Une autre Esther dans la faveur, Une seconde Judith dans la Retraite & l'Oraison: La Mere des Pauvres, L'Asyle toujours sur des malheureux, Une vie si ill.u.s.tre A ete terminee par un mort sainte Et precieuse devant Dieu.

Son Corps est reste dans cette sainte maison, Dont elle avoit procure l'etabliss.e.m.e.nt; Et elle a laisse a l'univers L'exemple de ses vertus.

Decedee le 15 d'Avril 1719.

Nee le 28 de Novembre 1635._

i. e.

HERE LIES

_The most high and most potent Lady_ _The Lady_ FRANCESE D'AUBIGNY, _Marchioness of_ MAINTENON.

_A Wife ill.u.s.trious_[73], _a Woman truly Christian; That virtuous Heroine whom the wise Man sought in vain in his Time, And whom he wou'd have propos'd to us for a Pattern, if he had liv'd in ours.

She was of Birth most n.o.ble, Her Wit was early commended, and much more her Virtue.

Sobriety, good Nature and Modesty, form'd her Character, From which she never derogated.

Always unchangeable in the various Situations of her Life; The same Principles, the same Rules, the same Virtues.

Sincere in the Exercises of Piety, Tranquil during the Storms at Court, Plain in the Midst of Grandeur, Poor in the Centre of Wealth,_ _Humble at the Summit of Honours; Rever'd by_ LEWIS LE GRAND, _Environ'd with his Glory, Vested with his most intimate Confidence, The Depositary of his Favours, Who never made use of her Power But to do Good.

Another_ Esther _in Favour, A second_ Judith _in Retirement and Prayer: The Mother of the Poor, The never-failing Asylum of the Unfortunate.

A Life so ill.u.s.trious Was cut off by a Death Pious, And precious in the Sight of G.o.d.

Her Body lies in this Sacred House, Of which she procur'd the Establishment: And her Virtues she has left To the World for a Pattern.

She departed this Life_ April 15, 1719.

_Being born the 28th of_ November 1635.

My _Englishmen_ thought the Panegyric upon Madame _de Maintenon_ a little too much strain'd. I confess that I think she is well equipp'd with a Character; and if it be true, that she was as humble as her Epitaph imports, I make no doubt, but if she had liv'd to see such an Encomium, it would have put her Modesty sadly out of Countenance: For 'tis certain, that this Lady had a very great Fund of Virtue and Piety; and I have heard it said by Persons, who otherwise had no reason to be fond of her, that 'twas impossible to be acquainted with her, and not to esteem her.

When I return'd from _St. Cyr_, I came hither to see M. _Voltaire_'s Tragedy of _Brutus_, which is so fine a Piece, that I and my _English_ Companions were charm'd with it: We not only admir'd the Conduct and Versification of it, but we applauded the Freedom with which the Author makes the _Romans_ think and speak. Mean time, the _French_ are not of our Opinion. _The Respect due to Royalty_, say they, _is not well preserv'd in it_. They censure the Author _for presuming to confine the Royal Authority within the Bounds of Justice_. _M._ de Voltaire, say they, _never could imbibe these Sentiments in_ France. _'Tis very plain that he contracted them beyond Sea. They may be relish'd well enough by the_ English; _but to us they are intolerable: And if M._ de Voltaire _goes on to write in this Manner, he may, perhaps, have an Apartment in the_ Bastile. I confess that terrible Name dumb-founder'd me, and I did not dare to say a Word in the Author's Vindication, for fear of being deem'd his Accomplice. The _Bastile_ and the _Holy Office_ are two Terms which always silenc'd me, even when I have had the strongest Inclination to speak my Mind.

As for the Comedians, they perform'd Wonders. One _du Frene_ actually out-did himself. He is Brother to _Quinaut_, an excellent Comedian in the Parts which require Humour, but excessively out-of-the-Way in Tragedy; and take him off the Theatre, impertinent beyond Expression, as is also his Brother, tho' they are both Men of Wit.

