y TALES. OF THE CASTLE : O R, STORIES O F INSTRUCTION and DELIGHT. BEING LES VEILLEE3 DU CHATEAU, WRITTEN IN FRENCH By Madame la Comtesse de GENLIS, Au THoROF THE Theatre of Education Ad£la and Theodore, &c. translated into english By THOMASHOLCROFT. Com? rsccende il guflo 11 mutar' efca, Cosi mi par, chela mla Iftoria, qiiaiito Or qua, or la piii variata fia, Meno a chi Tudira nojofa fia. Ariosto. As at the board, with plenteous Vi.inds giac'd. Gate after Gate excites the fickening taft-, So, while my Mufe purfaes her varied ftrains, Tale following Tale the ravilh'd ear detains. Hool e , The Second Edition. VOL. LONDON: Printed for G. G. J. and J. Robinson, N°. 25, Pater-noster-row, MDCCLXXXY, ADVERTISEMENT. J-J,^^ A Translator is, by his office,! 7o^ obliged to pay more attention '^*-*- than any reader can be fuppofed to be- ftovv on the purport, execution, and merits of his Author : not only the work as a whole, but each individual thought, as it receives its new drefs, is compelled to pafs, feparately, in review ; and un- dergo a long and fevere examination. Every honeft Tranllator, is at lead in- clined to think favourably of his ori- ginal ; but happy is he indeed who is never diffatisfied. Such extreme of happinefs is a thing common-fenfe never hopes : as well might this fe- condary Author exped the humble taik he himfelf undertakes fhould give perfect fatisfa6lion. The Tranllator of the prefent work is,' however, among the moft eminently fortunate i for he has beilowed his A z labours. ADVERTISEMENT. labours upon a book in which the powers of genius are ever ardent to inculcate the pureft morality. Yes, to tlie eternal honour of Madame de Genlis be it fpoken, her enchanting lelTons incefTantly tend to infpire uni- verfal philanthropy ; to draw the mofl amiable, and therefore the mofl juft, pl(5lures of virtue ; to foften the af- perities of the paffions ; to teach gen- tlenefs, benevolence, fortitude ^ juftice towards ourfelves, charity towards others ; and to induce that fuperior, that rational conduft, which, alone, can generate happinefs. This praife is a, tribute which, furely, neither phlegm nor envy can, in juftice, refufe to pay. - The happy influence which a book like this muft have, on unin- ftrud:ed or fubordinate minds, cannat be denied ; and, therefore, claims the univerfal fuffrage of the wife and vir- tuous, in favour of its author. He ADVERTISEMENT. He who fpeaks of himfelf, muft cither refolve to fay little, or be in great danger of becoming either vain or impertinent. Of the prefent verfion, therefore, let it only be obferved, it was never intended to be any thing like literal ; that the phrafes are fometimes contracted and fometimes lengthened ; that the liberty of adding a thought is fometimes taken ; that the picture of Madame Bufca's infirmities, in the Hory of Pamela (Vol. III.) is foftened ; that the incident of Doralice fucking: the eyes'of Eglantine (Vol. I.) is omit- ted (becaufe it is fuppofed they would both have offended, even violently, the delicacy of an Englifli reader); that, in confequence of the lafl: mentioned omillion, it was necefTary to add cir- cumftances and touches to give a fuffi- cient degree of intereft to the ftory; and that other little freedoms have been taken i fuch as, not permitting the fage ADVERTISEMENT. fage Thelifmar to tell his pupil, Al- phonfo, a falQiood, even though with a virtuous intention ; and of leaving out certain notes which it was deemed were cither too fcientific for their fituation, or toouninterefting; as well as of fub- flituting fome very few others, from the Cyclopaedia, where it could evi- dently be done to advantage. Having had a work before him which fo frequently incited efteem and admiration for its Author, the Tranf- iator has been zealous to give it fuc- cefs in a foreign language. He may have erred in judgment, he may have failed in execution; his intentions on- ly can he anfwer for, and thefe, he re- peats, have been fincere and fervent ; becaufe he imagined he might, not only add agreeably to the amufement of thofe who love reading, but, likewife, afford the moft folid, and, often, the mod fublimc inflrudtion, THE TALES OF THE CASTLE: O R« STORIES O F INSTRUCTION and DELIGHT. TH E duties of a foldler obliged the Mar- quis de Clemire to quit his family and join the army. He received, at the pain- ful moment of farewel, the mournful adieus of his wife, his wife's mother, and his three children. Ceefar, his little fon, bitterly complained, becaufe he was not big enough to follow his father to the wars. He had jumped upon his lap ; the Mar- quis hugged him to his bofom, killed and fat him down. His two daughters clung with their little arms about his knees, and cried j and his lady hung rovmd his neck, and hid her face in his bofom, unwilling to receive the parting kifs. VOL. I. B " Do, 1 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. " Do, dear papa, take me with you," fiiid Cie- far, raifing himfelf on tip-toe to whifper in his ear. The Marquis catched him up, again em- braced, and gently laid him on the bofom of his mamma ; but Caefar, with his little hand, held faft by the collar of his coat. At laft the Mar- quis once more kifTed his children and his wife, tore himfelf from their arms, and ran precipi- tately from their fight. Madame de Clemire, overcome with grief, retired to her chamber with the Baronnefs her mother j and, as it was eight o'clock in the evening, the children were put to bed. The houfe was all one fcene of hurry, tumult, and confternation, for Madame de Clemire was to depart, in the morning, to her eftate in the remoteft part of Burgundy. Some of the fer- vants Were to go into the country, others to flay "at Paris, and thofe who went were as much dif- contented as thofe who remained. " What madnefs, indeed, to go and bury one- ^ felf in an old defolate caftle, to travel in the *' deptli of winter, and leave Paris, where my *' Lady might at leaft find dlverfions ! And how *' is it to be fuppofed that three children, the el- ■" deft of whom is only nine years and a hilf old, '' can fupport the fatigue of fuch a journey ? A *' voyage of fcventy leagues, here, in the month *' of January ! A pretty thing ! A fine fcheme •' »* And T'HE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 3 *' And fo one's obliged to turn hermit, and hide *' onefelf at the world's end, becauie one's huf- ** band is gone to the wars 1 " Such were the reflections of Mademoifelle Vic- toire, one of Madame de Clemire's v/omen, who, while packing up her band-boxes, addrefled this tUlcourfe to Ivl. Dorel, the Maitre d'Hotel, who on his part was reciprocally afflifted, to be obliged to ftay, and part with Mademoifelle Vicloire. The two little daughters of Madame de Cle- mire, Caroline and Pulcheria, heard funilar com- plaints from another perfon. Mademoifelle Ju- lienne, who put them to bed, could not hide her vexation : (he had never lived in any place but Paris, and fhe had an invincible averfion to, and dread of the country. Caroline and Pulcheria liftened attentively to the oratory of Mademoifelle Julienne, efpecially Pulcheria, who was naturally very curious : but as fhe was but feven years old, this defeft was die more excufable, befides that fhe already gave proofs of many good qualities ; and though fhe was more heedlefs and wild than her fifier, who was eighteen months older, yet her franknefs of t»imper, and fenfibility of heart, made her beloved. Caefar had the moft fenfe of the three ; it is true he was almoft ten years old, and at that age we begin to lofe fight of our firft childhood. He had acquired fome command over himfelf, and, B 2 as 4 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. as 110 one has at all times the fame fpirit of appli- cation, he, in general, knew how to vanquifh any little fits of dngufl or idlenefs. Naturally fond of (ludy, he had a flrong defire to learn : he poffeiled fenfibility, gentlenefs, fincerlty, and courage ; delighied to pleafe his parents ; was affetlionate towards his hfters ; and grateful to his inftrudlors ; particularly to tiie Abbe Fremont, his tutor : though the Abbe was fevere, and fome- times crofs j efpccially fince the journey to Bur- gundy had been talked of, for he greatly regretted Paris, the news-papers, and his chefs-party ; chefs Jiaving been his principal amufement for ten years paft. There was not a foul in the houfe that did not go forrowfully to bed. The night flew, day ap- peared ; at half paft feven the children were called up and dreflcd, breakfaft was hurried over, and at eio-ht o'clock the Baronnefs, Madame de Cle- mire, the Abbe Fremont, and the three children, feated in an Englifli Berlin, departed for Bur- gundy. At noon they flopped to dine, and Madame de Ciemire, who had not clofed ' her eyes the night before, lay down to reft : the others refrefhed themfelves in a chamber adjoining. While the fervants were bufy in laying the cloth, dreifing the cutlets, and broiling the pigeons, the reft of the family were ranged aroujftd the fixe. The Abbi THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 5 Abbe blew up the embers, and kept a difcontented filence ; and the children placed themfclves on each fide of their grandmamma, chattering and putting their feveral quedions ; for the deep grief of Madam de Clemire had fufpended all curiofity while they were in the carriage. What are we going into Burgundy for ? faid Pulcheria. My dear, anfwered the Baronnef^:, when an Ouicer joins the army he is obliged to bq at a great expence ; and if his wife is prudent, fhe will prevent by her ceconomy, any embarraff- ment into which fuch extraordinary expences would naturally throw his affairs. Oh ! that's it ! faid Pulcheria. But they fay, the caftle is fuch a dull ugly place — I am afraid mamma will be fo fad and— — If you have no fear but that, anfwered the Ba- ronnefs, you have no caufe to be uneafy, my dear; for your mamma v/ill find fo much pleafure in fulfilling the duties of her llation, tliat there is no place in the world could afford her mor« pleafure than the caftle of Champcery. I can eafily believe that, faid C.-efar, for fome- times, when I am at my ftudies, I fhould much rather play ; but then, when I remember I am doing my duty, and how happy every body will be if I learn my leffon well, I take frefli courage and go on. B 3 And 6 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. And befideSj faid the Baronnefs, v/hen you have lun and jumped and played till you are tired, do you find any very agreeable thoughts in your mind afterwards ? Oh no, dear grandmamma, replied Czefar, I find nothing but that I am fatigued. And when you have ftudied your leiYon well, how then ? Then ! oh then I am fo happy ! fo carefled, andpraifed, and beloved ! Mr. Fremont can tell you, grandmamma, how fond every body is of me. Never forget that, my good child, faid the Ba- ronnefs ! Never forget that the plcafures we run after, leave a cold laffitude, and often a fcnfation ofdifguftupon the mind, while our good ailions are always remembered with tranfport. Dinner was by this time on tlie table, and, when over, Madame de Clemire rejoined her mother and her children, and in a quarter of an hour they quitted their inn to continue their journey. After fome days of flow travelling they arrived at Champcery. The caftle was old and ruinous, and furrounded with marfhes, to which the feverity of the ieafon, .he fnow, and the icicles gave aa afpea ftill more wild a)id dcfolate. 'Ihe old lumbering furniture foon caught the attention of the children. Sec, faid Caroline, if all the chairs are T'HE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 7 are not of black leather ! Lord what great chiin- nies ! And what little windows ! My dears, faid the Baronnefs, when I was in my youth, they ufed to live eight months out of the twelve infuch places as this ; here they found true pleafure ; here they taftcd more heart-felt mirth, than at prefent is to be met with in the brilliant habitations that furround Paris, where feeking delight, tiiey loofe health, wealth, and happinefs. Notwithftanding thefe fage refle6lions, Caro- line and Pulcheria wifhed they were at Paris ; and the Abbe, naturally chilly, fliivered, and loudly murmured, at the excellive coldnefs of all the rooms ; the doors and windows of which, it muil be owned, did not ihut very clofe, fo that he pre- fently got cold, which aggravated his diilrefs and ill-humour. But nothing of ail this equalled the vexation of Mademoifelies Victoire and Julienne. Vic- toire was the firit to complain. She durft not own the true reafon of her vexation, though fhe could not forbear to grumble. Therefore, to make a beginning, flie declared the firft morning after their arrival flie had not had a wink of fleep all night, for fear of thieves ! — Oh dear, faid Pulcheria, of thieves !^Why lord, Mifs, anfwered Viaoire, who can fuppofe themfelves fafe here in a folitary caftle, in the middle of woods and waters, and nobody hardly in it—if my lady indeed had brought B 4 all S THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. all her fervants, why that, perhaps, would have been fume thing. And add to that, interrupted Julienne, this coun- try is as full of wolves as of robbers ! — Wolves ! — Yes, Mifs J mad almoft with hunger ! — Oh dear you terrify mc !— Have you heard any thing then, Julienne ? — Why Mifs, you fee all the lakes, and ponds and places are frozen over — Yes ! well ! — well ! — and fo the wolves crofs them every night in fuch flocks !— Oh dear ! Oh dear !— What fo near us.— Only think now if one fliould chance to leave one of the ground-floor windows open, only think.— Yes, but you know nobody leaves windows open in fuch cold weather. — Oh but one may forget — Dear, what a difmal fliocking country this Burgundy is ! This difcourfe could not fiiil to make a ftrong impreflion on Caroline and Pulcheria. Fright- ened and uneafy, they heartily regretted Paris. When they came to their mamma, {he eafily per- ceived fomcthing more than ordinary was the matter with them ; and Caroline, when ferioufly cjucftioned, confcfl'ed all, and re-told what had palled in their late convcrfation with Julienne and Victoire. Madame de Clcmire had not much trouble in convincing them, hov/ extravagant their fears of thieves and wolves were ; but, added flie, do not you know, I iiave forbid you to converfe with cl)aiubcrn\uid^ and fuch people ?— No more we THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 9 we did not ufe to do, mamma ; but fince our Governefs has had the fever, and Mademoifelle Julienne has drefled and undrefled us, we— — But muli youj becaufe fhe has drefled and undref- fed you, join in her idle talk ? — Oh, fhe often does not fpeak to us, but to Mademoifelle Vic- toire. — But if you did not mix in their filly tattle, or if you were to liflen with indifference, and without noticing them, they would be filent be- fore you: but, on the contrary, if you once be- come familiar with fuch kind of people, you will foon fpoil both your underftandings and your hearts. — Nay, but mamma, have not you often told us that all men are brothers ?— Certainly ; and we ought to love, ferve, and fuccour them as much as poflible. Nobility of birth is only an imaginary advantage, but education fixes a real inequality among men. A rational, enlightened, well-informed perfon, cannot be intimate with one who is rude, ignorant, imprudent, and full of prejudices ; nor would hold any converfation with a chambermaid, unlefs fne came to afk a favour. We ought, indeed, to liften with attention and refpeil to every one who wants our affiftance and confides in us for help. — Yes, mamma, but fup- pofe one's maid was very very good, fhould not one look upon her as a friend if fhe Wi^s ignorant, and wanted education ? — Firft tell me, Caroline, what do you mean by lookiiig upon a perfon as B 5 your 10 THE TALES OV THE CASTLE, vour friend ? — Why— to love 'em with all one's heart. — Oh, you know Madame de Merival loves her little daughter with all her heart, and yet fhe is only two years old, therefore cannot be her hiend. — What, then, one ought to have fome- thing more than love for one's friend ?— Aflured- ly ; you ought to confide in a friend. Can you afk, or is a maid capable of giving you advice, or affording intelligent and agreeable difcourfe, even on common fubjedls ? How then can you rea>- fonably confide your fecrets to her ? If Ihe is obliging and good you ought to love her, but it is impoflible you can efteem her as your friend. Such friendfhip, for a perfon of my age would be ridiculous, but for a child it would be dangerous ; of which you may be convinced, fmce two or three converfations with Julienne and Vi£l:oire> have been fufficient to infpire you with the moft chimerical fears, and make you murmur at the will of your mamma, inftead of applauding thofe worthy m.otives that occafioned her to bring you hither ; therefore you muft carefully avoid, in future, any intimacy or familiarity with fcrvants, in general, and all people who have not been well educated, though at the fame time you mufi: treat them with the greateft indulgence. It would be abfurd to defpife them, becaufe they were deprived of an advantage which it was not in their power to procure. Pity them when you fee them inconfideratc THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 11 inconfiderate or filly ; and fay to yourfelf. Had I not been blefied with tender and rational par- rents, I (hould have been equally weak, perhaps more [o. Well but, mamma, I have heard fay that my aunt, who is fo good and fo reafonable, looks upon her woman Rofetta as her friend. So fhe does ; but the reafon of that is, becaufc Rofetta is not fuch a fort of maid as is ufualiv found : flie has been perfectly well educated ; that is to fay, for a perfon in her condition. Her pa- rents could not give her a very extenfive educa- tion, but they gave her the keft of principles and the bell of examples. When Rofetta was feven- teen years of age {he went to live with my filler, begged of her to lend her books, and afliduoufiy inftructed herfelf ; and having a good underftand- ing, and noble fentiments, foon obtained her la- dy's elleem, which fne merited by her piety, at- tachment, and induflry. Morel, Cafar's valet, has fimilar propenfities : Mr. Fremont tells me he knows hiftory and geography well ; that he always has a book in his pocket j and is, befides, very pious. You fee with what refpe6t I treat him, and you know I have not forbid Caefar to converfe with him ; but then thefe inftances arc fo uncommon, they ought only to be looked upon as exceptions. B 6 After 12 THE TALES OF THE CAJTlE. After this dialogue, the two young fiflers did not take part in the pratding of Julienne and Vicloire j they foon began to find that the country might be agreeable even in the depth of winter, and inured themfelves to the cold as well as Caefar, who took great pleafure in courfing about the gardens making fnow-balls and Aiding. Ani- mated by his example, they ventured upon the ice, not without fear at firft, but cuftom foon made them as bold, almoft, as their brother. They ran intrepidly, and drew one another about in their fmall arm chairs, which flid eafily and faft with little trouble ; and though they had frequent falls they were too near the ground to be much hurt ; fuch accidents only redoubled their mirth, they Uimbled lightly, and rofe but to laugh. Their mamma hcrfclf would fometimes mix in their innocent fports. She had recovered, not her gaiety, but her gentlcnefs and equanimity of temper : fhe no longer appeared to alHicl herfelf> and weep in mournful filence ; and if, at fome moments, ihe found herfelf overcome, fhe v/ould retire to her clofct and prefently return with a tranquil and ferene countenance. One day, when fhe had thus abruptly left the company, Caroline ran to fearch for herj flie could not find her in her bed-chamber, but thought fhe heard her in her little dreffing-room, the door cf which was half open. Accordingly flic enter- ed THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. I3 ed foftly, and beheld her mother kneeling, and in ^ears— " Grant me, Almighty God, faid jQie, " grant me a greater portion of fortitude— grant *' me a more perfect refignation." — Caroline, in- fpired by her mother's piety, fell on her knees likewife, and raifmg her hands to heaven, ex- claimed in a broken voice — " Hear, oh Lord, " the prayers of my dear mamma." — Madame dc Clemire heard the child, turned her head, and extended her arms to Caroline, who ran and fell upon her neck. They fat themfelves down on a couch, and after a fliort filencc, Madame de Cle- mire fpoke thus : It is neceilary, my dear, I fhould explain to you tlic reafon of what you have feen. You, perhaps, jnay have obferved Carolijie, I hare not for fome days paft been fo entirely devoured by grief, and ^hat extreme forrow with which I was over- whelmed when we firft arrived at this place. The caufe, however, ftill fubfifts. I am feparated from your father, and have the fame reafon to be dejeiled, were I not relieved by the coiifolations which religion affords, and which alone can alle- viate my pains. When I offer up my prayers to the Almight}', I feel my heart relieved, and my hopes animated. God fpeaks as it were to my foul, raifes and fortifies it, and on him is all my dependence placed. Then do, manima, faid Ca- roline, as (lie killed her, do let me come with you every 14 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. e\ ery time you pray for my papa ; I am fare I fhall pray too with all my heart. — You I'hall, my dear, faid Madame de Clemire, and I hope you will never forget, that without a fincere and fervent piety, it is impoffible to be happy. Champcery now foon became every day more and more agreeable to its inhabitants; the children wondered why they were forry to leave Paris ; the Abbe himfelf became reconciled to his country- lodgings, his room was well lifted, the apart- ments were kept warm, fkins were hung round the windows and doors; the curate, who was equally fociable and virtuous, and moreover played paiTably at chefs, was a proper companion for him, and his good-humour infenfibly returned. To give variety to their amufements, the Ba- ronnefs and Madame de Clemire after fupper, that is to fay, from half after eight to half after nine o'clock, promifed to relate Tales for their re- creation and tnJlrii5lion. This promife gave the children great pleafure, and they were fo eager to have it fulfilled, that their mamma confented to {atisfy their impatience that very evening. V/hen every body was feated, the children had got round their mamma, and the attention of all was fixed, flie began the following hiftory nearly in thefe words : DELPHINE: THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 1$ D E L P H I N E: OR, THE FORTUNATE CURE. T^ E L P H I N E was an only daughter, and an '^"'^ heirefs ; her birth was noble, her perfon handfome, and her heart and underftanding were good. Her moth^rMelifIa,who was a widow, loved her exceedingly, but wanted fortitude and ftrength of mind to give her daughter a proper education. At nine years old Delphine had many mafters, but fhe learnt little, and difcovered little inclina- tion to learn, except to dance. She fubmitted to her other lefTons with extreme