had convinced him,
“ that what he had believed to be real was only
“ dif-

THE LADY's MUSEUM.

“ fembled; and that she had deceived him: he
“ reproached her with the bad counsels she had
“ listened to, and the very considerable faults they
“ had occasioned.

“ He loaded me with praisers, to shew the
“ dutchefs, by the difference of our proceedings,
“ that I only had a true affection for his person :
“ he commanded her to subdue her aversion for
“ me so far as to be able to regulate her conduct
“ by my advice, since she might depend upon it
“ his passion for her should never induce him to
“ banish me from his preference.

“ Madame de Beaufort began her answer with
“ sighs and tears. She affected a tender and sub-
“missive air: she would have kissed the hand of
“ Henry; omitting no artifice which she thought
“ capable of melting his heart. It was not till she
“ had played over all these little arts, that she be-
“gan to speak, which she did by complaining,
“that instead of those returns she might have ex-
“pected from a prince to whom she had given her
“heart, she saw herself sacrificed to one of his
“grooms.

“ She recapitulated all that I had done againft
“ her children, in order to awake his majesty's
“ resentment againft me; then feigning to sink
“ under the violence of her grief and despair, she
“ let herself fall upon a couch, where she proteft-
“ ed she was determined to die, not being able to
“ endure life after so cruel an affront.

“ The attack was a little strong. Henry did
“ not expect it: I observed him heedfully, and saw
“ his countenance change; but recovering him-

F 2

“ self

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

“ As for me, I was so far deceived by it, as to
“ be greatly concerned for her, and was not drawn
“ out of this error, till madam de Beaufort, per-
“ ceiving the king was going to leave her so much
“ offended, that she had reason to apprehend he
“ would never return again, changed her beha-
“ viour in an instant, ran to stop him, and threw
“ herself at his feet, no longer to impose upon his
“ tenderneſs, but to foothim to a forgetfulness
“ of her fault. She began by apologizing for her
“ past conduct, affumed an air of gentleness and
“ complacency, and vowed she never had, nor
“ ever would have any will but his.

“ Never was there a change of scene more fud-
den! I now saw a woman perfectly agreeable,
“ easy, and compliant, who acted towards me as
“ if all that had just passed had been a dream; and
“ we separated very good friends.”

The dutchefs of Beaufort however still entertain-
ed hopes of being queen of France. She employ-
ed every artifice which her own cunning and the
more fubtile policy of her relations suggested to her
to secure the success of her designs. The king
having recovered from a dangerous fit of illness,
she engaged his first physician, who was absolutely
devoted to her, to perfuade him that he could have
no more children.

She had practised so successfully upon some of
his minifters of state, that they made no scruple to
advise Henry to secure the succession by marrying
the dutchefs, and legitimating the eldest of the chil-
dren which he had by her.

F 3

That

70 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

That the king was but too well dispoſed to admit this counsel appears by the following converſation which he had with the duke of Sully, who of all his minifters was the only one that had courage and refolution enough to oppoſe a deſign ſo injurious to his honour.

“ The king, ſays the duke of Sully *, at certain intervals, appeared ſo penſive and referved, that it was not difficult to gueſs ſome ſecret uneaſineſs preyed upon his mind; and I was the more convinced of it, when his majesty, who often diverted himſelf with hunting, ordered me twice to follow him apart, that he might have an opportunity of converſing with me alone; yet when I did he was filent.

“ I then remembered that the fame thing had happened at Saint Germain and Angers; and I concluded that he had a deſign in view, which he had ſome difficulty to diſcloſe to me, knowing with what freedom I ſometimes oppoſed his opinions; but what this deſign was I could not gueſs. Returning from a viſit to the duke of Bouillon, his majesty being at the foot of the ſtair-cafe, ſaw me as I entered the court, and calling me, made me go with him into the garden, which was extremely large and beautiful, holding my hand with his finger between mine as uſual, then ordered the door to be ſhut, and that no perſon ſhould be allowed to enter.

“ This prelude made me expect to hear a ſecret of great conſequence. Henry did not enter upon

* Sully's Memoirs, Vol. I. Page 462, Quarto.

“ it

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

71

" it immediately; but, as if he had not sufficient
" resolution to explain himself, began to tell me
" what had just happened between him and the
" duke of Bouillon. This conversation was fol-
" lowed by news relating to the negotiations of
" Vervins, and led him insensibly to reflect on
" the advantages France would receive from a
" peaceable government.

" One circumstance the king said gave him
" great unease, which was, that not having
" children by the queen his wife, it would answer
" no purpose to be at so much trouble to procure
" peace and tranquility to his kingdom, since, after
" his death, it must necessarily fall into its form-
" er calamities, by the disputes that would arise
" between the prince of Condé, and the other
" princes of the blood, concerning the succession
" to the crown.

" His majesty confessed to me, that this was
" his motive for desiring with such ardour to leave
" sons behind him. Unless his marriage with the
" prince's Margaret could be dissolved, it was not
" possible for him to be absolutely happy; but the
" informations he received from the archbishop of
" Urbin, Meff. du Perron, D'Offat, and de Mar-
" quemont, his deputies at Rome, of the pope's
" favourable dispositions in respect to that affair,
" gave him great hopes of its successes. In effect,
" Clement the Eighth, who was as good a politi-
" cian as any prince in Europe, revolving in his
" mind what means were most likely to hinder
" France and the other Christian kingdoms from
" falling again into a state of anarchy and confu-
" sion, could find none so effectual as to secure

F 4

“ the

THE LADY's MUSEUM.

“ two others did not please him; and all for some
“ reason or other were excluded.

“ The king closed this enumeration by saying,
“ that although these ladies might be all agreeable
“ enough to him in their persons, he saw no way
“ to be assured that they would bring him heirs,
“ or that he could suit himself to their tempers, or
“ be convinced of their prudence, three of the
“ seven conditions, without which he had resolved
“ never to marry; since, if he entered into an en-
“ gagement of that kind, it would be with a de-
“ sign to give his wife a share in the management
“ of all his domestic affairs; and that, if according
“ to the course of nature, he should die before her,
“ and leave children very young behind him, it
“ would be necessary that he should be able to
“ superintend their education, and govern the
“ kingdom during a minority.

“ Weary at length of endeavouring to no pur-
“ pose to find out what the king aimed at by this
discourse; But what do you mean, Sire, said I, by
“ so many affirmitives and negatives; and what am I
to conclude by them, but that you are defirous to
“ marry, and yet cannot find a woman upon earth
“ qualified to be your wife? By the manner in which
“ you mentioned the Infanta Clara Eugenia, it should
“ seem that great heireffes are most agreeable to you; but
“ can you expect that heaven should raise a Margaret
“ of Flanders, or a Mary of Burgundy from the dead
“ for you; or at least restore the Queen of England
“ to her youth?

“ I added smiling, that for proof of the other qua-
lities that he demanded, I saw no better expedient
“ than

THE
LADY'S MUSEUM.

The TRIFLER.

[NUMBER II.]

FROM the account I have already given of my temper and inclinations, it will be readily supposed that the love of power, which our great fatirift afferts to be the ruling passion of my sex, is not the least prevailing one of mine; and therefore I will candidly acknowledge that the too perceptible decline of our influence has often been the subject of much painful reflection to me.

We live no longer in those happy times, when to recover one stolen fair one, whole nations took up arms; when the smile of beauty was more powerful than the voice of ambition; when heroes conquered to deserve our favour, and poets preferred the myrtle to the laurel crown.

In this degenerate age instances of dying for love are very rare, and instances of marrying for Numb. II.

G

love

82 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

love are still rarer. Formerly, if a lady had com-
manded her lover to bring her the head of a lion,
he would have gone to Africa in search of the
favage conquest, though death were to have been
the consequence of his obedience: but now, what
lady would presume so much upon her authority,
as to exact from her lover the sacrifice of a party at
whift, or a match at Newmarket !

However desirous I am to find the cause of
this decline of our empire in the depraved man-
ners of the men, yet justice obliges me to own that
we ourselves are not wholly free from blame.
Beauty, like the majesty of kings, weakens its in-
fluence when familiarised to common view. The
face that may be seen every morning at auctions,
at public breakfastings, and in crouded walks;
every evening at assemblies, at the play, the opera,
or some other fashionable scene of pleasure, soon
loves the charm of novelty, and effaces the im-
pression it first made. We may gaze upon a fine
picture till the grace of the attitude, the loveliness
of the features, and the strength of the colouring
cease to surprise and delight us; and unhappily ma-
ny of our present race of beauties are too solicitous
about their personal charms to attend to the im-
provement of their minds: so that a fine woman is
indeed often no more than a fine picture.

It has been observed, that there is no country in
the world where women enjoy so much liberty as in
England, and none where their fway is so little
acknowledged. In Spain, where the severe father,
and jealous brother, guard the fecluded maid from
all converse with men, she will conquer more hearts
by being seen once without a veil, than one of our
beauties,

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

83

beauties, who appears with her neck and shoulders
uncovered at every place of publick resort during
the whole season.

The Spanish lover paffes whole nights at his mi-
strels's door, and employs sighs, tears, serenades, and
tender complaints to move her compassion; bribes
the vigilant duenna with half his estate to procure
him a short interview at a grated window: and for
this inestimable favour he exposes himself to the
rage of her relations, who probably stand ready to
punish his presumption with death; while he, re-
gardlesof the infidious ftab, contemplates her by
the faint light of the moon, with enthusiastic rap-
ture.

For her fake he enters the dreadful lifts, and en-
counters the fierce bull of Andalusia; the spec-
tators tremble at his danger; he looks up to the
balcony where she is seated, and catches forti-
tude from her eyes. Should he be wounded in
the unequal combat, a sign from her gives him
new force and courage: again he affails his furious
antagonist, and drives him bellowing about the
field. The lady waves her handkerchief to him
as a token of her joy for his victory; the lover, half
dead with fatigue and lofs of blood, but triumph-
ing more in that instance of her regard for him
than in the loud acclamations he hears on every
fide, turns to the place where she stands, kiffes his
sword, and is carried out of the lifts.

Thus ardent are the flames which love inspires
in a country where the promiscuous assembly, the
wrangling card-table, the licentious comedy, and
late protracted ball, are not permitted to rob

G 2

beauty

84

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

beauty of its most engaging charms, the blush of
unfulled modefty, and the soft dignity of female
reserve.

With us the lover dresses at his mirth, fings,
dances, and coquets with her, expects to dazzle
her with superior charms, and loves her for the fu-
perficial qualities he admires in himself. He hopes
not to gain her heart in reward of his services and
conftancy, but claims it as a price due to the
refiftlefs graces of his person.

Such is the low state of our power at prefent,
and such it will continue till our own prudence
and reserve fupply the place of impofed retiredneſs,
and throw as many difficulties in the lover's way
as the tyranny of cuſtom does in other countries.
Beauty, like the Parthian archer, wounds ſureſt
when ſhe flies, and we then moſt certain of victo-
ry when we have not courage enough to invite
the attack.

Conclusion of the HISTORY of the DUTCHESS
of BEAUFORT.

THE Dutchefs of Beaufort was not ignorant
that the Duke of Sully oppofed all her de-
ſigns; ſhe knew the power which his wisdom and
integrity gave him over the mind of the king;
but ſuch was her confidence in her own charms,
and in thofe ſchemes which her low cunning, and
the intereſted policy of her relations and depen-
dants had ſuggested, that ſhe fondly flattered her-
felf

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

85

felf neither reafons of ſtate, nor motives of honour
would have force enough to hinder her royal lover
from gratifying her wishes.

Henry, either becaufe he had not yet taken any
reſolution againſt her, or, that his tenderneſs and
regard for her hindered him from declaring it, ſuſ-
fered her to remain in this pleafing deluſion.

In the mean time ſhe appeared in the ſtate and
equipage of a queen; the ſervile courtiers antici-
pated her expected dignity by paying her thoſe
honours which were due only to the wife of their
prince. No language but that of adulation ever
reached her ear; power, magnificence, pleafure,
offered her every day ſuccesſive delights; her
ſmile was confidered as the ſmile of fortune; leſs
ſucceſsful guilt looked up to her with ſecret re-
pinings; envy, dazzled by her blaze of grandeur,
durſt not even in whifpers breathe its discontent;
and only virtue beheld her at once with pity and
contempt.

In the midſt of all this ſplendor madame de
Beaufort was completely wretched; the fear
of future disappointments rendered her prefent
enjoysments taſteleſs; confcious of the ſlender
chains by which ſhe held the king's heart, ſhe
lived in perpetual anxiety, leſt her beauty ſhould
ſuffer any decay; the flighteſt alteration in her com-
plexion filled her with dreadful alarms, and every
evening brought with it the painful reflection that
ſhe was now a day older than ſhe was yefterday.

While the diſolution of the king's marriage
with Margaret of Valois was ſoliciting at Rome,

G 3

ſhe

86 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

she equally dreaded and wishe'd for the determi-
nation of that important affair.

If the divorce was granted, the king would in-
deed be at liberty to marry her, but he would be
free likewife to marry any one else; and all the
wisest and best of his subjects earneſtly deſired to
ſee him married to ſome princeſs of Europe, who
might bring him heirs worthy to reign over them;
and if among all those princeſes who were judged
to be ſuitable matches for Henry the IV. ſhe heard
any of them prais'd for their beauty, ſhe trembled
and could not conceal her uneaſineſs.

The king cauſed the pictures of the Infanta of
Spain, and of Mary de Medicis to be ſhewn to her,
being curious to know what ſhe would ſay.

“ I am under no apprehension of that brown woman,
“ said ſhe, ſpeaking of the Infanta, but the Florentine
“ fills me with dread.”

This painful anxiety, which was the conſequence
of her precarious ſituation, received continual in-
crease by the confidence ſhe placed in the predic-
tions of astrologers.

“ Madame de Beaufort, ſays the Duke of Sully,
“ was the weakeſt of her ſex, with regard to divi-
nation: ſhe did not pretend to deny that ſhe
“ confulted astrologers concerning her affairs; and
“ indeed ſhe had always a great many of them
“ about her, who never quitted her; and what is
“ moſt ſurprifing, though ſhe doubtlesſs paid them
“ well, yet they never foretold her any thing but
“ what was disagreeable.

“ One ſaid that ſhe would never be married but
“ once, another that ſhe would die young, a third

“ warned

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

“warned her to take care of being with child, and
“a fourth affured her that she would be betrayed
“by one of her friends. Hence proceeded that
“melancholy which oppreſs'd her, and which she
“was never able to overcome.

“Gracienne, one of her women, has ſince told
“me, that ſhe would often retire from company to
“paſs whole nights in grief and weeping, on ac-
“count of theſe predictions.”

If we add to this continual anxiety the ſtings
of conſcience for unrepented guilt, can imagination
form the idea of a more wretched being than this
woman, in the midſt of all her ſplendor, power,
and magnificence ?

