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seem to be so much as sensible of the great for- | no purpose; and he told her it was not a thing tunes and honours to which she has raised her. to be done. She asked him, if it was father La self. She is always very modestly drest, and Chaise who dissuaded him from it. He for never appears with any train of servants. Every some time refused to give her any answer, but morning she goes to St. Cyr, to give her orders at last overcome by her importunities, he told there, it being a kind of a nursery founded by her every thing as it had passed. She upon herself for the education of young ladies of good this dissembled her resentment, that she might families, but no fortune. She returns from be the more able to make it prove effectual. She thence about the time the king rises, who never did by no means think the Jesuit was to be forfails to pay her a morning visit. She goes to given; but the first marks of her vengeance fell mass always by break of day, to avoid the con- upon the archbishop of Cambray. He and all course of people. She is rarely seen by any, his relations were, in a little time, put out of all and almost inaccessible to every body, excepting their employments at court; upon which he three or four particular acquaintance of her retired to live quietly upon his bishopric; and own sex. Whether it be, that she would by there have no endeavours been spared to deprive this conduct avoid envy, as some think; or, as him even of that. As a farther instance of the others would have it, that she is afraid the rank uncontrollable power of this great favourite, which she thinks due to her should be disputed and of her resenting even the most trivial matin all visits and public places, is doubtful. It ters that she thinks might tend to her prejudice, is certain, that upon all occasions she declines or the diminution of her honour, it is remarkathe taking of any rank; and the title of mar- ble, that the Italian comedians were driven out quisse (which belongs to the lands the king pur- of Paris, for playing a comedy called La Fausse chased for her) is suppressed before her name; Prude, which was supposed to reflect upon maneither will she accept of the title of a duchess, dam Maintenon in particular. aspiring in all probability at something still higher, as will appear by what follows.

From several particulars in the conduct of the French king, as well as in that of madam Maintenon, it has for some years been the prevailing opinion of the court that they are married. And it is said, that her ambition of being declared queen broke out at last; and that she was resolved to give the king no quiet till it was done. He for some time resisted all her solicitations upon that head, but at length, in a fit of tenderness and good nature, he promised her, that he would consult his confessor upon that point. Madam Maintenon was pleased with this, not doubting but that father La Chaise would be glad of this occasion of making his court to her; but he was too subtle a courtier not to perceive the danger of engaging in so nice an affair; and for that reason evaded it, by telling the king, that he did not think him self a casuist able enough to decide a question of so great importance, and for that reason desired he might consult with some man of skill and learning, for whose secrecy he would be responsible. The king was apprehensive lest this might make the matter too public; but as soon as father La Chaise named monsieur Fenelon, the archbishop of Cambray, his fears were over; and he bid him go and find him out. As soon as the confessor had communicated the business he came upon to the bishop, he said, 'What have I done, father, that you should ruin me! But 'tis no matter; let us go to the king. His majesty was in his closet expecting them. The bishop was no sooner entered, but he threw himself at the king's feet, and begged of him not to sacrifice him. The king promised him that he would not; and then proposed the case to him. The bishop, with his usual sincerity, represented to him the great prejudice he would do himself by declaring his marriage, together with the ill consequences that might attend such a proceeding. The king very much approved his reasons, and resolved to go no farther in this affair. Madam Maintenon still pressed him to comply with her, but it was now all to

It is something very extraordinary, that she has been able to keep entire the affections of the king so many years. after her youth and beauty were gone, and never fall into the least disgrace; notwithstanding the number of enemies she has had, and the intrigues that have been formed against her from time to time. This brings into my memory a saying of king Wil liam's, that I have heard on this occasion;