indolence, and of- ten abridged them one half on pretence fhe was fatigued or had the head-ach. Her mamma was continually repeating, " I will not have her con- " tradided, her conftitution is delicate, and too " much application will injure her health ; befides, " added flie, proudly, I believe fhe may eafily pro- " cure a proper match, without any great fuperi- ** ority of talents, and it feems to me ufelefs to tor- " ment her about fuch things." I am afraid mamma, faid Casfar, fhrugging his Ihoulders, and interrupting Madame de Clemire, this lady had not too much underftanding. What mufl l6 THE TALKS OF THE CASTLE, mufl: one be ignorant becaufe one is rich ? — By no means, anfwered his mamma, and the man who even can fubmit to marry a woman merely for her riches, never can give her his confidence and efteem, unlefsfhe is worthy of beino- beloved. The fruits of a good education, are knowledge, talents, and an equality and gentlenefs of difpofi- tion ; and fuch qualities render us delightful to others, and procure us an inexhauftible fund of amufement and happinefs to ourfelves : while pcr- fons ill brought up are burthenfome to others, and a continual prey to all thofe tircfome inward diff'-ufts, which are the inevitable effccSls of i^rno- ance, lazinefs, and a wrong formed heart aiid mind. Delphine, flattered, carcfl'ed, and humoured as file was, foon became one of the moft unfortu- nate children in Paris. Her natural tendency to goodnefs each day declined, and her charader was more and more depraved. Capricious, vain, and ftubborn, fhe would not endure the leaft contra- didion. Far from being willing to obey, fhe would command. Sometimes fcolding, and fome- times converfing with the fervants, now difdain- ful and anon familiar, fhe miftook arrogance for grandeur, and meannefs for affability. So fond of flattery that fhe was unhappy when not praifed, full of whimfies, and without any one fixed incli- nation, devoted to her dolls and play-things, and coveting T.HE TALIS OF THE CASTLE. IJ coveting every thing fhe fav7, fhe was equally de- ikient in juftice and moderation. What a pi her the charming gardens of Reinlberg, in Pruflin, and the Temple of Fricndihip in the gardens of Sans- Souci. This monument, faid ftie, is of marble, and contaijis the maufolcum of the Margravefs of Eareith, tlie Kiiig's fifta. It is fupported by magnificent THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 41 magnificent columns, on which are engraved the names of the moft revered and celebrated friends of antiquity ; fuch as Thefeus and Pirithous, Py- lades and Oreftes, Epaminondas and Pelopidas, Cicero and Atticus, cic. heroes molt worthy of living in the memories of man, fince they pof- leffed both fortitude and feeling, and owed their happinefs, glory, and reputation, to the charms of Virtue and Friendfhip. Delphine liftened to tliefe recitals with the moft profound attention, and foon felt a real attach- ment to Madam Steinhaufien. She began to feel the value of fuch inftruftions, and to dcfire her to communicate diem. She obeyed her com- mands without an effort, had a ftrong wifh to oblige her, and felt the moft lively fatisfadlion when {he obtained any mark of her approbation. In the mean time Henrietta and Delphine faw with pleafure the day approach, when the opera- tion was to be performed on, the good old woman. The rich farmer, whofe name was Simon, more than ever in love with Agatha, came to defire Madam Steinhaufien and Henrietta to intercede for him v.'ith her. Her refufal, which had proved fo well her affection for her grandmother, made her ftiU dearer to the heart of Simon. Madam Stcinhauffen accordingly fpoke to her on the fubjed, and fhe confelTed Jhe had a very gnat elhemfor Mr. Simon, Neverthelefs 42 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. Neverthelefs I hope, faid Pulcheria, tliat ftic did not confent to have him, if her grandmamma did not recover her fight. — You hope fo, my dear, faid Madame deClemire : and do you judge of her fenfations by your own ? — Oh no, mamma, faid Pulcheria ; if I had I fhould have been certain.-^ The Baronnefs held out her hand to Pulcheria, and fhe ran, leaped to her bofom, and kifled her, as fhe afterwards did her mamma. After a fhort filence Madame de Clemirecon - tinued her tale. Agatha, faid fhe, gave her promife to marry Simon, if the dodlor reftored her grandmother to fight, on condition that he would let the good woman have an apartment in his houfe. Simon gladly confented ; and full of afPedlion for Agatha, floating between hope and fear for the fucccfs of the operation, waited with anxiety for the day of trial. The interefting moment at length arrived, and Delphine obtained permiflion to be prefent. Hen- rietta, about noon, conduced the patient into the doctor's apartment, who, penetrated with grati- tude to her young protcdrefs, thanked her in the moft heart-felt and exprelTive term?, at the fame time clafping her hand and faying, that if itjlrndd pleafe God to grant her the light of heaven once again, flie fhould take almoit as much delight in lookins: THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 4^ looking upon her, as in once more beholding her dear Agatha. The doiSlor now commanded filence, and placed her In the arm chair ; the poor old woman begged fhe might have Agatha on one fide of her, and Henrietta on the other. Simon, the yt)ung farmer, flood oppofite, pale and trembling, and Agatha, with her eyes hid in her apron, preffed her grandmother's hand to her lips, and bathed it witli her tears. Madam SteinhaufTen and Del- phine fat at fome little diftance, contemplating this interefting picture with tenderncfs and anxiety. The operation now began, and the good woman fupported the pain with fortitude. The doctor, flow and careful in every touch, at lafl exclaimed it's over ! it's done f--' And inftantly the poor old creature cried out. Good God is it poffibleJ am I no longer blind ? Agatha, my child, my dear good girl, do I fee thee once again !— And IMifs Henrietta, who, where is fhe ? Agatha melted in tears, threw herfelf about her neck ; Henrietta tranfported ran to embrace her, and the farmer, half wild, fell upon his knees before Agatha, crying out, fhe is mine, fhe is mine. Delphine could hardly fupport this fcene ; fnc rofe, flie ran to her Henrietta, and by her tears, in part exprefTed the fentiment of tendernefs and afftdlion, with which her heart overflowed. I am 44 THE TALES OF THE CASTLS. . I am almoft fure, faid Csefar weeping, that Delphine will henceforward be nearly as good as even Henrietta herfelf. You are not deceived my dear, faid his mamma ; Delphine v/as at laft convinced that birth, jev/els, and toys, do not give content ; and that if fhe would be happy, ihe muft be benevolent and good. A witnefs of the pure fatisfadtion which Henrietta enjoyed, of the lively gratitude of the good old woman, of the happinefs of Simon and Agatha, and reading in the eyes of the do6lor and Madam SteinhaufTen the pleafure they felt in poflefling a child fo v/orthy of their virtues, Delphine- almoft envied the lot of Henrietta, while fhe felt her admiration of her, and her friendfhip and love for her intimately ftrengthened and increafed. When thefe firft efFufions of the heart were over, the doclor defired the grandmother to fix a day for the marriage of Agatha and Simon ; and it was agreed, it fhould take place in fomething lefs than three weeks. The doftor and Madam Steinhauflen undertook to furnifli the bride clothes, and Henrietta begged permiffion to offer her a fine piece of chintz pattern cotton^ which her mamma had given her the night before. . All day long Delphine heard nothing but the praifes of Henrietta j the good old v/oman called her " her heavenly protedlrefs ;" and when fhe thanked the dodtor, fhe never failed to add, " But *''it THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 45 <' it is to Mifs Henrietta I owe all ! it was fhe " that found me out ! that brought me hither ! " that had me kept in the houfe ! fhe feeks out " the wretched and the fick, (he finds comfort for " them., fhe makes them happy!" — Agatha, in the mean while, was killing Hen- rietta's hand ; Simon durft not fpeak ; but lifted up his hands and eyes to heaven, and his looks fufiiciently expreffed the emotions of his heart ; the fervants all blefTed and praifed their young miftrefs, and related a thoufand other traits of her benevolence ; and the do£lor and Madam Steijihauffen mutually felicitated each other, and gave God thanks for fending them fuch a child. Henrietta received thefe praifes with as much modefty as feeling, and returned them all to her mamma : v/ithout you, faid flie, your maternal love, your tender watchfulnefs, your precious in- flrudions, I fhould never have enjoyed the hap- pinefs I do ! Oh, my mamma ! continue to cor- rect the defects which yet I feel I have, that I may be more worthy of you, and give )'ou a flill greater degree of happinefs. Delphine liflened not in vain to fuch convcrfa- tions. At night, when alone with Madam Stein- haulTen, fhe fell on her knees, and, with a look of expreiTive tendernefs, faid, — How, dear madam', have you been able hitherto to fupport the com- pany 46 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. pany of a child fo different from your Henrietta f Have I not appeared odious ? I am fare I have ! To be fenfible of our errors, replied Madam Steinhauflen, is the bell fign of amendment ; be- fides you have, for fome time paft, conduced yourfelf infinitely better : every body remarks and applauds this excellent change in your beha- viour. And yet, alas ! faid Dclphine, how infi- nitely diftant am I from Henrietta ! It \\'as but yefterday that I was fo far overcome by impati- ence and pettifhnefs, as to make you two or three times lift up your eyes with pity and aftonifli- ment. Nay, this very day I was fnappifli with Marianne, and going to fcold Catau. Neither have I yet had the juftice to afk pardon of Catau, for the degrading blow I had the misfortune to give her j and yet how good fhe is to me ! how patient ! Poor Catau ! Is it poflible that I could llrike her ! Let me befeech you, madam, to call her, that (he may know how fincerely I repent my rafhnefs. Madam Steinhauffen called, and the obedient Catau inftantly came. Dclphine approached her in a fupplicating poftu^e, begging, in the mofl tender and exprcflive terms, fhe would forgive the injury flie had done her ; and intreating, with a manner that gave a charm to her words, (he might be perr.iitted to kifs the clieek flie had fo unjuftly affaulted. Madam Srciahaufien, at her dfjfir^ THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 47 defire, interpreted what {he faid to Catau, who, with a heart overflowing with afFeition and re- fpeilj durft not advance ; but Delphine beheld her watery eyes, and, in a fympathetic tranfport, leaped upon her neck, and killed her with inex- preilible delight. She felt the tranfport of repair- ing an injury. Catau departed, witli the tears trickling down her cheeks, and faid, in German, that Delphine was a charming little girl. As foon as Catau was gone, Delphine went to her drawer, and took a pretty piece of muflin, which fhewing to Pxiadam SteinhaufTen, flie faid, Look, madam, what I defign as a prefent to Catau. And why, faid fhe, did you not give it her now ? Oh ! replied Delphine, I would not do fo ; fhe might have thought I wanted to pay her for flapping her face, which would have been a frefh caufe of ofFence inftead of pleafure ; for you know, madam, monev cannot give fatisfailion for injurious trcatm.ent ; and how could her heart have pardoned me if it had been purchafed ? - You are very right, faid Madam Steinhauflen ; this is true delicacy j fuch fentiments ennoble ge- nerofity, and will give a charm to all your adlions. In the midft of this converfation a courier ar- rived from MelifTa, with a letter to her daughter, in which fhe intreated Delphine to afk freely whatever fhe wifhed ; and defired to know what kind of toys {he {hould fend to give her pleafure. Delphine 48 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. Delphine read the letter, and fighed ; and after remaining a moment thoughtful, begged of Madam SteinhaulTen to write as follows, while fhe dictated. " I thank you kindly, my dear mamma, for " your goodnefs to me, but I do not love toys fo " much as I ufed to do ; and, fmce you com- *' mand me, I will tell you what at prefent will *' give me moft pleafure. We have a very good, ** but poor old woman here j it is true, her grand- *' daughter is to be married to a rich farmer ; but << as the hufband has all the money, perhaps he " won't like to give her fo much as her grand- « daughter wifhes, at leaft I fear fo j and yet, ** jnamma, I Ihould wifh tlie old woman might •" want for nothing. 1 love her, mamma, not " only becaufe fhe is good, but becaufe fhe is a ■« mother j and I think I fhould alv/ays give more " freely to a wom.an who is a mother, than to one *' who is not. Madam SteinhaulTen fays, tvyenty- *' five crowns a year would make her quite happy ; *' let me beg of you, my dear mamma, inflead of '' the toys you are fo good to offer me, to grant **■ me a penfion of twenty-five crowns a year for " this good old woman. I fhould be glad too, to *' prefent her with a piece of cotton, to make her <* a new gown for her child's wedding. God *' blcfs you, my dear matnma ; I get better and " better every day. Madam SteinhaufTcn is very good THE TALES OF T HE CASTLE. 49' '■^ good to me, and I {hould be entirely happy '' if I was not deprived ot the plealure of feeing *' my dear mamma ; her pi*5lure, however, is " never off my arm j I always kifs it, and bid it *' good night and good morning, though I am *' often fad to think, I am only five leagues from " my mamma, and can't -fee her : if it was not for " that I fhould be quite enchanted here, for the " country is fo pleafant ! and they fay we Ihall " have fine cherries this year. Pleafe, mam- *' ma, to tell my nurfe, that I am bringing up a *' fine young ftarling for her, for all fhe told Ma- " dam Steinhauffen, (he was fure / had pinched *' Jldifs Steinhauffen^ before this^ above tivenly times. " She fays fo in her letter, and I am forry I have " deferved fuch a charadler ; but one muPc be " wicked indeed, could one pinch Henriettai *' Oh, mamma, if you knew her ! She is {o *' good ! However, I hope I fliall never pinch any-body again. Good bye, my dearefl, beft " mamma ; my heart at this moment kifles you. Delphine." The next day Delphine received a kind anfwer, and inftead of five and twenty crowns a year, fifty, along with the ftufr for a new gown for her good old penfioncr ; this, in a tr;,nfport of joy, ihe indantly carried to her, which benefaction -com- pleted her happineis. Her and Agatha's thanks, tlie praifcs of Aladam Steiiihaulfcn, and the vol, I. D tender <( 50 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. tender carefTes of Henrietta, gave a fenfation to Delphine, which, till that moment, (he had never known. In the evening, Delphine afked Madam Steln- haufl'en, how much Cne thought it coft her mamma to make her that prefent ? Who replied, That as it was an annuity for fo old a perfon, fhe did not fuppofe it would come to five hundred crowns. Five hundred crowns I faid Delphine ; and can one give food and raiment, during life, to old age, for five hundred crowns ? for a fum which my pompoon of diamonds came to ! It is even fo, faid Madam Steinhauflen ; and does your pom- poon of diamonds afford you much fatisfadtion ? Oh no, faid Delphine ; a rofe is a thoufand times to be preferred : and, when I think how one may refcue from mifery a poor wretch that ftarves for bread, I fcarcely can conceive how any body can have the folly to purchafe fuch things. I hate this ugly pompoon, fo dear, fo heavy, and (o inconvenient ! Two days after this, Simon and Agatha were married. The wedding was kept at Madam Stein- hauffen's ; tables were ipread in the orchard, under the huge fhade of the walnut-trees difperfed here and there over the green fwerd, which was enamelled with daifies and cowflips, and banks of primrofes and violets. The neighbouring peafants were in- vited, THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 51 vited, and Madam Steinhauilen herfelf did the ho- nours of the bride-table. After dinner they danced upon the lawn tiH night, and Delphine, who highly partook of the univerfal gaiety, faid to Madam SteinhaufTen — The balls of Paris never gave me much pleafure, but at prefent I fhould think them infuppor tabic. It is certain, anfwercd fhe, that true content is beft known in the country, which, when we have once tafted, the pleafures of the town become infipid, tircfome, and tumultuous. In the month of July, Delphine found the coun- try ftill more delightful : flie frequently took long walks in the fields, and fometimes by moon-light with Madam Steinhauffen and Henrietta ; and as fhe by this took pleafure in being employed, fhe was no longer fenfible of the wearifome anxieties of indolence. She read, fh€ wrote, fhe worked, and learnt of Henrietta to draw and preferve herbs, who alfo taught her their names. The pocket- money, which her mamma fent her every month, fhe fpent in relieving diftrefs wherever fhe met with it. Adored by every body, and fatisfied with herfelf, each day added to her happinefs j no longer was her countenance clouded, and robbed of its natural beauty, by that air of unhappinefs it formerly wore ; her eyes became bright and ani- mated j her cheeks had a glow of frcfhnefs ; file tvuld witlk, run, jump, and acquired more grace D 2 and 52 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. and agility in four months, than ail the danclng- mafters of Pro-is had to bequeath. In th;i beginning of the ir.onth of Auguil:, the clodor thought proper to let nc.- quit the cow- houfe, and llic was remo\ed uito a neat httle chamber, which had been littcd up on purpole for her. This was a moil aj^reeablc chaiige to her ; the cleannefs of every thing around her, the con- venience of the furniture, and the beautiful pro- fpedt of tlie vdley towards which her window opened, were enchanting. Be pleafed to tell me, faid Delphine to Madam Steinhaufien, why this little chamber is fo plea- fant J and why the one I had at i'aris, though much larger and finer, had often the contrary effea ? There are manyreafons, replied Madam Stein- hauflbn ; your chamber at Paris looked into a little dull garden, furrounded with high walls ; befides, when you came hither, you were only acquainted with falle pleafuref, fuch only as vanity, folly, and fafliion feek ; as thefe are but imagi- nary, they foon fatigue ; you were therefore cloy- ed and difgufted with them, and as you had no kj.owledge of true pleafure, were devoured by i^)leen. Such was your unfortunate fituation. You had lived in too great abundance, to make a proper eftimate of the conveniences and allure- ments which fimple independence can procure ; and TBE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 53 and having nothing to defire, you had nothing to enjoy. Things the moft pleafant become tr.flelefs, and even tirefome, if v/e ufe them not with mode- ration ; or if ws acquire them v^'ith too little trouble ; as a very comrtion iiiftance may prove. Thus, you love flowers, and efpecially the violet: yet why do you, and moft young perfons, pre- fer that flower to others ? I will tell you ; be- caufe it is lels common than the primrofe or the coWilip J becaufe its head is hid beneath its leaves, and you muft fearch for it ere you pofTefs it. Were it profufely fcattered over the meadows, were it always fpringing beneath your feet, you would regard it no more than the daify or the v€ry grafs. The produdlions of art, are beyond a doubt inferior to thofe of nature, confequently we are fooner tired of them ; and yet they have their at- traition, and can give pleafure, though only to thofe who ufe them with moderation. Were you to liil your apartments with china only, you would prefently find china difgufting ; and were you to go every night to the theatre, the theatre would not long have any charms for you : if you eat too often, or pamper your appetite too much with niceties, eating, though fo natural and neceffary, will foon be no pleafure. It is the fame in every inflance ; the abufe of pleafure is its deftrudtion, and thofe who fatiate defire extinguifti it. Remem- ber, therefore, that fuperfluity and exceis, far D 3 from 54 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 'from contributing to, exterminate happinefs : re- membtr that luxury dazzles none but fools, and decs not produce one real delight ; for nothing is more troubiefome than magnificence. Diamond car-rings tear the ears, embroidered robes fatigue the wearer ; jewels, and all the paraphernalia of tlref^, fubject us to a thoufand uneafy f -nfations and trilling decorums , it is matter of grief to tear your point lappets, or break a fuperb fnuff-box. Had you worn yefterday a Mechlin apron, you would not have gathered fo many wild raf<^s ^imong the buflics and thorns, where you left a part of )'our frock j neither would you, perhaps, have been fo chearful and fo well contented with your walk. Magnificence in furniture is equally inconvenient ; for my own part, I would rather cverlaftingly inhabit the very cow-houfc, than thofe brilliant apartments where one is obliged to flcp and fit down with precaution, left one fhould break an impannelled looking-glafs, or overfct a table covered with porcelain. How* do I pity the people, who are thus the flayes of their riches ; the vanity which mifleads them, were it well directed, might eafily procure them the re- fpeiSl they fcek ; inftcad of pomp, only let them employ their wealth to do good, and the eftcct will prefcntly be feen. They would without doubt, faid Dclpliine, be more generally cftccmed, but is it not in other refpccls THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 55 refpeifls their interefts ? Is there any pleafure equal to that of doing good ? And can there exlll a. heart infenfible to the miferies of others ? Such inhuman infenfibility, anfvvered Madam StelnhaufTen, is certainly not in nature ; but by indulging our imaginary wants, and by habitually fpending our money in fuperfiuous trifle?, our minds are narrowed, our hearts become void of pity, and at length corrupt. Never, faid Delphine, be my fortune one day what it will, never, I hope, fhall wealth corrupt .my heart. I hope I fhall fet bounds to my wifhes, by the remembrance of the latitude I once felt in the midft of abundance ; that I fhall call to mind how I was obliged to pafs four months in a cow^ houfe, before I knew the value of a fmall part of the good things which were heaped upon me j and above all, that I fhall never, never forget there are many, many thoufand poor unfortunate creatures always in exlftence, v/hom it is the higheft of all delights to relieve. This converfation finilhed with the moft grate- ful thanks of Delphine to Madam Steinhauflen, who had in facl fuU right to hef eternal gratitude, ftnce it was fhe who had learnt her to reafon, to think, and to feel. Delphine remained two months longer with the doftor ; in which time her charadler became more perfeil:, and her health thoroughly for'ciiied. At D 4 ' 1^^^% 56 THE