The Players are much more respected here than they are elsewhere, which makes them insolent to the last Degree. The n.o.bility are fond of their Company, and admit them to their Parties of Pleasure: And as they are Kings upon the Stage, and Equals and Companions at Table with the best Lords in the Kingdom, no wonder that it turns their Brains. But that which must needs render them arrogant beyond Measure, is a late Instance of Regard paid them by the _French_ Academy, who, by a Letter, invited the Performers in the _French_ Comedy, to hear an Oration made in their Academy; which the Comedians took for such an Honour, that the very next Day they offer'd the Members of the Academy Admission to their Comedy _Gratis_; which the Academicians made no Scruple to accept, to the great Amazement of the whole City of _Paris_, which blames the Members for it not a little: The Fault is laid at the Door of certain Authors, who are in League with the Comedians, and gave the Invitation without consulting the rest of the Members, of whom several that had, no Hand in the Transaction, protested against the Conduct of those who had, the Consequence of which was a Quarrel in the Academy. Indeed, one would imagine by that Day's Work, that they did not really consider what they were doing; and the n.o.blemen who are Members of the Academy, cry out against it very much.

'Tis true, that the Comedians who presume to offer Admission _Gratis_ to a Marshal _de Villars_, a Marshal _d'Estrees_, or other n.o.blemen of that Rank, are not mean Fellows, and deserve the Appellation of the _Company of_ Comedians, instead of _Troop_; in order to distinguish them from the Strollers in the[74] Country. Why then should not they be honour'd? The Actors in the Opera, who, as well as they, divert the Public for Lucre, have, indeed, the Privilege, that a Gentleman may be admitted among them without Disparagement to his t.i.tle. This is a Favour, says a modern Author very justly, which had never yet been granted to those who perform in the public Spectacles, and who give Diversion for Money; because in most of the Ages of Christianity, they had been look'd upon as Persons excommunicated and infamous, by reason of the Corruption in Morals, owing to their then too licentious Representations, which, perhaps, is no longer apprehended to be the Case at present. 'Tis certain, that if a Performer in an Opera may be n.o.ble, I can't see why a Person mayn't be the same in a Comedy; tho' 'tis my Opinion, that if Stage-players may be Gentlemen, Rope-dancers and Tumblers have a t.i.tle to it; for, besides the Honour they have of diverting the Public, they run the Risk of breaking their Necks every Day; and is not that the Lot of the n.o.bility?

As I returned Yesterday with my _Englishmen_ from _Versailles_, we went to _St. Cloud_, where we had the Honour to see the Duke _de Chartres_, the only Son of the Duke of _Orleans_. This Prince was in the Park, to see a young Officer of the Train of Artillery make Proofs of some Pieces of Ordnance. We were surpriz'd to see how attentively the young Prince observed every thing, and to hear him ask the Officer such Questions as were not to be expected from one of his Years. We had reason also to applaud the gracious and polite Reception which he gave us. To be plain, I was charm'd to see a Grandson of the late _Madame_, so worthy of herself, and of the ill.u.s.trious Blood from which he is descended.

_St. Cloud_ is a Palace belonging to the Duke of _Orleans_, first Prince of the Blood, and was built by Order of the late Monsieur _Philip_ of _France_, (Brother of _Lewis_ XIV.) who added very magnificent Gardens to it. 'Tis certain, that if the late King had chose _St. Cloud_ for his Residence, instead of _Versailles_, he might have had a finer Building with less Expence. What is most admir'd at _St. Cloud_, are the Gallery and Salon, both painted by _Mignard_, the Cascade, and the great Water-work, which throws up the Water a hundred Feet high, and which nothing exceeds of the Kind, but the Work that was made by the Direction of an[75]_English_ Gentleman at _Herenhausen_, near _Hanover_, in the Reign of King _George_ I.

_St. Cloud_ has been fatal to several Princes of the Royal Family. _Henry_ III. was a.s.sa.s.sinated there on the first of _August_ 1589, at eight o'Clock in the Morning, by _James Clement_. _Henrietta_ of _England_, first Wife to the late _Philip_ of _France_, Duke of _Orleans_, only Brother to _Lewis_ XIV. died there suddenly of a Colic, on the 30th of _June_ 1670. She said that she was poison'd, for which Reason the King caus'd her Corpse to be open'd in Presence of the _English_ Amba.s.sador.