The trouble of deſpair, ſays a ſenſible writer,
always rifes in proportion to the evil that is feared ;
conſequently the greatest agonies of expectation
are those which relate to another world.

These agonies, which ſhe who lived in an in-
famous commerce with a married man often ex-
perienced, were heightened by an event which af-
fected her more than any other perſon, and ſeemed
a frightful preſage of her own approaching fate.

She was far advanced in another guilty preg-
nancy, when the ſtrange death of Louiſa de Budos,
ſecond wife to Henry Conſtable de Montmorency,
filled her with unusual horrors, and embittered all
the ſhort remainder of her life.

“ These two deaths (ſays the Duke of Sully
“ ſpeaking of the conſtable's lady, and 'Madame
“ de Beaufort) made a great noife every where, and
“ were attended with a ſurprisſing ſimilarity of very
“ uncommon circumſtances: both were ſeized

“ with

G 4

88

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

“ with a violent distemper that lafted only three or
“ four days; and both, tho' extremely beautiful,
“ became horribly disfigured, which together with
“ fome other circumftances, that at any other time
“ would have been thought natural, or only the
“ effects of poifon, raifed a report in the world, that
“ the deaths of theſe two young ladies, as well as
“ their elevation, was the work of the devil, who
“ made them pay dearly for that ſhort felicity
“ he had procured them. And this was certainly
“ believed not only amongſt the common people,
“ who are generally credulous to a high degree of
“ folly, but amongſt the courtiers themſelves.”

“ This, purſues the duke of Sully, is what is re-
lated of the conſtable's lady, and as it is faid by the
ladies who were then at her houſe: ſhe was con-
verſing with them gaily in her cloſet, when one
of her women entered in great terror, and told her
that a certain perſon, who called himſelf a gentle-
man, and who indeed had a good prefence, fav-
ing that he was quite black, and of a gigantic ſta-
ture, had juſt entered her antichamber, and defired
to ſpeak to her about affairs of great conſequence,
which he could communicate to none but her.

“ At every circumſtance relating to this extraor-
dinary courier, the lady was ſeen to grow pale; and
appeared ſo oppreſſed with grief, that ſhe could
ſcarcely bid her woman intreat the gentleman to de-
fer his viſit to another time; to which he replied
in a tone that filled the meſſenger with horror, That
ſince the lady would not come to him willingly he
would take the trouble to go and ſeek her in her
cloſet. She, who was more afraid of a publick than

a pri-

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

a private audience, resolved at last to go to him,
but with all the marks of a deep defpair.

“ The terrible meffage performed, she returned
to her company, bathed in tears, and half dead with
difmay : she had only time to fpeak a few words to
take leave of them, particularly of three ladies who
were her intimate friends, and to affure them that
she should never see them more.

“ That infiant she was feized with exquisite pains,
and died at the end of three days, filling all who
faw her with horror at the frightful change of every
feature in her once lovely face.”

The dutchefs of Beaufort proved the truth of
that observation, that repentance is often not so
much remorsf for our fins, as fear of the confef-
quence-----This fear indeed acted powerfully upon
her mind; but it did not produce reformation in
her conduct, which is the only infallible fign by
which true penitence may be known.

The king having resolved to fpend the Eafter
holidays at Fontainebleau, was unwilling to incur
the censure of keeping this lady with him during
that facred feftival. Madame de Beaufort, who
had infiſted upon making one of the party with
the king, was ſenſibly mortified when, after a ſtay
only of three or four days, he intreated her to leave
him at Fontainebleau, and return herſelf to Paris.

This requeſt, enforced by motives drawn from
the impropriety of their continuing together at ſuch
a time, was received with tears by the dutchefs.
Whether it was that her pride was ſenſibly wounded
by the king's ſo easily admitting the neceſſity of her
abſence, or that ſhe had really ſome ſecret forebod-

2

ing

90 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

ing that she should never see him more, she seemed
to consider this separation as the greatest misfort-
tune that could befal her.

The duke of Sully, as well as all the other hifto-
rians who have mentioned this parting of the king
and his miftrels, allow that there was fomething
very extraordinary in the grief expreffed by the two
lovers upon this occasion.

When the moment came that madame de Beaufort
was to leave Fontainbleau, she appeared overwhelmed
with anguish. The king, who was more paflio-
nately fond of her than ever, ftruggled to repreſs
his emotions: he conducted her half way to Paris;
and although they proposed only an abſence of a
few days, yet they dreaded the moment of ſeparation,
as if they were never to meet more. “ Thoſe
“(fays the duke of Sully) who are inclined to give
“ faith to fuch kind of forebodings will lay ſome
“ ſtrels upon this relation. The two lovers re-
“ newed their endearments; and in every thing
“ they ſaid to each other at that moment, ſome
“ perſons have pretended to find proofs of theſe
“ prefages of an inevitable fate.”

Henry fighting led his miftrels to the boat
which was to carry her down to the arſenal. Juſt
as she was preparing to enter it, she ſtopped, and
turning to the king, who was oppreſſed with grief,
she ſpoke to him, as if for the laſt time. She recom-
mended to his care her children, her eſtate of Mon-
ceaux, and her domeſtics. Henry ſltened to her;
but, inſtead of comforting her, gave way to ſym-
pathiſing ſorrow. Again they took leave of each
other, and a ſecret emotion again drew them to
each other's arms.

The

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

9r

The king, not being able to tear himself from her, the marshal D'Ornano, Roquelaure, and Frontenac, forced him away, and prevailed upon him at length to return to Fontainebleau, after he had tenderly recommended the care of his mistres to La Varenne, with orders to conduct her safely to the house of Zamet *, to whom he chose to confide this pledge so dear to him.

The duke of Sully being at Paris when madame de Beaufort arrived there, he thought himself obliged to wait on her before he set out for his estate at Rofny ; and by the account he gives of her discourse to him, it appears that her melancholy ideas were already diffipated ; and that she again indulged herself in her gay dreams of royalty, and cherished all her ambitious hopes: dreams so soon to be changed to a frightful certainty, and hopes shortly to terminate in defpair and death !

" She gave me (says the duke of Sully) a moft " obliging reception, and seemed to have wholly " forgot our dispute at Saint Germain ; but not " chusing to explain herself clearly upon that compliance with her projects to which she wifhed to " bring me, she contented herself with endeavouring to engage me in her intereſt, by mingling " with those civilities which she ſhewed to very few " perſons, words which carried a double ſenſe, and " hinted to me a boundleſs grandeur, if I would

* Sebastian Zamet, a private gentlemen of immenſe fortune. He was an Italian, and a native of Lucca, but got himſelf naturalized in 1581. He deſired the notary who drew up his daughter's contract of marriage, to ſtile him lord of ſeventeen hundred thouſand crowns. Henry IV. loved him for his wit and facetious humour, and chose his house for collations and parties of pleasure.

" re-

92 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

“ relax a little in the severity of my counsel to the
“ king with regard to her.

“ I (pursues the duke) who was as little moved
“ with the chimeras that filled her head as with
“ those she fought to inspire me with, pretended
“ not to understand any part of a discourse intel-
“ ligible enough ; and answered her equivocal
“ terms with general professions of respect, at-
“ tachment, and devotion, which signify what
“ one will.”

The dutchefs of Sully going likewise to pay a
visit to the triumphant miftresſs, was overwhelmed
with the airs of royalty affumed by this poor crea-
ture already devoted to the shades of death, and
so soon to anſwer at the tribunal of divine justice
for that guilty grandeur which ſhe preferred to
eternal happineſs.

Madame de Beaufort kindly intreated the dutch-
eſs of Sully to love her, and to converſe with her
as a friend. “ Entered into confidances (says the
“ duke of Sully) that would have appeared to be
“ the last instances of the moſt intimate friendſhip to
“ those, who, like madame de Sully, knew not that
“ the dutchefs, who had no great ſhare of under-
“ ſtanding, was not very delicate in the choice of
“ her confidants. It was her highest pleasure
“ to entertain any perſon ſhe first ſaw with her
“ ſchemes and expectations; and when ſhe con-
“ verſed with her inferiors, ſhe ſcarce ſubmitted
“ to any caution; for with them ſhe no longer
“ guarded her expressions, but often affumed the
“ ſtate and language of a queen.”

“ Madame de Sully (continues the duke) could
“ not avoid shewing ſome ſurprize at the dutchefs’s
“ dif-

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

"discourse, especially when that lady, making "
"an absurd assemblage of the civilities practised
"among persons of equal rank with these airs of
"a queen, told her she might come to her coucher
"and lever when she pleased, with many other
"speeches of the same kind."

It was in the midft of these intoxicating dreams
of ambition, and while she resigned her whole foul
to scenes of prefent pleasure, and to hopes of future
greatnefs, that Providence thought fit to put a pe-
riod to her life.

She was ſtill at the houſe of Sebaſtian Zamet,
who had received his fair gueſt with all the affidu-
ity of a courtier ſolicitous to pleafe, when on Maun-
dy Thursday, after a luxurious repaſt, ſhe had an
inclination to hear the evening ſervice at Saint An-
thony's the Lefs : ſhe was there ſeized with faint-
ing fits, which obliged her attendants to carry her
back immediately.

As soon as she arrived at Zamet's, she went into
the garden, hoping to receive some benefit from
the air; but in a few minutes she was attacked with
an apoplectic fit, which it was expected would have
inſtantly ſtifled her.

She recovered a little, through the affiſtance that
was given her; and, ſtrongly prepoffeſed with a
notion that ſhe was poifoned, ſhe commanded her
fervants to carry her from that houſe to madame de
Sourdis her aunt, who lived in the cloiſter Saint
Germain.

They had but juſt time to put her in bed, when
thick ſucceeding convulfions, ſo dreadful as amazed
all

94 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

all who were present, and every symptom of approaching death, left monfieur Varenne, who had taken up the pen to inform the king of this melancholy accident nothing else to say, but that the physicians despaired of the dutchefs's life, from the nature of her distemper, which required the most violent remedies, and the circumstance of her being big with child, which made all applications mortal.

Scarce had he sent away the letter, when the dutchefs, drawing near her last moments, fell into new convulsions, which disfigured her so horribly, that Varenne, not doubting but that the king would upon the receipt of his letter get out instantly to see his misforts, thought it more prudent to tell him in a second letter that she was dead, than expose him to a spectacle at once so dreadful and afflicting, as that of a woman whom he tenderly loved, expiring in agitations, struggles, and agonies which scarcely left any thing of human in her figure.

On the Saturday following the convulsions had turned her quite black, and writh'd her mouth to the back of her neck. Riviere, the king's first physician, coming in great haile upon this occasion with others of the king's physicians, but just entered her chamber, and when he saw the extraordinary condition she was in, went away, faying to those who were with him, *This is the hand of God.*

A few moments afterwards the dutchefs expired, in a general subversion of all the functions of nature, capable of inspiring horror and dismay.

The king who, upon the receipt of Varenne's first letter, had not failed to mount his horse immediately, received the second when he was got half

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

half way to Paris; and listening to nothing but the excesſs of his paſſion, was resolved, notwithstanding all that could be ſaid to him to give himſelf the conſolation of ſeeing his miſtreſs once more.

 Marshal Baffompierre, in his Memoirs, relates that Henry did not believe his miſtreſs was dead, and continued his journey; but that Varenne, having come to acquaint the marſhal D'Ornano and him, who had accompanied the dutchefs to Paris, that ſhe was juſt dead, they both took horſe, to carry the melancholy news to the king, and hinder him from proceeding to Paris.

We found the king, ſays marſhal Baffompierre, on the other side of La Sauſlaye near Vilejuif, coming on poſt horſes with the utmoſt expedition. As ſoon as he perceived the marſhal D'Ornano, he ſuſpected that he was come to bring him fatal tidings, which as ſoon as he had heard, he uttered the moſt paſſionate complaints.

These noblemen having with great difficulty prevailed upon Henry to go into the Abbey La Sauiffay, they laid him upon a bed, till the coach which they had ordered to follow came from Paris: they put him into it, to carry him back to Fontainebleau, and during this little journey he was ſo oppreſs'd with grief that he fell into a fainting fit in the arms of the maſter of the horſe.

As ſoon as he arrived at Fontainebleau he difpatched a meſſenger to the Duke of Sully, who was at his country-feat, to deſire he would come to him inſtantly.

It is worthy remark, that the king ſhould upon this occasion of his miſtreſs's death think no one

ſo

96 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

to capable of giving him consolation as the man who had most opposed his extravagant fondness for her; such is the involuntary homage which even the passions themselves pay to wisdom and virtue!

When this messager arrived at the duke's castle, he was conversing with his wife upon the extraordinary airs assumed by the Dutchefs of Beaufort when she last saw her; and perceiving her to be so much affected with the discourse she had held with her as to conclude there would certainly be some very great change in the fortune of this lady, the duke acquainted her with Madame de Beaufort's design to get herself declared queen, with the practices of her relations and dependants for that purpose, the struggles the king had in his own mind, and the resolution he had taken to overcome himself.

Madame de Sully was listening attentively to this relation, when they heard the bell of the first gate of the castle, without the moat, ring, and none of the servants answering, it being yet scarcely day, a voice several times repeated, *I come from the king.*

The Duke of Sully that instant wakening one of the grooms of his chamber, sent him to open the gate; and in his impatience to know the cause of this early fummons, he flipt on a night-gown and ran to meet the courier, when observing a deep concern upon his countenance, he asked him trembling, if the king was ill?

No, replied the man, but he is in the utmost affliction, madame the dutchefs is dead.

This

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

97

"This news, fays the Duke of Sully, appear-
"ed to me so improbable, that I made him repeat
"his words several times; and when convinced
"that it was true, I felt my mind divided between
"grief for the condition to which her death re-
duced the king, and joy for the advantages all
"France would derive from it, which was increas-
"ed, by my being fully perfuaded that the king
"would by this transitory affliction purchase a re-
"leave from a thousand anxieties, and much more
"anguish of heart than what he now actually suf-
fered. I went up again to my wife's chamber
"full of these reflections, "You will neither go to
"the dutchefs's Coucher nor Lever, said I, for she
"is dead."

So sudden and so fatal a fall from all those
towering hopes of grandeur filled Madame de Sully
with aftonishment and concern for the unhappy
dutchefs of Beaufort. The shocking particulars of
her strange death she was made acquainted with
by a letter from La Varenne to her lord.

The Duke of Sully haftened to the king, whom
he found walking in a gallery, so oppreſs'd with grief
that all company was insupportable to him. This
wife counsellor and faithful friend employed every
argument drawn from religion, virtue, and policy,
to mitigate his sorrow: he even ventured to repre-
fent to him that the event which now cauſed him
all this affliction was among the number of those
which he would one day look upon as moſt for-
tunate: he conjured him to confider the painful
situation he would have been in, if his miftrefſs had
lived; when on one fide, struggling with the force

№. 2.