TALES OF THE C A S T I. E. laft, towards the beginning of Oftober, fhe agaia enjoyed the happinefs of feeing her maninia. Meliflli received her to her arms witli tranfport, though fhe could fcarcely recolleiif her ; fhe was grown cxceediiigly both in height and plumpiiefs, and a lively and animated freflinefs was (pread o\'cr her cheeks. Her mamma, in the excefs of her joy, gazed at her, preffed her to her bofom, killed ber, and endeavoured to fpeak, but could not give vent to her feelings, till they burll forth in a flood of tears. Madam Steinhauffen, for a while, enjoyed in filence a fight fo pleafuig 3 at lart, turning to Meliffa, fhe faid, — You gave her to me, madam, dying : I return her to you in the full force of health ; and what is dill far better, I return her good, gentle, and rational ; with an equal temper, and a feeling heart, worthy of her fortune, and capable of making you, herfclf, and every body happy. She jet, however, is young, and fo lia- ble to rclapfe, if not properly treated, that much muft depend upon yourfeif, madam. If you would prevent fuch fearful confequences, you will do well to fuc that fhe follows the inftiudion> contained in this paper : they are not rigorou«, but they are nccelTary. She fliall, flie v/ill fol- low them, replied Mcliila : be plcafcd to give them to mc, madam. At ihcfc v/ords flic took the THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 57 the paper Madam Steinhauflen prefented her, and read aloud what follows : Orders of Dr. Steinhaussen, to be obferved by Delphine. " She mud live fix months of the year in the *' country. When at Paris, (lie muft go but " feldom to public places. She muft walk often, " as well in winter as in fumm.er. She muft eat *' nothing but bread for breakfaft, and between " meals, except when fruits are in feafon. Her *' drefs muft be ftmple, light, and commodious. " To preferve her from idlenefs and its confe* " quences, proper, amufing, and inftruclive books " muft be given her, nor muft fhe be at all in- " dulged in indolence ; and fhould flie, by chance, " find herfelf melancholy, or diflatisfied, jfhe muft *' be put in remembrance of the hiftory of Aga- *' tha, and the benevolent action fhe did in pla- *' cing her good old grandmother above want, " If this regimen, and thefe rules, are duly ob- " ferved, Mifs Delphine will undoubtedly preferve " the health, chearfulnefs, and content ftic at pre- " fent enjoys." Melifla highly approved the prefcription fhe had read, promifed to follow it exactly, an ^ teftified the moft lively fenfe of gratitude to Madam Stein- hauflen. The next fpring flie purchafed a feat in the valley of Montmorenci, and the neighbour- hood of the do6lor, and Delphine ever preferved D 5 the 58 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE, the gratitude and rcfpcft due to Madam Stein- hauflen, as well as a moft tender and inviolable friendfhip for Henrietta. Her perfon foon be- came charming, (he acquired knowledge and un • derllanding ; (he was rational, mild, benevolent, and admired and beloved by all who knew her. Melifla found her a hufband worthy of her, and they live in mutual happinefs and connubial love. And fo the hiftory is finifhed ! cried Pulcheria, as Madame de Clemire ceafed to fpeak What a pity ! If MelilTa, faid Caroline, had been as reafonable as Madam Steinhauflen, poor Delphine would jiever have been fo idle, rude, and capricious. What a happinefs it is to have a good mamma ! Caroline, as fhe pronounced thefc words, tenderly kiflt'd the hand of Madame de Clemire. I would not interrupt you, faid Pulcheria, when you were at fo interefting a part of the ftory ; but pray, mamma, what is that difeafe of the eye^ which is called a catarad ? It is a difordcr, re- plied (he, which occafions blindnefs when it attacks both eyes (6). As {he faid this, Madame de Clemire rofc ; it was later than ordinary, though the children had found the evening very ihort ; they went to bed with regret, an J dreamt all night of nothing but Ddphinc. In THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 59 In the morning Morel told Carfar he had made a calculation of the expence, which his glafs-cafes and other materials for the breeding of butterflies, would coft, and found the whole would come to feven or eight guineas. — Ay ! faid Csefar, this is a very dear diverfion : I think I can amufe myfelf at a much cheaper rate. I will go and try to wean my fifters from this whim. Caefar was not long in finding them. I am come, fifters, faid he, to give you an opportunity of proving to our mamma, that fhe has not loft her labour in relating the hiftory of Delphine ta us. Are you, brother r Yes ; and that we have profited by the difcourfes of Madam Stcin- hauflbn. You remember flie told Delphine, people fhould not indulge their imaginary wants, or fpend their money in fuperfluous trifles. Oh yes, yes ; I remember it And fo do I : Well, our glafs-cafes and nick-nacks for our butterflies will coft feven or eight guineas Eight guineas ! Yes ; with that fum now we may do fome charitable a6lion. Can we give any body a penfion with eight guineas ? No ; not worth accepting ; but the eight guineas may relieve fome family in diftrefs. Then I'm fure we'll give up the butterflies But if I had known that, I would not have taken fo much pains to learn to make nets Oh never mind, we fhall have amufements enough — — We will do as Henrietta D 6 ufed 66 THE TALES OF TH£ CASTLE. ufcd to do ; dry flowers and herbs, and learn bo* tany, and ftudy agriculture, and ^Yes, and we'll afk mamma for money to give the poor ■ Mamma though is not fo rich as MelifTa : fhe is come here you know to fave, but then fhe is very charitable to the poor notwithftanding. We muft find out fomg poor old woman, very good, and if \ve could find a poor blind old woman how happy we fhould be !^ Yes j we would fend for a furgeon from Autun, to perform the opera- tion of the cataracl' Oh that we would But we muft take care though, that our play-things and diverfions do not coft much money you know j for mamma is not able to give us money for fuch things, and for catara^Ss too No j we cannot have every thingi After holding this little council, the children ran to acquaint their mamma with the refolutions they had come to, who kifl^ed them with a mater- nal tendernefsy and highly praifed the goodncfs of their hearts. Always preferve fuchfentiments, my dear children, faid fhe, and you will make both me and yourfclves happy j and as a reward for your prefent virtue, I promife to feek for fome proper occafion of expendijig the eight guineas as you defire. Ah but mamma, faid Pulcheria, will you tell us a flory too every night, inJftead of one now and then THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 6l then as you promifed us at firft. I will, anfwered Madame de Clemire, on condition you do nothing to difoblige me, or rather I will make this agree- ment with you all : Whoever behaves im- properly in the day, ihall be excluded from our company at night. Ah now, mamma, but that will be fo fevere ! How To ! you do not hear your brother or fifter complain of its feverity. ■ Ah mamma, but I have more reafon to be afraid than they ; I am not fo old you know, and fo you know, mamma, you fhould not expert me to be quite fo good. 1 have always made an allowance— —Yes, mamma, I know you are ne\'^r unjuft, but I am afraid for all that, of be- ing fent to bed fometimes without hearing the ftory. Caefar went to take a walk the fame morning with the Abbe into the country, and as they were pafling by a cottage, they faw a little boy beating another, much older and ftronger than himfelf, who was fatisfied with only warding off the blows, without returning them. Caefar went up to them, and aflced the lad who fufFered the other to beat him, if the little one was his brother ? No, fir, feid the young peafant, he is one of our neigh- bours. He is a fpiteful little fellow, faid Caefar. And why do you let hfm beat you, without re- turning his blows ? Oh, fir, faid the boy, I muft not 62 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE, not beat him, becaufe I am the ftrongeft (a). Here is a generous lad, faid Ca^far, in a whifp0r, to the Abbe : I muft enquire if his parents are poor. What age are you, laid the Abbe ? Eight, fir ; — - And what's your name ? Auguftin, fir, at your fervice. Have you a father and mother? Oh yes, God be thanked, and a little brother Charley, who is only five years old : that is our houfe that you fee there. Dear fir, faid Casfar to the Abbe, let us go in. The Abbe was willing, and Auguftin led them to the cottage. The Abbe foon fell into converfa- tion with Madeleine, the mother of Auguftin, who told him he was the beft child in the world ; fo good-humoured and fo obedient, that he had never given her a moment's uneafinefs ; and moreover fo apt at learning, that the curate of the parifti had taken particular plcafure in teachijig him to read. In fadl, the boy fpoke aftoniftiingly well for the child of a peafant; befides which, he had a coun- tenance that engaged and prepoilelTcd every body in his favour. Madeleine recounted many won- derful things of him, and fpoke of his love for his little brother Charles ; though, added Ihe, Charles is often playing him tricks. This (a) The author of this work had the pleafure to hear a boy of eight yeart old gire that anfwer. YHE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 63 This converfation ended, after Czefar had made Auguflin promife to come to the caftle and fee him, and they continued their walk. As foon as they were alone, Mr. Fremont faid to Caefar, Did you perfectly feel the force, the fublimity of this lad's reply ? " I muft not beat him, " becaufe I am the ftrongefb ! " 1 think I did, fir, replied Csefar j he had compaffion on the weaknefs of that angry little fellow. — Exadly (o^ faid the Abbe, and in confideration of his weak- nefs, excufed his paflion and arrogance. Auguftin, continued Caefar, a61:s juft like our great dog Turk, that let's mamma's little lap-dog bite him without minding him. This generofity, anfwered the Abbe, is fo natural, that it is found among the moft uncivilized nations, and even in the loweft clafTes. We read in the General Hiftory of Voyages, by M. de la Harpe, that you are in greater fecurity at Malabar, under the protedlion of a Nayre child (a) than of the greateft warriors ; becaufe the robbers in that country never attack unarmed travellers, but on the contrary pay the greateft refpedl to old age and infancy. Judge then from thefe examples, how defpicable that man muft be, who is without a virtue which i§ fo natural to him that it is poftefled by an un- taught child, by animals, and even by thieves. It (s) Nayre is the tribe of nobles. 64 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. It is therefore reafonable that he who abufes his power by oppreffing the feeble, fhould be held a monfter and alVaiTin. Pray, let me afk you, if a man with a drawn fword attacks another who has nothing but a cane for his defence, is he not an af- faflin. ) Affuredly. We fliould always fight with equal arms. ^Well then, fuppofe you and I fliould iight with our fills, fhould we be equal r Certainly not ; your arm is much flronger than mine. Ay; fo much that I could kill you, without your being able to hurt me. Should I not tlierefore be an aflaffin, by ufing my power thus againft a being fo defencelcfs ? Oh yes j that needs little proof. What think you then .pf a perfon who enjoys riches and rank, andfliall employ thefe advantages to the oppreflion or ruin of his inferiors r — I think luch a perfon is almolt as cowardly as he who fights with another who has no means of defence. — If then, v/hen you become a man, you (hall treat your wife, your children, or your fervants with inhumanity, you will be coward- ly and cruel. — Oh, fir, I am very fenfiblc, that if I a6t thus when I acqliire authority, I flinll be both ungenerous and inhuman. — When, therefore, -we give a command, we muft be particularly careful that it is not unjuft \ we muft make thofe happy who are in fubiniilion to our power, or we are THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 65 are tyrants, and nothing <:an be more contemptible,, than a tyrant. They continued their walk with fuch like con- verfation, and got back to the caftle juft as the family were fitting down to table. Thei'e the Abbe met a gentleman of the neighbourhood^ with whom he was acquainted, and whom, Madame de Clemire had detained to dinner. His name was M. de la Paliniere, his age about fifty- five ; he was very ordinary, had a carbuncled nofe, large eye-brows, wore a dark bob-wig,, that half covered his face, like a night-cap, flut- tered very much, and was befides exceedingly abfent. This old gentleman's grotefque figure made fuch an impreffion upon Pulcheria, that ihe could not keep her eyes off him, and he hardly fpoke a word at v/hich fhe was not ready to burft out a laughing. The fear, however, of difpleafing her mamma, checked her, and during dinner ftie behaved tolerably well. The Abbe difcovered that M. de la Paliniere was a chefs-player, and as he rofe from table pro- pofed a game. M. Fremont, who fuppofed him- ftlf a fecond rate player, gave his antagoniil to un- derftand that he was a firjl^ and confequently M. de la Paliniere very modelUy demanded the cafcle, which was given. The Baronnefs, and Madame de Clemire, were feated at die other end of the apartment to work at their tapeftry j and t6 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. and Pulcheria had placed herfelf by the fide of M. Fremont, that fhe might be oppoftte M. de la Pahniere, and confider him at her eafe. The game began, the two players appeared equally attentive, both were profoundly filent, when all of a fudden M. de la Paliniere, with the utmoft tranquility fwept his hand acrofs the board, and overturned all the men. The Abbe began to laugh, fuppofing it was abfence of mind. .Do you fee what you have done, faid he r You are miftaken. Sir, replied the other, you muft' not give me the caftle, I muft give it you. Come let us begin again. The Abbe appeared a good deal furprized, and Pulcheria laughed aloud. Another game was begun, and the Abbe was obliged to take, and not give the odds, yet not- withftanding his antagonift gave him check-mate in ten moves. The Abbe was confounded, and began to repeat again and again tliat his enemy was a firft-rate player, while he, on the contrary, fuftained he was only a fecond-rate. During this debate Pulcheria laughed mali- cioufly, and cried out " So then, Mr. Abbe docs " not play fo well as he always thought he did ;" which fhe accompanied with feveral impertinent mockeries. Madame de Clemire continued her employ- ment, and fecmed to take no notice of v/hat pafled i bat as foon as M. dc la Paliniere was gone Pulcheria THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 67 Pulcheria joined them, and prefently afKed the Baronnefs if flie would not tell them a ftory after flipper ? Do not make yourfelf uneafy about that, young lady, faid the Baronnefs, for if 1 do, you will not hear it. — —No ! Oh dear ! why fo, grandmamma ? — Becaufe little mifles who mock people and are impertinent, are not worthy to keep us company. — Dear me ! ^Dear me I what have I done ? Hark you, Pulcheria, faid Madame de Clemire —Tell iT,c — Sui-pofe I fhould endeavour to vex and difo. jige a perfon who was my equal, fliould I do right ? Certainly I ftiould not; on the con- trary I ihouid be guilty of rudenefs and ill be- haviour, and every one would be juftified in fup- pofing I had a bad heart and a weak underftand- ing. But were I to adl thus to my fuperior, a perfon whofe age and experience I ought to revere, I fnould be flill more culpr.ble, and abfolutely in- excufable. Tell me then, whether you have paid that refpeft which is due to the friend of your papa and mamma, and the man who has devoted himfeif to the education of your brother. Were you really good, you would not only refpe(5t but love M. Fremont. — Indeed I do love him very much, and rcfpetElhim too, faid Pulcheria, weeping. And yet, replied Madame de Clemire you have jiiil been mocking, and doing every thing in your power to hurt his fcclijigs. Though it were true that 68 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE, that he pretended to play perfcflly well at chefs, and this pretenfion were ill founded, does it be- come you to remark this failing ? Is it pojTible that a good heart can take pleafure in the defeats of ©thers ? Or can good fenfe be malignant ? More cfpecially towards a perfon who merits our love ? I own, dear mamma, faid Pulcheria, fobbing, I did wrong, but I am fure, mamtna, I did not laugh from malice. Indeed, mamma, faid Caroline, with the tears in her eyes, I was by, and don't think my fifter meant to vex M. Fremont Is that true, interrupted Madame de Clemire, and looking ftedfaftly at Caroline ^Is that true my child ? Can you fay you think fo ? Caroline bluflied, hung her head, and was fi- lent. And arc you fure, Pulcheria, it was not from malice that you laughed ? Were not you pleafcd at the confufion in which you fuppofed M. Fre- mont ? Did not you endeavour to increafe it ? Examine yourfelf well, and anfwer mc. I am not capable of telling lies, mamma I did 1 1 am un.worthy to to — — keep your company and liftcn to your Itorics and to to to Pulchcria's heart was ready to burft. But you always merit my tendernefs and for- givenefs, my child, faid Madame dc Clemire, kiiTnu THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 69 kifling her, when you are fincere and tell the truth. And muft I be for ever banifhcd from your evening meetings, mamma ?—-— No — not for ever ; for eight days only. Thank you, thank you, my dear dear mamma But I hope my dear mamma has forgiven me 1 have ; becaufe I find your heart is good - Indeed, my dear mamma, it was want of thought 1 believe it was, and your prefent repentance makes me hope you will never do the like again. And now come hither, faid Madame de Clemire to Caroline j I am forrj', my child, I have to re- proach you like wife, but you fpoke juft now agalnft your confcience 1 own it mamma, but The motive I acknowledge deferves fome indulgence, but nothing can fan6tify a lie. Would you bejuftified, if to oblige your fiftcr youfliould difobey a pofitive command I had given you, and when 1 had told you too your difobedience would be a mortal offence ? Certainly not mamma — And yet y^u have done much worfe you have difobeyed God Oh goodnefs ! It is very true. The commandments of God forbid lying-— Eefides, be aflured, that falfehood is never fuccefs- ful J fooner or later it is difcovered, and brings difhonour on its utterer ; while truth at the fame time that it obtains efteem, and begets confidence, ferves us moft at the very crifis when we are mofl afraid it fhould injure us. That 70 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. That refle£lion is juft, faid the Barronnefs, and recalls an anecdote of hiftory to my mind, which proves the afiertion. Ah, my dear grandmamma, faid Pulcheria, if you relate it in the evening I fhan't hear it. Well then, faid the Baronnefs, I will relate it now. Pulcheria jumped up to kifs herj the Baronnefs took her upon her lap, and, Caroline and Caefar being attentive, fpoke thus : The anecdote I am going to relate, is told in the hiftory of the Arabs by the Abbe Marigny. Hegiage was a celebrated Arabian warrior, but ferocious and cruel. Among a number of pri- foners whom he had condemned to death, there was one, who, having obtained a moment's audi- ence, faid — — " You ought. Sir, to pardon me, " becaufe one day when Abdarrahman was curf- " ing you, I reprefented to him that he was wrong, " and ever fmce that time I loft his friendfhip." — Hegiage afked if he had any witnefs of his hav- ing done this ; and the foldier mentioned another prifoner, who was likewife about to fuffer death. The prifoner was called and interrogated, and having confirmed the fad, Hegiage granted the lirft his pardon. He then afked the witnefs if he had likewife taken his part againft Abdarrahman ? but he, ftill refpe6ting truth, anfwered no ; he did not think it was his duty (o to do. Hegiage, notwlthftanding his ferocity, was flruck with the prifoncr's THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 7I prifoner's greatnefs of foul. Well, faid he, after a moment's paufe, fuppofe I were to grant you life and liberty, fliould you ftill be my enemy i' No ; faid the prifoner. That is enough, faid Hegiage ; your bare word is fufficient, you have given un- doubted proof of your love for truth. Go; pre- ferve the life which was lefs dear to you than ho- nour and fmcerity : your liberty is the juft reward of your virtue. Here you fee my children, continued the Baron- nefs, that truth, as your mamma has faid, ferves us moft at the very crifis when we are moft afraid it fliouId injure us. Would not you have fup- pofed that it would have redoubled the fury of a man fo imperious and fanguinary ? Yet you find it fo beautiful, fo forcible, that, inftead of irritat- ing, it foftens and difarms the very tyrant. Befides, faid Caefar, when one is known to re- fpe6t truth, one has no occafion to fwear to what one has once faid Certainly not, continued his mamma ; proteftations to fuch people are ufe- iefs : a fimple affirmation is more perfuafive than a thoufand oaths, from one whofe fmcerity is lefs eftablilhed ; as the gloripus proof of efteem, which Xenocrates received from the Athenian?, may prove. You know I read it to you. None but the truly virtuous poffefs this great quality ; all really great men have been renowned for their love of truthj as was Ariftides and the hero 72 THE TALES OK THE CASTLS. Epaminondas,. who made it a conftant rule never to lie, not even in jeft. Their converfation vv^as interrupted by the en- , trance of the Abbe, who came to afk if Madame Ambrofe, you muft tell the cook and Mary, I have no further occafion for their fervices And you my good Ambrofe you muft feek E 4- another So THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. another place Another place ! What do you mean ? No : I will live and die in your fervice : let v.'hatwill happen, I v/Hl never quit you. You do not know my fituation, Ambrofe. Madam You do not know Ambrofe If they have leflened yourpcnfion fo that you cannot maintain your other fervants, fo be it ; you muft part with them ; it cannot be helped : but I hope I have not deferved to be turned away too. I am not mercenary, madam, and But I am ruined, Ambrofe totally ruined. I have fold every thing I had to fell, and they have taken away my penfion. Taken away your penfion ! That cannotbe it cannot be. It is neverthclefs very true. Taken away your penfion I Oh God ! V/e muft adore the decrees of Provi- dence, Ambrofe, and fubmit without repining : the greateft confolation I find amidft my misfor- tunes, is to be pcrfeiftly rtfigned. Alas ! How Miany other unhappy beings, on the wide furface of this earth, how many virtuous families are in my fituation ! I have no children ; my fufferings will be fcv/, for I fhall fuffer alone. No no no replied Ambrofe, with a broken voice No You fhall not fuffer 1 have an arm and I can work. My good Ambrofe ! anfwered Madame de Varonne, I never doubted of your attachment to me, but I will not abufe your kindnefs : all that I defije ycu to do for me, is THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 8l is to hire a fmall chamber, a garret ; I have ftill money enough to fupport me for two or three months ; I can work, I can fpin ; find fome em- ployment for me, if you can, and that is all I wilh ; all I can admit — — While {he expreffed herfelf in this manner, Ambrofe flood fixed in filence, contemplating his miftrefs ; and when flie had finifhed, cafting him- felf at her feet, exclaimed, oh, my dear, my honoured miftrefs, hear the determination, the oath of your poor Ambrofe, who here vows to ferve you to the end of his life; and more wil- lingly, with more refpeffc, more ready obedience than ever he did before. You have fed me, clothed me, and given me the means of li\'ing happy for more than twenty years ; I have often abufed your bounty, and trefpafled on your pa- tience. Pardon, madam, the errors which a de- fedlive temper has occafioned mc to commit, and aiTure yourfelf I will make you reparation. It is for that purpofe only I pray the Father of mercies to fpare my life. When he had ended, he rofe, bathed in tears, and fuddenly ran out of the room, without waiting for a reply. You will eafily imagine the lively and deep gratitude with which the heart of Madame de Varonne was penetrated, by a difcourfe like that fhe had heard ; flie found there were no evils fo great, but might be alleviated by the feelings of E $ beiievolcacc Si THE TALES OF THE CASTLE, benevolence. Ambrofe returned in a few minutes, bringing in a little bag, which he laid upon the table. Thiuiks to God, to you, madam, and to my late mafter, I have faved thefe tliirty guineas ; from you they came, and to you of right they return. What, Ambrofe ! rob you of the labour of twenty years ! Oh heaven ! When you had money, madam, you gave it to me ; now you have none, I give it back again j and this is all money is good for. I dare fay, madam, you have not forgot tliat I am the fon of a brazier ; this was my firft profv^flion, v/hich I ftill am marter of ; for at thofe moments when I had no- thing to do in the family, I have gone and ailifted Nicault, one of my countrymen, rather than be idle. I will now return to my trade in earneft, and with a hearty good will. This is too much, cried Madame de Varonne, how greatly unworthy of your virtues is the lot in which fortune has caft you, noble Ambrofe ! 