That the king of France was in his conduct quite opposite to other princes; since he made choice of young ministers, and an old mistress. But this lady's charms have not lain so much in her person, as in her wit and good sense. She has always had the address to flatter the vanity of the king, and to mix always something solid and useful with the more agreeable parts of her conversation. She has known how to introduce the most serious affairs of state into their hours of pleasure; by telling his majesty, that a monarch should not love, nor do any thing, like other men; and that he, of all men living, knew best how to be always a king and always like himself, even in the midst of his diversions. The king now converses with her as a friend, and advises with her upon his most secret affairs. He has a true love and esteem for her; and has taken care, in case he should die before her, that she may pass the remainder of her life with honour, in the abbey of St. Cyr. There are apartments ready fitted up for her in this place; she and all her domestics are to be maintained out of the rents of the house, and she is to receive all the honours due to a foundress. This abbey stands in the park of Versailles; it is a fine piece of building, and the king has endowed it with large revenues. The design of it, (as I have mentioned before) is to maintain and educate young ladies, whose fortunes do not answer to their birth. None are accounted duly qualified for this place but such as can give sufficient proofs of the nobility of their family on the father's side for a hundred and forty years; besides which, they must have a certificate of their poverty under the hand of their bishop. The age at which persons are

pleasures are which will give us the least uneasiness in the pursuit, and the greatest satis faction in the enjoyment of them. Hence it follows, that the objects of our natural desires are cheap, or easy to be obtained, it being a maxim that holds throughout the whole system of created beings, that nothing is made in vain,' much less the instincts and appetites of animals, which the benevolence as well as wis

capable of being admitted here is from seven years old till twelve. Lastly, it is required, that they should have no defect or blemish of body or mind; and for this reason there are persons appointed to visit and examine them before they are received into the college. When these young ladies are once admitted, their parents and relations have no need to put themselves to any farther expense or trouble about them. They are provided with all necessaries for mainte-dom of the Deity, is concerned to provide for. nance and education. They style themselves of the order of St. Lewis. When they arrive to an age to be able to choose a state of life for themselves, they may either be placed as nuns in some convent at the king's expense, or be married to some gentleman, whom madam Maintenon takes care, upon that condition, to provide for, either in the army or in the finances; and the lady receives besides, a portion of four hundred pistoles. Most of these marriages have proved very successful; and several gentle-only are to be esteemed natural that are contain men have by them made great fortunes, and been advanced to very considerable employ

ments.

I must conclude this short account of madam Maintenon with advertising my readers, that I do not pretend to vouch for the several particulars that I have related. All I can say is, that a great many of them are attested by several writers; and that I thought this sketch of a woman so remarkable all over Europe, would be no ill entertainment to the curious, till such a time as some pen, more fully instructed in her whole life and character, shall undertake to give it to the public.

No. 49.]

Thursday, May 7, 1713.

quæ possit facere et servare beatum. Hor. Lib. 1. Ep. vi.2. To make men happy and to keep them so.

Nor is the fruition of those objects less pleasing than the acquisition is easy; and the pleasure is heightened by the sense of having answered some natural end, and the consciousness of acting in concert with the Supreme Governor of the universe.

Under natural pleasures I comprehend those which are universally suited, as well to the ra tional as the sensual part of our nature. And of the pleasures which affect our senses, those

ed within the rules of reason, which is allowed to be as necessary an ingredient of human na ture as sense. And, indeed, excesses of any kind are hardly to be esteemed pleasures, much less natural pleasures.

It is evident, that a desire terminated in mo ney is fantastical; so is the desire of outward distinctions, which bring no delight of sense nor recommend us as useful to mankind; and the desire of things merely because they ar new or foreign. Men who are indisposed to due exertion of their higher parts are driven t such pursuits as these from the restlessness of the mind, and the sensitive appetites being easily satisfied. It is, in some sort, owing to the bounty of Providence, that disdaining a cheap and vul gar happiness, they frame to themselves ima ginary goods, in which there is nothing ca raise desire, but the difficulty of obtaining them Thus men become the contrivers of their ow misery, as a punishment on themselves for de parting from the measures of nature. Havin by an habitual reflection on these truths mad It is of great use to consider the pleasures them familiar, the effect is, that I, among which constitute human happiness, as they are number of persons who have debauched the distinguished into natural and fantastical. Na- natural taste, see things in a peculiar ligh tural pleasures I call those, which, not depend-which I have arrived at, not by any uncommo ing on the fashion and caprice of any particular age or nation, are suited to human nature in general, and were intended by Providence as rewards for the using our faculties agreeably to the ends for which they were given us. Fantastical pleasures are those which, having no natural fitness to delight our minds, pre-suppose some particular whim or taste accidentally prevailing in a set of people, to which it is owing that they please.

