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tity, for which she had herself assumed the power of dispensation. After having taken possession of her prebend, Claudine retired to a small village near Grenoble, where, on the 2d of January, 1717, she gave birth to a son, who received the name of D'Alembert, from a small estate settled on him by his father. It is scarcely necessary to add, that this boy subsequently attained European celebrity, as the great mathematician, D'Alembert, one of the most eminent of the Encyclopedist philosophers, and Fontenelle's successor as perpetual secretary to the French Academy. After a short time, she received evidence that M. Destouches was a faithless lover, and this, united to some maternal advice which her mother is said to have given shortly before her death, induced the pastoral canoness to set out for Paris, with the determined purpose of captivating the heart of the Regent.

At the time when the canoness de Tencin set out for Paris, the extravagance of the regency was at its height. A fever of dissipation had turned every brain; parties of pleasure were blended with parties in politics, and amorous intrigues were conjoined with treasonable conspiracies. The Regent, to secure leisure for his criminal indulgences, had entrusted the entire administration to Cardinal Dubois; and the cardinal, or abbé, as he was at this period, dividing his time between debauchery and the secret police, allowed large arrears of business to accumulate, which he frequently cleared off by burning the despatches without reading them. The sun rose on the unextinguished tapers in the Palais Royal; the Regent's daughter maintained the state of a queen, and the habits of a courtesan in the Luxembourg; the city was as profligate as the court. Songs, suppers, and assignations made the entire sum of life. The re-action against the hypocritical severity of Madame de Maintenon's regime was greater than that which took place in England when the profligacy of the Restoration superseded the stern reign of Puritanism. Every one lived in the midst of excitement; nothing like quiet or repose could be found in the court or the country.

Her brother, the abbé, who had already made some progress in life,

introduced Claudine to his friends. Fontenelle, who had been interested in her past history, and had some hope of winning her favours, laboured to bring her into fashion. She was introduced to Law just as the Regent was about to place that celebrated Scotchman at the head of the finances, and it was at her instigation that Law consented to embrace the Catholic religion, and to ascribe the honour of his conversion to her brother, the Abbé de Tencin. She was soon invited to the brilliant assemblies at the Palais Royal, and after several failures, at length succeeded in attracting the attention of the Regent. He had paid her but little attention when she was first introduced at court, and only noticed her when his friends, casually discussing the beauties of a court-ball, awarded the preference to Madame de Tencin. He declared his passion, and was not allowed to languish in doubt. Fontenelle, who half-persuaded himself that he was in love with Claudine, visited her one morning; the carriage was at the door, and the lady dressed in her most alluring style. He spoke of love, and was ridiculed; he asked to be her companion in her drive, and was rejected. As she had shown him some attention the day before, he was both surprised and displeased; but the mystery was explained when he heard her command to the coachman.

"Drive to the Palais Royal, and set me down at the private entrance."

The Regent, at first, exhibited greater steadiness of attachment to Claudine than he had ever manifested to any of his former mistresses. She be lieved that her fortune was fixed, when Orleans publicly installed her as his mistress, and she hoped to acquire the same influence in the state as a Montespan or a Maintenon. She did not know the Regent; as inconstant as he was profligate, he parted from a mistress with as little scruple as he changed his coat; and trained to form the most contemptuous opinion of the fair sex, he dreaded nothing on earth so much as a female politician. Claudine hoped to overcome his inveterate indolence to induce him to take an active part in the affairs of state, and to convert her boudoir into a ministerial saloon.

One day when the Regent visited her at her toilette, she reproached him

with his indolence, his disregard for glory, and his neglect of the duties of his station. Orleans in vain endeavoured to turn her from the subject by witty replies; but at length worn out, he ordered his servants to throw open the doors, and to admit the entire circle of his profligate compaions. Claudine, half dressed, hid herself behind a screen, but the Regent threw down the screen, and sarcastically introduced her to his companions as "a female Plato, peculiarly suited to become a professor in the University, or the tutor of any ambitious youth who wished to combine love with politics, and sentimentality with statistics, adding that he had already received enough of her lessons, and would recommend her to seek another pupil."

Claudine, though bitterly mortified, lost neither her wit nor her presence of mind. Assuming a high tone, she sternly reproved the Regent for the gross insult he had offered her, and declared that vice had become so congenial to him, as to render him intolerant of the presence of any virtue. Then, having made a formal reverence to the company, she retired with as much composure as if she had been a spectator, not an actor in the scene. On the stairs she met Dubois, the Regent's powerful favourite; to him she briefly related what had just happened; Dubois at once proposed to her to take revenge by becoming his mistress, assuring her that he would enable her to govern France in spite of the Regent. The bargain was soon concluded, Claudine placed herself under the protection of Dubois, and was permitted to enjoy a large share of the ministerial authority. Her first care was to provide for her brother; he was entrusted with the delicate mission of procuring a cardinal's hat for the impious and profligate Dubois, and his success was rewarded by the rich archbishopric of Embrun, which luckily fell vacant only a few days before the death of his patron.

