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AN HISTORICAL SKETCH OF THE TIMES OF THE ORLEANS REGENCY,

In the last years of Louis XIV., when the hypocritical piety of Madame de Maintenon had rendered devotion fashionable, and had restored to the Tartuffes the influence of which they had been deprived by the satire of Moliere, there resided in a dilapidated chateau near Grenoble, a family named Guerin, which, in spite of straitened circumstances, maintained all its pretensions to gentility, and took the title of De Tencin, from the moderate estate on which they vegetated rather than lived. The family consisted of a widowed mother, two sons, and four daughters, two of whom were marriageable. The eldest son obtained a diplomatic situation; the eldest daughter married a rich financier; the second son, called the Abbé de Tencin, was destined to enter the church; and the second daughter, Claudine de Tencin, was warned by her mother to procure a husband within twelve months, or else to prepare herself for

a convent.

Claudine, though pretty, was poor, and dowries were as great objects of consideration in Grenoble as they were in Paris; moreover, she had a decided taste for contradiction and repartee, so as to be called Mademoiselle Nenni throughout the country, from her habit of always replying in the negative. Her brother the abbé was notorious for assenting to everybody, and was, in consequence, admitted to every table where flattery would pass as current coin in payment for food. withstanding this difference of disposition, the brother and sister were warmly attached to each other, and had vowed to share any benefits which fortune might have in store for them. Both had boundless ambition: the abbé aspired to the highest dignities of the church; Claudine more vaguely fixed her hopes on acquiring political

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influence, either as a wife or a mistress.

The alternative presented by the mother alarmed Claudine; she represented its injustice, if she was to remain in the country, where no eligible partner was likely to appear. Madame yielded to the reasoning, and removed for a season to Grenoble, where Claudine was presented to fashionable society, in a robe made from her mother's well-preserved wedding-gown. At her first ball she captivated M. de Chandennier, a young man of good family and tolerable fortune. He was the cousin of the Marquis de Chandennier, of the ancient house of Rochechouart, whose obstinate resistance to Cardinal Mazarin, and voluntary exile from court, are now almost forgotten, though they were deemed the most extraordinary instance of personal independence under the despotic reign of Louis XIV. The marquis was the first captain of the household troops, and was highly respected for his valour, talents, and singular probity. These qualities did not suit Mazarin; he wished to have a more flexible officer, who would implicitly obey his commands, without inquiring too nicely into the morality or legality of his injunctions. Mazarin commanded Chandennier to sell his commission to M. de Nouilles, who, without waiting for the marquis's consent, assumed at once the functions of his post. Chandennier refused to send in his resignation, or to accept the purchase-money; he was arrested and imprisoned in the Castle of Loches, where, as he was known to be poor, it was hoped that he might be starved into submission. The marquis, however, lived contentedly on the prison allowance, receiving, however, occasional presents of better provisions from the inhabitants of Loches, who honoured his spirit, and detested the

* St. Simon's Memoirs have supplied the greater part of the incidents in this sketch, but we have also consulted Duclos, Villars, and the "Gallery of Female Portraits," by Paul de Musset.

VOL. XXXII.-NO. CXCI.

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cardinal. Two years elapsed, during which the prisoner made no complaint, and offered no sign of submission. At length the court, ashamed of its own violence, granted him his freedom, but at the same time banished him from Paris. It was notified to him that the price of his commission was ready to be paid whenever he chose to accept it, and that, so soon as he signed a receipt for the money, he would be restored to royal favour. Chandennier was as obstinate in exile as he had been in prison; it was hoped that leniency would have a better effect than severity, and he was permitted to return to Paris. Still unsubdued, he went to reside in a small cottage near Sainte Genevieve, and gave himself up to devotion. This suggested the last attempt to overcome his obstinacy; his confessor was induced to represent to him that, in justice to his creditors, he ought to accept the purchase-money of his commission, and apply it to the payment of his debts. Chandennier so far yielded, as to have an interview with the younger Nouilles, who had succeeded to the disputed post on the death of his father, but no agreement could be arrived at; to the last hour of his life, the Marquis de Chandennier retained his titular rank as first captain of the royal guards.