1 fliall be happy, faid Ambrofe, if you, madam, can but reconcile yourfelf to fuch a change in your once happy con- dition. Your attachment, Ambrofe, confoles me for the lofs of all, but how can I endure you fliould fuft'cr thus for me? Suffer, madam in labouring, and when my labour is fo ufeful, fo neceflary ! no j it will be happinefs. Nicault is a good, a wortiiy man, and will not let me want ; his THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 83 his reputation is eftabliilied in the town, and he is in need of j nil fuch an affiilantj I am flrong, I can do as much work as foaie two men ; we iliall do very well. Madame de Varonne had not the power to reply, fhe lifted up her eyes and hands to heaven, and anfwered with her tears. The day following, however, the other two fervants were difcharged, and Ambrofe hired a fniall, light, and neat room, up three pair of ftairs, which he furnifhed with the remainder of his miftreffs's furniture. Thither he conducted her. She had a good bed, an cafy chair, a fmall tabic, a writing delK, v/iui pen, inic, and paper, a few books, which were arranged on four or li\e fhelves, and a large wardrobe, in v/hich was con- tained her linen, her wearing apparel, a proyifion of thread for her work, a filvcr fork and fpoon, for Ambrofe would not fuffer her to eat with pew- ter, and the leathern purfe which contained the thirty guineas. There.were befides, in one corner of the room, behind the curtain, fuch earthen vef- fels as were neceflary for her cookery. . l^his, madam, faid Ambrofe, is the beft cham- ber I have been able to get, for the price you mentioned ; there is but one rooai, but the girl will Heep upon a mattrefs, which lies rolled up- under your bed. How! a girl Ambrofe! Certainly, madam 5 how could you do without ? She v.'ill go of errands, help to drefs and undrcfs E 6 ycuy 84 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE.' you, and do other necefiary offices. Nay, but Ambrofe— — — She will coft you little, fhe is only thirteen, defires no wages, and will live very well- on what you leave. As for me, I have fettled every thing with Nicault; I told him I was obliged to leave you, was out of employment, and ftiould be glad of work ; he is well to do, is an honeft man, and my countryman ; it is only a ftep from this, and he is to give me ten-pence a day, and my board and lodging. Living is cheap in this town, and you, madam, will, I hope, be able to live on the ten-pence a day, and the ready money you have to fupply extraordinary occafions. I did not chufe to fay all this before your new fervant, Sufannah, but I will now go and bring her. \ Ambrofe here ftept out, and prefently returned, leading in a pretty innocent girl, whom he pre- fented to Madame dc Varonne, informing her that was the young perfon concerning whom he had fjiokcn to her. Her parents, faid he, are poor, but induftrious J they have fix childrei-J, and, you madam, will do a good a-flion, by taking this their ddctt into your fcrvice. After this preface, Am- bj"ofe exhorted Sufan, with a grave and cxDmmand- ing tone, to be good, and ck> her duty ; then taking his leave of Madame dc Varonne, went to his new employment with his friend Nicault. Who may pretend to dcfcribe what pafled in the k'\i\ of Madame de Varronnc. Gratitude, admi- ration. THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 8^ ration, aftonlfliment overwhelmed her, not only at the o-enerofity, but the fudden change of tem- per and behaviour in Ambrofe. No man could fliew greater refped than he did, who lately was fo blunt and peevifli : fince he had become her benefactor, he was no longer the fame j he added humility to benevolence, and delicacy to heroifm ; his heart inftantlyinfpired him with every gentle precaution, left he fhould wound the feelings of fenfibility and misfortune ; he underftood the' facred duty of impofmg obligations upon others, and felt that no perfon is truly generous, who hum- bles, or even puts to the blufh, thofe whom they affift. The next day Madame deVaronne faw nothing of Ambrofe till the evening, when he juft called, and contriving to have Sufan fent out for a mo- ment, he drew from his pocket a bit of paper, in which his day's wages were wrapped, laid it on the table, and faid, there macuun is ?ny fmcdl mite ; then' calling in Sufan, ftaid not for an anfwer, but re- turned to his friend Nicault. How fweet muft' have been his fleep after fuch labour ! how pleafmg his dreams after a day fo fpent ! hov/ chearful was he when he awaked ! If we are fo happy after do-' ing a good deed, how inexpreffible muft be the pleafure of an heroic adtion. Ambrofe, faithful to the fublime duties he had impofcd upon hinifelf, paid every day a vifit to^ Madame 86 THE TALES OF THE C A 3 T L E. Madame de Varonnc, to leave with her the fruits of his induftry ; he only received as much at the end of each month as would pay his waflierwoman, and fome bottles of beer drank on Sundays and holidays; nor would he retain that fmall fum, but afked it as a gift of his miflrefs. In vain did Madame de Varonne, fenfibly afHicled at thus rob- bing the generous Ambrofe, perfuade him fhe could hve on lefs; he would not hear her, or if he did, it was with fuch evident diftrefs of heart that flic was foon obliged to be filent. Madame de Varonne, on her part, hoping to give fome rcfpite to the labours of Ambrofe, work- ed without ceafmg at netting. Sufan alTiiled her, and went to fell the product of her induftry; but when fhe fpoke to Ambrofe of this, and exagge- rated the profits, he would only reply, So much the better, I am glad of it, and immediately change the fubje£l. Time produced no alteration in his condu6l ; during four years he never in the leaft varied from the virtuous ardour with which he began. The moment at length approached, in which Madame de Varonne was to experience remorfe the mod bitter, and pangs the mofl: afflidting. One night as fhe fat expecting Ambrofe, as ufual, file faw the fcrvant of Nicault ejitcr her chamber, who came to tell her Ambrofe was ii> ill he was obliged to be put to bed. Madame dc THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 87 (le Varonne inftantly defired the girl to conduct heij- to her mailer's houfe, and at the fame time ordered Sufan to go for a phyfician. Nicault, who had never feen her before, was a good deal furprized ; fhe defired him to Ihew her the apart- •ment of Ambrofe. -The apartment, my lady! it's impofiible ImpofTible ! how ? why ?— — One's obliged to go up a ladder to get into the loft where he lies, your ladyfhip A ladder ! — • and a loft ! poor Ambrofe go fhew me where it is But your ladyfhip will break your ladyihip's neck, befides it's fuch a hole— — your ladyfhip can't ftand upright. —*— Madame de Varonne could not reftrain her tears, fhe beg- ged Nicault would inftantly fhew her the way, and he brought her to the foot of a little ladder, which file had much difficulty to climb ; this led her into a difmalloft, in one corner of which Am- brofe was lying upon a bed of ftraw Ah ! my dear Ambrofe, cried flie, in what a fituation do I find you ! And you told me you had a good lodg- ing, that you were perfetSWy fatislied.— - Ambrofe was not in a condition to reply, he had been light-headed fome time, which fhe pre- fejitly perceived, and was mofl fenfibly and juflly afflicted at the fight. Sufan atlaft arrived, followed by the phyfician, v^ho v/as evidently furprized, at entering fuch an apartment, to fee a lady, Whofe mien and fuperior deportment 88 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. deportment befpoke her rank, weeping in defpair over a poor journeyman brazier in a ftraw-bed.— He approached the fick perfon, examined him at- tentively, and faid they had called him too late. Imagine the condition of Madame de Varonne when fhe heard this fentence pronounced. Ah, poor Ambrofe, faid Nicaulr, but it's all his own fault he has been ill for thefe eight days paft, but he would keep on j there was no perfuading him, he would work. Atlaft he could not hold his head up any longer, but for all that we had much ado to get him to bed. He under- took more than he could go through, that he might board and lodge with us, and (o now he has killed himfclf with downright labour. Every word Nicault uttered was a mortal ftab to the peace of Madame de Varonne j flie ad- dreffed hcrfelf to the phyfician, and with wring- ing hands and flowing tears conjured him not to abandon Ambrofe. He was a man of humanity ; and befides, his curiofity was flrongly incited by every thit>g he had heard and fccn, he therefore readily engaged to fpend part of the night with his patient. Madame de Varonne then fent for bedding, blankets, and flieets, and, with thc.af- fiftance of Sufan, made up a bed, on which Am- brofe was gently laid by Nicault and the phyfician ; after which (he fat hcrfelf down on a ftool, and gave free vent to her tears. About THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 89 About four In the morning the phyfician went, after he had bled the patient, and pfomifed to re- turn at noon. As for Madame de Varonne, you may eafily imagine fhe never quitted him a m.o- m.ent ; fne remained eight and forty hours at his bcJ-fide without the leafl hope ; at laft, on the third day, the phyfician thought he perceived.,, feme favourable fymptoms, and at night declared him out of danger. The Baronnefs had proceeded thus far, when Madame de Clemire, fearing that fo much fpeak- ing would fatigue her, interrupted her, although it was not half after nine o'clock, and defired her to finiih her llory on the morrow evening.—— What leave off already, cried Caroline ? I'm fure it is not late Have you not obferved, faid Madame de Clemire, that your grandmamma has coughed and become hoarfe within this quarter of an hour ? Mamma I A truly fenfible heart ought to be more attentive, it ought always to have a dread of abufmg complaifance, or impofmg upon good-nature Dear mamma, I feel I have been wrong Then, my dear, I am fure you will be careful how you commit the like error in future ; you will not hefitate to facrifice your plcafure to your gratitude, or even to the decorum of fociety. After this fhort leiTon they retired to reft, and Oil 90 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. on the morrow the Baronnefs thus conthiued her recital. I fhall not attempt to defcribe the joy of Madame de Varonne when ftie faw Ambrofe out of danger ; fhe would have watched the night following, but Ambrofe, who now was no longer iight-headcd, would by no means confent, and fhe returned home, overcome with fatigue. The phyfician came on the morrow to vifit her, and fhe was fo much obliged to him, fo grateful for the vaft at- tention he had paid to Ambrofe, that fhe could not refufe to anfwer his queflions : fhe related her hif- lor\\ and futisiied his curiofiry. Three d?Lys after this, he was obliged to return fuddenly to Paris, for he did not refide at St. Germain, leaving Madame de Varonne in good health, and Ambrofe recovering. The fituation of Madame de Varonne, how- ever, was at this inftant as critical a? it was dif- trefTmg : in a week fhe had expended on Am- brofe what little money flie pofTelTed, except juft enough to fupply them for four or five days. But Ambrofe could not, without the moft imminent danger, begin to work again fo foon, and flie Ihuddercd with fear left necefTity fhould urge him to labour once more at the hazard of his life. Then it was that fhe felt all the horror of want, and re- proached herfclf moft bitterly for having accepted the money of ihe generous Ambrofe. Had it not been THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 9I been for me, faid fhe, he would have been happy ; his induftry would have procured him a comfort- able livelihood : his faithful attachment to me has robbed hirn of eafe, health, and happinefs — nay, yet, perhaps, of life And I muft link to the grave without acquitting this vaft obligation Acquitting ! Alas were the univerfe at my command, it would be impoflible ! God alone can difcharge a debt fo facrcd ! God alone can worthily reward virtue fo fublimc ! One evening as Madame de Varonne fat pro- foundly abforbed in fuch like melancholy reflections, Sufan came running, out of breath, to tell her that a great lady wanted to fpeak with her. A lady ! faid her miftrefs, what lady ? You are miftaken No, no, be quick, anfwered Sufan, I faw her myfelf, and fhe faid, fays fhe, I want to fpeak v/ith Madame de Varonne, who lives up three pair of flairs at M. Daviet's ; flie faid this out of her coach window : a fine coach, with fix fine horfes ; fo as I happened to be flanding at the door and heard her, I anfwered and faid, fays I, that's here, fays I, an't pleafe your ladyfhip ; and fo, fays fhe, go, my dear, and tell Madame dc Varonne, that I beg {he will do me the honour to permit me to fpeak a few words with her ; ■■ ■ whereupon I put my befl leg foremoft, and Sufan was interrupted by two or three gentle taps on the door, v.'hich Madame de Varonne, with ^2 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. witK great emotion, rofe to open. She drew back, and beheld a moft beautiful lady enter and advance with a timid, refpeflful, and compaf- fionate air. Madame de Varonne ordered Sufan to leave the room, and as foon as they were alone, the unknown lady began the converfation by faying, I am happy, madam, in being the firft to ihform you, that the king has at lafl: come to the knowledge of your fituation, and that his goodncfs means hereafter to recompenccyou for the former ihjuftice of fortune towards you. Oh, Am- brofe ! exclaimed Madarne de Varonne, and clafped her h?.rids, and raixcd her eyes to heaven, with the moft forcible and expreflive picture of joy and gratitude in her countenance. Her vifitant could not refrain from tears. She approached Madame de Varonne, and taking her jlffeflionately by the hand, faid, come, madam, come to the apartments that are prepared for you, come Oh ! Madam, interrupted Madame de Varonne, what can I fay ? how fpcak? Yet if I durft 1 beg your pardon but, madam, I have a benefaftor fuch a benefaaor ! fuffer me to tell you how 1 will leave you at full liberty, faid the lady, and left my company fhould at pre- fent be the leaft embarrafsment, I will not even go with you to your houfe, I diall return home- wards, but firft I muft condua you to your coach, which THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 93 which waits at the door My coach ! Yes, dear madam, come, let us lofe no time. In faying this, (he prefented her arm to Ma- dame de Varonne, who fcarce had power to de- fcend the ftairs. When they had reached the door, the lady defired one of her footmen to call Madamt de Faronne^s fervants.—-^^h.t. thought herfelf in a dream, and her aftoniftiment increafed when ftie faw tli€ footman beckon the carriage, which was fimple and elegant, to the door, let down the ftep, and heard him fay, my lady's carriage is ready. The unknown lady then accompanied her to her coach, took her leave,, and ftept into her own carriage. Madame de Varonne's footm.an waited to re- ceive her orders, and fhe, with a gentle and trem- bling voice, defired to be drove to the houfe of Nicault, the brazier. You will eafily conceive, my children, the lively emiOtion, the agitation, which the fight of that houfe occafioned in her heart She drew the cord, fhe flopped, uie opened the door herfelf, and leaning upon her footman's fhoulder for fupport, entered the fhop of Nicault. The firft objedi flie beheld was Ambrofe Ambrofe himfelf, in his working drefs, fcarce out of the bed of ficknefs, and again, notwithftanding his weaknefs, endeavouring to labour. The tcn- dernefs, the fatisfailion, the joy {he felt, are un- utterable i 94 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. utterable ; he was labouring for her, and fhe came to fnatch him from thofe painful labours, to relcafe him from fatigue and mifery. Then it was (lie •tafted, in all it's purity, that deep and well founded gratitude which fuperior minds alone can tafte. Come, cried fhe with tranfport, Come, noble Ambrofe follow me quit your labours and your cares J they are ended; your fiite is changed; delay not a moment, but come.— — In vain did the aftonilhed Ambrofe bes an ex- planation, in vain did he defire time at leaft to put on his Sunday cloaths ; Madame de Varonne was incapable of hearing, or of anfwering ; fhe took hold of his arm, dragged him along, and obliged him to get into the carriage.— —Would you pleafe, ma- dam, to be drove to your newhoufc ? faid the fervant -——Her heart leaped within her Yes, faid fhe, fixing her eyes, that overflowed with tears, upon Ambrofe Yes Drive us to our new houfe. Away they went, and Madame de Varonne re- counted every thing as it had happened to Ambrofe, who liflened with a joy mixed with fear and doubt : he fcarcely durft believe in happinefs fo extraor- dinary, fo unhoped. The carriage, at length, flopped at a neat little houfe, in the foreft de St. Germain, and they alighted : as they entered the hall, they were met by the unknown lady, who had been waiting for their arrival, and who pre- fciitcd a paper to Madame de Varonne. Tl^e king, THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 95 king, faid {he, has deigned to charge me with tliis, madam, that I might remit it to you ; it is a brevet for a penfion often thoufand Hvres (four hundred guineas) a year, with a Uberty of leaving half that fum to whoever you Ihall pleafe to no- minate at your deceafe. This is indeed a benefa6tion, cried Madame de Varonne Behold that perfon, madam, behold tliat nobly virtuous man, who is truly worthy of your protedlion, and the favour of his fovereign. Ambrofe, who at firft had placed himfelf be- hind his miftrefs, felt his embarafsment increafe at thefe words, and taking off his cap, retreated with a bafliful air ; for notwithftanding the excefs of his joy, he fek a painful confufion at hearing himfelf fo much praifed ; befides that he was a little vexed to be feen, for the firft time, by fo fine a lady, in his leathern apron, dirty jacket, and without his wig, and could not help regret- ting, in fome degree, the want of his Sunday cl oaths. The unknown lady following, cried. Stop, Am- brofe ftop let me look at you, let me confider you a moment. — Dear madam, faid Ambrofe, bowing, I have done nothing 'but what was very natural, nothing to aftonilh any one. Here Madame de Varomie interrupted him, to relate, which Ihe did with rapidity and enthufiafm, hovf 96 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE- how much fhe owed her fupport, her all, her Hfc itfelf, to Ambrofe. When fhe had ended, the unknown lady, deeply affected, fighed, and raifing her eyes to heaven faid And have I at lall, •after meeting fo much ingratitude in the world, "have I the exquifite delight of finding two hearts truly fenfible, truly noble !