Creech.

force of genius, or acquired knowledge, but on by unlearning the false notions instilled by cu tom and education.

Wh

The various objects that compose the wor were by nature formed to delight our senses, an as it is this alone that makes them desirable an uncorrupted taste, a man may be said nat rally to possess them, when he possesseth tho enjoyments which they are fitted by nature yield. Hence it is usual with me to consid Now I take it, that the tranquillity and cheer-myself as having a natural property in eve fulness with which I have passed my life, are object that administers pleasure to me. the effect of having, ever since I came to years I am in the country, all the fine seats near t of discretion, continued my inclinations to the place of my residence, and to which I have a former sort of pleasures. But as my experience can be a rule only to my own actions, it may probably be a stronger motive to induce others to the same scheme of life, if they would consider that we are prompted to natural pleasures by an instinct impressed on our minds by the Author of our nature, who best understands our frames, and consequently best knows what those

cess, I regard as mine. The same I think the groves and fields where I walk, and muse the folly of the civil landlord in London, w has the fantastical pleasure of draining dry re into his coffers, but is a stranger to fresh air a rural enjoyments. By these principles I possessed of half a dozen of the finest seats England, which in the eye of the law belong

certain of my acquaintance, who being men of business choose to live near the court.

In some great families, where I choose to pass my time, a stranger would be apt to rank me with the other domestics; but in my own thoughts, and natural judgment, I am master of the house, and he who goes by that name is my steward, who eases me of the care of providing for myself the conveniences and pleasures of life.

I do not envy a great man with a great crowd at his levee. And I often lay aside thoughts of going to an opera, that I may enjoy the silent pleasure of walking by moonlight, or viewing the stars sparkle in their azure ground; which I look upon as part of my possessions, not without a secret indignation at the tastelessness of mortal men, who in their race through life overlook the real enjoyments of it.

But the pleasure which naturally affects a huWhen I walk the streets, I use the foregoing man mind with the most lively and transporting natural maxim (viz. That he is the true posses- touches, I take to be the sense that we act in sor of a thing who enjoys it, and not he that the eye of infinite wisdom, power, and goodness, owns it without the enjoyment of it,) to con- that will crown our virtuous endeavours here, vince myself that I have a property in the gay with a happiness hereafter, large as our desires, part of all the gilt chariots that I meet, which I and lasting as our immortal souls. This is a regard as amusements designed to delight my perpetual spring of gladness in the mind. This eyes, and the imagination of those kind people lessens our calamities, and doubles our joys. who sit in them gaily attired only to please me. Without this the highest state of life is insipid I have a real, and they only an imaginary plea- and with it the lowest is a paradise. What un sure from their exterior embellishments. Upon natural wretches then are those who can be so the same principle, I have discovered that I am stupid as to imagine a merit, in endeavouring the natural proprietor of all the diamond neck- to rob virtue of her support, and a man of his laces, the crosses, stars, brocades, and embroi-present as well as future bliss? But as I have dered clothes, which I see at a play or birth-frequently taken occasion to animadvert on that night, as giving more natural delight to the species of mortals, so I propose to repeat my anispectator than to those that wear them. And I madversions on them till I see some symptoms look on the beaux and ladies as so many paro- of amendment. quets in an aviary, or tulips in a garden, designed purely for my diversion. A gallery of pictures, a cabinet, or library, that I have free access to, I think my own. In a word, all that I desire is the use of things, let who will have the keeping of them. By which maxim I am grown one of the richest men in Great Britain; with this difference, that I am not a prey to my own cares, or the envy of others.