'Tis a difficult Matter, to judge whether that Princess's Suspicions were true; for the Physicians and Surgeons found all her n.o.ble Parts corrupted, tho' she was but twenty-six Years old. Her Husband paid his Tribute to Nature on a sudden, in the same Palace, on the 4th of _June_ 1701.

What I have mentioned to you of the unhappy Catastrophe of the last of the _Valois_, puts me in Mind of a Pa.s.sage in History, that _Te Deum_ was forgot in the Ceremony of his Coronation; that the Crown fell from his Head; and that there was no Oil in the Sacred Phial, to perform the customary[76] Unction; which were then taken for ill Omens, and Time prov'd them but too true.

Since I am upon Tragical Events, I will mention a Thing to you that lately happen'd in _England_, and which I was a.s.sur'd by the _English_ Gentlemen, in our Return from _Versailles_, is a certain Fact.

One _Richard Smith_, a Bookbinder, and his Wife _Bridget_, were about a Fortnight ago found hanging in their Chamber near their Bed-side, about three or four Feet Distance from one another; and in the next Room, their Daughter, who was but two Years old, was found shot thro' the Head. There were three Letters left upon the Table, of which the following is the most material; and I send you a Copy of it, because it will let you into the _Stoic_ Character of the _English_ Nation. 'Tis directed to Mr.

_Brindley_, a Bookbinder at _London_, in that which is call'd _New Bondstreet_.

_Cousin_ BRINDLEY,

'These Actions, consider'd in all their Circ.u.mstances, being somewhat uncommon, it may not be improper to give some Account of the Cause, and that it was an inveterate Hatred we conceiv'd against Poverty and Rags; Evils, which through a Train of unlucky Accidents were become inevitable; for we appeal to all that ever knew us, whether we were either idle or extravagant; whether or no we have not taken as much Pains to get our Living as our Neighbours, altho' not attended with the same Success.

We apprehend the taking our Child's Life away to be a Circ.u.mstance for which we shall be generally condemn'd; but for our own Parts, we are perfectly easy upon that Head. We are satisfy'd it is less Cruelty to take the Child with us, even supposing a State of Annihilation, as some dream of, than to leave her friendless in the World, expos'd to Ignorance and Misery. Now in order to obviate some Censures, which may proceed either from Ignorance or Malice, we think it proper to inform the World, that we firmly believe the Existence of Almighty G.o.d; that this Belief of ours is not an implicit Faith, but deduced from the Nature and Reason of Things: We believe the Existence of an Almighty Being from the Consideration of his wonderful Works, from a Consideration of those innumerable celestial and glorious Bodies, and from their wonderful Order and Harmony. We have also spent some Time in viewing those Wonders which are to be seen in the minute Part of the World, and that with great Pleasure and Satisfaction, from all which Particulars, we are satisfied, that such amazing Things could not possibly be without a first Mover, without the Existence of an Almighty Being: And as we know the wonderful G.o.d to be Almighty, so we cannot help believing but that he is also good, not implacable; not like such Wretches as Men are, not taking Delight in the Miseries of his Creatures; for which Reason we resign up our Breaths unto him, without any terrible Apprehensions, submitting ourselves to those Ways, which in his Goodness he shall please to appoint after Death. We also believe the Existence of unbody'd Creatures, and think we have Reason for that Belief, altho' we don't pretend to know their Way of subsisting. We are not ignorant of those Laws made _in Terrorem_; but leave the Disposal of our Bodies to the Wisdom of the Coroner and his Jury; the Thing being indifferent to us where our Bodies are laid: From whence it will appear how little anxious we are about a _Hic jacet_; we for our Parts neither expect, nor desire such Honours, but shall content ourselves with a borrowed Epitaph, _viz._

'Without a Name, for ever silent, dumb, Dust, Ashes, nought else is within this Tomb.

Where we were born or bred, it matters not, Who were our Parents, or have us begot.

We were, but are not: think no more of us; For as we are, so you'll be turn'd to Dust.