The scandal of this unworthy appointment was increased by an incident which took place just before the abbé undertook the mission to Rome. He was accused of simony before the parliament, by La Vassière, whom he had deceived by exaggerating the amount of revenue from the benefice which he sold him. Believing that no

evidence existed against him, the Abbé de Tencin offered to deny the charge on oath; but, as he rose for the purpose, La Vassière's advocate produced the contract of sale in Tencin's own handwriting, and thus at once convicted him of simony and perjury. It required all the power of Dubois to shield his favourite from the consequences of the double crime; and he would probably have failed, had not the Abbé de Tencin succeeded in purchasing powerful protection at Rome, with the money given him to procure a cardinal's hat for Dubois. He also persuaded the Pope that his aid was necessary to maintain the authority of the Bull Unigenitus; his adversary, La Vassière, was known to favour the liberties of the Gallican Church; and at Rome, as in the court of Louis XIV., Jansenism was deemed a worse crime than Atheism, while Jesuitism was deemed a sufficient apology for all the vices.

Claudine was exposed to a more singular danger. Among those who sought to win her favours was a councillor of the royal court, named Lafresnaye, who spared no expense to win her affections. Although she gave him no encouragement, he continued his exertions until he had exhausted all his fortunes, and he then presented himself to her with the strange demand that she should consent to share his poverty as his mistress. On her refusal, he projected a terrible revenge; presenting himself to her one evening when she was alone, he repeated his demand, and, on her refusal, fired a pistol into his breast. The servants rushed into the room at the sound of the report, and the dying man declared that he had been assassinated by Claudine. On this charge she was sent to the Bastile, and detained a prisoner for several weeks. Her innocence, however, was generally recognised, and she was discharged without ever having been subjected to the disgrace of a trial. Fontenelle made great exertions to obtain Claudine's liberation; in fact, he was himself interested in the charge for the suicide stated as the chief cause of her hatred that he had surprised her in the arms of the philo sopher some months before. This was strenuously denied both by Fontenelle and the lady, and it is not a very probable tale. Fontenelle was at this

time in his sixty-ninth year, and was one of the most querulous hypochondriacs of the age.

After the death of Dubois, Madame de Tencin devoted all her energies to securing the promotion of her brother; she took an active part in the Jansenist controversy, and wrote several pamphlets in defence of the papal supremacy over the Gallican church, while her brother, under her directions, exercised all her influence as Archbishop of Embrun to crush the prelates who resisted the claims of Rome. For these services he was rewarded with a cardinal's hat, and the archbishopric of Lyons. Cardinal

Fleury was compelled by the Pope to admit him into the cabinet, but he took good care to allow the Tencins no real share in the administration.

Such a situation suited not the inclinations of the Cardinal de Tencin, or his sister. Claudine had resolved that her brother should be premier, and was bitterly mortified to find that, after Fleury's death, he was passed over for Maurepas, Argenson, and Ancelot. She sought for an ally in a new lover, and fixed her choice on the celebrated Duc de Richelieu. This nobleman was then in his thirtieth year, and was equally famous for his gallantries and his valour. Madame de Polignac and Madame de Nesle had fought a duel on his account with pistols in the Bois de Boulogne; and, as Voltaire said, "it was deemed an honour to be dishonoured by him." Richelieu was attracted to Claudine more by her political abilities than by her personal charms. Ambition was with them a more powerful bond of union than love, and their intrigues against the successive ministers of Louis XV. would furnish materials for more than one volume. More than ten times power eluded their grasp when success seemed most certain, until at length Claudine resolved to abandon political life, which she did with the same suddenness of decision, and inflexible firmness, which she displayed in entering and quitting the convent, and in breaking off her connexion with the Regent. Richelieu and his mistress parted on the most friendly terms. Her farewell was given in the significant words, "We have lost the power of being useful to each other."