H

of

98 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

of a tender and violent passion, and on the other
with the silent convictions of what honour and
duty required of him, he would have been under
an absolute necessity of coming to some resolution
with respect to an engagement which he could not
break without torture, nor continue without in-
famy.

Heaven, he told him, came to his assistance by
a stroke painful indeed; but the only one that
could open the way to a marriage upon which
depended the tranquillity of France, the fate of
Europe, the welfare of his subjects, and his own
happineſs.

“ Henry, adds the Duke of Sully, had not the
“ weakneſs of reſigning himſelf up to grief through
“ obſtinacy; or of seeking a cure in inſenſibility.
“ He liftened more to the dictates of his reaſon
“ than his paſſion, and appeared already much leſs
“ afflicted to the courtiers who entered his cham-
“ ber. At length, every one being careful not
“ to renew his grief, which his daily employments
“ gradually diminifhed, he found himſelf in that
“ ſtate which all wife men ought to be, who
“ have had great ſubjects of affliction; that is, nei-
“ ther condemning nor flattering the cauſe, nor
“ affecting either to recal or banifh the remem-
“ brance of it *.”

* Le Grain tells us, that the king made all his court go
into mourning for the Dutchefs of Beaufort; he himſelf was
dressed in black the firſt eight days, and afterwards in violet.

3/2

[ 99 ]

THE
HISTORY
OF
HARRIOT AND SOPHIA
CONTINUED.

MR. Herbert having recovered from the aftonifhment into which he had been thrown by the iftrange behaviour of Mifs Darnley, endeavoured to comfort her mother, whose weak mind was more dispoſed to be alarmed at the threat ſhe had uttered upon her quitting the room, than to reſent ſuch an infult to parental tenderneſs.

After gently inſinuating to her, that ſhe ought to
reduce her eldeſt daughter to reaſon, by a proper
exertion of her authority, he earneſtly recommended
to her to be particularly attentive to an affair which
concerned the happineſs of her youngeſt child, from
whose piety and good ſenſe ſhe might promise her-
ſelf ſo much comfort.

He adviſed her to give Sir Charles Stanley an
opportunity of explaining himſelf to her as ſoon
as poffible; and to make him comprehend, that he
muſt not hope for permiſſion to pay his addreſſes
to Sophia, till he had ſatisfied her that his intentions
were ſuch, as ſhe ought to approve.

H 2

Mrs.

100 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

Mrs. Darnley appeared so docile and complaïant upon this occasion, so ready to take advice, and so fully determined to be directed by it, that Mr. Herbert went away extremely well satisfied with her behaviour, and full of pleasing hopes for his beloved Sophia.

Harriot, in the mean time, was tormenting her
fifter above ftairs: fhe had entered her room with
a heart full of bitterneſs, and a countenance in-
flamed with rage, flinging the door after her with
fuch violence, that Sophia letting fall her book,
ftarted up in great terror, and in a trembling accent
afked her what was the matter with her ?

Her own apprehenſions had indeed already fug-
geſted to her the caufe of the disorder ſhe appeared
to be in, which it was not eafy to discoverin that tor-
rent of reproach and invective with which ſhe ſtrove
to overwhelm her. Scornful and unjuſt reflections
upon her perſon, bitter jeſts upon her pedantick af-
fecſation, and malignant inſinuations of hypocrisy,
were all thrown out with the utmoſt incoherence of
paffion; to which Sophia anſwered no otherwife
than by a provoking ſerenity of countenance and
calm attention.

That ſhe was able to bear with ſo much mode-
ration the cruel inſults of her fifter, was not more
the effect of her natural ſweetneſs of temper, than
her good ſenſe and delicate turn of mind. The
upper region of the air, ſays a ſenſible French wri-
ter, admits neither clouds nor tempeſts; the thunder,
ſtorms, and meteors, are formed below: ſuch
is the difference between a mean, and an exalted
understanding.

I

Har-

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

101

Harriot, who did not find her account in this
behaviour, fought to rouse her to rage by re-
proaches still more severe, till having ineffectually
railed herself out of breath, she aukwardly imitated
her fifter's compofure, folded her hands before her;
and feating herself, asked her in a low but solemn
tone of voice, whether she would deign to answer
her one plain question?

Sophia then resuming her feat, told her with a
look of mingled dignity and fweetnefs, that she was
ready to answer her any question, and give her any
familiarity she could desire, provided she would
reprefs those indecent transports of anger, so unbe-
coming her sex and years.

Why, you little envious creature, said Harriot,
you do not surely, because you are two or three
years younger than I am, pretend to infinuate that
I am old?

No certainly, replied Sophia, half smiling, my
meaning is, that you are too young to adopt, as
you do, all the peevishneſs of old age; but your
question fifter, purfued ſhe—

Well then, said Harriot, I ask you, how you have
dared to fay that Sir Charles Stanley was tired of
me, and preferred you to me?

Tired of you! repeated Sophia, shocked at her
coarſeneſs and falſhood, I never was capable of
making use of such an expression, nor do I famili-
arife myself with ideas that need such ſtrange lan-
guage to convey them.

Harriot provoked almost to frenzy by this hint,
which her indiscreet conduct made but too juſt, flew
down ſtairs to her mother, and with mingled fobs and

H 3

ex-

102 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

exclamations, told her, that Sophia had treated her like an infamous creature, who had dishonoured herself and her family.

Mrs. Darnley, though more favourably disposed
towards her youngest daughter, since she had been
made acquainted with the baronet's affection for
her, yet was on this occasion governed by her ha-
bitual preference of Harriot; and sending for So-
phia, she reproved her with great afperity for her
insolent behaviour to her fister.

Sophia liftened with reverence to her mother's
reproofs; and after justifying herself, as she easily
might, from the accusation her fister had brought
against her, she added, that not being willing to
be exposed to any farther persecutions on account
of Sir Charles Stanley, whose sincerity she thought
very doubtful, she was resolved not to wait any
longer for a place such as Mr. Herbert's tender-
nefs was in search of for her, but to accept the firft
reputable one that offered.

"I have not the vanity, madam, purfued ſhe, to
"imagine that a man of rank and fortune can
"seriously resolve to marry an indigent young
"woman like me; and although I am humble
"enough to go to ſervice, I am too proud to liften
"to the addreſſes of any man who, from his ſu-
"periority of fortune, thinks he has a right to keep
"me in doubt of his intentions, or, in a mean
"dependance upon a ſolution which he has not
"perhaps regard enough for me to make."

This discourse was not at all relish'd by Mrs.
Darnley, who conceived that many inconveniences
were to be ſubmitted to, for the enjoyment of af-

flu-

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

103

fluence and pleasure; but Sophia, who had revolved in her mind all the mortifications a young woman is exposed to, whose poverty places her so greatly below her lover; that she is to confide his projections as an honour, and to be rejoiced at every indication of his sincerity; her delicacy was so much wounded by the bare apprehension of suffering what she thought an indignity to her sex, that she was determined to give Sir Charles Stanley no encumbrance, but to pursue her first design of seeking a decent establishment, suitable to the deprefs'd state of her fortune.

Mrs. Darnley, however, combatted her resolution with arguments which she supposed absolutely conclusive, and added to them her commands not to think any more of so humiliating a design, which so offended Harriot, that she broke out again into tears, exclamations, and reproaches.

Her mother would have found it a difficult task to have pacified her, had not a message from a lady, inviting her to a concert that evening, obliged her to calm her mind, that her complexion might not suffer from those emotions of rage which she had hitherto taken so little pains to reprefs.

As soon as Harriot retired, to begin the labours of the toilet, Mrs. Darnley, with great mildness, represested to Sophia, that it was her duty to improve the affection Sir Charles reprefs'd for her, since by that means it might be in her power to make her mother and her sister easy in their circumstances, and engage their love for ever.

This was attacking Sophia on her weak side; she answered with the softest tendernefs of look

H 4

and

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

to banish her from his heart, and thence inferred
that a resolution which had cost him so much
trouble to confirm, would not be easily broke
through; and that she had no reason to expect he
would ever desire to see her more.

Sophia could not read this part of the letter
without tears, tears that flowed from tender sensitivity,
accompanied with a sensation which was
neither grief nor joy, but composed of both: that
Sir Charles should resolve to forget her was indeed
afflicting, but that this resolution should cost him
struggles so painful as to affect his health, could
not but raise her depressed hopes, since it shewed
the difficulty of the attempt, and consequently that
the success was doubtful.

This letter gave so much employment to her
thoughts, that to be at liberty to indulge them
she took her evening walk without soliciting the
company of her beloved Dolly, and wandered far
into the wood, attracted by those romantic shades
which afford such soothing pleasure to a love-fick
mind. Here, while she meditated on her mother's
letter, and read it over and over, still seeking, and
still finding something new in it to engage her at-
tention, she heard the voices of some persons talk-
ing behind her, and suddenly recollecting Dolly's
adventure, she began to be alarmed at the distance
to which she had unwarily strayed, and turned her
steps haftily towards home.

Mean time a sudden gust of wind blew off her
hat, and carried it several paces back: she turned,
in order to recover it, and saw it taken up by a
genteel young man, who on a nearer approach she

knew

416

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

knew to be the lover of her young friend. Pleased
at this encounter, she advanced to receive her hat
from him, which he gave her with a blushing grace,
awed by the dignity of her mein, and that sparkling
intelligence which beamed in her eyes, and
feemed to penetrate into his inmost soul; for
Sophia, who was deeply interested for her innocent
and unhappy friend, considered him attentively,
and was desirous of entering into some conversation
with him, that she might be enabled to form
a more exact judgment of his understanding and
manners than she could from the accounts of the
partial Dolly.

While she was talking to him they were joined
by an ancient gentlewoman, who accosting Sophia,
told her in an affected style and formal accent, that
her nephew was very happy in having had an opportunity to do her this little piece of service.

Sophia, who saw an old woman, apparently оп-
preft with the infirmities of years, dreft in all the
ridiculous foppery of the laft age, was so little
pleased with her, that she would have answered this
compliment with great coldneſs, had not the desire
and hope of being ſerviceable to her friend made
her conquer her growing difgust; ſhe therefore re-
folved to improve this opportunity of commencing
an acquaintance with the aunt of young William,
and met her advances with her usual ſweetneſs and
affability, so that the old woman was quite charmed
with her; and being very desirous to gain her
good opinion, and to ſhew her breeding, of which
she was extremely vain, overwhelmed her with
troublesome ceremony; and, to display her under-
standing,

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

ftanding, of which ſhe was equally proud, murdered
ſo many hard words, that her diſcourſe was ſcarcely
intelligible.

Sophia would fain have drawn in the youth to partake of their converſation, but his aunt's volubility left him very little to ſay; yet in that little Sophia thought ſhe diſcovered both good ſenſe and politenefs.

The evening being now pretty far advanced, Sophia thought it time to ſeparate, and took leave of her new acquaintance. Their parting was protracted by ſo many courteſies and compliments from the old lady, that her patience was almost wearied out; at laſt ſhe get free from her, and quickened her pace towards home, when on a ſudden ſhe heard her in a tremulous voice calling out, “Madam, madam, pray ſtop one moment.” Sophia looked back, and ſeeing Mrs. Gibbons come tottering up to her with more ſpeed than was confiſtent with her weakneſs, ſhe met her half way, and smiling, aſked her why ſhe had turned back?

“Oh, madam, replied ſhe, I am ready to ſink
“with confuſion! what a ſolſim in good breeding
“have I committed! to be ſure you will think I
“have been uſed to converſe with ſavages only.”
Sophia, not able to gueſs what this ſpeech tended
to, looked at Mr. Gibbons as if ſhe wiſhed for an
explanation.

“My aunt, madam, ſaid the youth, (blushing
“a little at the old woman’s affectation,) is con-
“cerned that you ſhould walk home alone, and
Nº. 6. E e “that

418 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

“ that I can't offer my service to attend you, being
“ obliged to lead her, as you fee.”

“ That is not all, nephew, said the ceremonious
“ gentlewoman : you do not tell the young lady
“ the true cause of the dilemmia I am in : I would
“ not leave you, madam, purfued she, till I saw you
“ safe home, but you live with a family who has
“ affronted me, and I cannot endure to come with-
“ in fight of the house. I never can forgive an
“ affront, that would be to shew I do not under-
“ fstand the laws of good breeding: but I thank
“ heaven no body can charge me with that, I was
“ very early instituted into polite life; but some
“ people are not to be affeffed with.

“ I hope, said Sophia, (scarce able to compofe
“ her countenance to any tolerable degree of
“ seriouſneſs) that none of Mr. Lawſon's family
“ have given you cauſe of complaint: they ſeem
“ to me incapable of affronting any one, much
“ more a perſon that.”—

“ Oh, dear madam, interrupted the old lady, cour-
“ tefying low, you do me a great deal of honour;
“ but you will find, nay you muſt have obſerved
“ already, that Mrs. Lawſon is vulgar, very vulgar,
“ ſhe knows nothing of decorums.”

“ I am very forry for this miſunderſtanding be-
“ tween you, said Sophia, and I ſhould think it a
“ very great happineſs if I could be any way
“ uſeful in renewing your friendſhip.”

“ Oh, cried Mrs. Gibbons, you might as well
“ think of joining the *Antipoles*, madam, as of
“ bringing us together again; and I am grieved

“ be-

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

419

“beyond meafure when I think that it is impof-
“fible for me to wait on you.”

“However, anſwered Sophia, you will have no
“objection, I hope, to my coming to ſee you.”

“By no means, madam, replied Mrs. Gib-
“bons, you came laſt into the country, and you
“are entitled to the firſt viſit; I would not for
“the world break through the laws of politenesſs;
“I am forſy you have ſo indifferent an opinion of
“my breeding.”

Sophia perceiving that the old gentlewoman was
a little diſcompoſed, for this article of good breed-
ing was a tender point with her, endeavoured to
bring her into good humour, by ſome well-timed
compliments, and once more took leave of her;
but Mrs. Gibbons now inſiſted upon her nephew's
feeing her ſafe home, ſaying, “She would reſt her
“ſelf under a tree till he came back.”

Sophia but faintly declined this civility, for ſhe
feared to offend her again; and the joy that
ſparkled in William's eyes when his aunt made
this offer of his attendance, made her unwilling to
diſappoint him of the hope of feeing his miſtrefs;
ſo after much ceremony on the part of Mrs. Gib-
bons, they ſeparated.

As they walked, Sophia took occaſion to exprefs
her concern for the violent reſentment his aunt had
entertained againſt Mr. Lawſon's family, and which
ſeemed to make a reconciliation hopeleſs.

The youth told her, that nothing could be more
trivial than the accident that had occaſioned it;
and yet, purſued he, fighting deeply, “flight as it is,
“the conſequences are likely to be fatal enough.”