'It is the Opinion of _Naturalists_, that our Bodies are at certain Stages of Life compos'd of new Matter, so that a great many poor People have new Bodies oftner than new Cloaths: Now as Divines are not able to inform us which of those several Bodies shall rise at the Resurrection, it is very probable, that the deceased Body may be for ever silent as well as any other.'

Sign'd, RICHARD SMITH.

BRIDGET SMITH.

The Coroner's Inquest, after the usual Formalities, brought in their Verdict, whereby they declared _Richard Smith_ guilty of that Crime, which they call in _England_, _Felo de se_, or Self-Murder; and of Wilful Murder as to his Child. _Bridget_ was brought in a Lunatic, tho' she had sign'd the Letter with her Husband, and acknowledged that she was equally concerned in the Murder of her Child; so that I think her Corpse deserved hanging, at least for a little while: And sure I am, that she would not have been found a Lunatic here.

There being commonly some little Piece of Entertainment at the End of Tragedies, I am now to divert you with some such Farce. 'Tis the Adventure of a certain pert c.o.xcomb of a Counsellor, with the Abbe _de Vayrac_, an Author, and a Man of[77]Wit. Not many Days ago, as the Abbe was walking on Foot, he was overtaken with a Shower of Rain, which made him take Shelter under a Penthouse, at a Shop-door. At the same Time, who should pa.s.s by in a magnificent Coach, driving at a mad Rate, as if he would run over every Thing in his Way, but a Counsellor, whose furious Career was stopp'd all on a sudden, by something that broke his Harness! This Disaster happen'd just at the Place Where the Abbe _de Vayrac_ stood, dress'd like other Authors, with an old tatter'd Hat upon his Head, and a shabby Cloak over a Coat quite thread-bare. The Thing that most diverted the Counsellor, was his Hat, and he order'd one of his Lacqueys to ask him, if it was not as old as the Battle of[78]_Rocroy_. You must know, the Lacqueys of this Country are more brazen-fac'd and insolent than they are any-where else; and the Counsellor's discharg'd his Errand to a t.i.ttle. M. _l'Abbe_, said he, in a Droll Tone, _my Master wants to know in what Battle your Hat receiv'd all those Wounds_. _At the Battle of_ Cannae, _Friend_, reply'd the Abbe; and then he laid on five or six heavy Blows upon the impudent Amba.s.sador's Shoulders with his _Cane_. The Counsellor, seeing his Domestic so soundly drubb'd, stepp'd instantly out of his Coach, and running to the Abbe, said, _What are you doing?_ The Abbe reply'd very sedately, _I am chastising Insolence._ _Parbleu_, M. _l'Abbe_, said the Counsellor, _I think you are a pleasant Fellow to presume to strike a Servant of mine! Surely you don't know me; for if you did, you would have more Respect for my Livery._ _Pardon me_, reply'd the Abbe, _I know you very well._ _And who am I?_ said the Counsellor. _Why you are a Fool_, reply'd the _Abbe_; upon which the Gentleman thought fit to sneak off.

This is a very true Story; for I had it from the Abbe _de Vayrac_ himself, who told it to me with the same Gravity as he had answer'd the Counsellor.

Tho' Lacqueys are not commonly the Subjects of Conversation, yet I think that those of _Paris_ deserve some Notice. They form so considerable a Body, that there are many Kings who have not so numerous an Army. Besides, these Fellows make such extraordinary Fortunes, and often rise so quick from _Valets_, to be Masters and Gentlemen, that really they ought not to be confounded in the Lump with the _European_ Lacqueys. Those of 'em who set up for fine Fellows, as many of 'em do, (for in the Livery of _Paris_, you meet with every Thing that is handsome and gay) such, I say, as are in the Service of some young n.o.blemen, are commonly Equals and Companions with their Masters. There are others who are the Darlings of the Fair s.e.x; and if Satire may be credited, and Appearances, perhaps, into the Bargain, there are Ladies even of the first Quality, who don't always treat their Lacqueys like Servants. 'Tis true, they most commonly take them out of the Livery, and in order to bring them near their Persons, they make them their Pages, or _Valets de Chambre_. Nothing is thought too good for these Favourites of _Venus_; they are rigg'd out like Princes, and were you to see one of these fortunate Lacqueys, you would naturally take him for some Person of Consequence. And indeed, there are some who act the Man of Quality to such a Perfection, that nothing can exceed it; and they have often better Manners than their Masters. The Airs of Importance, and of Quality, are very natural to the _French_. There are others of the menial Cla.s.s, that enjoy the Favour of their young Masters, in a Way so uncommon, that one knows not what to think of it; and many of those young Gentlemen, forgetting the Respect that is due to their own Persons, and their Families, make Parties at Supper with 'em, at which Time, I fansy, Conversation is the least Part of the Entertainment. But such is the Spirit of Debauchery, that it has infected the Generality of the young People at Court; tho' 'tis true enough, that it ever was so.