M. de Chandennier, the hero of the ball at Grenoble, was said to have inherited his cousin's noble qualitiesthe marquis, indeed, had nothing else to bequeath-he was preparing to visit Paris in search of fortune, when he was caught by the fair form and lively wit of Claudine de Tencin. He at first meditated nothing more than a little flirtation with the rustic beauty, whom he hoped to dazzle and overawe by his superior knowledge of the world, but he soon found that he was beaten with his own weapons; long before the ball had concluded, Chandennier had abandoned all his plans of a wealthy marriage, for love and a cottage with the beauty of Grenoble. At the conclusion of the ball, as Claudine and her mother were about to return home in their modest carriage, the gallant lover offered the services of his footmen to light them with flambeaux to the gates of the city. Claudine yielded to her natural instinct, and without any reflection replied-" No, sir, we thank you, our servant knows the way."

This unexpected repulse discouraged the lover, but he sought to gain the favour of her brother, and he invited the abbé to a supper, where the most fashionable young men of Grenoble were assembled.

Among the guests was a young financier, of more wealth than wit. Enraged at finding himself eclipsed in conversation by a poor abbé, he began to mock the mean dress and poverty of Tencin. The abbé defended himself with so much wit, that the rest of the company ranged them. selves on his side; and when, with a triumphant joke, he asked the finan cier to lend him five hundred pistoles on his note of hand, all present insisted that the wealthy blockhead should comply, under pain of personal chastisement. On the following morn ing, Claudine received a letter from her brother, enclosing half the sum he had so strangely gained, declaring that with the rest he would go to Paris in search of fortune, and advis ing her to lose no time in coming to an arrangement with her suitor.

Claudine had already repented her refusal of her lover's proffered politeness; she had even gone the length of inviting him to pay her a visit, when ever his taste led him to make a rural excursion. Five or six days after the ball, it was announced that a brilliant band of cavaliers was approaching the dilapidated castle of the Tencins; and all the preparations usually adopted by pride to hide poverty, were hastily made for their reception. A ploughboy, in an old livery, enacted the part of porter; the farm-servants, unprepared by previous drill, were suddenly transformed into grooms, ushers, footmen, and feudal retainers. Several amusing blunders were made-the porter, dazzled by the dresses of the guests, exhausted himself in mute salutations;

the groom was so charmed with M. de Chandennier's horse, that he compelled the gentleman to tell him the price of the animal before he assisted him to dismount; and the footmen, instead of marshalling the way, ran against each other, and knocked their heads together, so that Chandennier in the end entered the saloon without being previously announced.

Claudine and her mother had too much tact to notice the confusion which the polite Chandennier affected

not to perceive. The topics of the day were discussed; the Tencins had recently received letters from Spain, which enabled them to amuse their guest with the latest details respecting the disgrace of the Princess d'Ursians. The visitor was able to elucidate the narrative, by relating the scandals circulated in Paris against the Duke of Orleans. Claudine, as if she had some secret foresight of her future destiny, took a lively interest in the anecdotes told of that licentious prince, and was not quite so much shocked as might have been expected from her secluded education.

After some time, it was proposed that the gentleman should visit the gardens, accompanied by Claudine and her two sisters, the eldest of whom was only ten years of age. In this promenade the conquest was pleted; the mother, who watched from the windows, though she could not hear the conversation, easily learned, from the cavalier's animated gestures, that his heart was won.

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Chandennier was an ardent lover: he frequently repeated his visits to the De Tencins, sent them presents of game, but could not be induced to make a formal proposal of marriage. Evil tongues soon began to propagate scandal. At a later period, such attentions might have passed unnoticed, but at this period the piety and prudery of Madame de Maintenon reigned supreme-the ladies of the provinces, aping the manners of Versailles, had three confessors a-piece, read nothing but homilies, and were quite convinced that society was threatened with total ruin by the profane levity of the rising generation. The young men of Gre noble observed that Chandennier seemed to have forgotten the journey to Paris, for which he was at first so eager; his repeated rural excursions gave rise to suspicion; and with the usual charity of provincial gossip, it was speedily decided that Claudine had fallen a victim to vanity and temptation.