E e 2

During

420 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

During their conversation Sophia discovered so much good sense and delicacy of sentiment in the young William, that she more than ever pitied the fate of these poor lovers, whose happiness was sacrificed to the capricious temper of an affected old woman: she assured him she would neglect no opportunity to improve her acquaintance with his aunt: “ And perhaps, said she, with an inchanting “smile, that expressed the benevolence of her “heart, I may be so fortunate as to effect a reconciliation between her and my Dolly’s family.”

Mr. Gibbons thanked her in transports of joy and gratitude; and now Dolly and her fister, who had walked out in search of Sophia, appearing in fight, she mended her pace, in order to come up with them soon; for in the ardent glances that William sent towards his mirtrels, she read his impatience to speak to her.

Dolly, who was in the utmost surprisef, to see Sophia thus accompanied, took no notice of William; but avoiding, with a sweet bashfulneſs, his earneſt and passionate looks: ſhe fixed her eyes on Mifs Darnley, as if ſhe wifhed to hear from her by what chance they had met.

“I know, said Sophia to her smiling, that you “did not expect to see me so agreeably engaged; “but Mr. Gibbons can inform you how his aunt, “whom we left in the foreſt yonder, and I became “acquainted.” She then addreſſed some disſcourſe to Fanny, to give the lovers an opportunity of talking to each other.

Dolly asked a thousand queſtions concerning their meeting, and his aunt's behaviour to Mifs Darnley;

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

ley; but the passionate youth leaving it to Sophia to
fatisfy her curiosity, employed the few moments
he had to stay with her in tender affurances of his
own unaltered affection, and complaints of her
indifference.

"Surely, said Dolly, with tears in her eyes, I
"ought not to be blamed for obeying my father."

"Ah, my dear Dolly, replied William, our af-
fections are not in the power of our fathers; and
"if you hate me now becaufe your father com-
mands you to do so, you never loved me."

"Hate you, cried Dolly; no, Mr. William, my
"father never bid me hate you; and if he had I
"am fure I could not have obeyed him: he only
"commanded me to forget you."

"Only to forget me, repeated William, in a
"melancholy tone: then you think that little,
"Dolly; and perhaps you will be able to obey
"him; but be affured I would rather be hated by
"you than forgotten."

"That is ſtrange, indeed," said Dolly, smiling
through her tears.

"You would not think it ſtrange, replied the
"youth, in an accent that expreſſed at once grief
"and reſentment, if you had ever loved. Ah
"Dolly, are all your tender promiſes come to
"this! little did I imagine I ſhould ever fee you
"altered thus! but I will trouble you no more,
"added he, ſighing, as if his heart would break;
"I will endeavour to follow your example: per-
"haps it is not ſo difficult a thing as I imagined
"to cure one's ſelf of love; you have ſhewn me it is
"poſſible, and if I fail in the attempt I can be

E e 3

“ but

422

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

" but miserable, and that you have made me
" now." As he spoke these words, he turned
half from her, and let fall some tears.

Dolly, who had no intention to make him un-
easy, was excessively affected with this fight, and
not a little alarmed at what he had said: " And
" will you try to forget me, said she, in the moft
" moving tone imaginable ; then indeed you will
" be false and perjured too, for you have sworn
" a thousand times that you would love me for
" ever."

" Why should you wish to see me wretched,
" said he; you have resolved to love me no longer,
" and it is but reasonable that I should try to
" forget you."

He would have proceeded in this train; but
turning to look on her, he saw her sweet face
overspread with tears. "Oh my Dolly, cried he,
" we are very cruel to each other; but I am moft
" to blame: can you pardon me, my dearest: say
" you can; alas, I know I do not deserve it."

Dolly's heart was so opprest that she was not
able to speak; but she held out her hand to her
young lover, who feizing it eagerly, preft it to his
lips, " Yes, I will love you, said he, though you
" should hate me; I will love you to my lateft breath."

Dolly perceiving Sophia and her fitter coming
up to them, drew away her hand haftily; but
looked on him at the fame time, with inexpreffible
tenderneſs: Sophia told him with a ſmile, that
ſhe was afraid his aunt would be impatient: upon
which he made his bow, and haftened back to
her,

Fanny

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

Fanny now left her fitter alone with Mifs Darnley, who perceiving that she had been weeping, asked her tenderly the caufe. " Oh my dear mifs, " faid the poor girl, blushing and preffing her hand, " if I had but a little of your prudence and good " fenfe, I should obey my father better; but when " one has once given one's heart, it is very difficult to recal it."

" Very true, my dear, faid Sophia; therefore " one ought not to be in haſte to give it."

" I hope, interupted Dolly with an anxious look, " you have obſerved nothing in Mr. William to " make you change your good opinion of him."

" Quite the contrary, faid Sophia, I believe him " to be a good, and I am fure he is a ſenſible youth: " nay more, I believe he has a ſincere regard for " you; and that, purſued ſhe, fighting, is ſaying a " great deal, confidering what reaſon I have to " judge unfavourably of men: but, my dear, I " would have you keep your paſſion ſo far ſubjeſted to your reaſon, as to make it not too difficult for you to obey your father, if he is fully " determined to refufe his conſent." I know, " added ſhe, with a gentle ſmile, " That it is " easier to be wife for others than for ourselves; " but I know it is not impoffible for a heart in love " to follow the dictates of reaſon: I think ſo " highly of Mr. Lawſon's understanding and goodneſs, that I am perſuaded he would not lay an " unreaſonable command upon you, and by what " I could collect from ſome hints dropt by Mrs. " Gibbons, and the little diſcourſe I had with your " lover, the old gentlewoman is wholly to blame."

“ Did

E e 4

424 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

" Did Mr. William tell you, said Dolly, what
" was the occasion of their quarrel ?

" No, replied Sophia: I should be glad to hear
" it from yourself.

" Well, resumed Dolly, taking her under the
" arm, let us go to our dear oak then, and there
" we shall be out of fight; but I am impatient
" to know how you met, and what conversation
" you had." Sophia satisfied her curiosity, divert-
ing herself a little with the old lady's hard words,
and her strict regard to ceremony.

" Ah, said Dolly, it was those hard words, and
" the clutter she made about ceremony and de-
" corum, that occasioned all our unhappiness; for
" as I told you, misf she was well enough pleased
" with her nephew's choice, faying, 'that he was in
" the right to marry like a gentleman, and pre-
" fer person and breeding to money: however,
" foon after she came into the country, she shewed
" herself a little dissatisfied with my education, and
" said, that as my father was a gentleman and a
" scholar, he ought to have taught his daughters a
" little Greek and Latin, to have distinguished them
" from meer country girls."

" Your mother, I fuppose, said Sophia, laughed
" at this notion."

" It does not become me, said Dolly, to blame
" my mother; but to be sure she took great delight
" in ridiculing Mrs. Gibbons: indeed it was scarce
" possible to help smiling now and then at her
" hard words, and her formal politeness; but my
" mother, as Mr. William often told me with
" great concern, carried her raillery so far that
" his

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

" his aunt would certainly be offended with it at
" laft; and so indeed she was, and grew every day
" cooler, with regard to the marriage. This dif-
" gufted my mother more, so every thing wore a
" melancholy appearance: at length Mrs. Gibbons
" broke out one day violently, upon my mother's
" fending a dish of tea to another gentlewoman
" before her. I saw a storm in her countenance,
" and dreading the consequence, I made haſte to
" carry her, her dish myself, but she refused it
" fcornfully, and then began to attack my mother
" in her ſtrange language, upon her want of breed-
" ing, and ignorance of the rules of precendency, that
" was her word. My mother at first only laughed,
" and rallied; but when the reſt of our viſitors was
" gone, and Mrs. Gibbons only remained, the quar-
" rel grew ſerious. My mother, who was out of
" patience with her folly, ſaid some ſevere things,
" which provoked Mrs. Gibbons so much, that ſhe
" roſe up in a fury, and declared ſhe would never
" more have any collection with ſuch vulgar crea-
" tures. At that moment my father and Mr.
" William, who had been walking together, came
" into the room: they both were excejſively fur-
" prifed at the diſorder that appeared among us;
" and poor Mr. William, who was moſt apprehen-
" ſive, turned as pale as death: he gave me a me-
" lancholy look, as fearing what had happened, and
" had ſcarce courage enough to aſk his aunt what
" was the matter? Mean time, my mother, in a
" laughing way gave my father an account of what
" had happened, repeating ſome of Mrs. Gibbons's
" ſtrange words, and made the whole affair appear

" so

426 THE LADY's MUSEUM.

“ so ridiculous, that Mrs. Gibbons in a great fury,
“ flung out of the house, declaring that from
“ that moment she broke off any treatise of marriage
“ between her nephew and me; and that, if he con-
“ tinued to make his addressees to me, she would
“ make a will and leave all her money to a diffant
“ relation. Mr. William was obliged to follow
“ his aunt; but he begged my father's leave to re-
“ turn as soon as he had seen her safe home. When
“ he came back, he implor'd my father, with tears
“ in his eyes, not to forbid his seeing me: he said
“ the lots of his aunt's fortune would give him
“ no concern if he durst hope that it would make
“ no alteration in my father's resolutions, since his
“ own little inheritance was sufficient to maintain
“ us comfortably. My father was pleafed with
“ his generous affection for me, and said a great
“ many obliging things to him, as did my mother
“ likewife, so that we thought our misfortune not
“ so bad; but the next day old Mr. Gibbons
“ came plodding to our house, and with a great
“ deal of confusion and aukwardneſs, told my fa-
“ ther that he was very sorry for what had happened;
“ but ſifter had changed her mind, and would not
“ let her nephew marry, and he was afraid if he
“ diſobliged her she would leave all her money to
“ ſtrangers; so he begged him to give his ſon no
“ encouragement, but to tell him plainly he muſt
“ obey his aunt and his father; and he ſaid he was
“ sure his ſon would mind what my father ſaid to
“ him more than any body else.”

“ I am in pain for poor Mr. Lawſon, ſaid So-
phia. What a boorish ſpeech was this!”

“ My

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

427

“ My father, refum'd Dolly, faid afterwards,
“ that if it had not been for the concern he felt for
“ me and Mr. William, he would have been ex-
“ ceffively diverted with the old man's Simplicity;
“ but he anſwered him gravely and with great civi-
“ lity: he promiſed him that the affair ſhould go
“ no farther; that I ſhould receive no more viſits
“ from his ſon; and that he would talk with him,
“ and endeavour to make him ſubmit patiently to
“ what his father and his aunt had determined
“ for him. The old man thanked my father a
“ thouſand times over for his kindneſs, and after a
“ great many bows and ſcrapes he went away.
“ My father was as good as his word: he laid his
“ commands on me to think no more of Mr. Wil-
“ liam, and forbad me to ſee or ſpeak to him;
“ and when Mr. William came next, he took him
“ with him into his ſtudy and talked to him a long
“ time. He acknowledged that Mr. William had
“ oftener than once moved him even to tears; but
“ for all that he did not relent, and we were not
“ allowed ſo much as to ſpeak to each other alone,
“ for fear we ſhould take any meaſures to meet in
“ private. This I thought very ſevere, purſued
“ Dolly, ſighing, we might at leaſt have been in-
“ dulged in taking leave, ſince we were to be ſe-
“ parated for ever.”

“ I cannot blame your father, faid Sophia, he
“ was indispenſably obliged to act as he did: it is
“ to be wiſhed indeed that Mrs. Lawſon had paſ-
“ fed over the poor woman's follies with more
“ temper; but this cannot be helped now: per-
“ haps I may be able to ſerve you. The old gentle-
“ woman

428 THE LADY's MUSEUM.

" woman seems to have taken a liking to me; I
" shall endeavour to improve it, that I may have
" an opportunity to soften her: it is not impof-
" fible but this matter may end well yet."

" Poor Dolly was ready enough to admit a hope
" to pleasing, and felt her heart more at ease than
" it had been a long time. As for William, his
" aunt's extravagant prais'es of Sophia, and some
" expressions which she dropped, intimating that
" she should be pleased if he could make himself
" acceptable to her; so fine a lady, hinted to him a
" scheme which might afford him the means of
" seeing his misfortunes sometimes: he seemed there-
" fore to listen with satisfaction to these dark over-
" tures made by his aunt, and upon her speaking
" still plainer, he said it would be presumption in
" him to think that a young lady so accomplished
" as Mrs Darnley would look down upon him; and
" besides, he had no opportunity of improving
" an acquaintance with her, being forbid Mr.
" Lawson's house, at her request."

The old woman, pleased to find he made so little
opposition to her desire, told him, " That he would
" have opportunities enough of seeing and con-
" versing with the lady; she often walks out, said
" she, either in the foreft or the fields about the
" house: cannot you throw yourself in her way,
" and accost her politely, as you very well know
" how; and, to felicitate your successes, I will let her
" know that I am willing to receive the honour
" of a visit from her, though this is againft all the
" rules of decorum, for it is my part to visit her
" first, she being the greatest stranger here: you
" shall

THE L'ADY'S MUSEUM.

“ I shall deliver my message to her to-morrow your-
“ self.”

“ The youth replied, coldly, that it was possible he might not meet with her to-morrow: nevertheless he would go every day to the forest, and wherever it was likely she would walk, in hopes of seeing her.”

Mrs. Gibbons, exulting in the hope of mortifying Mrs. Lawson, told her nephew, “ That if he “ could succeed in his addresses to mifs Darnley, “ and give her so fine a lady for a niece, she would “ fettle the best part of her fortune on him immediately.”

William suffered her to please herself with these imaginations, having secured the liberty of going unsupervised, and as often as he pleaded, to those places where he could see his beloved Dolly; hitherto he had not dared to indulge himself frequently in these stolen interviews, left his aunt being informed of them, should take measures to engage Mr. Lawson to keep his daughter under a greater restraint; but now he continually haunted the park, the wood, and the fields about Mr. Lawson's house: here he could not fail of often seeing his misirls, and sometimes of speaking to her unobserved by any one.

Dolly never failed to chide him as often as this happened, for thus laying her under a necessity of disobeying her father's injunctions; but she took no pains to shun those places where she was almost sure of meeting him; and her chiding was so gentle, that he was convinced she was not greatly offended.

Sophia

430 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

Sophia happening to meet him one morning, while he was thus fauntering about, she enquired for his aunt, and hearing from him how desirous the old gentlewoman was of seeing her, she who was full of her benevolent scheme, and eager to put it in execution, delayed her visit no longer than till the afternoon.

Mrs. Gibbons considered this as a proof of her ne-
phew's fincerity, and was in so good a humour, that
she liftened without any signs of displeasure, to the
praises which Sophia artfully introduced of Dolly;
and even sometimes joined in them: Sophia thought
this a very favourable beginning, and went away
full of hope that she should fucced in her design :
but while she was thus endeavouring to make others
happy, her fitter was preparing a new mortification
for her.