The same principles I find of great use in my private economy. As I cannot go to the price of history-painting, I have purchased at easy rates several beautifully designed pieces of landscape and perspective, which are much more pleasing to a natural taste than unknown faces or Dutch gambols, though done by the best masters; my couches, beds, and window-curtains are of Irish stuff, which those of that nation work very fine, and with a delightful mixture of colours. There is not a piece of china in my house; but I have glasses of all sorts, and some tinged with the finest colours, which are not the less pleasing, because they are domestic, and cheaper than foreign toys. Every thing is neat, entire, and clean, and fitted to the taste of one who had rather be happy than be thought rich.

Every day, numberless innocent and natural gratifications occur to me, while I behold my fellow-creatures labouring in a toilsome and absurd pursuit of trifles; one that he may be called by a particular appellation; another, that he may wear a particular ornament, which I regard as a bit of riband that has an agreeable effect on my sight, but is so far from supplying the place of merit where it is not, that it serves only to make the want of it more conspicuous. Fair weather is the joy of my soul; about noon I behold a blue sky with rapture, and receive great consolation from the rosy dashes of light which adorn the clouds of the morning and evening. When I am lost among green trees

No. 50.]

Friday, May 8, 1713.

O rus, quando ego te aspiciam ?—

Hor. Lib. 2. Sat. vi. 60.

O! when shall I enjoy my country seat?

Creech.

THE perplexities and diversions, recounted in the following letter, are represented with some pleasantry; I shall, therefore, make this epistle the entertainment of the day.

'To Nestor Ironside, Esquire.

"SIR,-The time of going into the country drawing near, I am extremely enlivened with the agreeable memorial of every thing that contributed to my happiness when I was last there. In the recounting of which, I shall not dwell so much upon the verdure of the fields, the shade of woods, the trilling of rivulets, or melody of birds, as upon some particular satisfactions, which, though not merely rural, must naturally create a desire of seeing that place, where only I have met with them. As to my passage I shall make no other mention, than of the pompous pleasure of being whirled along with six horses, the easy grandeur of lolling in a handsome chariot, the reciprocal satisfaction the inhabitants of all towns and villages received from, and returned to, passengers of such distinction. The gentleman's seat (with whom, among others, I had the honour to go down) is the remains of an ancient castle which has suffered very much for the loyalty of its inhabitants. The ruins of the several turrets and strong holds gave my imagination more pleasant exercise than the most magnificent structure could, as I look upon the honourable wounds of a defaced soldier with more veneration than the most exact proportion

"Here on a beech, like amorous sot,
I sometime carve a true-love's knot;
There a tall oak her name does bear,
In a large spreading character."

'I confess once whilst I was engraving one of my most curious conceits upon a delicate, smooth bark, my feet, in the tree which I had gained with much skill, deserted me; and the lover, with much amazement, came plump into the river; I did not recover the true spirit of amour under a week, and not without applying myself to some of the softest passages in Cassandra and Cleopatra.