—— Adieu, madam, "continued fhe adieu be happy;— —this houfe, and all that it contains, is your's ; you will "receive diredlly the firft quarter of your penfion— As fhe finifhed fhe approached the door, but Madame de Varonne ran, bathed in tears, and threw herfelf at her feet. The lady raifed, ten- derly embraced her, and departed. She had fcarcely quitted the threfliol d, before the door again open- ed, and the phyfician, to whom Ambrofe owed his life, entered. Oh ! exclaimed Ccefar, I fufpea it v/as the good phyfician who related the ftory to this un- known lady. It v.as, anfwered the Ba- ronnefs. Madam,e de Varonne, the moment fhe beheld him, immediately comprehended the whole affair. After having teftified the gratitude with which her heart overflowed, fhe learnt from him that the unknown lady was Madame de P***, who refided always at Verfailles, where fhe had great influence. I have been her phyfician, faid he, for thcfc ten years ; I knew her benevolence, and was certain fhe would interefl herfelf exceed- ingly THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 97 ingly in your behalf, when fhe had heard your hiftory. No fooner, indeed, had I related it, than fhe" began to verify my hopes ; fhe purchafed this houfe, and obtained the penfion of which fhe has given you the brevet. As the phyfician was ending his recital, the fervant entered, and informed Madame deVaronne fupper was ferved up ; fhe prevailed on the phyfi- cian to flay, and, leaning upon the arm of Am- brofe, walked into the other apartment, where fhe defired Ambrofe to place himfelf by her fidfe. Ambrofe excufed himfelf, and faid, it was not proper he fhould fit at table with his honoured miflreis. How, replied fhe, is not my benefactor tiud my friend my equal ? The modefl, the gene- •rous Ambrofe obeyed, and, with the phyfician on one fide of her, and Ambrofe on the other, Ma- dame de Varonne enjoyed, that happy evening, all the pure and delicious pleafures, which gratitude and blifs inexpreflible could infpire, and v/liich a tender and a feeling heart could know. You may well fuppofe that Amxbrofe had the next day, thanks to Madame de Varonne, a drefs fuitable to his new fortune j that his apartment v/as fitted up and furnifhed with every poITiblc care ; that Madame de Varonne during her whole life caufed him to partake her fortune, and that fhe never received money without recoUeding, with the utmofl fufceptibility, the time vr-heq the VOL. I. F faitliful 98 THTL TALES OF THE CASTLE. flxithfui Ambrofe brought his day's wages In a bit of paper, laid it upon the table, and faid — — fberi\ inadain^ h my f mall mite. This ftory, my children, continued the Baron- nefs, proves what your mamma has before faid, that there is no conditoin of life, no clafs of men in which the heroifm of virtue is not to be found ; and it furtlier proves, that did men only underftand their own intereft they would all be virtuous. No- ble actions are feldom buried in oblivion ; it is al- moft impoffibie to prevent a fublime condudl from obtaining a fignal reward. Ambrofe, in fupporting his lady, ailed entirely from a generous heart ; but let us for a moment fuppofe ambition had been his fole motive, and we Ihall find he could not poiTibly have taken anyway fo efFeclual to accomplifh his deflres. In fuch a cafe this would have been his manner of reafon- ing: ", I wifh to raife myfelf from the low fituatlon ** in which fortune has thrown me ; what means **, fhall I purfue ? I am poor and unknown, how ** Ihall I attra6l the notice and benevolence of *' thofe wiio have the power to change my fate ? *f What is the moft, certain method of fixing the *J attention of the world, and infpiring it with an ", efFedual defire to fervc mc ? Genius ? That <' I have not. And had I the greateft I ftiould be **■ liable to be confounded among others : the *' number THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 99 " number is fmall which genius can dazzle or de- " light i few underftand its value, and the cold " admiration it infpires, feldom comes from the " heart. What then is the merit which is univer- *' fally interefting ? Virtue alone has this irrefifti- " ble charm. But to diftinguifh myfeif I muft " poflefs fomething more than mere probity : that " procures efteem, but not admiration. — Chance •' now affords me an opportunity to obtain the " end I propofe.. Madame de Varonne is ready *' to fmk under her misfortunes j fhe faall owe " her exiftence to me. Her gratitude, foon or *' late, will find the means of publiihing this vir- ** tuous adlion to my renovv^n. I in the mean " time muft be filent, for were it divulged by me " it would lofeall its merit." Nothing, interrupted Csefar, can be more true : the concluiions are wonderfully juft. Self-intereft might have counfelled Ambrofe to an act which virtue performed. Without doubt, anfwered Madame de Clemire •, and the reafoning which you find fo conclufive in this inftance, will be equally good in every other. Self-intereft, well underftood, would make us fincere, upright, juft, and generous. Hence a celebrated writer fays, (a) " Folly alone can " make us wicked, folly alone can. make us " knaves j and it i,s ftill a more ftur^iid degree of F 2 « folly (a) M, Gallard, WJlo'ire dsCharkmagnf:. 'Tvme I.p.zj^^ 100 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. " folly to conneil ideas of fuperiority and gran- " deur to dcvaflation and tyranny, or of wifdom *' and genius to fraud and artifice." How mamma, cried Caroline, are there people who fuppofe that tyranny is grandeur ? Unhappily, my dear, anfwered Madame de Cle- mire, hiftory furnifhes us with too many proofs. Almoft all hiilorians are lavifh of the title of great, to men and monarchs, who are renowned only for their injuftice and ufurpationsj for fuch continu- ally are great conquerors. And fo men may become celebrated without being virtuous ? Certainly ; but they are always hated and un- happy. Celebrity may be acquired by extraordi- nary a<51:ions of any kind ; but virtuous ones alone Can beftow a juft and defirablc fame. I underftand you, mamma; for want of refledlion we may fomctimes admire a conqueror, becaufe his courage hides his Injuftice ; I conceive that to be very poflible. But, pray, how can fraud and cunning ever be miftaken for wifdom ? Nor.e but ^ools, my dear, ever do make this miftakc. But the clafs of fools is very extenfivc, and therefore there are abundance of people who are thus deceived. Hear v/hat the author I have juft quotec\, fays on that fubjctSl : *<• Every deceitful man is efTentially a foolifti •* man, runs? diredtly from the goal, and, by the " nature THE TALES OF THE C A S T^-^. ICt " nature of things, infullibly becomes, fooner or " later, the dupe of his own artifices : for there is *' no fraud fo deep as to be entirely hid from the " eye of fufpicion ; no trick that all men do not " revolt againft as foon as it is feen." The fifth evening ended with this citation j Madame de Clemire rofe, and every body retired to reft, delighted with the hiftory of Madame deVa- ronne and the virtuous Ambrol'e. It was then the twenty-fifth of February, the cold was exceflive, and Madame de Clemire had promifed Caefar to take him a long walk. Ke begged of her to go to the foreft of Faulin : fhe confented, and as Caroline and Pulcheria both had colds, they were not of the party. They f^t out at ten o'clock in the morning ; the place they were going to was a league and a half dillant ; a carriage therefore followed for them to walk one half of the way and ride the other, that they might not make the dinner wait, which was always ferved between twelve and one. The cold had fcarcely been fo piercing all the winter as it was that morning; Csefar at firft com- plained a little, but in lefs than half an hour told his m.amma he could bear it very well. And yet, faid Madame de Clemire, the degree of cold is all the fame as when we firft fat out, but you ai-e now more accuftomed to it, and therefore feel it lefs. Thus it is y/ith all phyfical evils : we Inure F 3 ourfelves 102 THE TALES OF THE CAST. LI. ourfelves to all thofe that may be fupported with» out death being the confequence j habit makes the moll frightful and dangerous objecSls familiar, and robs even grief of its fting. This is a truth which it is very neccffary well to comprehend j becaufe it teaches us to face the pains and misfortunes at- tendant on human nature with fortitude. Yes, mamma, faid Csefar, but there are fome people fo naturally delicate that they cannot habi- tuate themfclves to fufFerings. I remember you once faid, that Madame de Beauvais, after the lofs of her law-fuit, never could fupport poverty, or to live retired in the country. True, my dear, faid flie, but this is fo uncoirw mon an inftance, that it only ought to be looked upon as an exception v/hich never can happei^ but to feebk and degenerate minds : it is not in nature j it is die effedt of luxury, and a bad edu- cation. Then, mamma, many people that appear to us extremely miferable arc not fo much fo as we be- lieve. That is to fay, my dear, they fufFer lefs than we fuppofe they do, but for that very reafon they are more worthy of our compaflion and afliftance. He, who couragcoufly fubmits to his fate, and fuffers without murmuring, is certainly a moft refpedlable being 5 and it muft be a mean and in- fcnfible mind that can rcfufc its pity to a man, who THE TALES OF THE CASTLE, lOJ who, obliged to endure, hardens himfelf in forrow, and fupports pain nobly. Such virtuous refigna- tion jfhould incite our admiration, and render fympathy more tender and aftive. Befides, it is very natural to fhrink from beholding mifery in others, which we ourfelves could fupport without complaining. This is a fublime fenfation, and common to all fuperior minds, of which we hsve daily a thoufand proofs. For example, I can fee myfelf bled, and hold the bafon, and yet I am af- fected when I look at the lancet wounding the vein of another. I have feen yoUr papa, when his arm was broken, fupport its being fet again with the utmoft compofure, and yet he was almoft ill the day the fame accident happened to Thibaut, your uncle's valet. That is very true, faid Ca;far, I know it by myfelf, mamma ; I fall down, hurt or cut myfelf, and fcarce take any notice of it, and yet I cannot look at another perfon's blood without feeling fot for them very much. Hence you may learn, anfwered Madame de Clemire, that it is not always natural to prefer ourfelves to others ; and that he who thinks only of and for himfelf, and who is not afFefled by the misfortunes of others, is a vicious and degraded beinor. O Converfmg thus, they came to a large meadow covered over with fnow, through which a brook F 4 ran Id4 THE TALES OK THE OA S T L E. ran that was frozen, where Caefar wifhed to di- vert hlmfelf a Httle with Hiding. In order to have a good run he went to the fide of a copfe that bordered upon the meadow, and fomething catch- ing his eye he entered the wood, where Madame de Clemire loft fight of him for a moment ; Caifar returned almoft in an inftant, crying out as loud as he could, " run, run, mamma run perhaps " they are not dead." " Who are not dead, *' child ? What have you feen ?" faid Madame de Clemire. " Oh dear, mamma, two children, " that the froft has feized, lying on the ground " quite infenfible." Madame de Clemire ran inftantly, and Caefar, full oftendernefs and pity, conduced her towards a bufh, where two children were laid fo that both their faces were hid. As fhe drew near flie faw the eldeft of the two had ftript himfelf to his fhirt, and laid himfelf upon the other face to face. Good God, cried fhe, they are certainly two brother?, and the eldeft has had the generofity to ftrip him- felf tliat he might clothe die youngeft Oh, noble child !— I hope to God we arc not too late to fave them. Madame de Clemire then called to her fervants to take and put them in the carriage inftantly, and CseHir fnatched off" his great coat, and threw it over the eldeft. Morel then took the eldeft in his arms, and as he lifted him faid, he is quite ftift', lam THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. lO^ I am afraid he Is paft recovery. Csfar, the mo- ment he beheld the face of the child, burffc into tears, and cried out, oh, good God, mamma, it is poor Auguftin and his brother Charles. C^efar was right, and Madam de Cle'mire, as foon as file faw him, found her paflions ftill more ftrongly interefted, and mingled her tears with Caefar's, Her heart was pierced when flie beheld death pictured on the face of the generous Auguftin> efpecially when fhe reprefented to herfelf the dif*. traclion of the unhappy mi other of fuch a child. Morel and another footman held the children in their arms, and allured her they were dead, but file neverthelefs infilled on their beijig immediately put into the carriage, and ordered Morel to get in with and convey them to the caftle with all poffible fpeed, continuing to rub them all the way, which he inftantly obeyed. The other fervant ftaid to condu6l Madam de Clemire and Cafar, who foon loft fight of the carriage. Madame de Clemire and Caefar exerted them- felves to make all poflible hafte, and arrived at the caftle fatigued, but exceedingly anxious for the fate of the children. As they entered the avenue they faw, and were feen by Caroline, Pul- cheria, and the Abbe, who all called out aloud tliat Auguftin and Charles were both alive. The news made Caefar weep with joy, and tired as he was he fprang to kifs his fifters with tranfport. F 5 They I06 THE TALES OP THE CASTLE. They all ran diredtly to the room, where the pa- tients were ftill undergoing the means of recovery; Madame de Clemire found them reviving, but not yet come to themfelves ; fhe fent for their mo- ther, who arrived juft as Charles, who had fuffer- ed lefs than his brother, began to look about him, and pronounce a few words. About an hour after Auguftin gave figns of recolIe6lion, and knew his mother. The firft word he uttered was Charley ! brother !—— After fome time, a phyfician^iat had been fent for came, who faid, that though there was yet much to be apprehended, he believed them out of danger. Madeleine being now fomething more com-' pofed, related to Madame de Clemu-e how they had gone from home, at eight o'clock in the morning, to gather fire wood, and, not finding them return fo foon as ufual, her hufband at half paft nine had gone in queft of them ; that he, be- ing deceived by tracks in the fnow made by other children, had gene to the contrary fide of the WQodi to where they were unhappily frozen. Caifar and his fillers were employed all the evening by their attentions for Auguftin ; the whole houfc was interefled in behalf of that ami- able boy ; no perfon would go to bed till the ef- feft of the remedies that were given him were known, which was not till midnight i and feveral of THE TALES OF THE CASTLE, IC/ of the fervants fat up all night in his chamber. At break of dayCsefar again was at the door, and he heard with the moft heartfelt fatisfaftiou the two brothers were both almoft well, that they talked as ufual, and were entirely come to the life of reafon. In the afternoon Auguftih was permitted to get up, and Csefar to vifit him ; he beheld and' kifled him with an inconceivable delight. The day following the boy was in a flate to tell the particulars of his own ftory* The family all gathered round Aiiguftin, who v*'as placed betv/een his brother and mother, and was the hiftorian of the evening. He re- lated, with great fimplicity and feeling, that Charley, inftead of gattiering flicks, would fit, down, and that prefently the cold had fuch power over him as to deprive him of the ufc of his fenfes ; that he (Auguftin) in vain endeavoured to reco\'er him, by breathing up6n, and rubbing him with his hands ; that feeing him continue to look blue in the face, he made the wood echo with his cries ; that he called to his father feveral times for help, and that when iiobody heard nor anfwered he be- gan to weep J that his tears dropping upon Charley'?. face, froze almoft diriedWy, and this made him cry ftill more ; that, however, he did not entirely lofe his courage, but endeavoured to raife him up and' carry him on his backj but that being hlm- F 6 fvlfj. I08 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. fclf, by this time, half frozen, he wanted ftrength, and fell down befide his brother. At laft he faw no other way to fave his poor Charley, but to take ofFhis coat, and then his waiftcoat, and then every thing elfe he had on, to cover him up and keep him warm ; that then at that inftant poor Charley opened his eyes, looked at him, and pufhed away the cloaths, as if he wanted him to put them on again j that then he began to be leized with a kind of numbnefs and drowzinefs, and to lofe his feeling, and fo he went and lay upon his poor Charley. And fo, fays Auguftin, that that's all-^ — for I don't remember any thing more. Scarce had Auguftin ended, when Caefar ro(e with impetuofity, and flung himfelf upon his neck; at which Auguftin was furprized, for every thing he had done feemed to him fo natural he could not conceive why it fhould occafion fo much ad- miration. His mother prefently after took him to bed ; and when they were gone, Madame de Clemire faid to Caefar Does not this Itory, this heroic a>£lion, my foil, pro\ e the truth of v/hat I v/as faying to you during our walk, " that it Is •^ not fo natural as is generally fuppofed, to pre- « fcr one's fclf to others ?'* Auguftin ftript off his cloaths, bccaufc it was lefs painful to him to endure the cold, than to fee the fufferings of his J)rother. Oh ! my child, how fubiime is pity» fince THE TALES OP THE CASTLE. IO9 fince it can infpire virtue like this ! Far from enfeebling, it ennobles the foul, makes it infen- fible of danger, fuperior to pain, and fearlefs of death ! Never ftifle, never blufh at fuch fenfa- tions : cherifh feelings fo active andcompaflionate, fo natural to the heart of man, and which he never can lofe, without debafing his nature. Madame de Clemire now rofe to retire, but Csefar detained her, while he told her how ex- ceedingly forry he was to think that Auguftin muft go back again to his poor cottage in a day or two. Well, child, faid Madame de Clemire, you fhall have your wifh ; I will afk his parents to leave him here ; I will take charge of him, and you fhall be educated together. This promife made Caefar leap for joy. I will teach him every thing I know, cried Caefur. Ay, but, faid Pul- cheria, how can his father and mother confent to part with fuch a good child ? Afluredly, my dear, anfwered her mamma, they will not hefitate to facrifice their own fatisfa(Slion to the intereft of their child ; the way to fhew their afFecSion is to promote his happinefs ; if they did not they would be without affeilion. Accordingly, the next day, Madame de Cle'- mire made the propofal to the parents of Auguftin, who accepted her ofFer with gratitude and joy. Auguftin wept a good deal, when he heard he was to leave his father and mother, and his brother Ckarley j no THE TALES OF THE CASTLE, Charly ; not but he was very ienfible of Csefar's friendfliip for him, and had a great defire to be inftruded, and learn, as he faid, all the fine things that matter knew. The children had been fo bufy about Auguftin, that for three or four evenings they had negleded their nightly alTemblies ; at laft, however, they reminded their mamma of their favourite amufe- ment, and night being come, their defires were readily granted. You have admired, with great juftice, faid Madam de Clemire, the delicacy and heroifm of Ambrofe ; and you imagine, without doubt, it is impolTible to fhew mofe generofity, attachment, or greatnefs of foul. Well then, my children, I will relate a ftory, in which you will find an example of a ftill fublimer conduft. I have faid fevcral things to the difadvantage of fervant maids in general, becaufe they are commonly ignorant ajid felfifh ; I would have you believe, however, there are fome entirely the reverfe, and that you may be convinced there are, liften to a tale that paffed almoft under my own eyes, and that may be called TH R THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. HI THE HEROISM OF ATTACHMENT. N one of the northern provinces of France, there is a fmall corner of the earth, where good faith and virtue fuperfede laws, and give to the inhabitants of that peaceable country a felicity pure and unalterable. — — Oh ! mamma, what a charming place ! What is it called ? Have you ever been there ? Yes ; in my youth. It's name is S*** ; where I had the pleafure of admiring a people fo happy. The hufbandmen, fimple and induftrious, . iiave neither in their language nor manners the rude clownifhnefs of peafants. The mothers are gentle, the children grateful and obedient, and the young women univerfally modeft ; covetoufnefs and envy are there unknown ; and there are found all that equality, brotherly love, and purity of manners, which conftituted the happinefs of mankind, in the early ages of the world. The gentleman, who owned this fpot, had a wife every way worthy to enjoy fuch felicity. Madame de S*** poflefled a fuperior underftand- ing, a benevolent heart, and an enlightened mind. She read, fhe ftudied, Ihe worked, and loved to work : 112 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE, work : fhe embroidered, made tapeftry, cultivated a flower-garden, kept beehives (8), and bred filk- worms. The care of her houfe was her pleafure ; (he delighted in her domeftic employments j fhe Hcgkded none of them, becaufe fhe under- ftood the duties of her flation ; they are indeed interefling in themfelves, and efpecially to thofe who live in the country. She took a pleafure in looking after her poultry and dairy, and hence found amufement, inftrudlion, and the method of living in abundance upon a very moderate income, Infiru6lion ! mamma, interrupted Caroline ; what inflruftion could fhe get there ? Much, anfv/ered Madame de Clemire, ajid very ufeful. You have heard that natural hiflory is a very extenfive ftudy, a fcience, divided into a multitude of parts ; many of thefe, and thofe neither the Icall ufeful nor leaft curious, are learnt of courfe, without ftudy, by living in the country, and being employed in country affairs. The things themfelves inflrudl us much more efFeftually than books ; the latter often leave nothing but words in the mind, but the former give birth to ideas never to be effaced. I have known a lady who had gone througli a courfe of natural hiflory in Paris, and who, notwithftunding, could not tell the flowers of an apple-tree from thofe of a cherry- Uee. People who have never lived in the country, arc THE TALES or THE CASTLE. II3 arc always ridiculoufly ignorant on fome fubje£ls. How can the miracles of nature be ftudied at Paris, where fruits and vegetables are feen only in the market and upon the table, and flowers no where but in vafes ? You can there form no i.dea of the labours or the pleafures of the field. Innocent pleafures ! That are never defpifed but by thofe who have never tafted them : It is for this reafon, that the iliuflrious M. de BoufFon has faid, " Every thing that we wifh, beyond *' what nature has given, is painful, and nothing " is pleafant that fhe does not prefent." Well, but mamma, faid Pulcheria, fome people are exceflively fond of Paris, and the fafhionable world, for all that, and fo, to be fore, they find pleafu^e there. Thofe people, replied Madame de Clemire, are in a continual hurry and confufion, a kind of in- toxication, which not only deprives them of the faculty of thinking, but even of feeling ; and in fuch circumflances we can by no means be faid to enjoy pleafure, it being a flate of mind produced by a difordered imagination, which fubjedts the heart to violent paflions and impetuous defires. What is a paffion, mamma ? A palTion is an abfolute and exclufive preference to one obje6l, confequently an unreafonable defire. Well, but mamma, there are reafonable and allowable paflions. Excefs 114 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. Excefs is not always crIminaJ, but it is alwa3rs abfurd. A woman, for example, who loves her hiifband with paflion, is in this predicament. How ! Is fuch a woman unreafonabie ? Certainly, and unhappy too ; for there is no happinefs in the abfence of reafon. Surely, mamma it is right to love one's hufband with all one's heart ? Certainly. As you love my papa ?—— Without doubt. Well, rhamma, and you prefer my papa to all the world. — — What do you mean, my dear, by preferring him to all the world ? That I have an exclufive prefer^ tnce^ as I faid juft now ? Why, mamma, you know you would rather have a quarter of an hour's converfation with papa, than play on the harpfichord, read, walk, or Very true. I prefer his converfation, or even the pleafure of looking at him, to all the amufements in the world ; and what is more, his happinefs is much dearer to me than my own. And is not that paflion, mamma ? By no means. Why, what can paflion do more ? It can be guilty of extrava- gance and folly. But, to give you an idea, you know Madame d'Orgimont ? Yes, mamma. —The lady whofe hufband took a journey of pleafure lafl: year into RuflTia, and whom you went to vifit when (he kept her bed, fick of chagrin ? True, mamma. Well, that was paflion. It was paflion that had taken away her Ilrength and THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. II5 and courage, and deprived her of the power to xefift. her uneafinefs.