The tale reached the ears of the abbess of the Augustinian nuns at Montfleury, who was distantly related to the family; she came to the castle, and informed Claudine and her mother of the calumnies which had been propagated. While the ladies were discussing this delicate subject, Chandennier made his

appearance. Claudine overwhelmed him with reproaches, until he offered to silence scandal by immediately making her his wife. Though this had been the great object of her arts and hopes, she could not resist the waywardness of her temper: she declared that the lover should endure the penance of three months' delay, which she would spend in a convent; and she insisted that the abbess should carry her off to Montfleury within the hour. Remonstrances were in vain. Claudine, however, feeling that she had been a little hasty, informed her lover, that if she had reason to be satisfied with his conduct, she would abridge the period of his penance.

Chandennier's self-love was wounded by such caprice; his friends in Grenoble jested him on having been the dupe of a village coquette. Claudine soon perceived that his attachment was cooling, and, in order to revive it, she pretended to have imbibed a taste for conventual life; and when he spoke to her of his heart, she answered with pious disquisitions on the state of her soul. In imagination she had constructed a romance, of which she hoped to be the heroine. A true lover in her view, so far from being daunted by obstacles, ought rather to be roused to exertion by every new difficulty. He ought to be prepared to escalade walls, to burst bars, to storm the cloister, to tear his mistress from the altar, and even if she had pronounced conventual vows, to fly with her to Rome, and wrest a dispensation from the Pope, by dint of tears and supplications. Unfortunately while poetry and romance led the lady in one direction, prose and reality conducted the gentleman in the very opposite. His ambitious hopes returned; he remembered his resolution to seek for a wealthy wife, and recollected that Claudine had no fortune; he thought that a rustic beauty ought to have been more grateful for the proffer of his purse and person; and he could not comprehend Claudine's high-flown sentimentality. Finally, Chandennier became weary of the romance: he wrote her a letter, in which he showed that he clearly understood the nature of the farce which she was playing, declared that he would no longer be her dupe, and bade her farewell in cold and cutting terms.

Having gratified his self-love by this petty vengeance, the gentleman proceeded to Paris, where successful ambition soon healed the pangs of mortified vanity. He obtained high office in the court, married the daughter of a wealthy financier, and eventually became the minister of Louis XV., with the title of Marquis de Rochechouart.

This rupture grievously disappointed Claudine; she dreaded to face the reproaches of her mother, and the laughter of the world. To escape both, she loudly proclaimed that she had refused Chandennier, in order to devote herself to heaven. All the pious people in the province declared that they were edified by such a sacrifice. The news reached Paris, and was the theme of conversation in the saloons of Madame de Maintenon; and her profession was made in the presence of all the clergy and nobles of the south of France.

The beautiful nun became the rage; the parlour of the convent became the centre of attraction for all the pious and all the fashionable in Grenoble and its vicinity; the devout and the dissipated flocked thither together. The nuns were delighted, and the abbess, who was rather short-sighted, believed that her convent was about to sanctify the whole kingdom.

There was, however, some envious people who thought that such scenes were not consistent with conventual propriety. They represented the state of the convent to Lecamus, the archbishop of the diocese. One day, when mirth and gallantry were at their highest in the parlour, the door was suddenly thrown open, and the grave prelate stood in the midst of the astonished assembly. The crowd dispersed in an instant. Claudine comprehended the crisis, and stood her ground by the side of the abbess. Before the archbishop could complete a sentence she said :

"My lord, I am the only person here deserving censure or punishment. The abbess and nuns treat me as a spoiled child. They think that I, who despised gallantry when I mixed in the giddy circles of fashionable life, can fear no danger when sheltered by the sanctity of these walls. Believe me, holy father, that freedom of conversation is far less likely to corrupt

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"Who, in the name of wonder, is this little chatterer ?" asked the surprised but mollified archbishop.

"I am sister Claudine, my lord, formerly Mademoiselle de Tencin. I received the veil from you some few months ago, though a very wealthy and noble gentleman proffered me his heart and hand."

Lecamus was a better theologian than logician; he quoted the rules of the order, and several long passages from St. Augustine, to all of which Claudine replied by clever appeals to his feelings, until at length the archbishop compromised the matter, by permitting the nuns to retain their freedom, on condition of giving up their guitars and mandolines, and banishing romances from their li brary.

Before leaving Montfleury, the archbishop, however, warned Claudine that he would hold her responsible, if any scandalous consequences followed from the liberties he had conceded. She replied

"My lord, it would not be just to condemn me for any such result. The dæmon is artful and crushing; should he derive any advantage from your kindness, we will console ourselves with the reflection, that worse results might have followed from anger and severity. Pray for us, that we may not be led into temptation."