Sir Charles continued to visit Mrs. Darnley as
usual: he passed some hours every day at her house,
and while he applauded himself for the steadiness of
his resolution, not to follow his missteps, he per-
ceived not his own weaknesses in seeking every alle-
viation of her absence. He went to the house
where she had formerly dwelt, because every object
he saw in it brought her dear idea to his mind:
he loved to turn over the books he had seen her
read, to fit in those places where she used to fit: he
was transported when he saw any thing that be-
longed to her; and when he was not observed by
the inquisitive eyes of Harriet, he indulged his own
in gazing upon Sophia's picture, faintly as it ex-
pressed the attractive graces of the original: he
endured the trifling discouragement of Mrs. Darnley
and

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

and the infupid gaiety of Harriot, and left all other company and amusements to converse with them, that he might hear something concerning Sophia; for he had the art, without feeming to design it, to turn the discourfe frequently upon her, and thus drew from the loquacious mother all he defired to know, without appearing to be interefted in it.

Mrs. Darnley knew not what judgment to form of his affiduity in viſiting her, and vainly endeavouréd to penetrate into his views. As for Harriot, who had no idea of thofe refinements of tenderneſs which influenced Sir Charles's conduct on this occaſion, ſhe concluded that her charms had once more enflaved him, and exulted in her fancied conqueft the more, as it was a triumph over her ſifter, who had been the occaſion of ſo many mortifications to her.

Nothing is ſo eafy or ſo fallacious as the belief that we are beloved and admired; our own va-nity helps the deceit, where a deceit is intended : and a coquet who has a double portion of it, wil-lingly deceives herself.

Harriot was now fully perſuaded that Sir Charles had forgot Sophia, and was wholly devoted to her. Impatient to infult her with the news of his change, ſhe proposed to her mother to make her a viſit : Mrs. Darnley immediately conſented, not be-caufe ſhe was very defirous to fee her daughter, but becaufe every thing that wore the face of amuſement was always acceptable to her. Sir Charles, upon being made acquainted with their in-

ESSAY

ON THE

Original Inhabitants of GREAT BRITAIN,
CONTINUED.

THE tranquility of Britain perished with Constantine the Great. He was survived by three of his sons*, all men of worthlesse, or of infamous characters. It would be time very ill employed to notify any particulars of their reigns : let the imperial savages, and one or two of their successors be by nameless and forgotten. Be it sufficient to say, that the minifters and officers whom they appointed, were their exact representatives; haughty tyrants, bloody inquifitors, and racious governors. Britain bore the share of burdens imposed upon her by these task-mafters; and her inhabitants, like the Israelites, were fruitful, increased abundantly, and waxed exceedingly mighty: otherwise how could they have withstood the inundation of Piets, Scots, Saxons, and Attacotti†, who, in the first year of Valentinian, broke

* Constantinus, Constantius, and Conftans.

† All our historical authors mention the Attacotti, but none can tell exactly who these people were. Dr. Gale thinks them a barbarous fort of Britons living in the north of Scotland about Attarith.

Nº. 6.

Ff

in

434 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

in at once, though in different places, upon the
Roman territories in Britain.

Hiftorians have not told us in what manner the
Britains fuſtained themſelves againſt ſuch numbers
of invaders, till Severus was ſent to their relief in
the year 368. But neither Severus, nor his ſuc-
ceſſor Jovinus were able to vye with the barbari-
ans, who were now diſperſed throughout the
whole kingdom, and had made great devaſtations
in the city of London. Valentinian ſaw an im-
mediate neceſſity for a reinforcement of troops
under the conduct of a veteran and experienced
commander: he choſe Theodolius, as a man of
great experience, and of a moſt martial character.
Theodolius loft no time in executing his commif-
fion: he ſet ſail from Boulogne, and landed at
Sandwich, with the choicest troops that could be
gathered throughout the continent. He marched
directly to London, and found the city in the
greateſt diſtrefſs. He immediately relieved the me-
tropolis; and, by a divifion of his army into dif-
ferent parties, ſurprisſed the lawleſs freebooters in
feveral places, and divestſed them of their plun-
der, which confiſted of captives and herds of
cattle. For ſome time afterwards he choſe rather
to obſerve than to moleſt his adverfaries. His
caution and ſagacity, joined to the force of his
arms, at length entirely effected the purpoſes for
which he was deputed into the kingdom. By de-
grees he drove back the Piets, the Scots, and all
the invaders into their own territories: he replaced
garrifons to defend the boundaries; he repaired
walls, and reſtored cities; and, at his return to
Rome,

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

Rome, he left the island in a state of security and peace. He was attended to the shore by vast numbers of Romans and Britons, all full of expressions of regret and sorrow at his departure. He was received by his imperial master with the most public demonstrations of friendship, gratitude, and affection: honours which he most justly deserved.

The emperor Valentinian died in the year 375. He was succeeded in the western empire by his son Gratianus, a young man addicted to pleasures, refigned to favourites, and in every respect unfit for his dignity. As only chance of birth had made him an emperor, and as nature had given him abilities only for a huntsman, he soon found himself under a necessity of summoning a coadjutor to his affrontance. He chose Flavius Magnus Theodosius*, the son of the Roman general, who, not many years before, had made so considerable a figure in Britain.

At the time when the emperor Gratianus made this choice, Maximus, a Spaniard by birth, of a very noble family, and an officer of great merit and distinction, was at the head of the Roman army in Britain. He was personally beloved by the soldiers, and had rendered himself much esteemed and revered among the Britons. All his military actions had been planned upon the model of that great general Theodosius, by whom he had been left in Britain, in a high position of command. Soon

* Theodosius the father was put to death by the emperor Valens, because Theod was the first letters of his name. A prophet had foretold, that a man whose name began with those letters should be emperor. Valens cut off the prophet's head, and murdered all those whose names began with Theod.

F f 2

after-

436 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

afterwards, probably in the order of succession, he became the captain-general of the Roman and British forces. Maximus was of an ambitious temper, and he was much dispirited at the sudden rise of the younger Theodosius. He complained loudly of the injustice which he suffered by the election of any other emperor than himself: he drew his prepositions from his near degree of affinity to Constantine the Great: and his army, without an examination into the truth or falsity of those prepositions, immediately saluted him Cæsar, and offered to him their service and obedience.

In what a state of confusion were the Romans and the Britons at this period? little able to help themselves, much les to affist their allies: two emperors in Italy, and one* risen up on a sudden in Britain. The account of these times is very elaborately, although in many points very differently, set forth by the Scotch and English historians. But the prospect we receive from all those commentaries are only melancholy, and various views of rage and bloodshed. Revolutions upon revolutions. Gratianus killed by the troops of Maximus; Maximus put to death by Theodosius; Britain invaded by the Scots and Piets; the Scots extirpated by the Piets from Scotland, and driven into Ireland; in the continent, a declining empire; in our own island, a perpetual civil war; throughout the world, an iron age.

*Infidiæq; et vis, et amor sceleratus habendi.*

“Mix’d with curs’d avarice falshood and rapine
“ phone.”

* Flavius Magnus Clemens Maximus.

Such

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

Such was the difmal ſcene, ſome little intervals excepted, during the whole reign of Theodotius, who died in the beginning of the year 395. He left two ſons, Arcadius and Honorius. The weſtern empire fell to the lot of Honorius, who was only ten years of age at the death of his father: he was committed to the tuition and conduct of Stilico. Under his government the Saxons, Scots, and Piets, thoſe perpetual invaders of the Britiſh territories, were effectually ſuppreſſed and repulſed.

But Stilico was called off from his attention to the affairs of Britain, by the appearance of Alaric* in Italy at the head of a moſt numerous army of Goths. The Roman troops were immediately ſummoned to the continent; as not only the empire, but the whole world ſeemed to be in danger of ruin, and was afterwards over run by this ſet of barbarians.

Here, I think, may be dated the end of the Roman government in Britain. Some affiſtance, ſome legions were ſent now and then, upon the ſupplication of the Britons in the ſouthern parts of the iſland, to relieve them from immediate deſtruction; but ſuch ſuccours were ſew, uncertain, and at laſt absolutely withdrawn.

At this particular period, let us endeavour to take a general retroſpect of the Britons; their manners, their laws, and their government, as far as the obſcurity, and the many chaſms of our history will allow the ſearch.

* Alaric was rather general than king of the Goths. He was one of the moſt formidable enemies of the Roman empire. He ſack'd Rome itſelf A. D. 409.

F f 3

Cæſar

438 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

Cæsar and many other authors describe the original Britons appearing in the wildest state of nature: savages living upon plunder, inhabiting woods and mountains, and ignorant of all laws and order. The description, I am afraid, is in many instances too true; but however licentious and untamed these barbarians may have been, some form of government certainly subordinated among them, especially, as Cæsar himself says, that the customs of the Britons were almost the fame as the customs of the Gauls. But he speaks indeed there only of the Cantii*, who, living nearest to the Gallic shores, were most humanized.

In his account of the Gauls, he tells us in how great a degree of obedience the lower classes of people were held by the nobility; an obedience which could not have been formed or regulated without a complete and acknowledged system of laws. The particulars of those laws are not perfectly ascertained: they were always composed by the Druids, who never suffered any of their institutions to be committed to writing.

Some of them, however, have been handed down to us, and are sufficiently curious to be introduced. They are these:

I. None must be introduced but in the sacred groves.

II. Mistletoe must be gathered with reverence, and, if possible, in the sixth moon. It must be cut with a golden bill.

III. Every thing derives its origin from heaven.

* The inhabitants of Kent.

IV. The

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

IV. The arcana of the sciences must not be committed to writing, but to the memory.

V. Great care is to be taken of the education of children.

VI. The powder of misletoe makes women fruitful.

VII. The disobedient* are to be shut out from the sacrifices.

VIII. Souls are immortal.

IX. The soul after death goes into other bodies.

X. If the world is destroyed, it will be by fire and water.

XI. Upon extraordinary emergencies a man must be sacrificed. According as the body falls, or moves after it is fallen: according as the blood flows, or the wound opens, future events are foretold.

XII. Prisoners are to be flain upon the altars, or burnt alive, inclosed in wicker, in honour of the Gods.

XIII. All commerce with strangers must be prohibited.

XIV. He that comes laft to the assembly of the states ought to be punished with death.

XV. Children are to be brought up apart from their parents, till they are fourteen years of age.

XVI. Money lent in this world will be repaid in the next.

XVII. There is another world, and they who kill themselves to accompany their friends thither, will live with them there.

* By *disobedient* I presume is meant the theists, deists, methodists, and nonconformists of those days.

F f 4

XVII. Let-

440

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

XVIII. Letters given to dying persons, or
thrown on the funeral piles of the dead, will faithfully
be delivered in the other world.

XIX. The moon is a sovereign remedy for all
things, as its name in Celtic implies.

XX. Let the disobedient be excommunicated;
let him be deprived of the benefit of the law; let
him be avoided, and rendered incapable of any
employ.

XXI. All masters of families are kings in their
own houses: they have a power of life and death
over their wives, children, and slaves.

The learning, and the religious tenets of the
Druids are specified in various authors. Diogenes
Laërtius affirms us, that their chief precepts were
“ the worship of the Gods; an abstinence from
“ all kinds of evil; and a constant exercise of
“ manly fortitude.”

Pomponius Mela informs us, that the Druids
were remarkably expert in geography and astrono-
my*: and Cæsar says, that they taught the tranf-
migration of souls, and by that means inspired
their disciples with an absolute contempt of death,
which, in their articles of faith, was looked upon
only as a paffage from one body to another; or, as
Mr. Rowe expresses it from Lucan's description of
the Druids,

“ A stop, which can but for a moment last,

“ A point between the present and the past.”

The character of these priests must have appeared extremely venerable, had not their doctrines

* These were the Eubates, or lowest order of Druids.

been

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

been attended by the moſt fanguinary acts of ſu-
perſtition, which certainly augmented, or at least
never could ſuppreſs the natural favagenefs and
barbarity of the natives. The Bards were a lower
order of the Druids : their ſacerdotal employments
were the celebration of the British heroes in verſes,
which they ſung to the harp; and which were
probably compoſed to excite emulation in the
hearers of their poetry. Such a deſign had an air
of policy, and might, in ſome meaſure, be condu-
cive to tame the ferocious natures of thofe who
liftened, either from piety or curioſity, to their
ſongs. There were ſtill a third and inferior order
of Druids called Eubates: and there were alſo
Druids (not many I prefume) of the female ſex.

The original constitution of Britain was undoubt-
edly monarchical. All authors agree that the whole
island was divided into colonies, each of which was
ſubject to a particular ſovereign. Upon ſudden
and dangerous emergencies, the Britons, in a ge-
neral ſ Assembly of their princes, unanimously elec-
ed one ſuperior chieftain, to whom they aſſigned
the command of the army, and the government of
the ſtate: ſuch were Caffivelaunus, Caractacus,
Boudicea, Carausius, and Galgacus. Whether
theſe royal magiſtrates were temporary or perpetual
dictators, is a point that does not ſeem perfectly
cleared up by any of the hiftorians: when they
had the power, it is probable they kept it: moſt,
if not all of them, came to ſudden and fatal ca-
taſtrophes. The Britons were ſubdued by Julius
Cæsar, and they were treated with great tyranny
and oppreſſion by all ſucceeding Roman emperors,

gover-

442 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

governors, legates, and pro-prætors, till Agricola
lightened and diversified, if he did not remove the
oppression. In the reigns of Nerva and Trajan,
the Caledonians and the Britons were most firmly
united, and the consequence of their union had
almost produced a total extirpation of the Romans.
Adrian †, probably with a design to low the feeds
of disagreement between the two nations, enlarged
the frontiers of the Scots, permitted them to come
forwarder towards the south, and resigned to them
that portion of lands, which, in the time of the
elder Theodosius, was distinguished as a fifth pro-
vince, and was called Valentia. The Meatæ and
the Piecti settled themselves in this district.

Whatever might be Adrian's motives, diffusion
grew up most prosperously, and rooted itself so
firmly and deeply in the soil, that no association
was afterwards formed between the Britons and the
Caledonians. By the Caledonians, I would be un-
derstood to mean the inhabitants of Scotland;
whether distinguished by the names of Piets, Me-
atæ, Scots, Scythians, or any other denominati-\ons. To fix the time of their arrival, and their
settlement in Great Britain, is difficult, if not im-
possible: the inquiry is now intirely uselesst. Their
wars, their incursions, their depredations, and their
policy are points to reflect some entertainment;
their origin, and the fabulous tales that attend it,
must in general be despised and forgotten.