— — And yet, mamma, one cannot help having a fever.— No j but, if one is not overcome by paflion, abfence will not give it ; becaufe one fhould make ufe of one's reafon, and be rcfigned to one's fate. Madame d' Orgimont had an 2i!oio\ux.t cxclujive preference for her hufbandj for fhe not only preferred his fociety to all others^ in which fhe was I'ight, but it was impoflible for any fociety to pleafe her, if he was not of it j Ihe ■yvould not facrifice the pleafure of feeing him to the education even of her children. Ail, mamma, faid Caroline, but you v/ould not do fo, and yet in faft, you love my papa as well as Ihe did M. d'Orgimont, fmce my papa's hap- pinefs is dearer to you than your own. Madame d'Orgimont's affection is more exceffive, but your's is beft. I fee too that paflion, though feemingly allowable, may lea;d us into many errors, as well as make us ill. To negled her children, and fret herfelf ill, feid Cffifar, was not to be good or prudent. Paflion of every kind, continued Madame de Clemire, impairs our reafon, and neceffarily leads us more or lefs aftray, in proportion to its power over us.. But is it poflible, mamma, to live without paflion ? Moft certainly. Nay more, we are ourfelves the caufe of our paflions j they are our own work, and, as they come but by de- grees, Il6 THE TALIS OF THE CASTLE, grees, we may at all times eafily flop tneir pro- grefs. When we find any of our inclinations becoming daily more powerful, we fhould im- mediately reprefs them, and — But how, mamma, can one difcover thefe fmall beginnings of paffion ? ■When we are tempted to facrifice to fome amufement, fome perfon, or fome pleafure, any of our duties. Oh dear me, mamma, cried Pulcheria, but then I am afraid I have a great many paflions, for if I was my own miftrefs, I fhould often facrifice my fludies to a walk, or a game at fhufHe -board, or my canary-bird, or my fquirrel, or That only proves, anfwered Madame de Cle- mire,thatyou are fometimes tired of flu dy, which is often the cafe at your age ; but, in finding other amufements, you regret neither your canary-bird jior your fquirrel ; you have no real preference for them, and therefore no pafTion ; you are only play- ful, wild, and indolent. Oh, I underftand, mamma; one mufl firil: have a preference, and then afterwards be tempted to negle£l one's duty ?- Yes. Well, mamma, but if by chance, when I grow up, I fhould prefer fludy to every other amufement, would that hurt me ? No; becaufe that would be a very jufl preference.- -Look you then now, mamma, that is a permitted paf- fion. — ~Not at all; preference, fimply, is not paflion.— -Oh true, mamma, I had forgot temp- tatlon th£ tales of the castle. 117 tation — — If the pleafure of gaining inftru6tion occafioned you to negledl the duties of fociety, you would do wrong. The pureft, beft, and moft rational pleafure, ceafes to be virtuous the mo- ment it becomes a paffion. Paflion renders us blind, weak, unjuft, and extravagant. Then, my dear mamma, when you tell me you love your dear Pulcheria paflionately, it is only a way of fpeaking, is it ?— Why, when I fay I love you to madnefs, would you have it to be true ; that is literal ?— — Oh no, I am fure I would not for all the world, have my dear mamma mad.-— — And after what has been faid cannot you con- ceive that pafHon and reafon are incompatible, and that paflion is always a certain degree of mad- nefs ; that to love a perfon paffionately is the fame thing as to love them to madnefs, and that confequently it would be cruel in you to wifh me to love you paflionately ? I fhould lofe my reafon and my virtue, and you would gain no defirable proof of tendernefs. Where it neceflary, I fliould die to fave any one of you, my children, from deftruftion ; I would not hefitate a moment, to lacrifice my life, and make you happy. I. would do every thing heroic which paflion could infpire, but I would not betray any one duty, even for you : that is to fay, great as is my love, it fhould not difhonour or debafe me. Could you vidfh me, Pulcheria, to pofTefs contrary ftntiinents ? • No, Il8 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. No, no, dear mamma, cried the children, all together, and running into their mother's arms, who clafped them afFe6i:ionately to her bofom, and could not retain her tears, when (he-felt thofe of Pulcheria drop upon her hand. After a few moments of tender filence they con- tinued their difcourfe, and Caefar begged of his mamma to anfwer him another queftion con- cerning the paffions. When, faid he, one has unhappily yielded to a paflion till it has become rooted, may one ftill conquer and expel it ? Moft afluredly, replied his mamma ; any victory may be obtained over ourfelves, when we fmcerely defire to be viftorious : but in fuch )x cafe the ef- fort would be very painful. It is eafy to prefei-ve ourfelves from, but moft hard to eradicate, paf- fion. And which -is the way mamma to pre- ferve ourfelves from it? By an early habit of barkening to reafon, and overcoming whatever defires are contrary to it ; by remembering, that we are ever prefent with the fupreme Being ; a Being pure and omnifcient, and who is dilplcafcd at all excefs : by the fuccours which religion af- fords, the command of ourfelves, and the proper employment of our tim'e : by fuch means, we arc beyond the power of violent paflion. But fmce, mamma, excefs of every kind is bad, oueht one to admire the conduct of M. de Laga- riye, the extraordinary gentleman of whom M. Fremont THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. II9 Fremont was telling fuch ftrange things the other day; as, how he forfook the world, turned his feat into a hofpital for the fick, and devoted his life to their care ? Beyond a doubt his con- duit is not only to be admired, but looked upon as the model of perfe(9:ion-— — And yet M. de Lagaraye carried his charity even to paffion ?— — • People in general apply the word paffion only to fuch fenfations as originate in felf, and have per- fonal fatisfadlion for their bafis ; fuch as an in- clination for a certain obje6l, the delight taken in a particular pleafure ; like as an avaricious man delights in the accumulation of riches, or a game- fter in play : or, laftly, to various other vices ; anger, for example, to which they have improperly enough applied the word paffion. But the love of humanity is the moft difmterefted of all fenfa- tions > and the lefs particular, and more extenfive it iSj the more it is fublime. To deprive onefelf of all one's wealth in favour of a perfon that one loves, is a noble and praife-worthy action, and at all times the facrifice of magnanimity j but to give all one pofleffes to wretches, for whom we have no private friendfhip, no fenfation, but that of compaffion, to confecrate one's life to their fer- vice, to abftain from a thoufand gratifications, and treat them like our beloved children, for no other reafon but becaufe they fufFer the miferies incident to men, and are wretched 3 this is virtue truly 120 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE, truly heroic, truly divine. Benevolence, carried to fuch a height, may perhaps be called a paflion j but it is a very different paffion from all others, iince it is abfolutely difmterefted, and produces actions only of a fpecies the moft fublime. But fuppofe, mamma, M. de Lagaraye had had children of his own, vi^ould he have had a risiht to have given all his goods to the poor ? No, certainly, for we are under an obligation iirft of all to fulfil the duties impofed upon us by nature. M. de Lagaraye could only have given the furplus to the wretched ; and as he would have been obliged to educate his children, it would have been impoflible for him to have confecratcd his time to the fervice of the poor. Well, mamma, faid Caroline, now you have had the goodnefs to anfwer all our queftions, I hope you will go on with the ftory of Madame de 3*** ? Willingly anfwered Madame de Clemire, but I do not know where about I was.— Why, mamma, you told us Madame de S*** was happy, becaufe fhc was benevolent ; and how much flie loved the country, and cultivated a flower-garden, and read and worked, and kept bee-hives, and bred filk-worms, and and there I believe you left off. I did fo, anfwered her mamma. Well then Madame de S*** fatisfied with her deftiny, led a life equally plcalant and innocent. Her liufband THE TALES OF THE CAST-LE. I2r hulband, fiir from rich, could not enable her to relieve mifery with money, and yet there was not a day pafTed in which flie did not do feme good ac- tion. There was neither furgeon nor phyfician ,iu- the village j but {he knew fomething of botany, had read UHi/ioire des Plant es ufuelles^ by Chomel, a very good book, in which the proper- ties of herbs and their ufe in pharmacy are taught ; and llie knew Tillot's Advice to the People by rote, a book interefling and eilimable, both by its utility, and the fpirit of humanity in which it is written. With all thefe helps, how- ever, Madame de S*** did not pretend to prac- tife phyfic, becaufe it is an art, that without be- ing perfeil in it, imprudence and madnefs only would pretend to pradife ; but fhe vifited the fick cottages, prevented them from ufmg danger- ous remedies, and occafionaliy prefcribed things that might do good, could do no harm ; fhe car- ried them broth, wine, old linen, confoled them by her prefence, her converfation, and her compaf- fion, and thus proved it poffible to be exceedtn5»^ly benevolent with a very fmall fortune. When we do all the good in our povv'er, we enjoy all the hap- pinefs the pradice of virtue can beflow. Madame de S*** had a young woman, nam- ed Marianne, who had lived with her as her maid twelve years, and who was greatly dif- tinguiftied by her goodnefs, difuitereftednef?. Vol. I. G aud 122 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. and attachment to her niiftrefs, whofc vir- tues file poflefled, and whofe' example fhc imi* tated. It is true ihe had never been at Paris, and that (lie had not even been in the w<\y of temptations to corrupt or lead aftray a character that was naturally virtuous. Madame de S*** tenderly loved her, and the care fhe took to make her a truly good woman, was one of the great- eft pleafures of her life. Marianne was fomc- thing older than her miftrefs, and flattered her- felf fhe fhould end her days in her fervice, but Providence ordained otherwifc. Madame de S*** ^was attacked by a difeafc, which, though trifling in its origin, by ill treatment became mortal. She met death, not only without fear, but, with the gentle ferenity of a foul, truly penetrated by 'the great principles of religion ; and while every one around her abandoned themfclves to that de- fpair which the lofs of a woman like her muft ever infpire, fhe alone remained with an un- Ihaken tranquillity. An axact and proper regimen prolonged her life for fomc months ; fhe did not keep her bed, fhe walked, read, made the young girls of the village come to her as ufual for ir*- ilrudion, converfed with her favourite and faith- ful Marianne, received the vifits of the vicar, and never fufFcred her gentlencfs or prefencc of mind to furfakc her for a moment. One THE TALES OP THE CASTLE, I23 One fine morning in the month of May fhe rofe with Aurora, and, attended by Marianne, walked out into the fields, gained an eminence, from which there was a delightful profpeit, and fat herfelf upon a bank, while Marianne placed her- felf at her feet. She remained a moment, and then rofe, fupported by the arm of Marianne : how this view delights me, faid fhe ! what a line country ! Look at that charming meadow, Marianne, over which we have run fo many hundred times ; it was there we met the good old tlame Veronique, bending beneath a bafket of iipples on her head, and another in her hand ; you v/ould take the one from her head, and I, in fpite of her refinance, the other from her hand, and thus we brought her home to her cottage. Dolt thou remember how merry we were, the grati- tude of the good old woman, and the breakfafl fhe gave us. Turn thy eyes to the right, ani Isehold that row of willows on the borders of the pool, in which, with hook and line, we have fo often fifhed. There it was that we, in company with young Martha and little Babet, have many a time made bafkets of the bulrufhes, and after- wards filled them with violets, lilies of the valley, and filberts. Seeft thou yonder cabin, it belongs to our Frances ; dofl thou remember how thou madeft in two days the gown I gave her at her wedding ? A little farther to the left are the G 2 fkirti 124 Tf^^ TALES OF THE CASTLE. Ikirts of the woo J, where on holidays I kept mr little fchool, during the fine fummer evenings. What happy moments have I fpent furrounded by the laiTes of the village. Haft thou forgot the long and fimple ftories that Margaret ufed to tell us, or the old ballads that Honorina fung with a voice fo youthful, fweet, and plaintive. Every obje(51: 1 fee around me recalls fome pleafmg idea. Oh, how grateful are fuch traces of memory at this moment ! As Madame de S*** pronounced thefe words, Marianne turned her head to hide her tears, which fhe could no longer retain. After a fhort filence, Madame de S*** clafping her hands, and raifing them to heaven, exclaimed Oh God ! Thou whom I now behold beyond the clouds that brightly decorate the heavens ! thou who hearefl-, underftandeft me, and readeft my very foul ! I thank thee, my Creator ! my Father ! and Bene- fador ! I thank thee, for having placed me in a ftate of life where I have lived fice from the per- fecutions of hatred, the malignity of envy, the contagion of evil examples, and the feduclion of wicked advice. I have had nothing to lead my leafon aftray, or corrupt my heart ; I have nei- ther known the city, nor the court : I have heard that there are flatterers, falfe philofophers, ambiti- ous men ; men degraded by cupidity, and per- verted by pride i I have heard, and have wept for theii THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 125 their errors, and this fenfatioii has often troubled my repofe : I have been forry for the wicked, but have alv/ays lived far from their abode : unknown to the violence of paffion, the riots or deceits of pleafure, my life has glided away in happy ob- .fcurity ; and my happinefs has been fo much the more pure, in that it has not been diflurbed by the flanders of malice : friendfhip, innocence, and peace, have embelliftied every inftant of my career; I have poffefled the mof!: fubilantial wealth ; and in this awful moment, when the memory of the paft is the punifhment of the wick- ed, a multitude of fweet confolatory recoUeclions croud upon my mind, and I remember, with tranfport, that to virtue alone I owe the pure de- light I now enjoy. Oh God ! hov/ fupreme is thy bounty I Thou commanded us to deteft and fly from vice^ and therein thou teacheft us the only poflible means of happinefs upon earth ; nay, doft moreover promife us eternal blifs hereafter, if we do but obey thy beneficent commands. As {he faid this, Madame de S*** fell gently into the arms of Marianne, for the fervency with which (he had fpoken had exhaufted her little ftrength. Marianne looking at her,' faw her cheeks pale, and her eyes clofed and motionlefs, and gave a fhriek of terror ; Madame de S*** opened her eyes, and tenderly prefTed the hand of Mari- anne, which fhe held between her ovm. Where- G 3 fore 126 'the TALE« of the CA5TLE. fore this alarm, my dear Marianne ? feid (he, with a fmile of grateful benevolence upon her face ; what thou ! whofe piety is fo pure ! art thou not Epfigned ? Is not thy fa^crifice already made ? We fliall meet again where v/e ihall never part more ■ 1 fee how much my ferenity, my tranquillity confole thee ! — I flatter myfelf thou wilt e\:er find an afylum in the chateau de S*** Alas I I cannot place thee above v/ant! There is ano- ther thing v/hich I confefs I regret deeply— (Marianne here fixed her eyes upoi\ her miftrefs, and the attention fhe paid ftopt her tears)— Thou knoweft Marianne there is a fchool-miflrefs in the village to learn the children to read ; many of the inhabitants are juft able to pay her a fmall trifle, l,ut there are ftill many who caruiot give the very little Ihe requires. Had I lived a few years longer, I Ihould have faved the fum necef- fary (that is to fay, fifty crowns) to form aix cftablifhmeu^ fufficient to pay the fchool-mift;rcfs, that file might have inftructed thefe poor children gratis ; but fince God has not thought fit, 1 fub- init without murmuring to his holy will. Madame de S***, as fhe fpoke thus, fetched a> gentle figh, and Marianne fcizing one of her Hands, with a look expreffive of great emotion ;^nd. fome fecrct, but firm refolution, exclaimed 1— Oh ! my dear miftrefs ! Her full heart would not let her fay more, and Madame de S*^-* rlfing, THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 127 rifing, took hold of her arm, and began to move towards home again. Aladame de S*** did not long furvive : arrived at the laft ftage of debility, fhe was foon obliged to keep her bed. Marianne, in defpair, would not quit her a moment ; the fervants were feen in tears in every corner of the houfe ; the doors were continually crouded with the inhabitants of the village, who came by turns to enquire after her ; calling her their dear lady, their kind benefaftrefs, and returned from her houfe to the church to of- fer up their ardent prayers for the prefervation of a life fo precious. At lad Madame de S***. ever tranquil, ever refigned, beheld the moment of death approach with that fublimity which religion beftows, and Marianne received her laft figh. Dear me, cried Pulcheria, what will become of poor Marianne ? Watching, fatigue, andforrow, caufed a danger- ous revolution in Marianne's blood j fhe fell dangerouflyill ; (he recovered, however, and fcarce- \y was flie recovered, before fhe took the refolution to quit the houfe of S***. She packed up her clothes, went to the church where her miflrefs lay buried, bathed her tomb with her tears, and took the route to Charleville (a) the place of her birth, (a J Charleville is a delightful town of Champagne, fifty two leagues from Paris, in the Rcthelois, fituattd upon the G 4 greatly 128 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. greatly regretted by the vicar and the inhabitants of S***. Two years pafTed away, and no one heard what was become of her ; but at the end of that time the vicar received a box, containing fifty crowns, and a letter written as follows ; Charlev'ille^ the l^th of Septembei:, 1775. " Reverend Sir, " I have at length fent you the fifty crov/ns, " which, as you know, my honoured miftrcfs was " fo defirous of at her death. God be praiicd.^ iicr *' defires (hall be executed, and the good work " file wifhed be done. Had I had enough money *' I would myfelf have brought you the fifty *' crowns, but I had only as much as would have " paid half the expences of my journey. My " heart will now be as eafy as it can after the lofs *' I h;<-ve had, and I fhall be fomething relieved of '' a load of forrow which opprefied me day and '• night. Let me conjure you, reverend fir, im- " mediately to cftablifh the fchool-miftrcfs ; it will " be a great comfort to me, to hear that fiic is " enabled to teach tiie young girls gratis, and that " all the good mothers of the neigbourhood, who " have not the power to pay, may fend their Metife, ruSje(5l to no taxes, and only feparated from ths plcafant tgwn of Mezicrc by n bridge and caufeway. " child rei^. THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 1^9 " children. I hope all thefe little ones, and their " families to fucceeding generations, will pray for " my dear miftrefs ; and that you, reverend fir, *' will teach them how much they owe her. In " the mean while I have only one prayer to heaven, " which is, that I may fome time have it in my " power to return to S***, and behold with my ^' own eyes the charity-fchool founded by my ho- *^ noured miftrefs, I fhall then have nothing more ^' to wifli iji this world. " I am, with the <2;reateft refpeclj '^ Reverend Sir,^ " Your mqft humble fervant, "Marianne Rameour." The vicar was ftruck with admiration, while he read this, letter ; his foul was formed to con- ceive the fublimity of fueh an adion. The next Sunday, after ferraon, he read the letter to hii parifhioners, who wept aloud while they heard it; nay, the vicar himfelf was feveral times obliged to- kavc off, and begin again, fomuch was he affected.^ ThatI caneafily believe interrupted CVfar. Oh, how fhould I have wept had I been prefent. — But ^id the eftablifliment take place, mamma ? Tc> be fure, my dear. The vicar put th« G 5 fiftv'^ ija ttje tales of the castle, fifty crowns («) out to intereft j and this money, the fruit of two years fevere labour, night and day, of Marianne, produces a fum which enables the fchool-miftrefs to teach the poor children gratis. And now tell me, my children, if this is not a Sill more fublime virtue than that of Ambrofe. Oh, it certainly is, mamma ; pity prompted Ambrofe naturally to exert himfelf ; befides that the gratitude of Madame de Varonne was, in fomc meafure, a recompence. Very right ; but inftcad of thefe, the rcfpedl •that Marianne had for the memory of her miflrefs, made her fubjedl herfelf to all the hardfhips which Ambrofe underwent to preferve the life of Madame de Varoniie. The conduit of the one is ad- mirable, but the other is beyond all praife. We may judge of the merit of Marianne, by con- fidering, if fhe did fo much for the love (he bore her miftrefs dead, what would fhe not have done to have preferved her life. But do you think, my children, continued Madame de Clemire, that the hiftory of Marianne is ended ? Mamma ! — Do not you find there is fomething wanting ? Have not we agreed it was impoflible, that a virtuous adion foon or late fliould not meet its reward ? Ah ! fo much the better ! Marianne fhall be rccompenfcd, and the ftory is not finifhed 1 Oh how glad 1 am ! (*) About twelye gaincas. T. Well, THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. I33 Well, and fo mamma Well — and fo my dear. Marianne, after giving all flie had, went to her labour again, though not with the fame ardour, for fhe now only laboured for her fubfiftence. About this time, however, a relation of her's, touched by her virtue, happening to die, left her two hundred and fixty livres (a) a year. With this fmall inheritance, Marianne, who was never idle, was tolerably rich, in a country where the taxes were light, and which produced all the neceflaries of Yii't in abundance ; fhe fpent, however, no more than was neceffary for her exiftence, and the re- mainder fhe beftowed upon the poor. What, mamma, faid Caroline, with a diflatis- fied tone, is two hundred and lixty livres a year all the recompcncc fhe had ? Yo\i do not confider, anfwered Madame de Clemire, that a perfon in Marianne's flation of life, with two hundred and fixty livres a year, and a will to work, is richer at Charleville, than the mother of a family at court would be with twenty- live thoufand livres a year. Befides, generally fpeaking, any addition of fortune that removes us out of the ftation of life in which we have been bred, renders us unhappy. How fo, mamma ? faid Csefar. — — Suppofe, anfwered fhe, your (#) Something more than ten guineas. T. G 6 man. J 32 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE'. man, Morel, fhould to-morrow gain the tweflty thoufand-potmd-prize in the lottery WelT, mamma, Morel would be perfectly happy j he has a good heart, and would do a thoufand benevolent aflcttcr«, to infcrt in an intcrefting work, then in the prefs (ii) What ! Mamma, is the life (a) Intitled La Fete delaRofe, [The Feaftof tlieRofe,] £oJ whkh is i'linted at the end of a very dell h\Ui\ Rq. of THE TALES OF THE CASTLE I47 of Mariaitne in print ? I am quite happy at that. And fo fhe is celebrated already! Her modefty cculd not keep her in obfcurity. I declare my heart beats— —Let us Iiear the reft So, mam- ma— ~ There is a young prince, not quite your age, Caefar, whofe difpofition already gives a happy aflurance he fhall hereafter become diftinguifhed by his virtue, as much as by the auguft rank in which fate has placed him. One of his greateft pleafures, like your's, my children, is to hear iii- terefting tales, to which he liftens with avidity, and which make a deep impreffion on his heart and mind. The perfon who is charged with tlic care of his education, one day, related to him the hiftory of Ad^arianne, which as foon as he had heard, he exclaimed in tears, Hovj unhappy am I that I am hut a child /—Why fo, my lord ? — I would fettle a penfion upon that virtuous woman.' Well, but you have the moft affedionate, of fathers. -——But might I beg this favour of him, think you ? -You would make him very happy by io doing. At thefe words the young prince rofe, in rapture, ran out of the apartment, defcended haftily two pair of ,ftairs, and entered the billiard- room, where tliere were eight or ten gentlemen. He, however, faw none but the prince his father, mance, called Les Amours di FUrre le Long. [The Love* of P?tr: the Long.] H 2 and, i48 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. and, notwithftanding his natural timidity, ran intS his arms, and faid, in a broken voice Dear ■papa-""-^ ! • ■■ ■ I have a favour to beg of you. He then drew him into the next room, where he ex- plained in the moft moving manner, vi^hat he de- ilred. His firft recompence was the tender caref- fes of his father, who prefled him to his bofom, and faid, I will go and order a brevet, immediately, in your name, of fix hundred livres (twenty-five pounds) a year, for Marianne Rambour.