I don't say that excessive Debauchery is the universal Gout of the Nation; for, on the contrary, the _French_ are virtuous from the Cradle to the Grave, if they are but so happy as to get over the four or five Years of juvenile Fury, and to surmount the tumultuous Pa.s.sions which their great Vivacity kindles in their b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and prompts them to do Things at twenty Years of Age, which at thirty they detest and abhor; and I affirm of the _French_ in general, that they are not vicious by Inclination. The n.o.bleman is infinitely more so, than the Bulk of the People; and whether it is bad Company, bad Counsel, or whatever else that misleads him, he thinks that to be debauch'd gives him a fine Air; and many of 'em really boast of being greater Deboshees, than in Fact they are.

But this does not seem to me to be the Case of the Women (I mean of those who are not very rigidly attach'd to the Precepts of Virtue). They always preserve an Appearance of Decency, which imposes on such as don't know them: Nor is their Conversation licentious; and if they are naughty, 'tis in private. 'Tis certain that our Countrymen don't do the _French_ Ladies Justice. Many of our young Fellows, when they come home from _Paris_, affecting to be c.o.xcombs, tell Stories so much to the Disadvantage of the Fair s.e.x, that most of the _German_ Gentlemen, and especially of our Ladies, think the Reverse of what they ought to do. Virtue and Modesty are as eminent among the s.e.x here as elsewhere; and those Whifflers, that give themselves the Liberty of scandalizing them, very often know not how to call one Woman of Quality by her right Name, and even never saw her Antichamber. 'Tis certain, that there are Women of Quality here, who have laid aside the Mask; but of these there are so few, that the whole s.e.x ought not to be reproach'd for their Misconduct. I give you my Word and Honour, that there are fine young Ladies here, born to charm our s.e.x, whom Calumny itself is obliged to respect; and I don't see what more can be desired. I'll vouch the same for the young Gentlemen, of whom indeed, the greatest Number is very much debauch'd, but there are some that have not quitted the Reins of Modesty. A _Tremouille_, a _Luxembourg_, a _Boufflers_, and many more, may be set up as Examples to our Youth, who, perhaps, would be worse than the Youth of _France_, if they were enter'd as young into Company, and seated in the Centre of Joy and Pleasures. But I perceive, that instead of a Letter I am drawing a Case. Therefore here I drop my Brief, and think my Epistle long enough to be concluded. I am intirely Yours, _&c._

[Ill.u.s.tration]

LETTER XLIII.

_SIR_, _Paris, May 28, 1732._

I was puzzled some time ago, to think what could make the _French_ forget Father _Girard_ and _la Cadiere_, and the pretended St. _Paris_; for I apprehended, those two Articles would be the Subject of Conversation a great while longer; but I was mistaken: 'Tis all forgot; and there's something now upon the Tapis, of quite another Kind.

The Archbishop of _Paris_ having thought fit to issue his Mandate for suppressing a certain printed Paper, int.i.tled _Nouvelles Ecclesiastiques_, (a Sort of Ecclesiastical News-Journal) the Parliament of _Paris_ was disgusted, and made an Arret, condemning the Archbishop's Mandate. The Court took the Prelate's Part, and declar'd all that was done by the Parliament upon this Occasion, null and void. The Parliament standing up mightily for its Privileges, which nevertheless it holds only by the good Pleasure of its Kings, discontinued its a.s.semblies, and the King was obliged to issue repeated Orders, before the Members would resume their Business. Mean time the _Advocates_ and _Solicitors_ have thought fit to espouse the Cause of the Parliament, and refuse to plead till the King has _done Justice_ to the Parliament, ('tis their own Term) by preserving it in the Possession of Appeals against Incroachments; which it has really enjoy'd for many Years, and which is the Ground of the present Disputes.