Great was the astonishment of Paris

when Madame de Tencin appeared before the world as an authoress. She published four romances, of which "The Pains of Love" is the most remarkable, 'since it describes her own feelings in early life. No one has depicted, with equal power, the effects of conventual seclusion on a sensitive mind, and the severe struggles of a heart divided between the emotions of love and the sentiments of devotion. From the moment of her first appearance in print, Madame de Tencin's saloons became the rendezvous of the leading philosophers and writers of the age. Montesquieu, Fontenelle, Marian, Astrue, Helvetius, and many others, were her daily guests; and she applied all her energies to extend their fame and the circulation of their works with the same ardent boldness which she had previously displayed in more ques tionable pursuits. "The Spirit of Laws" appeared under her patronage; she purchased two hundred copies of the work to distribute among her acquaintances; and as no one was admitted to her saloons who had not studied the works she patronised, her recommendations had all the force of the despotic edicts of fashion. Several other ladies followed her example, and for some time the patronage of literature became almost the rage in Paris; but no saloons ever rivalled those of Madame de Tencin, because nowhere else was so much discrimination shown in the selection of guests. An invitation to Madame de Tencin's suppers soon became an object of ambition in Paris; literary merit was the only passport to these assemblies; rank and fortune were of no avail, when this great requisite was wanting. She called the wits gathered round her "the beasts of her menagerie," and compelled them to submit to her whims and caprices. One of these was very singular; she presented each of her favourites annually with a pair of black velvet breeches, and insisted they should be worn as her livery in the evening assemblies. Proud as M. de Montesquieu was, he had to receive this strange boon like the rest; the Gazette de France avers that more than eight thousand yards of velvet had been thus used by the amiable canoness. She was the first who introduced Marmontel into public life, and her patronage was of great service to

him in his early struggles.

"Madame

de Tencin," says he, "made me recite the history of my childhood, she entered into all my interests, sympathised with my vexations, reasoned with me on my hopes and prospects, and seemed to have nothing in her head but my cares." He was not very grateful for such kindness, which he unjustly attributed to a spirit of coquetry, rather than to generosity.

Cold and selfish as Fontenelle was, he evinced a strong attachment to Madame de Tencin, never forgetting the dangers into which she had been led by the study of his "Pastorals." On the other hand, though she showed warm friendship for the philosopher, she never would permit him to speak of a more tender attachment. Once, when he professed the most devoted attachment, she, smilingly, placed her hand on his left breast, and said

"It is not a heart that you have there, but a lump of brains, such as is in your head.”

For some unknown reason, she never sought any intimacy with her son, the celebrated D'Alembert, though not insensible to his growing fame and reputation. He, too, showed no anxiety to frequent his mother's saloons, probably because he felt keenly the neglect with which she had treated his childhood. Their relationship was

notorious in Paris, and the absence of intimacy was frequently made the subject of reproach to both. Some writers assert that Fontenelle had a large share in producing and continuing this alienation, dreading that the talents of D'Alembert might endanger his ascendancy in Madame de Tencin's saloons. This, however, is not very probable, for while he sought to take the lead in her assemblies, he was still more anxious to be the literary hero at the dinners of her rival, Madame Geoffrin.

Claudine de Tencin died in 1749, unjustly calumniated by the Parisian public; it was her fate to be believed innocent during the period of her pastoral intrigues, to be accused of excessive gallantry when she was exclusively devoted to politics, and to be censured for ambition when she had abandoned all other pursuits for the enjoyment of a literary life. She was deeply regretted in her own circle; she left legacies to her chief favourites, all of whom went into mourning as for a near relation. Even Fontenelle grieved for her, and thus characteristically expressed his sorrow—

"The loss is irreparable; she knew my tastes, and always provided for me the dishes I preferred. I shall never find such delicate attention paid me at the dinner-table of Madame Geoffrin."

AN ODE OF HAFIZ.

I can't but think you much in the wrong, Prophet,
When you cursed the swine and the wine-grape's juice.
Trust me, this is the short and the long of it,

Every thing pleasant has its use.

This is as true as is the Koran

I will maintain it against a host.

The sage of Mecca, with all his lore, ran
Here his wise head against a post.

Great, undoubtedly, was Mohammed—
Great in all his divine affairs;

But the man who banished good wine and ham, said
More, believe me, than his prayers.

Both suit most tastes-I could hardly take on

Myself to say which is most to mine;

But I almost think, to save my bacon,

I'd "go the whole hog," and give up the wine!

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This poet was, in the early part of his life, a page in the palace of the Sultaun Sinnaidjee Deervaneeh, but, towards middle age, abandoned, like St. Anthony, the court for the desert. His death occurred A.D. 1529.

† Ma allaha Shabasi Hasreti dawer Kalender. The Falcon is here supposed (as I suppose) to symbolise some attribute or attributes of the Deity.

The son-in-law and successor of Mohammed in the Khalifate.

§ Satan's.

The origin of the sect of the Soffees, or Sufees, dates from the tenth century. They wear but a single woollen blue garment, and are accounted the austerest of the Eastern ascetics. They usually dwell in monasteries, differing in this respect from the Kalenders, whose habits, like those of the Fakeers of India, are essentially migratory and vagabond.

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