The Caledonians, ever a crafty, and a wife na-
tion, had tafted the sweets, and had experienced

† Successor of Trajan.

the

THE LADY's MUSEUM.

the advantages arising from frequent inroads into
Britain. Their own country was barren and un-
cultivated: the adjoining territories were rich and
fruitful: their gains, consequently, might be great;
their losses could only amount to a repulse. Cæsar
tells us, that the Britons thought it unlawful to
taste hares, hens, or geese, of which they kept great
plenty for their pleasure and diversion: the Ca-
ledonians had no such scruple of taste or conscience.
The British fowl, their game of all kinds, and
their numerous herds of cattle, were a sort of plun-
der easily taken, and as easily carried away: and
these tempting objects of hostility drew the Sax-
ons and the Hibernians almost annually across the
sea, in search of prizes and acquisitions from Bri-
tain. They were constantly joined and assisted by
the Piets and the Meatæ; so that a variety of re-
peated invasions totally employ the first annals of
our history, and leave us scarce any other charac-
teristical idea of our forefathers than their bravery
and resilience.

Early in the fifth century, the Romans, now
grown so weak as to perceive within themselves evi-
dent symptoms of dissolution, took a last farewell
of our ancestors; and, like expiring friends, ex-
erted their last efforts, amidst convulsive pangs, to
affront and direct the Britons how to build a wall of
stone in the same situation where the wall of Severus
had formerly stood: and still, as a final instance of
their friendship, they advised the natives to prac-
tice the art of war, and to become expert and re-
gular in military discipline; but most especially to
act upon one general confederate plan, by making
use

444

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

use of their own collective strength against the Ca-
ledonians and all other invaders. The advice was
excellent, and, if purfued with conftancy and firm-
neſs, might have rendered the Britons for ever im-
pregnable to their enemies. But unanimity among
Britons was referved for diſtant times, and the hap-
pieſt age that our Inland has ever known.

By the departure of the Romans, the Britons looked upon themselves as delivered from their first conquerors: but they little considered that they were still subject to a worse fet of tyrants, their own passions and disunion: no people upon earth are formed with more acute ſenſations, or deeper ſentments against each other. These are the cauſes that fill our history with ſuch frequent revolutions. Our climate is a representation of our nature: it is uncertain, and in the ſpace of one week affords as much variety of weather as is known in other countries throughout a twelvemonth. A ſingle day is often a ſcene of ſummer and of winter; and of great heat and of violent cold; of rain and ſnow; and of warmth and ſunſhine: ſo various is the temperature of our air. The temperature of air governs the minds of the inhabitants: we are gloomy or gay, ſullen or good-humoured, and ſometimes religious or immoral, according to the ſtate and alterations of our atmosphere. What muſt be the effects arising from ſuch variegated diſpoſiti ons? continual changes, and continual diſcontent. Britons left to themselves are like horſes unbridled, and let out to paſture: they wince; they roar; they kick their heels towards heaven in all the wantonneſs of liberty. Their freedom might be per-

petual,

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

petual, if they knew how to direct it, or were con-
fious of their own strength; but they employ
their time in self-defection: they impolitically tread
down the pascure which ought to feed them, and,
inconsiderately striking at each other, they become
so lame, as to stand in need of assistance from the
first aukward farrier who presents himself. Gildas,
I think, defines our island as a land steady in nothing,
and greedy of every thing new. Such, indeed, it
proved after the removal of the Romans: successful
royal idols were set up, worshipped, and then
taken down, and trampled to pieces. The names
of these molten calves are insignificant; their actions,
as sovereigns, immaterial and uncertain:
they were elected, adored, and destroyed. The
reign of Vortigern, indeed, was of longer duration,
and of more consequence: it afforded scenes
of variety and importance. We are told, that
while Vortigern was upon the throne, the Britons,
finding themselves overpowered, and almost ruined
by invasions from the Scots and Picts, sent a fo-
lemn embassy with most submissive letters to explore
the assistance, and to require the immediate
presence of their old enemies the Saxons. Is it
possible to believe our ancestors guilty of so absurd
a resolution? That they were factious, discontented,
and unversed in the rules of government, is certain;
but that they should imagine themselves under a
necessity of seeking refuge from Charybdis, because
they were close upon the rocks of Scylla, is
highly improbable. How indeterminate are the
historical accounts of this particular period, when
the introduction of the Saxons is recorded in a

manner

446 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

manner that bears so little resemblance to truth ?
The Britons might not be willing, or more pro-
bably might not be capable to oppose the Saxons,
when those invaders were arrived ; but it is scarce
credible to imagine that the Britons sollicited their
arrival. However, by the generality of historians,
we are to suppose that the sheep invited the wolves.
A modern writer * differs from many of his prede-
ceffors, and tells us, from Nennius, that the ar-
rival of the Saxons was accidental : the only fact
that can be depended upon is, that *they arrived.
The year cannot be ascertained ; in that point
the chronologits differ. But of what nation shall
we find the chronology ascertained ?

The Saxons were commanded by two brothers,
Hengift and Horfa, men of judgment and pen-e-
tration, who, finding their first design of plunder
and devastation insupportable, tacitly changed the
plan, and offered themselves as friends and confe-
derates to the Britons. At so critical a juncture,
they were joyfully received by Vortigern, and were
incorporated into the British army. The island of
Thanet was assigned for their settlement: their
numbers did not exceed fifteen hundred: three
ships transported them into Britain.

Hengift and Horfa soon distinguished themselves
as allies of consequence. The Picts and Scots were
driven back to their several territories; some to
Caledonia, others to Ireland; and the Saxons re-
tired to the isle of Thanet with all possible demon-
strations of peace.

* Guthrie, vol. i. p. 81.

† In all probability, about the middle of the fifth century.
According to Nennius, A. D. 447.

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

The articles of compaction between the Saxons and the Britons were these: That the Saxons were to fight for the Britons against all foreign enemies, and were to receive the pay and maintenance from the nation for whom they fought. In the general name of Saxons were included the Jutes and the Angles, who had enlisted themselves under the banner of Hengift and Horsa. These two brothers were the direct descendants of Woden, an Aryanic king, who came from Scythia into Europe, and seized those German territories that are now distinguished as Saxony. The Angles were inhabitants of Sweden. The Jutes were a people of Denmark. Whilest the number of these Saxons did not exceed fifteen hundred, the articles of compaction were not difficult to be fulfilled. But Hengift and Horsa had farther views than merely a subsistence from the Britons: the isle of Thanet was too limited a circumference for their ambition: a settlement, and some degree of power within the greater island, were the objects upon which they had fixed their eyes. Of the two brothers, Hengift seems to have been particularly vigilant and politic: he considered the fertility of the soil, the inexperience of the inhabitants, and the weak passions of the king; and, from these circumstances, he proposed to himself and to his people, all the future advantages that they could wish, riches, alliance, and a kingdom. In consequence of such a plan, he sent for fresh supplies of his countrymen: and they came over in tribes sufficiently numerous to fill seventeen ships. With them arrived Rowena, the daughter of Hengift: her father had particularly observed the amorous diffusion

448

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

possession of Vortigern; and, conscious of his daughter's beauty, he proposed to make her the chief step by which he was to ascend. The effect answered the design: Vortigern saw the fair Saxon, divorced his lawful wife, by whom he had many children, and incontinently married Rowena. In consequence of this marriage, the kingdom of Kent was allotted to the Saxons, and the dominion of that territory was taken away from Guorang-nus, the reigning prince, and was beftowed upon Hengift, the father-in-law of the chief sovereign in Britain.

How unhappy must be the state of government, when the king could break through all the bounds of morality, and where the people could tamely submit to see one of their most considerable colonies peremptorily given away to strangers? These instances shew us, that not the least order, and least any degree of public courage subflufted at this time in Britain: they shew us that chriſtianity had not as yet taken sufficient root in our island. A religion that was calculated to refcue mankind from the tyranny of fraud and force, and instituted to give a true notion of one God, and to fix right and justice upon a fure and natural foundation, must have little efficacy among a wild and indocile race of men. Some churches, however, were built, and some outward appearances of religion were maintained; but the antiquities of these times are so fabulous, that few authentic commentaries are extant, either of ecclesiastical, or of civil affairs. The facts to be depended upon, are theſe:

[To be continued.]

450 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

" place directly. Mademoiselle de Foix, however
" amiable she may be, cannot alter my resolution;
" and if I see her, the affront I shall give her by
" refusing her hand, will be more poignant to her."

"No, interrupted my father in a rage, thou
" fhalt not see her, nor fhalt thou be allowed to
" see the day; I will fhut thee up in a dungeon, a
" fitter habitation. I swear by heaven, that thou
" fhalt never be delivered from thy confinement,
" till I am convinced thy repentance is sincere,
" and thy change certain. I will punish thee for
" thy disobedience every way that is in my power;
" I will deprive thee of my eftate, and fettle it up-
" on mademoiselle de Foix, to fulfil, in fome de-
" gree, the promife I have given her."

I made no oppofition to my father's tyrannical
defign; I suffered myſelf to be conducted to an old
tower, where I was confined in a place at the bot-
tom of it, which received no light but from a little
grated window which looked into one of the courts
of the caſtle. My father gave orders that food
ſhould be brought me twice a-day, but that I
ſhould not be suffered to see any perſon whatever.

I paffed the first days of my confinement with
tranquility enough, and even with ſome kind of
pleasure. What I had ſo lately done for Adelaida
employed all my thoughts, and left no room for
reflection on the horrors of my condition; but
when this ſentiment began to lose its force, I re-
figned myſelf up to deſpair at being thus doomed
to an abſence of which I knew not the end. My busy
imagination tortured me with the apprehenſion of
a thousand other evils: Adelaida might be forced

to

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

45¹

to enter into another engagement : I fancied her
surrounded with rivals, all affiduous to pleafe,
while I had none to plead for me but my miseries ;
but to a mind so generous as Adelaida's, was not
this sufficient? I reproached myself for entertaining
the least doubt; I asked her pardon for it, as for a
crime, and my heart gathered new strength from
the confidence I had in her fidelity.

My mother found means to convey a letter to
my hands, in which she exhorted me to submit to
my father, whose rage againft me seemed to in-
crease every day. She added, that she suffered
a great deal herself; that her endeavours to pro-
cure a reconciliation between him and the family
of Luffan had made him suspect that she acted
in concert with me.

I was greatly affected at the uneafines my mo-
ther suffered on my account; but as I could not
accufe myself of having voluntarily caufed her any
part of it, all I could do was to lament her fitu-
ation.

One day when I was, as usual, wholly taken up
with reflections on my unhappy fate, something fell
through the window into my dungeon, which im-
mediately rouzed my attention. I saw a letter on
the floor, I seized it with trembling haſte; but
what became of me when I read the contents! they
were as follow: “Your father’s rage has inſtructed
” me what I ought to do. I know the terrible
“ ſituation you are in, and I know but one method
“ to extricate you from it, which will perhaps make
“ you more miſerable; but I ſhall be so as well as you,
“ and that thought will give me refolution to do

G g 2 what

452 THE LADY's MUSEUM.

" what is required of me. Our cruel parents, to
" make it impossible for me to be yours, inflict up-
" on my marrying another. This is the price your
" father has fet upon your liberty; it will perhaps
" cost me my life, my quiet it too surely will, to
" pay it: but I am determined. Your sufferings and
" your prison are at present all that I can think of :
" in a few days I shall be the wife of the marquis de
" Benavides; his character is sufficient to acquaint
" me with all I have to suffer from him; but this
" fort of fidelity I owe you, at least that in the
" engagement I enter into, I should find nothing
" but misery. May you, on the contrary, be hap-
" py; your good fortune will be my consolation. I
" am sensible I ought not to tell you this: if I was
" truly generous I should suffer you to be ignorant
" of the part you have in my marriage; I should
" leave you in doubt of my confiancy. I had
" formed a design to do so, but I was not able to ex-
" ecute it: in my sad situation I have need of being
" supported with the thought that the remem-
" brance of me will not be hateful to you. Alas!
" soon, very soon it will not be permitted me to
" preserve yours.—I must forget you;—at least I
" must endeavour so to do. Of all my miseries
" this is what I am most sensible of: you will in-
" create it if you do not carefully avoid all op-
" portunities of seeing and speaking to me. Re-
" reflect that you owe me this mark of your esteem,
" and oh! reflect how dear that esteem will be to
" me, since of all the sentiments you have professed
" for me, it is the only one that I am allowed to
" require of you."

Of

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

Of this fatal letter, which I have related at length,
I was able to read no more than to these words :
" Our cruel parents, to make it impossible for me
" to be yours, infest upon my marrying another."
Pierced to the heart with this cruel, this unex-
pected misfortune, I funk upon the mattras which
compofed my bed, and lay there several hours
without senfe or motion, and probably might never
have recovered, but for the affiftance of the per-
fon who brought me my provifions. If he was
alarmed at the condition in which he found me, he
was much more so at the excefis of my defpair,
when my senfes returned. The letter, which I held
faſt in my hand during my fwoon, and which I at
laſt read quite through, was wet with my tears,
and I spoke and acted extravagancies which made
him apprehenſive for my reaſon.

This man, who till then had been inacceſſible to
pity, was melted all on a ſudden : he blamed my
father for his cruel treatment of me ; he reproved
himſelf for having executed his orders ; he aſked
my pardon on his knees. His repentance inſpired
me with the thought of propoſing to him to let
me quit my prifon for eight days only, promising
him that, at the expiration of that time, I would
return and put myſelf into his hands: I added
every thing I could think of to oblige him to con-
fent. Moved at the ſtate he ſaw me in, excited
by his own intereſt, and by the fear that I ſhould
one day take vengeance upon him for being the in-
ſtrument of my father's cruelty, he agreed to
what I deſired, upon the condition I had myſelf
propoſed to him.

G g 3

I would

454 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

I would have set out that moment from the
castle, but there was a necessity for his going to
seek for horses; and when he returned, he informed
me that we could not get any till the next day.
My design was to go to Adelaida, to tell her all
my grief and despair, and to kill myself before her
eyes, if she perfused in her resolution.

To execute this project, it was necessary that I
should arrive before her fatal marriage, and every
moment's delay seemed to me an age of misery.
I read over her letter a hundred times, as if I had
expected to find still something more in it. I ex-
amined the date over and over; I flattered myself
that the time might have been prolonged. " She
" will at least make an effort, said I; she will seize
" all pretences to defer it. But why should I flat-
ter myself with so vain a hope, resumed I? Ade-
laida sacrificing herself for my liberty will haften
" the dreadful moment. Alas! can she believe
" that liberty without her, can be a blessing to me ?
" I shall every where find this prison she delivers
" me from; she has never known my heart; she
" judges of me by other men: it is to that I owe
" my ruin. I am still more miserable than I be-
lieved myself, since I have not the consolation to
" think that she knows how much I love her."

I passed the whole night in making these com-
plaints, the most tedious night I had ever known,
even in that place of misery. At length the day
appeared; I mounted on horseback with my con-
ductor. We travelled the whole day without stop-
ping a moment, when, towards the evening, I per-
ceived my mother in a chariot which took the road

to-

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

towards the castle. She knew me immediately, and, after having expressed her surprize at meeting me, she obliged me to come into the chariot to her. I durst not ask her the occasion of her journey in the situation I was in; I feared every thing, and my fear was but too well founded.