The Parliament say, that they are the more justifiable in supporting this antient Prerogative, because they are obliged to it in Conscience, and for the Welfare of the State committed to their Charge. For, say they, what would be the Consequence, were the Archbishop's Mandate to be authorized?

The Pope and the Bishops would, by Degrees, a.s.sume that Right which they pretend to, of p.r.o.nouncing Excommunications for very trivial Causes, and even of putting the King himself under an Interdict, and consequently of usurping a Temporal Despotic Power under the Umbrage of their Spiritual Power, which, say the Parliament, is absolutely contrary to the Liberties of the _Gallican_ Church; by Virtue whereof, 'tis sufficient for the Parliament alone, in the like Case, to stigmatize and condemn those _Nouvelles Ecclesiastiques_, as they have already done for a long Time.

This is, in general, the Situation of Affairs, and the Substance of the Arguments made use of by the Parliament for the Maintenance of their Rights, which are stuff'd with Abundance of pompous Terms, such as the _Obligations of Conscience_, the _Liberties of the_ Gallican _Church_, and a thousand such Expressions, with which the very Hawkers make your Ears ring as you go along the Streets. The Ladies too have for the present laid aside all the Jargon of Dresses, to learn that Language; and she who us'd to talk of Cornets and Gorgets, now a.s.sumes the Style of an Advocate, pleads for _Gallican_ Liberties, overturns the Church, and sends the _Sacred College_ and the _Bishops_ to the Gallies. In short, I can't express to you, how ridiculous the _French_ are in these Cases. Being fond of every Thing that's new, be it good or bad, they catch at it blindfold; which is a plain Confirmation of the Inconstancy of these People, who are so fickle, that I verily believe, if any one should take a Fancy to preach _Mahometanism_ to them, they would embrace it with their usual Levity.

The following, my dear Friend, is a Piece of Poetry, which, I think, is good, and make no Doubt will please you. The Subject of it is, Christian Tranquillity. If I can pick up any Thing new for you, before I go hence, I will not fail to send it to you. I supp'd lately in a Place with M. _de Voltaire_, and another Poet, the latter of whom rehea.r.s.ed a very pretty Piece to us, of which he refused to give us a Copy, pretending 'twas imperfect; but however, he has promised it to me. When I have it, I will send it to you.

TRANQUILLITe CHRISTIAN CHReTIENNE. TRANQUILLITY.

Surles les Disputes du Tems. On the Disputes of the Times.

Plein d'ignorance et de Miseres, Why wilt, audacious mortal Man, Pourquoi, Mortel audacieux, So wretched, and so ignorant, Veux-tu sur des profonds mysteres On Mysteries dark and profound Porter un il trop curieux! resume to cast an Eye too nice?

Toi, pour qui toute la Nature Dost thou, to whom all Nature seems Ne paroit qu'une Enigme obscure, But an impenetrable Riddle, Tu sondes les Divins Decrets? Pretend to fathom G.o.d's Decrees?

Tu croi que ton foible genie Think'st thou thy feeble Genius can De l'Intelligence infinie The mighty Secrets e'er unfold Pourra devoiler les Secrets? Of infinite Intelligence?

Crains les tenebres respectables, Fear thou the dark, but awful Shades, Ou Dieu cache sa Majeste; Where G.o.d his Majesty conceals; De ses Desseins impenetrables For who the Veil can penetrate Qui peut percer l'obscurite? Of his impenetrable Schemes?

Mesure la vaste etendue Measure the vast immense Extent De ces Globes, qu'offre a la vue Of all those Globes that may be seen Un tems serein et lumineux. In Weather most serene and bright.

Mais arrete ici ton audace, But here thy fond Presumption check; Tu ne peux voir que la surface For thou nought but the Surface seest De ce Theatre merveilleux. Of this Theatre wonderful.