Lecamus was quite won over; he left the convent without pronouncing a word of censure; and when any of his more austere brethren remon strated, he replied, "We must leave the poor young ladies a little liberty. I know that they will not make a bad use of it. There is amongst them a youthful model of innocence and virtue, who has pledged herself for the conduct of the rest."

The worthy archbishop had formed a friendship for Claudine, as warm as his age, dignity, and sacred profession allowed. He visited Montfleury more frequently than any other convent in his diocese; he showed a marked preference for the sparkling conversation of his lively favourite; he sanctioned the amusements which she patronised by his presence; and lightened the penances for slight breaches of conventual discipline at her solicitation. This

influence with the archbishop rendered Claudine all-powerful with the sisterhood; she was, in fact, allowed the entire direction of the convent.

At this period, "Fontenelle's Eclogues" had spread a passion for the imaginary sentimentalism of pastoral life throughout France; in every rank of life persons were anxious to become shepherds and shepherdesses-to discuss the mysteries of love when they led their flocks to pasture, and to recite pastoral odes under the shade of the wide-spreading beech. Fontenelle himself happening to come to Grenoble, was introduced at Montfleury, and, with the sanction of the archbishop, he presented a copy of his pastorals to the innocent nuns. The delicious poetry turned their brains; they regretted the vows which confined them to a cloister, instead of leading their flocks to pasture; and they bought a pet sheep, which they soon crammed to death with sweetmeats.

In the neighbourhood of the convent lived a young landed proprietor, M. Destouches, who was seized with the pastoral mania more strongly than the nuns themselves. He roamed through the fields dressed as a shepherd, reading or reciting favourite passages from Fontenelle; and sometimes his voice penetrated into the convent, and brought a response of poetry from the amiable Claudine. M. Destouches was soon introduced at Montfleury, and became the most favoured visitor of the parlour.

At this crisis, Louis XIV. died, and the profligate follies of the regency commenced. The relaxation of morals was felt throughout France, and M. Destouches was permitted to give a pastoral fête, ending with a display of fireworks, to the nuns of Montfleury, on his own estate. The announcement of this feast produced some excitement in the province: remonstrances were addressed by a few devotees to Archbishop Lecamus, but he could discover no danger in pastorals. His secretary, the Jesuit Bougeaut, was equally unsuspicious; and he has recorded in his correspondence, with great complacency, that the entertainment took place on Easter Monday, 1716. The worthy Father Bougeaut dwells with great unction on the innocent enjoyment of the nuns travestied

into shepherdesses; but though he was present, and has left a very amusing account of the pastoral sports, he has omitted some incidents, which we hasten to supply from other sources.

The repast was served under an arbour of trellis-work, commanding an extensive view of the gardens; a cascade fell into a marble basin at the extremity of the parterre, and the perspective was completed by a grove of linden-trees, ingeniously cut into the form of umbrellas. After the feast, which was attended by negro servants, a rustic quadrille was danced, in which the host took a conspicuous part, and the company then, separating into groups, promenaded through the park, enlivened by a concert of instrumental music. Claudine was the heroine of the entertainment; she and Destouches discussed the mysteries of pastoral and Platonic love until sunset, when the fireworks having engaged general attention, they turned into a shady walk, to indulge their interchange of sentiment more freely. Sentiment soon gave place to warmer emotions; Claudine forgot her habits of negation at the moment they would have been most useful to her she and M. Destouches became more than poetic lovers, and vowed eternal attachment to each other.

In needs not to tell how often M. Destouches escaladed the walls of the convent, and how he encountered nightly dangers to visit his shepherdess in her monastic cell. The natural consequences followed-Claudine felt that she was about to become a mother, and she resolved to confide to Archbishop Lecamus the secret of her situation. It is easier to conceive than to describe the surprise and horror of the worthy prelate. But Claudine retained her influence over him; she induced him to inform Fontenelle of the prosaic consequences produced by the influence of his poetry, and to exert himself to procure a dispensation from the pope.

Clement

XI. was an admirer of Fontenelle; he was also anxious to gain literary support in France, where the controversy respecting the bull Unigenitus was then raging. Claudine was named a canoness in the Chapter of Neuville, near Lyons, an office which exonerated her from her vows of poverty and obedience, but left her bound to chas

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