of a beautiful woman. As this desolation re- | of those castles, which in my infancy I had met newed in me a general remembrance of the ca- with in romances, where several unfortunate lamities of the late civil wars, I began to grow knights and ladies, were, by certain giants, desirous to know the history of the particular made prisoners irrecoverably, till "the knight scene of action in this place of my abode. I here of the burning pestle," or any other of equal must beseech you not to think me tedious in hardiness, should deliver them from a long capmentioning a certain barber, who, for his gene- tivity. There is a park adjoining, pleasant beral knowledge of things and persons, may beyond the most poetical description, one part of had in equal estimation with any of that order which is particularly private by being inaccesamong the Romans. This person was allowed sible to those that have not great resolution. to be the best historian upon the spot; and the This I have made sacred to love and poetry, sequel of my tale will discover that I did not and after having regularly invoked the goddess choose him so much for the soft touch of his I adore, I here compose a tender couplet or two, hand, as his abilities to entertain me with an which, when I come home, I venture to show account of the Leaguer Time, as he calls it, the my particular friends, who love me so well as most authentic relations of which, through all to conceal my follies. After my poetry sinks parts of the town, are derived from this person. upon me, I relieve the labour of my brain by a I found him, indeed, extremely loquacious, but little manuscript with my pen-knife; while, withal a man of as much veracity as an impetu- with Rochester, ous speaker could be. The first time he came to shave me, before he applied his weapon to my chin, he gave a flourish with it, very like the salutation the prize-fighters give the company with theirs, which made me apprehend incision would as certainly ensue. The dexterity of this overture consists in playing the razor, with a nimble wrist, mighty near the nose without touching it convincing him, therefore, of the dangerous consequence of such an unnecessary agility, with much persuasion I suppressed it. During the perusal of my face he gives me such accounts of the families in the neighbourhood, as tradition and his own observation have furnished him with. Whenever the precipitation of his account makes him blunder, his cruel right hand corresponds, and the razor discovers on my face, at what part of it he was in the peaceable, and at what part in the bloody incidents of his narrative. But I had long before learned to expose my person to any difficulties that might tend to the improvement of my mind. His breath, I found, was very pestilential, and being obliged to utter a great deal of it, for the carrying on his narrations, I beseeched him, before he came into my room, to go into the kitchen and mollify it with a breakfast. When he had taken off my beard, with part of my face, and dressed my wounds in the capacity of a barbersurgeon, we traversed the outworks about the castle, where I received particular information in what places any of note among the besiegers, or the besieged, received any wound, and I was carried always to the very spot where the fact was done, howsoever dangerous (scaling part of the walls, or stumbling over loose stones) my approach to such a place might be; it being conceived impossible to arrive at a true knowledge of those matters without this hazardous explanation upon them; insomuch that I received more contusions from these speculations, than I probably could have done, had I been the most bold adventurer at the demolition of this castle. This, as all other his informations, the barber so lengthened and husbanded with digressions, that he had always something new to offer, wisely concluding that when he had finished the part of a historian, I should have no occasion for him as a barber.

Whenever I looked at this ancient pile of building, I thought it perfectly resembled any

'These are the pleasures I met without doors; those within were as follow. I had the happiness to lie in a room that had a large hole opening from it, which, by unquestionable tradition, had been formerly continued to an abbey two miles from the castle, for a communication betwixt the austere creatures of that place, with others not altogether so contemplative. And the keeper's brother assures me, that when he formerly lay in this room, he had seen some of the spirits of this departed brotherhood, enter from the hole into this chamber, where they continued with the utmost civility to flesh and blood, till they were oppressed by the morning air. And if I do not receive his account with a very serious and believing countenance, he ventures to laugh at me as a most ridiculous infidel. The most unaccountable pleasure I take is with a fine white young owl, which strayed one night in at my window, and which I was resolved to make a prisoner, but withal to give all the indulgence that its confinement could possibly admit of. I so far insinuated myself into his favour, by presents of fresh provisions, that we could be very good company together. There is something in the eye of that creature, of such merry lustre, something of such human cunning in the turn of his visage, that I found vast delight in the survey of it. One objection indeed I at first saw, that this bird being the bird of Pallas, the choice of this favourite might afford curious matter of raillery to the ingenious, especially when i shall be known, that I am as much delighted with a cat as ever Montaigne was. But, not withstanding this, I am so far from being ashamed of this particular humour, that I es teem myself very happy in having my odd tast

of pleasure provided for upon such reasonable | enough to relish the most beautiful; it is desirterms. What heightened all the pleasures I ing mankind to believe that I am capable of have spoke of, was the agreeable freedom with entering into all those subtle graces, and all which the gentleman of the house entertained that divine elegance, the enjoyment of which is us; and every one of us came into, or left the to be felt only, and not expressed. company as he thought fit; dined in his chamber, or the parlour, as a fit of spleen or study directed him; nay, sometimes every man rode or walked a different way, so that we never were together but when we were perfectly pleased with ourselves and each other. I am, sir, your most obedient humble servant, 'R. B.'