— — — Now then, mamma, interrupted Pulcheria, I am fatisfied. What a good little prince ! and how happy muft he be ! — He would write himfelf to Marianne, to inform her of her good fortune. Himfelf !— Yes. The following is what he wrote : S. L^^yjfuguji 2^ 1782. ** I am exceedingly happy, Mademoifelle, I had ** the good fortune to hear of your attachment to « Madame de S***, and of what you did after- ** wards, fmce I am allowed to tell you how much ♦* I was afFeiled. To prove the value and beauty ** of jvirtue they told me your flory. I owe a « leflbn to you which I fliall never forget, and '* which will always give me the moft tender krv- « fations. Accept, Mademoifelle, the brevet of a ^<' penfioB, which I remit as ateftimony of my ad^ *' miration, THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. ^49 " miration, and the lively intereft I (hail ever take *' in your happinefs. " I have enclofed a bill for the firft x^uarter, *' which began on the firft day of July." Imagine, my children, what mull be the efFeft cf fuch a letter on the feeling heart of Marianne, which, as well as the brevet which accompanied it, vv^as conceived in the moft touching and re- fpeclful terms. Thus, at prefent, fhe is very rich, for a perfon of her condition, and in that cheap country, and moreover enjoys the flattering re- membrance of her riches being a tribute to her virtue. This is a charming hiftcry mamma I How I love that young prince ! Hov/ good he is already ! — I hope, my dears, the ftory of to-mor- row will not be lefs interefting ; but it is now late, and time to leave off. Only tell us, my dear mamma, what is the title of the hiftory you will be fo kind as to relate to-morrow evening « Eglantine ; or Indolence reformed. Eglantine ! That is a pretty name. And fo fhe v/as indolent. That does not feem to be a very great defedl— — You will hear to-morrow what were its confe- quences In the mean time let us now go to reft. — ■ Thefe few words excited their curiofity, and made them ardently defire to hear the ftory of the nintli evening, which at the appointed time Madame de Clemire thus be^au : 'O H3 EGLAN- 150 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. EGLANTINE: O R, INDOLENCE REFORMED. DOR A LICE was the wife of a P'inancier and in poffeflion of a fine fortune, though file had a heart fuperior to pomp, and an under- ftandhig too good to make herfelf rem.arkaWe hy vain magnificence. She knew that luxury, ever blameable, is truly ridiculous in thofe whofe rank does not afford them an excufe by making it in fome fort neceflary. She lived in a houfe as iunple as it was convenient ; fhe bought no dia- monds, gave no routs, but (he did many benevo- lent actions ; and her fortune, far from expofing her to the envy of fools, or the contempt of the wife, drew down the bleilings of the unfortunate, and the efteem of the world. There was neither iftentatlon in her drefs, nor a filly defire ofpraife in her manners. But though fhe knew how to employ her mind and her time when alo«e, fhe yet was fond of fociety j and that fhe might coled fuch friends and acquaintances as were .jcally agreeable, fhe gave THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 1$! gave no exclufive preference to one clafs more than another j fhe neither faid, " I will fee none " but people of fuch a rank," nor " I will not *' admit people of fuch a rank ;" but determined to receive all perfons effeftually diftinguifhed by the qualities of the heart and mJnd, be their con- dition in life what it would. Doralice had only one child, a daughter of fix years old, who gave certain indications of a good heart ; fhe was gentle, obedient, and fincere ; Ihe neither wanted memory nor capacity, but was exceflively indolent, confequently without adlivity and application ; her motions were flow, her man- ner carelefs, and fhe was equally idle and negli- gent. How ! mamma, interrupted Caroline, will in- dolence bring all thefe defe(5ls ? Refiedl a mioment, anfwered Madame de Clemire, and your furprize will vanifh. What is indolence ? Indolence is a kind of cowardly floth, which gives a difguft for every thing that can in the leafl degree fatigue either mind or body. With fuch a propenfity a child would neither run, leap, dance, play at Ihuttle-cock, nor any other game that required the fmalleft degree of adivity ; the fame caufe would render ftudy irkfome, be- caufe fuch a child would not willingly be at the trouble of learning or reflecting, and might rather be faid to vegetate than live. H 4 Such 3 5^ THE. TALES OF THE CASTLE. Such was the flate of Eglantine, daughter of Doralice. She took her Icflbns with great gentle- nefs, but flie paid no attention to one word that was faid to her, and therefore made no progrefs. Her Governante too was continually complaining of her want of care ; the gloves, fciflars, handker- chiefs, dolls, and trinkets of Eglantine were found in every corner of the houfe : fhe would rather lofe than put her things in order, or lock them up ; her chamber was always littered, and, as far as it depended on her, always dirty and difgufting. Half the day was wafted in fceking her books, her work, and her play-things ; and fhe fretted and confumed in that difagreeable occupation, the time which might have been ufefuUy employed or fpent in pleafure. She was obliged to be fcolded every moniing to get her out of bed ; then a new fermon began upon the lethargic ftupor and redoubled gapings fhe regularly continued for more than an hour after fhe was up, and another upon the exceffive length of her breakfaft ; frefli complaints were heard concerning the morning's walk ; fhe would rather fit upon the damp grafs than run about, and v/as continually either too hot or too cold. Her lef- fons were taken much in the fame way, file al- ways cried, or was ready to cry, and even her re- creations were no amufement to her ; they had. couftantljr THE TAtES OF THE CASTLE. X53 conftantly to look for play -things left or miflaid, and to fcold upon that fubje tutor would flay with me half a year i and as I K 6 had. 204 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. had already driven away three Abbes, my mother at laft confented to fend me to college. I was then in my eleventh year, and wept much at leaving my home and my parents ; for, not- withftanding my follies and trick?, I had a good heart. When I came to fchool, however, I was not very forry to fee myfelf in a fine houfe, and furrounded by boys, who all feemed full of mirth and play ; for, as it happened, I arrived juft at the time when fchool hours were over. I be- gan to run and jump, and told thofe who brought me I was fure I {hould like fchool exceedingly well. I immediately conceived a fiiendihip for a young fcholar, named Sinclair, about two years older than I, and who won my heart by his open and lively temper ; though I muft tell you he was as rational and well informed, for his age, as I was iimorant and unthinking. The next morning I found a ftrange alteration in the houfe. I was to take my feat, and undergo an examination to know which clafs I belonged to, when it was dif- covered I could hardly fpell : immediately a ge- neral hue and cry was excited through the fchool ; and a little boy, not ten years old, who was next me, laughed fo heartily, and appeared to me fo impertinent, that I could not forbear giving him a hearty box on the ear, which knocked hXm off his feati In THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. ^0$ In vain did I ftruggle and fcold j I was feized, taken ignominioufly from my place, and dragged out of fchool. As I pafled by Sinclair he call a look fo expreffive of tendernefs and pity, upon me, that, in fpite of my paffion, I found myfelf affeiled. They took me into a dark chamber, (hut me up, and declared I Ihould ftay there eight days with nothing but foup, bread, and water to live upon ; after which they left me to refleft at leifure, upon the crime of knocking my fchcol-fellows down. By groping round the room I difcovered it was matted all over, and tolerably large ; I then began to walk about without much apprehenfuon of hurt- ing myfelf, and to turn in my mind all the cir- cumftances of my misfortune. I felt myfelf deep- ly degraded, and heartily repented I had not pro- fited better by the lelTons of the three Abbes I had driven from me. Oh, my mother, cried I, were you but here, you would not fufFer me to be treated with all this rigour. And yet, had you but permitted my firft mafter, or my fecond, or even my third, to infliiSl fome gentle puniih- mcnt upon me as they defired, I fhould have known how to read, j then, perhaps, I (hould not have been fo apt to ftrike, nor have now bcea in a dark chamber. In ao6 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE^ in the midft of thefe forrowful reflections I re- membered the look of Sinclair : I thought I faw him ftill, and the fuppofition touched me ; and yet what moft vexed me was, that he had been a witnefs of myhumiliation>my paffion, and my pu- nifliment. I thought he would defpife me, and that idea was infupportable. While I was thus mournfully mufing, I heard my door open fuddenly, and faw Sinclair appear with a lanthorn in his hand j I threw myfelf upon his neck, and wept with joy at the fight. Come, faid he, follow me, your pardon is granted. My pardon f 1 am indebted to you for it ! I'm fure I am ! It gives me pleafure to think it wa* granted to your interccffion. , You are only required to make an apology ta kim you have offended.. Make an apology ! What to that little fcoffer ! no !— — . He was wrong to fcofF you, 1 own ; he was- guilty of ill maniicrs : but you were deficient both in rcafon and humanity. Oh ! I have done him no great injury. Becaufe you had i ©t the power : and yet his arm is black with the fall. His arm black I What ! and has he fhewed it tlicn ? The mafter infifted upon feeing it: He fliould not have confen^ed ! He ou^ht rot tot THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 207 to have complained ! He has proved himfelf 6f a mean cowardly temper, and I will never afk par- don of a covi^ard ! His charadler is not now the queftion. You have committed a fault of a ferious nature, and you ought to make what reparation you can. I would rather remain where I am than dif- grace myfelf. Pray tell me ; what do you underfland by dif- gracing yourfelf ? This queftion difconcerted me; I knew not what to anfwer, and Sinclair went on,. To difgrace yourfelf, is to draw down fome merited cenfure, or punilhment; to a<3: againft your confcience j that rs, contrary to truth and juftice. In a(king pardon of one you have wrong- ed you will do au equitable a6l ; and equity is not difgrace. But they may fuppofe I afk pardon only for fear of remaining in confinement. And if they fhould, that will not difgrace you ; fince cenfure, as I have faid, muft be merited, be- fore it can be difgraceful. I propofe a raparation ftridly conformable to jufticc and good breedinc;, and I {hould be forry for him who fhould foolifhly fuppofe fuch an acl deferving of cenfure : the ridi-- cule he would caft upon you would fall upon himfelf, in the eyes of all rational people ; and it is the opinion only of fuch that is worthy notice. Well ao8 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. Well, well— —lead me where you pleafe, I will do whatever you defire. Sinclair then embraced me, led me from th^ dark chamber, and, after a proper apology, I was pardoned j but it was not long before I incurred frefh penance. Idle, unthinking, noify, and apt to wrangle, I foon drew down the averfion of all the mafters, and many of my fchool -fellows j and had it not been for the protection and firm friend- (hip of Sinclair, who was the moft diftinguiflied and beft beloved of all the fcholars, I Ihould cer- tainly have been fent home in difgrace before the end of the year. Two years pafled away, much in the fame manner j at the end of which time Sinclair left college, and went into the army. Soon after I had the misfortune to lofe my mother, and this completed my affliition ; I wept, and remembered I. had been a continual fubjecSt of vexation to her. Alas ! faid I, did fhe blels me with her parting bifeath ! Could ihe pray for an ungrateful child, who might have been her comfort, but who was her tormentor ? What dreadful remorfc muft I endure ! To her I owe my life ; fhe bred, fhe cherilhed, fhe loved me ! and what have I done for her 1 Oh my dear mother, is it then denied me to repair my wrongs ? My mother ! I have no mother ! She is fitatched from mc !. The fweet cuiilolation of making hex happy is for ever loit ! My THE. TALES OF THE CAST.LE. JCf My grief becane fixed, it preyed upon my ir.irid, and I fell into a kind of confumption, which put my life in danger. Dorlval, my uncle and guardian, took me from college, and yi^ent wiih mc to his country-houfe in Franche-comte, He travelled with me all through that fine province, tlie natural curiofities of which ( 1 1 ) you faw anci admired fo much in my cabinet, in order to divert my melancholy. After remaining here three years, being then feventeen, I went into the army. I had continued my ftudies under the eye of my uncle; but, not having a habit of induftry, I made little progrefs ; and to learn feemed to me the moft tirefome thing in the world. My temper and underiianding were equally uncultivated ; and what were call«d pranks and pettifhnefs in child- hood, became the torments of my life ; I was hafty and pafllonate even, to violence ; andinthefe ridiculous fits of anger, I v/as abfolutely half in-, fane ; I fluttered, faid a thoufand extravagant and highly improper things, and was infaiSt capable of being hurried away into the moft fliameful ex- cefles. My uncle was the only perfon who could ma- nage me ; for I really loved and refpedted him, and feldom forgot myfelf in his prefeiice. His too great indulgence, however, fuffered me to contract deftru(5tivc habits, which had he ufed his authority ■210 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. authority to correal, would never have become fo rooted andfo fatal. But when anyone complained of me, he would anfwer, " Thefe youthful errors " will wear away, for I am certain he has an cx- " cellent heart." I departed for my garrifon with a fort of Go- vernor, to whom my uncle confided me, and who was to have remained with me a year j but in fix weeks time, I quarrelled irreconcileably with my Mentor. I turned away the fervant my uncle had fcnt with me, hired a valet without a character, and thought myfelf the happieft of m.ortals. Roffignol, my valet, was young, genteel, and infmuating; he became my favourite, regulated my expences, and in lefs than two months, brought me in bills for four thoufand francs; (166I.) that is to fay, for the full fum of my half year's allow- ance. I faw then plain enough that Roflignol was a rafcal j but the bills muft be paid. I borrowed, became a debtor of courfe, and turned Roffignol away, who, at parting, robbed me of all the rings and jewels I poflefled. Some days after this adventure, I quarrelled with one of my comrades, fought, and received two wounds, which occafioned me to keep my bed two months. During my confinement I refleded often upon my thoughtlefs and impetuous behaviour ; and began to find, that in order to be happy, it is neceflary to bear rcufon, repel firft emotions, van- quifli THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 211 qulth defedts, and obtain a command over the paf- fions. I had lived a year in garrifon, when war v/as declared, and I departed for Germany, where I made feveral campaigns, and difcovered much zeal "and little capacity. I was very anxious to fight battles, but not to learn the art of winning battles j for which reafon, my military career was not very brilliant, as will be feen. My uncle, meanwhile, was aiflive in feeking to eftablifh me well in life. I was one-and- twenty, and defirous of feeing me married, he chofe a young lady, who, had I not been as head- ftfong as unjuft, would have made me the happieft of men. Julia, for that was her name, then but feventcen, added to all the bloom of youthful beauty an in- genuous mind, and a countenance that was the picture of gentlenefs, innocence, and virtue : a calm ferenity dwelt in her eyes, and never were the marks of impatience, anger, or contempt, feen upon her brow. Once ieen. fhe was always known ; her foul was all outward, it dwelt in her face and form ; and that foul, tkat face, that form, were all angelic. Her mind was juft, fo- lid, and penetrating j her reafon much fuperior to her age j her defires moderate, and her charadle-r prudent and firm. She fpoke with the tongue of benevolence, aiKl fo unalTcciedly, yet exprelTn-e, tliat ?I2 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE, that fweetiiefs and model1:y feemed to live up- on her lijjs j the found of her voice went to the Such was Julia J fuch was the wife my uncie gave me. Her perfedlions might have fuppUed the want of fortune, but fhe was rich. As foon as I was married, my uncle gave my eftate into my own polFellion ; and thus, at one -and -twenty, was I in the full enjoyment of a good fortune, and^ the moil lovely woman upon earth. It depended only upon myfclf to be happy. I^he winter after my marriage was fpent at Paris, where I again met Sinclair, my old college i'riend, and we became more intimate than ever. Sinclair pofTefled all the eminent qualities which his early years had announced. In war he had been highly diftinguifhed ; and at a time of life, when ardour and promptitude only are generally difco- vered, Lj had given proofs of fuperior talents, pru- dence, and fortitude. His modefty and fimplicity difarrnqd malice, and whoever fhould have forborne to praife his conduct and worth, would have besn thought the enemy of virtue. Julia too had a ftrivSt friendfliip for a young widow, her relatioii, whofe name was Belinda ; a pcrfon remarkable for her virtues and accomplifh- incnts. Ijehold me then married to a woman whom I preferred to all the womcix in the world, cheriflicd ^7 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 213 by -^i} uncle v/hom I refpefted as a father, in friendi Ihip with a man of my own age» but who had the prudence and wifdom of a Neftor, enjoying ■not only the conveniencies of life, but even allth^ imaginary bleffings, or rather bawbfes, on which vanity fets (a high a price ; all the felicity which love, friendfhip, youth, health, and wealth, could procure. What was there wanting to compleat my happinefs ?