"I come, my son, said she, by your father's permission, to release you from your confinement." "Ah! cried I, then Adelaida is married." My mother answered only by silence. My misfortune which was then without remedy, presented itself to my mind with all its horrid aggravations. I fell into a kind of stupidity, and, by the force of grief, I seemed to have lost the sense of it. However, my body now funkled under the weaknesses of my mind: I was seized in the coach with a shivering like the cold fit of an ague. As soon as we arrived at the castle, my mother caused me to be put to bed. I lay two days without speaking or taking any nourishment; all the symptoms of a violent fever appeared, and, on the fourth, the physician despaired of my life. My mother who never left me, was inconceivably afflicted; her tears, her prayers, and the name of Adelaida, by which she conjured me to live, made me resolve not to obstruct the endeavours of the physician to save me.

[To be continued.]

Gg 4

THE

[ 456 ]

THE
HISTORY
OF
BIANCA CAPELLO

CONTINUED.

THE polite behaviour and promises of Mandragone, gave such agreeable hopes to Bianca, that with quite another countenance than before, she renewed her conversation with his lady; who, a little after, taking her by the hand, said, I have a mind to show you our palace, that you may tell me, if in any thing it resembles your great and noble buildings at Venice; and in the mean time, the old lady, your mother, as she is in years and feeble, may repose herself here till our return.

"Aye, aye, go (replied she,) for I have not "breath enough to mount such a stair-cafe;" upon which the young women smiling, and arm in arm, ran from room to room, almost over the whole house. This palace, (which stood in the street called Carnelecchi, near Santa Maria NoVELLA,) was so lately built that it was not quite finished, though very near so; and that with such good taste, and so much magnificence, that the

Vene-

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

Venetian lady admired and praisèd every part of it:
and now through many anti-chambers, they arrived
at laft to a very large one, where there was an ex-
treme rich bed, and near it a writing closet, beau-
tifully ornamented, the window of which looked
down on a delightful garden. Here the Spaniard
having opened a, took out a vaft quantity
of jewels, which one by one she shewed her gueſt,
to whom, while she was looking on them with great
attention, she spoke in this manner, “I have a
“ great fancy to ſhow you ſome dresſes I have
“ lately made, which they tell me are exacſtly as
“ the Venetian ladies wear them; but as I muſt
“ fetch the key, I beg you will divert yourſelf
“ with theſe few jewels till I come back.

No sooner was Mandragona gone out of the
cloſet, but on a ſudden the grand duke entered it:
at whose unexpected prefence Bianca trembled
from head to foot, well imagining the meaning of
his coming; but collected in herſelf, and alike
prudent and virtuous, she immediately threw her-
ſelf at his feet, and in the moſt moving manner ſaid,
“ Since, fir, it has pleafed God that it ſhould be my
“ unhappy fate to loſe my parents, my fortune, and
“ my country, and to have nothing in this world
“ left me but my honour; permit me humbly to
“ entreat your royal highneſs’s protection for that
“ only good, which I eſteem more than all the
“ reſt.”

The grand duke hearing her talk in this man-
ner, preſently raiſed her from the ground with the
greateſt reſpect, ſaying, “ You have no reaſon,
“ madam, to fear any thing from me, who only
“ come

458 THE LADY's MUSEUM.

“ come here to affilt and comfort you, under thofe
“ misfortunes I grieve to fee you suffer; of the
“ truth of which, my actions shall soon convince
“ you; let me then beg you to be satisfied, that
“ you have found a friend in me, both willing and
“ able to make you happy;” and so faying, he
bowed and left her all pale and confused, which
the Spaniard perceiving at her return, faid, “ Don’t
“ wonder, madam, at the abrupt appearance of
“ the grand Duke, for he is pleased to live in that
“ familiarity with us, that very often, and at all
“ hours he comes in this way, diverting himself
“ with jefting, and frightening my maids and me;
“ but this time I believe he is well met withal, and
“ I don’t doubt but that you have given him an
“ anſwer that has put him out of countenance,
“ and perhaps will make him more cautious for
“ the future.”

“ I made him no anſwer, faid the Venetian, but
“ what the care of my honour obliged me to, and
“ which I recommended to the mercy and pro-
“ tection of his ſerene highneſs.”

And you may be certain he will protect it, faid
Mandragone: “ But can a lady of your ſenſe and
“ quickneſs (added ſhe) not perceive, that fortune
“ in compaſſion to your tedious ſufferings, has at
“ laſt turn’d her face, and will you not ſeize the
“ golden opportunity? Believe me, madam, theſe
“ are accidents that ſeldom happen; to have ſo
“ young, ſo charming, and ſo great a prince, de-
“ vote his heart with the ſincerſt paſſion to your
“ ſervice.”

Many

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

Many were the arguments that these two ladies
used to maintain their different opinions; but at
the last those of the Spaniard prevailed with Bi-
anca Capello to hear the grand duke; and having
heard, she soon consented to accept his love: the
charms of his conversation and person encreasing
every day her inclination for him, till their passion
became mutual.

Having traced poor Bianca through all those
thorny paths that brought her to the flowery
precipice into which she fell, we will now turn to
Pietro Buonaventuri her husband, and see how
his new fortune became him, still young and
handsome, and still beloved by his wife; so that
upon her account the grand Duke not only made
him master of the robes, but gave him a most
magnificent palace in the street named Maggio,
with such great appointments, that he enjoyed all
the happiness this world could give.

His apartment was on the ground-floor, from
whence he could ascend to his wife's, except when
the grand Duke was with her, and in that case, the
door to them was fastrued on the other side: this
happened frequently, Francisco generally misf-
fing his train when he came home in an evening,
and only with one or two confidents going pri-
vately to fup with Signora Bianca, whom he
could seldom bring himself to leave, till an hour
before day obliged him to return to his palace;
which he did in the same manner he left it.

Long did this course of life, and round of pleasure
last, and longer still it might have done, had not
the prosperity and power of Pietro (now become very

con-

460

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

confiderable all over Florence,) filled his mind with so much pride and infolence, that his defires alone dictated all his actions, without the least regard to form or decency. Amongst the many ladies whose affections he fought to acquire, was a widow called Caffandra Bongianni, defcended from one of the greatest families in the city, whose extraordinary beauty had gained her many admirers, to some of which it had proved very fatal: her relations, to revenge the dishonour done their family, having already miserably deftroyed two of them; one of which (a young man of the family of del Caccia) after giving him several mortal wounds, they dipp'd in pitch, and with a ftraw hat on his head, and a basket full of balls of pack-thread on his arm, fet him on a fstone near the door of his miftres; so that all the people, who paffed, (thinking it was a country man asleep) took no notice of him, till towards evening, fome body going to wake him, discovered the truth, to the great concern of all who knew him, and more particularly his parents; who, after they had buried him, fought in vain for the authors of his death, though every body's conjecture centered on the relations of the lady.

Notwithstanding all this was well known to Buo-
naventuri, it did not in the least intimidate him
from purfuing his enterprize, which, as he was
infinuating, young and beautiful, he soon attained:
and not content with his victory, he gloried in the
publication of it, jesting upon, and laughing in
the very faces of any of her relations whom he met;
and being one day particularly impertinent to

Roberto

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

Roberto Ricci, her nephew, he, (unable to endure it,) complained to his aunt, threatening her extremely if she purfued so vile a practice, which, though she positively denied to him, she still continued in such a manner, as made it obvious to all the city: nor did Pietro from this grow more difcreet; but as before he had only laughed at them, he began now to menace and infult them, which for some time they feared to refent, out of respect to the grand Duke: but at last their patience being exhaus ted, they went all together, and represented to his serene highness, the injuries they suffered from Buonaventuri, begging he would command him to behave in a more reasonable way.

The grand Duke was very much concerned to hear of the ill behaviour of Buonaventuri; and promised it should be remedied. When they were gone he immediately sent for Pietro, and taking him into his closet, told him the complaints he had received from Ricci, and the rest of Bongianni's relations, adding these words: " You see therefore, how great is the uneasiness of such things " give to families, and as this is one of the most considerable in our dominions, you ought to have some regard to it; instead of which you " are not content to poffefs the aunt, but must infult and ridicule the nephew; and that in the most public places, and most opprobrious manner: all this forces me to warn you, that as your actions " are unjust (perhaps) they may draw on bad consequences; and should these people kill you, " 'tis not in my power to restore you to life; so that if you cannot or will not leave purfuing this

462

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

“ this amour, at least do it with more secrecy and
“ decorum.”

The haughty Buonaventuri having heard the
gracious admonitions of Francisco, (which being
deliver'd with so much reason and calmness, he
ought to have esteemed them as the greatest of
favours) returned this answer: “ As I assure your
“ royal highness, there is not one word of truth
“ in all that these men have said, (being neither so
“ extravagant, nor impertinent as they would make
“ me appear,) so I have not the least fear of them:
“ but the true cause of their anger is their envy;
“ they cannot bear to see me in that state, to which
“ your highness's bounty has raised me, and there-
“ fore with calumnies endeavour to deprive me of
“ it, envying also their own blood, whose fortune,
“ like wolves, they would devour; and as they
“ know I have a friendship for that lady, and am
“ some protection to her from their cruelty, they
“ are resolved to ruin us both by this monstrous
“ contrivance.”

“ I know nothing of these affairs, replied the
“ grand duke, nor do I mean to enter into them;
“ 'tis enough that I have advised you as a friend,
“ do as you please, what happens after this will
“ be owing to yourself alone;” and so saying he
dismissed him.

Yet little did Buonaventuri profit by the kind
remonstrances of the great Duke, growing every
day more furious and offensive, committing so
many outrages against all the relations of Caffan-
dra, and treating Ricci especially, in so despicable
a manner, that he was often ready to take a full re-
venge,

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

463

venge, being only detained from it by the fear of
loosing his fortune, by the grand Duke's resentment;
at last he resolved to renew his complaints to him,
and as he was much in favour with the princes
Isabella his sister, he chose to do it by her means:
to whom he protested, he was not able to support
any longer the scorn of the world, and abomi-
nable impudence of Pietro, to deliver himself from
which, if he could find no other redrefs, (he said)
he should be obliged at last to abandon the con-
fideration of his fortune and every thing else.

The princes having heard him out, went di-
rectly to her brother, whom she made sensible of
the vile carriage of Buonaventuri, and of the mis-
chiefs that might attend it; representing the ap-
proaching ruin of that whole injur'd family, who
were so enraged, as to have no farther restraint,
either from their obedience to their sovereign, or
reason itself.

The grand Duke promised a speedy and effectual
redrefs; and confidering with himself that the only
way to it, was to send Pietro from Florence till
this hatred should be abated, by time and absence,
he determined to employ him in some of his af-
fairs abroad; and as soon as he came to Bianca
Capello that night, he told her all that had passed
on the occasion, defiring her to use all forts of
arguments, both perLLUaSive and threatning, that
might induce Buonaventuri to change his pro-
ceedings, and for the future to act more wifely;
" But if you can't prevail (added he) I will send
him to France, where he shall stay till he is sen-
fible of his errors."

This

464 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

This was like a dagger to the heart of poor Bianca, who still loved her husband to excess, (though she did not let it appear to the grand duke) and fearing that he would, as he said, send him away, she resolved to try all the rhetoric of prayers and tears, to turn him from his dangerous course, and keep him with herself. For that purpose she waited his coming home, which was always late, and when she heard him below in his apartment, she defcended the back stairs, and began in this manner, "Since my love to you exceeds all that "is, or ever was, of passionate, and kind, let me "by that conjure you, to hear me out with patience; for what I have to say concerns you in "the neareft manner, and is absolutely neceffary "to your prefervation;" and then in few words she proceeded to tell him all that the grand duke had said to her, and the refolution he had taken for his security, to send him out of the country.

(To be continued.)

TREATISE
ON THE
EDUCATION of DAUGHTERS
CONTINUED.

CHAP. IV.

Cautions concerning Imitation.

THE ignorance of children, whose brain hath
as yet taken no impression, and who have no
formed habits, is what occasions their pliancy and
inclination to imitate all they see. It is therefore
a very principal point to set before them none but
the best models; no sort of persons should be suffered
to come near them, but such as it would be
advantageous to copy after. But as it is impossible,
notwithstanding all our precaution, but they must
see many irregularities, we should teach them timely
to remark the faulty behaviour of vicious and irrationable people; such whose reputation is irretrievably lost: they should be shewn how defervidly
despicable, how miserable they are, who abandon
themselves to their passions, and neglect the cultivation of their reason.

By this means we may, without fear of giving
them a turn for mockery, form their taste, and
infuse a sensibility of whatever is truly graceful.
Nay, we need not refrain from general cautions,
with relation to some forts of defects, although
should be a danger, by such proceedings, of
giving them an infight into the weak points of people to whom they owe respect: for besides that we
ought not to hope, nor would it be just, to keep

Nº. 6.

H h

them

465 THE LADY'S MUSEUM

them ignorant of the true maxims relative to those
points; so is it the surest way of keeping them
in their duty, to instil the notion that they must
bear with another's defects; not even judge of
them inconsiderately; that they often appear greater
than they really are; that a number of other good
qualities atone for them; that, as perfection is not
to be found upon earth, we should admire those
who have least imperfection: in short, though
this species of information ought to be reserved for
extremities, nevertheless it is our duty to give
the true principles, and to preserve them from
imitating indiscriminately whatever evil shall hap-
pen to come in fight.

Besides all this, we should discourage them from
personating ridiculous people. This turn for com-
mic mockery has something in it low and repug-
nant to genteel sentiment; besides which, it is
much to be feared left children should catch these
manners, because the warmth of their imagina-
tions, the supplies of their bodies, and their
sightlines together, give them an aptness in tak-
ing all sorts of forms for the representing every
ridiculous object.

This propensity in children to imitation, produ-
ces infinite mischief when they are put into the
hands of bad people, and who act with no reserve
in their company. But God hath induced them by
the same means with a pliableness to whatever is set
before them for their good: very often, without
speaking, it sufficeth only to make them observe
in another the thing we would have them do.

[To be continued.]

PHI-

[ 467 ]

PHILOSOPHY

FOR THE

LADIES

CONTINUED.

The natural History of the Swallow-tail'd Butterfly,
and its Ichneumon.

IN a former Number of this work, our fair readers may remember we gave them some account of the several metamorphoses or alterations from one state to another, which various classes of animals undergo. But although we mentioned in general terms the changes of the butterfly kind, yet as we entered into no very particular detail in regard to them, it will not, we hope, be look'd on as any kind of repetition, if we take up a short portion of their time on that head here.