P. S. I had just given my orders for the press, when my friend Mrs. Bicknell made me a visit. She came to desire I would show her the wardrobe of the Lizards, (where the various habits of the ancestors of that illustrious family are preserved,) in order to furnish her with a proper dress for the Wife of Bath. Upon sight of the little ruffs, she snatched one of them from the pin, clapt it round her neck, and, turning briskly towards me, repeated a speech out of her part in the comedy of that name. If the rest of the actors enter into their several parts with the same spirit, the humourous characters of this play cannot but appear excellent on the theatre: for very good judges have informed me, that the author has drawn them with great propriety, and an exact observation of the manNESTOR IRONSIDE.

ners.

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It is probable the first poets were found at ne altar, that they employed their talents in adorning and animating the worship of their gods: the spirit of poetry and religion reciprocally warmed each other, devotion inspired poetry, and poetry exalted devotion; the most sublime capacities were put to the most noble use; purity of will, and fineness of understanding, were not such strangers as they have been in latter ages, but were most frequently lodged in the same breast, and went, as it were, hand in hand to the glory of the world's great Ruler, and the benefit of mankind. To reclaim our modern poetry, and turn it into its due and primitive channel, is an endeavour altogether worthy a far greater character than the Guardian of a private family. Kingdoms might be the better for the conversion of the muses from sensuality to natural religion, and princes on their thrones might be obliged and protected by

its power.

Were it modest, I should profess myself a great admirer of poesy, but that profession is in effect telling the world that I have a heart tender and generous, a heart that can swell with the joys, or be depressed with the misfortunes of others, nay, more, even of imaginary persons; a heart large enough to receive the greatest ideas nature can suggest, and delicate

All kinds of poesy are amiable; but sacred poesy should be our most especial delight. Other poetry leads us through flowery meadows or beautiful gardens, refreshes us with cooling breezes or delicious fruits, sooths us with the murmur of waters or the melody of birds, or else conveys us to the court or camp; dazzles our imagination with crowns and sceptres, embattled hosts, or heroes shining in burnished steel; but sacred numbers seem to admit us into a solemn and magnificent temple, they encircle us with every thing that is holy and divine, they superadd an agreeable awe and reverence to all those pleasing emotions we feel from other lays, an awe and reverence that exalts, while it chastises: its sweet authority restrains each undue liberty of thought, word, and action: it makes us think better and more nobly of ourselves, from a consciousness of the great presence we are in, where saints surround us, and angels are our fellow worshippers:

O let me glory, glory in my choice!

Whom should I sing, but him who gave me voice!
This theme shall last, when Homer's shall decay,
When arts, arms, kings, and kingdoms melt away.
And can it, powers immortal, can it be,
That this high province was reserved for me?
Whate'er the new, the rash adventure cost,
In wide eternity I dare be lost.

I dare launch out, and show the muses more
Than e'er the learned sisters saw before.
In narrow limits they were wont to sing,
To teach the swain, or celebrate the king:
I grasp the whole, no more to parts confin'd,
I lift my voice, and sing to human-kind;
I sing to men and angels: angels join [mine.*
(While such the theme) their sacred hymns with

But besides the greater pleasure which we receive from sacred poesy, it has another vast advantage above all other: when it has placed us in that imaginary temple (of which I just now spoke) methinks the mighty genius of the place covers us with an invisible hand, secures us in the enjoyments we possess. We find a kind of refuge in our pleasure, and our diversion becomes our safety. Why then should not every heart that is addicted to the muses, cry out in the holy warmth of the best poet that ever lived, I will magnify thee, O Lord, my king, and I will praise thy name for ever, and ever.'

That greater benefit may be reaped from sacred poesy than from any other, is indisputable; but is it capable of yielding such exquisite delight? Has it a title only to the regard of the serious and aged? Is it only to be read on Sundays, and to be bound in black? Or does it put in for the good esteem of the gay, the fortunate, the young? Can it rival a ball or a theatre, or give pleasure to those who are conIversant with beauty, and have their palates set high with all the delicacies and poignancy of human wit?

That poetry gives us the greatest pleasure which affects us most, and that affects us most which is on a subject in which we have the deepest concern; for this reason it is a rule in

* Dr. Young's Last Day, book ii. 7, &c.

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