That beautiful and almost infinitely varied genus of insects, which is so well known by the names of butterfly and moth, (the one meaning only a day, the other a night fly,) is to be ranked with those of the most perfect change, as every one of this kind passes through the greatest number of

H h 2

states

468 THE LADY's MUSEUM.

Itates that has yet been discovered amongst animals, viz. the egg, worm, chrysalis, and fly. But to render these terms more clear, and at the same time to relate the general history of this extensive province in the great kingdom of nature, we shall illustrate it with an example.

The butterfly we have fixed on for this purpose is one of the most beautiful as well as the largest that we know of English growth: it is commonly known by the name of the Swallow Tail, from the figure of its under-wings, which terminate in some measure like the tail of that bird. Some authors indeed have called it the fennel fly, because the caterpillar which produces it, is fond of feeding on fennel, though it is not uncommonly found upon dill, parsley, carrot, and several other umbelliferous plants. But Linnæus, whose names are frequently as absurdly arbitrary, as his system is laboriously inauspicious, has beftowed on it the name of Machaon, who was a celebrated Greek physician, and fon to Eculapius.

His first state is, like that of all other insects, an egg, which is laid by its parent on the plant that is afterwards to become food for the infant worm at the emerfion into life. She, however, seldom lays more than two, never more than three or four on one plant, and those singly and at a considerable distance from each other. These eggs are yellow and of a conical form, and are so fixt by the female, with a strong glutinous matter, to the stalk of the plant, as to stand all the fierce attacks of the wind and rain, without being forced from

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

469

from their hold. One of them, as affixed to a piece of a stalk is represented at c, in the annexed plate.

These eggs, which are generally laid in June, July, or August, come to perfection in about a month's time; when the young caterpillar breaks forth the fame in every respect but bulk that it appears when full grown : its body is green, annulated, or striped transversely with ftriæ of black, each ringlet studded with spots of a bright scarlet. This caterpillar leads a very solitary life, there seldom being more than two to be found on one plant. The reason of this may probably be, that the umbelliferous plants in general, and more particularly the fennel, which, as we have before observed, is the favourite food of this caterpillar, afford but a very small quantity of foliage; and that this worm before its next change, grows to a very considerable bulk. The parent, instructed by that most infallible of all properties, instinct, purposely deposits her eggs so sparingly, left the future offspring forming too large a colony to be maintained by one plant, should be forced to seek out for fresh quarters, in which case, unless they chanced to meet with another plant of the same kind with that they quitted, they must inevitably perish. They are very slow in feeding, and in their growth cast their skins several times before they change into a Chrysalis. In some the green is more or less bright, but in general the colours are more vivid in their infant state than when more fully grown.

This caterpillar has one property peculiar to itself, which is, that on the approach of any fly or

H h 3

ich-

470 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

ichneumon, it puts forth from the two red spots on
its forehead, a pair of antennæ, or horns like those
of a snail, and then beats about from side to side
with the fore part of its body, in order to prevent
the Ichneumon from emitting or fixing any eggs on
its body. Two of these caterpillars at their full
growth, the one at rest, the other with its antennæ
put forth and defending itself from the ichneumon,
are represented at d and e.

His next state is that of the Chrysalis, which,
foreseeing for some little time beforehand, he pre-
pares for, by abstaining from food, and discharging
his excrements; which done, he fixes himself by
his two hind legs, with a web, to some part of the
stalk of the plant, and then spinning a thin single
thread across his body, between the third and
fourth joint, remains as it were suspended and im-
moveable for about four and twenty hours, when
by a continued motion the skin is stripped off, and
he becomes converted to the Chrysalis, shewn at f.

This transformation happens in August or Sep-
tember, according as the spring may be early or
late; and in this situation he passes the whole win-
ter and ensuing spring, coming out about the May
or June following, in the form of the large and
beautiful butterfly, represented at A and B. The
wings are of a bright yellow, with borders and
bands of a deep black; the under pair still farther
decorated with a chain of fine blue spots, and two
circles of a full orange. These flies feed on the
dulcet juices of flowers, the moisture of which
they fuck in by means of a long proboscis, where-
with they are provided. They are frequently seen
sitting

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

fitting with their wings folded, as at a, on the
ground, near rivers and ponds.

Thofe who are defirous of breeding these flies
themselves, in order to see their changes, or to pro-
cure the butterfly in greater perfection, may find
the caterpillars, during the months abovemem-
tioned, in places abounding with the umbelliferous
plants. When discovered, they must be carefully
supplied with fresh food: when the Chrysalis is ob-
tained, it must be kept temperate, and not much
disturbed: and the box or cage must be roomy,
in order for the wings to expand themselves, other-
wife they will be liable to be injur'd, when the fly
iffues from the shell.

They copulate as soon as they appear in the fly
state, lay their eggs in about a fortnight afterwards,
and then soon die.

As in our description of the abovementioned
butterfly we took notice of the manner in which
the caterpillar whereby it is produced, defends
itself from the attacks of the Ichneumon, it may
not be improper in this place to explain what we
mean by that term; especially as it opens an entire
new scene in the natural history of the insect tribe,
in which the great parent who provides sustenance
for all creatures in different ways, and has in ge-
neral contrived it so, that the larger and more pow-
erful shall prey on and destroy the smaller ones,
seems to contradict herself, by enabling a small
animal to sublift on the very flesh and juices of
one much larger than itself; and that even whilst it
continues alive, and apparently in good health.

H h 4

The

472 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

The Ichneumon then is a class of small flies, whereof there are a very great variety of species; the proper nourishment of the worm of which is, the body of some other caterpillar. On this account the parent finds means to deposit its eggs on, or rather underneath the skin of such caterpillar, which hatching in due time, the worm immediately begins to feed on the very entrails of the caterpillar; nor ever quits it, even though it frequently changes into a Chrysalis, as if it were by a metamorphosis to elude its enemy, till the time when his own change is to happen, which he undergoes first into an Aurelia, and then into a Fly, emerging in the last form from the very spot where he first found residence in that of an egg.

The fly which is represented in the same plate with the Swallow Tail, fitting at g, and in its flying position at h, is one of this sort; preys on the caterpillar of that butterfly, and is produced in the following manner.

The female fly emits an egg, (which is represented in its natural size and shape i,) on the caterpillar, either at the time when the caterpillar is asleep, or soon after it has received a new skin. This egg, by means of a glutinous matter, which the parent emits at the same time with it, is so fixed where it is deposited, as not to be got off without the utmost difficulty; and being in less than seven days hatched by the warmth of the caterpillar's body, and the heat of the sun, the animal produced from it eats its way thereinto, on that part, whereby it adheres to the body. The empty shell covering the entrance or incision made by the newly hatched

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

473

hatched maggot, the wound becomes quickly healed, and the worm feeds on the entrails of the caterpillar till such time as he comes to his maturity, which not being in lefs than eighteen or twenty days, it frequently happens that the caterpillar becomes in the mean while transformed into a Chrysalis. The maggot, however, contained either within the caterpillar or chrysalis when grown to its full bulk, will eat its way through and fall to the ground; at which time it is in fize and shape as repreſented at k, and of a duſky white; but in lefs than two hours is formed into a Chrysalis, as at l, in which ſtate; if this change happens in ſummer, it continues for only about three weeks; but if late in autumn, as is ſometimes the case, it remains during the whole winter in that ſtate, and the fly, by eating its way through the ſhell, comes forth in the ſpring following.

N. B. All Caterpillars or Chryſales impregnated by Ichneumons, become ſpoiled, and do not produce any butterfly or moth. There are great varieties of the Ichneumon fly; but the one we have here deſcribed is of the kind called by Linnæus Larvaxum.

Description of the copper plate contained in our laſt Number.

Figure 1. The Calamary compleat, with all its arms extended. Figure 2. and 3. Two of the fuckers belonging to the long arms of the Calamary, detached and represented in different views.

THE

[ 474 ]

THE
LADY'S GEOGRAPHY.

The MANNERS and CUSTOMS of the Inhabitants
of AMBOYNA concluded.

THE People who were looked on as the
Origines of these islands, but which it is pro-
bable came thither from other countries, were
reckoned by the antient writers, who however
knew very little of them, amongst the Anthrop-
ophagi, or devourers of human flesh; and indeed
some recent examples seem to confirm that idea of
them. The groans of their manners was per-
fectly correspondent with their simplicity and their
ignorance, which has however often been favour-
able to strangers, still is apparent in the fabu-
lous and absurd relation, which the Amboynians
themselves give in regard to their origin. Some
of them claim descent from a crocodile, some from
a serpent, and others from an eel, a tortoise, or even
the old trunk of a tree; on which account they
still respect their ancestors, in the creature from
whom they pretend to have sprung; and if any one
happens to kill one of these animals, they confide
themselves in duty bound to avenge their deaths.

lg-

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

Ignorance, in all ages the mother of idolatry and superstition, has introduced into the worship and manner of living of these islanders, an infinity of customs as whimsical as their prejudices are ridiculous. Demons partake of their principal cares, and are the continual objects of their inquietude. The meeting of a dead body going to the grave, or of a lame, or old man, if it happens to be the first live object seen in the day; the cry of night birds, or the flight of a crow over their houses, are with them so many fatal prefages, whose effects they think themselves enabled to prevent, by instantly returning back, and making use of certain precautions. A few cloves of garlic, some little bits of pointed wood, and a knife, put into the hand or laid under the pillow of a child in the night time, are by them imagined a sufficient security against evil spirits. They never sell the first fish which they catch in new nets, being well perfuaded that it is unlucky so to do, but either eat it themselves or else present it to some one. The women who go to market in the morning with certain commodities, always give the first piece for whatever price is offered them; without which they imagine they should have no businesses for the whole day after: also, whenever they have sold any thing, they immediately strike on their basket, crying out as loud as they can, "that's well."

It gives these people no kind of pleasure to commend their children; for on these occasions they are always apprehensive of some design to bewitch them, unless such commendations are joined with certain expressions which may dispel all kind of

dif-

476 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

diffidence. When a child sneezes, they make use of a fort of imprecation, by way of conjuring the evil spirit which is waiting for its life; and the least thing which ails a child they attribute to the power of witchcraft.

These ideas are so deeply rooted among the people of this nation, that it would be in vain to attempt destroying them. Even those who have embraced Christianity are not exempt from them, although they are more circumvent on this head than the others. They will not admit into a person's room any one who has been before where there was a corple. The women of the country will not eat a double pisang, nor any other double fruit; nor will a slave precent her misforts with any such, for fear that afterwards, when she shall lie in, she should bring twins into the world, which would be an increase of domestic trouble.

When a woman dies either pregnant or in child-bed, the Amboynians believe that she is changed into a daemon, of which they tell stories as absurd as the precautions which they take on such occasions to prevent this imaginary misfortune. Persons attacked by the small pox, would, according to them, run a very great risk, if not narrowly and closely watched, of being carried away on a branch of fagu, by the demon who communicated the digitemper to them.

In short it would be endlets to enter into a detail of all the singular opinions of these people, with respect to an infinity of other things: but the most remarkable one, and which shews what an imagination once led to a wrong bias is capable of,

of,

THE LADY's MUSEUM.

of, is the notion they have formed to themselves concerning their hair, to which they attribute the hidden virtue of supporting a malefactor amidst the most cruel tortures, without a possibility of forcing a confession of his crime, unless by having him, which never fails instantly to produce that effect.

With so strong an inclination for superstition there can be no difficulty in conceiving that they should have a fondness for necromancy. This science refides in certain particular families who are in high renown amongst them; and although the rest hate them mortally, because they look on them as capable of doing them a great geal of mischief, yet they all have recourse to forcery on every occasion where they think it can procure them any information which may favour their loves or aid any of their designs. This vice reigns principally among the women, who talk the most of it, and who are also the most credulous; but if their magic is more deeply examined it will be found that it most frequently confists only in the fatal art of subtilly preparing poison; and that every thing also in it is no more than a texture of skilful impostures.

Inconstancy, and a love of novelty, are the characteristics of this people, in whom, therefore, there is no placing any great confidence. The Dutch have frequently experienced the necessity of depriving them of the means of following their natural bent, which incessantly leads them to form plots against them, and execute them with as much steadiness as secrecy whenever they find a favourable opportunity.

Too

478 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

Too much severity, however, towards them
would be equally dangerous: senfible of injuries,
and vexations, vindictive and implacable, it is ever
better to pleafe them by fair, than to enrage them
by harfh treatment. Such moderation therefore is
ever ftrongly recommended in the inſtructions
which the company ſends to its officers; and it were
to be wifhed for their own fakes that they conformed
thereto with more exactneſs than they generally do.

DE-

[ 479 ]

DESCRIPTION of the Island of CEYLON.

C EYLAN, Ceilon, or Zeilan, is an island of Asia, in the Indian sea, on this side of the Ganges, near the Cape of Comori, upon the streight of Manar or Quiloa. It lies in about six degrees of south latitude, and near 200 of longitude; and is one of the most remarkable of these seas: its length being, according to the accounts of the Hollanders, who have measured it the most exactly, about fifty-five leagues, its greatest breadth about thirty, and its whole circumference one hundred and ninety seven. Its figure is nearly that of a pear, or rather of a gammon of bacon; for which reason the Dutch have given the fort Cays, near Jaffanapatam, the name of Hammenbiel, or the Knuckle of the Gammon, a name which is perfectly expresse of the form of the island in that place.

The possession of this island lies between the Hollanders and the sovereign of the country, which is called king of Candi, or Candi-Uda. The first European settlements that were made on it were by the Portuguese, who, not contented with the possession of part of the coast, carried their incursions as far as to the capital, which they burned more than once, without sparing even the palaces or temples; in short, they rendered themselves so formidable, that they obliged the king to pay them an annual tribute of three elephants, and to purchase peace on many other servile conditions. At length, however, that prince had recourse for assistance to the Dutch of Batavia, who joining their

480 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

their forces to his, entirely beat the Portuguese,
and drove them out of all their fortified places, af-
ter their having poſſeſed them for near a hundred
and fifty years. The monarch, however, was little
advantaged by this affiſtance, which was only in-
tended to procure a like eſtablishment for them-
felves: for the Dutch, on the conclusion of the
war, and more especially after making themſelves
maſters of Colombo, in 1655, poſitively refuted to
give up a conqueſt which they thus ſaw themſelves
in the eaſy poſſeſion of: ever ſince which time they
have applied their whole care and diligence to for-
tify themſelves on the coaſt. Their principal eſta-
bliſhments are at Jafnapatam, and the iſland of
Manaar on the north; Trinquemali, and Batticalon,
on the eaſt; the town of Point de Galla, on the
fouth; and Colombo on the weſt. To ſay no-
thing of Negombo, and Calpentin, which are two
other towns belonging to them, with ſeveral forts at
the mouth of the rivers and the openings of moun-
tains, for the defence of paffes; ſo that the Dutch
may properly be confidered as absolute maſters of
much the greatest part of the coaſts of this very
extensive iſland.

[To be continued.]