— — One fmglo advantage with- out which all the reft are fruitlefs- ■ a good edu" cation. The two firft months of my marriage werfe the moft fortunate and peaceable moments of my life ; but my happinefs quickly began to decreafe. My pailion for my wife, which grew daily ftronger, made me guilty of the caprice and injufrice which are fo deftru6live of prudence and repofc. I wifhed to be beloved as I loved ; that is, to ex- cefs. Julia had a moft true and tender afFeftion for me, but flie was too wife, and had too much command of herfelf to indulge fancies, which, by inflaming the mind, might deftroy both her and my tranquillity. I began at firft by a kind of moderate complain- ing, but foon became fallen, fufpicious, and dif- contented. I felt in my heart an averfion for every body that Julia had any regard for, and efpecially for Belinda. J preferred however fufE- cicnt £14 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. cient reafon to condemn my own caprices, and carefully concealed them. One day, when I was more out of temper than ufual, I went to my wife's apartment, and was in- formed flic v/as fhut up with Belinda ; I opened the door fuddenly and entered j they were in earneft converfation, but the moment they faw me they were filent. My wife, I obferved, bluftied, and Belinda appeared abfolutely difcon- certed. Thefe appearances were enough to throw me into the mod violent agitation I had ever felt. At firfl 1 tried to contain myfclfj and turn my own embaralTment into a joke. I know not, indeed, what I faid, but I remember I ftuttered prodigioufly and v/as all in a tremor j which cir- cumftances, added to the efforts I made to laugh off my fufpicions, made me completely ridiculous ; and fo much fo, that Julia, who beheld my ftrangc emotions with furprize, could not forbear fmil- ing. This fmile drove me befide myfelf ; I thought it an unpardonable infult •, and lofuig all rcfped for myfelf, my wife, or the prefencc of Belinda, I ut- tered with volubility, and without fcruple, all the extravagancies which paffion could infpire. Be- linda, as foon asfhe could find an opportunity, rofc and retired. Nofooner was I alone with Julia^ than I found niy courage gone i I was filent i and to conceal my THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 215 my anguifh, walked haftily backward and forward about the room. I was informed of this before my marriage, faid Julia, but I could not conceive it poffible. Poor unhappy man, added fhe, with her eyes fwimming in tears, my heart weeps to fee you fufFcr thus. But be comforted ! the indulgence, the love, the tendcrnefs, of your wife, will in time, I hope, cure you of this unfortunate de- fed. She pronounced thefe words with fuch fenfibility and affedion, that they pierced me to the heart ; I deeply felt how culpable and mad I had been, and, bathed in tears, ran to the confoling angel, who held her arms out to receive me, and fobbed upon her bofom. As foon as I was capable of liflening to an ex- planation, Julia informed me, that juft as I entered the chamber, Belinda had been telling her a fecret, which, faid fhe, I am fure you will not a(k me to reveal, becaufe it is confided to me, without the liberty of mentioning it, though it will one day be revealed to you. This Information, far from being fatlsfadlory, gave me a fecret vexation, which I could with dif- ficulty hide 5 but as I was really humbled by the paflion I had jufb been in, I dlfTembled my chagrin, ahd afiedcdto appear fatislied. I and 2l6 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. In this fituation, wanting fomebocly to com- plain to, I went in fearch of Sinclair, and told him all my griefs. He blamed me, and approved the condudl df Julia, beftowing, at the fame time, the higheft eulogium on her prudence and forti* tude. But how, faid I, can I fupport this referve, when I have no fecrets for her. I know it, anfwered Sinclair, fmiling ; you would tell her the fecret of your moft intimate friend. Yes, Sinclair, I fhould even betray you to her, and flirely fhe does not love her Belinda better than I love you. No ; hut Jhe knows her duty, you do not ; you have only a virtuous heart ; fhe has that, and fo- lid invariable principles likewife. You have for her an extravagant paflion ; her -love is ennobled byafincere and virtuous friendfhip, which elevates the mind, and will never lead it into unreafonable follies. I underftand you • She will never love me as I love her ; I am a foolifh madman in her eyes •——She has told you fo. I faid this with great emotion, and Sinclair re- turned no anfwer, except by flirugging his fhoulders, turning his back, and quitting me. I remained petrified, curfing love and friendfhijj, exclaiming againfl myfclf, and all that was dear to me THE TALES OF THE CASTLE 217 me, and imagining myfelf the moft unhappy of men. Not daring again to put myfelf in a paflion, I became fulky ; but the gentle and mild manner of Julia vanquiftied my ill humour, and we came to a new explanation concerning Belinda, in which fhe offered never to fee her more, fince I feemed averfe to her. I fhall ever love her, faid fhe, nor fhall any thing ever make me betray the fecret flie has entrufted to me ; but there is nothing I would not facrifice. to your peace of mind. I was affet dreadt d an order for imprifonment. Imprifonraent ! Oh heaven- 1 Not for her good behaviour, as you may fup- pofe. Why fhe is neither fuffered to go out, nor fee any perfon whatever, except her nearefl re^ fetiwis,. Oh I ihe leads a very melancholy life ! You ZS^ THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. You may well think, our Nuns won't have any communication with a wife falfe to her hufband's bed. The very Boarders will not look ^t her : every body avoids her as they would infedlion. God forgive her ! fhe muft do penance yet j but inftead of that, fhe is playing upon the harpfichord all day long j is as frefli as a rofe, and looks better every day j fhe muft be ftubborn in fin. And does not (he feem forrowful ? Not at all J her woman fays, fhe never faw her fo contented ; for my own part, I am charitable ; and hope fhe may yet be reclaimed, for fhe has not a bad heart ; fhe is generous and benevolent, and yet fhe has infifted upon having all her for- tune reftored, and has left her hufband in abfolute want. You will tell me he is mad and foolifh, has ruined himfelf nobody knows how, and has juft fufFered the difgrace of being degraded in the army. I own they have taken away his com- miffion ; yes, he has loft his regiment ; but yet I fay, a hufband is a hufband. The poor man writ to her about a month fince to beg her afliftance, but no ! fhe told him plainly, no ! It's very hard though ! 1 have all. thefe things from the beft authority, I don't talk by hearfay ; I have been fifteen years in this houfe, and I thank my God, nobody could ever fay I was a tattler, or a vender of fcajidal. The THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 257 The Touriere continued at her own eafe praif- ing herfelf ; I had not the power of interruption left. She was loudly called for, kept talking all the way fhe went, and in a few minutes returned. It was the relation of a young novice, who takes the veil to-morrow, that wanted me, faid fne. Ah ! now : there ! there is a true convert ! A call of grace ! Gives fifty thoufand francs (2083I.) to the convent ! You ought to fee the ceremony : our boarders will all be there, and you can take a peep through the church win- dow. At what o'clock will it begin ? Three in the afternoon. The Novice is as beautiful as an angel, and is only twenty. Had fhe not loft her lover and her father in the fame year, fhe v/ould never have attended to the blefled infpirations of the Spirit. How good providence is to us ! Her father died firft, and her lover, who was imprifoned at Saumur5about five months after of a broken heart, as it is thought. What was his name ? cried I, in an agony not to be defcribed ! Tne Marquis of Clainville, replied the Tou- riere, and our Novice is called Mademoifelle d'Elbene. This laft fentence went with inexprefiible tor- ture to my heart. I rofe fuddenly, and ran out, with 258 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. v/ith an exclamation that threw the Touriere into aftonifhment and terror. Arrived at my lodgings, I threw myfelf upon the fopha, penetrated, torn, and confounded at aH I had heard. The veil was rent away, the ilhi- fion paft, I knew at length the ej^tent of my mifery ; faw to what a point my extravagant con- dud had ftained my wife's reputation ; felt how impoflible it was for this innocent vidim of my diftraftion truly to pardon the injury I had done her, by deftroying the moft precious thing a wo- man poirelTes ; and owned the unjuft contempt •with which the world treated her, ought inceffantly to re-animate her resentment againft me its au- thor. To her virtue alone could I now attribute her generous manner of ailing. In fa<3-, from the account given by the Touriere, it was evident that Julia, confoled by the teftimo- ny of a good confcience, was refigned to her fate, and lived at peace ; which /he could not continue to do, but by burying ."-mory in eternal oblivion. God of mercies ! crieu 1, ..,.w ,• ..^t frightful ^byfs have my paffions -lunrred me ! Had I fub- dued jealoufy, ha(' -. .ny natural impe- tuofity, my idlcneis and inclination for play, I Ihould have enjoyed ?. co^uderable fortune ; fliouid not have borne the inward and dreadful reproach of effedling the death of a worthy young man, nor THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 2^ nor of being the primary caufe of the facrilice which his unhappy miftrefs will make to-morrow : I fhould have been the delight of a benefadlor, an uncle, who at prefent juftly thinks me ungrate- ful and incorrigible j and Ihould not, cov/ardly, at five-and-twenty, have renounced the duty of ferving my king and country. Far from being an obje£l of contempt and public ccnfure, I fhould have been univerfally beloved, and in pofTelTion of the gentleft, moft charming, and moft virtuous of women ; ftiould have had the moft faithful and amiable of friends, and moreover Ihould have been a father ! Wretch, of what ineftimable treafures haft thou deprived thyfelf ! Now thou mayeft wander, for ever lonely and defolate over the peopled earth ! So faying, I caft my defpair- ing eyes around, terrified as it were at my own comfortlefs and folitary fituation. Buried in thefe refieilions, my attention was rouzed by the found of hafty footfteps upoji the ftairs. My door fuddenly opened, a man appear- ed and ran towards me ; I rofe inflin6lively, ad- vanced, and in an inftant found myfelf in the arms of Sinclair ! While he prefTed me to his bofom I could not reftrain my tears ; his flowed plentifully. A thou- fiind contending emotions were ftruggling in my heart j but excelTive confufion and Ihame were moft prevalent, and kept m^e filent. I was 260 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. I was at the farther -part of Poitou, my friendy faid Sinclair, and knew not till lately how necef- fary the confolations of friendfhip were become ; befides, I wanted to afTure myfelf of fix months liberty, that I might afterwards devote myfelf to you. I am juft come from Fontainbleau, have obtained leave of abfence, and you may now dif- pofe of me as you pleafe. Oh Sinclair ! cried I, unworthy of the title of your friend, I no longer deferve, no more caa enjoy the precious confolations, which friendfliip, fo pure, thus generoufly o0ers ; I am paft help, paft hope. Not fo, faid he, again embracing me ; I know thy heart, thy native fenfibility and noble mind ; had I nothing but companion to ofFer, certain I could not comfort, I fhould have wept for and affifted thee in fecret : but thou wouldft not have feen me here. No ; friendlhip infpires and brings me hither, with a happy afllirance I fhall foften thy anguifh. Sinclair's difcourfe not only awakened the mod lively gratitude, but raifed me in my own efteem. In giving me back his friendfliip, he gave me ho pes for myfelf. I immediately opened my whole heart to him, and found a fatisfaflion of which I had long been deprived, that of fpeaking without dif- guife of all my faults, and all my forrows. The melancholy THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 2&I melancholy tale was often interrupted by my tears, and Sinclair, after hearing me with as much atten- tion as tendernefs, raifed his eyes to heaven and gave a deep figh. Of what ufe, faid he, are wit, fenfibility of foul, or virtuous difpofitions, without thofe folid, thofc invariable principles which education or ex- perience alone can give. He, who has never pro- fited by the lefTons of others, can never grow wife but at his own expence, and is only to be taught by his errors and misfortunes. Sinclair then conjui'cd me to leave Paris for a time, and travel ; adding that he would go with me, and preiTed me to depart without delay, for Italy. I give myfelfup entirely to your guidance, faid I J difpofe of a wretch, who without your aid muft fink beneath his load of mifery. Profiting accordingly by the temper in which he found me, he made me give my v/ord to fet off in two days. The everting before my departure, I wifhed once more to revifit the place where I had firft heheld my Julia. It was in ihe gardens of the Palais- Royal J but afhamed cf appearing in public, I waited till it was dark. There was mufic there that evening, and a great concourfe of people j fo hiding myfelf in the moft obfcure part of the great alley, I fat down behin 1 a large tree. I I had 262 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. I had not fat long before two men came and placed themfeives on the other fide of the tree. I inftantly knew one of them, by the found of his voice, to be Dainval, a young coxcomb, without wit, breeding, or principles, joining to a ridicu- lous affedation of perpetual irony, apretenfion to think philofophically ; laughing at every thing ; de« ciding with felf-fufficiency j at once pedantic and . fuperficial j fpeaking with contempt of the beft men and the moft virtuous actions, and believing himfelf profound by calumniating goodnefs. Such was Dainval, a man whom I had believed my friend till the moment of my ruin, and whofe pernicious example and advice I had too often followed. I was going to rife and remove, when the found of my own name awakened my curio- fity, and I heard the following dialogue began by Dainval : "Oh yes, it is very certain he fets off to-mor- ** row morning with Sinclair for Italy. *' How ! Is he reconciled to Smclair ? " The beft friends on earth ! generofity on " one fide, repentance on the other ! mutual " tendernefs, tears, and tortures ; prayers, par- " dons, and pacifications. The fcenc was truly " pathetic. " So there is not a word of truth in all the late *' town-talk .? '' What THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 26j; " What tlieir being rivals ? Why ftiould you •«' think fo ? " Why how is it poflible that Sinclair ftiould *' be fo interefted about a man he had betrayed ? *' Ha ! ha ! 1 do not pique myfelf much " on finding reafons for other men's adlions, tho* " I do a little for the faculty of feeing things as *' they are. Sinclair, ftill fond of Julia, would " reconcile her to her hufband, in order to get " her out of a Convent again. The thing is evi- " dent enough. *' But wherefore then go to Italy ? " To give the town time to forget the hiftory *' of the picture and the pocket-book. " And yet there are many people who pretend " the pocket-book was Belinda's ? *' A fable invented at leifure ! The finEl is, *' poor La Paliniere knew well enough, previous " to that difco\'ery, how matters went, and had *' told what he knew above a year before to who - *' ever would liften. " Is he amiable pray ? What fort of a man is «' he ? " Who ! La Paliniert ! A poor creature ? " talents exceflively confined ; half ftupid j no " imagination ; no refource ; no charadier. At " his firft coming into life he threw himfelf ia ** my way, and I took him under my tuition ; *' but I foon faw it was labour in vain : could " never 264 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. ** never make any figure ; a head ill turned j " Gothic notions j trifling views ; fcarce com • ** mon fenfe ; a prodigal, that gaped with con- " fufion at the fight of a creditor j a gamefter, " that prided himfelf on generofity and greatnefs *' of foul with a dice-box in his hand ; any man's " dupe i ruining himfelf without enjoyment, and " without eclat. " Have you feen him fince his crafh ? " No ; but I have burnt all our accounts, he'll " never hear of them more. *' Did he owe you many play debts ? *' Numberlefs. I have deftroyed his notes : " not that I brag of fuch things, nor fhould I " mention this to any body elk. 'Tis a thing '* of courfe you know with a man of fpirit j tho' " I would not have you fpeak of it." I could contain myfelf no longer at this laft falfehood. Liar, cried I, behold me ready to pay all I owe you ; retire from this place, and I hope to acquit myfelf. Faith, faid Dalnval, with a forced fmlle, I did not expeft you juft now, I muft confefs. As to your cut-throat propofal, it is natural enough from you ; you have nothing to lofe, but I muft take another year fo compleat my ruin : there- fore v/hen you return from Italy, or thereabouts, we fhall fight on equal terms. So THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 265 So faying, he ran ofF without waiting for a re- ply, and left me with too much contempt for his cowardice to think of purfuit. This then is the man, faid I to myfelf, whom I once thought amiable, by whofe councils I have been often guided ! What a depth of depravity ! What a vile and corrupted heart 1 Oh how hide- ous is vice when feen without a veil ! It never feduces but when concealed, and having ever a greater proportion of imprudence than of artifice, it foon or late will break the brittle mafk with which i-ts true face is covered. This laft adventure furniflied me with more than one fubjedl: for refleftion ; it taught me how carefully thofe who prize their reputation, ought lo avoid making themfelves the topic of public converfation, in which the farcafms of fcandal arc always moft prevalent. The malicious add and invent, and the foolifh and the idle hear and repeat; truth is obfcured, and the deceived public con- demn without appeal. In the midft of thefe thoughts, there was one more affliding than all the reft j I was arrived to that height of mifery, tliat my greatell misfortune was not that of being for ever feparated from Julia ; no, I had another ftill more infuppor table. The moft virtuous and innocent of women, the ornament and glory of her fex, groaned beneath the opprobrious burthen of the world's contempt, VOL I. N and 266 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. and I alone was the caufe of this cruel i'njuftice. The remembrance of this diftradted me, and made me almoft infeniible to the confolations of friend- fhip. Yes, faid I to Sinclair, I could fufFer fmgly for my errors, and fupport my punifhment per- haps with fortitude. Time I know deflroys paf- iion and regret, but it never can enfeeble the re- morfe of a feeling heart born to the pradice of virtue. The day may come, when Julia will no longer live in my imagination with all thofe feduc- tive charms I now continually behold ; but (he will ever remain there the innocent facrifice of folly and diftra6lion, and the remembrance of that will be the torment of my life. In effedl:, neither the tender cares of Sinclair, nor the difHpation of a long voyage, could weaken my chagrin. When we returned to Paris, Sin- clair was obliged to leave me and rejoin his regi- ment, and I departed, almoft immediately, for Holland ; where, fix months after, Sinclair came to me. He fuggefted an idea of my undertaking fome kind of commerce, and lent me money ne- cefTary to make a beginning. Fortune feconded this new proje£l:, and I fore- faw the poiTibility of regaining the happinefs I had loft : the defire of laying the fruits of my labours at the feet of my Julia, gave me as much induftry as perfeverance ; I vanquiflied my natural indo- lence, and the tirefome difguft with which this new THE TALES OF THE CASTLE 267 new Tpccies of employment at firft in fpired me and read and refleded during the time that bufinefs did not call my attention. Study foon ceafed to appear painful ; I acquired a paflionate love for reading ; my mind was infen- fibly enlightened, my ideas enlarged, and my heart became calm. Induftry, reading, and think- ing, recovered me, by degrees, from the foporife- rous dr?.ught of indolence ; religion likewife gave fortitude to reafon, eleyated my foul, and releafed me from the tyrannical empire of pafHon. This revolution in my temper and fentiments did not at all change my projeds. 'Tis true, i had no longer that excelHve and fdly paflion for Julia which had made us both fo unhappy. I loved with lefs violence, with lefs felf-intereft, but with more certainty. Pafiion is alv/ays blind, felfilh, and feeking its own fatisfailion : friendfhip is founded upon efleem, owes all its power to vir- tue, is more afFe6lionate, and the more affec- tionate it is, the more it is equitable and gene- rous. • I pafTed five years in Holland, during which time I was conftantly fortunate in the bufmefs in which I was engaged; and at length, by extreme ceconomy and unwearied affiduity entirely re- eflablifhed my fortune. I then thought of no- thing but of once more vifiting my own country. I imagined, with the mofi: tender delight, the N 2 happhiefs 268 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE, happinefs I was going to regain, when falling at the feet of Julia, I might fay to her, " I return " worthy of you, I return to confccrate my life *' to your happinefs." Thus occupied by the moft delightful of ideas, I t3eparted from Holland far, alas ! from fufpe6ling the blow I was about to receive. I had written to Sinclair, defiring him to inform Julia of my journey, and received an anfwer at Bruflels ; by which I learnt Julia had had a fever, but at the fame time the letter aflured me fhe had iiot been dangerouflyill, and was almoft recovered. The explanations which accompanied that letter prevented all uneafinefs, and I continued my route with no other fear than that of feeing Julia more furprized than affedled at my refolutions and re- turn* I drew nearer and nearer to Paris, and at laft, when within twenty leagues, I met Sinclair, who ftopt my carriage, and de/cended from his own. I opened my door, and flew to embrace him ; but as foon as my eyes met his I fhuddered : aftonifh- ment and terror rendered me fpeechlefs ! Sinclair opened his arms to me, but his face was bathed in tears ! I durft not alk the reafon, and he had not the power to tell me. I expefted the worft, and from that moment, faithlefs fleeting joys for ever forfook my heart ! Sinclair THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. iG^ Sinclair dragged me towards my carriage with- out fpeaking a fmgle word, and the poftillions in- ftantly quitted the road to Paris. " Whither are " you taking me ?" cried I diftra-' Dendritii ; and thofe in which the form of Animals is fecn, Zoomorphitis. (2) Butterflies are arranged into genera and clafles. The genera] diftin4\ion is, that which divides them into the day and night kinds. We have among the birds fome fiw that fly abroad only by night, but thefe bear only a fmall proportion in number to the day fliers : on the contrary, the number of Butterflies which we fee fluttering tbout the fields and gardens, are fcarcely fo many as thofe which fly abroad only by night. We often meet with thefe even in our houfes, flying about the candles, and tlie hedges fwarm with them : in the day-time we find them hid under the leaves of plants, and often, as it were, in a torpid ftate. In this condition they remain till evening ; but they are fo cunning in hiding themfelves at this time, that it is difiicult to fee one, even in places where there are a great inimber. The way to difcover them is to beat and difturb the bufhes, or . and ufed by his fucceflbrs : other titles are afcribed to par- ttcuJar perfonson account of their virtues, as ■Pius^.to Antoni* 31US, aflumed alfo by Ccmmodiis with the addition of Felix j Pater Patriae, fiift beftov/ed on Cicero for difcovering ani defeating the confpiracy of Cataline, and afterwards affuntjed by the emperors jjuftus, the titleof Pifcenniusj Beatiffimus and Felicifllmus, of Dioclellan j Optimus and Clemens, ilecreed to Trajan by the Ser^ate ; Maximus, affiimed by Conllantine : and Invi£lus, by Vic^orinus. ©iher thles are the names of officers ; as Cos* for ConTuI, with a nunt- ber annexed to if, ' fignifying how many times the perfon had been thus ele61«d : Tnbunitia poteflas, with the year ai the tribunefliip, commonly exprefled after the title, asTRiH. POT. X. or XVI. &c. The office of Pontifex Maximus, txpiefled by P. M. was aflumed by the Emperors, and generally exprefTed among their titles from- Auguftus to ■ CoTiflantine, by whom, it was refufed j it wasre-afliimed Ky Julian, and laid sfide. by Gratian. Julius Casfar aflumed tiie title Diftator perpetuus; Claudius, that of Cenfot^ , and Domitian made himfclf Cenfor perpetuus, Some authors imagine, that the ancient medals were ufed : for money. M. Patin had a chapter exprefs to prove, that they had all a fixed regular price in payments, not except- ing even the medallions. , F. Joubert isof the fame opinion, . Others, on the contrary, maintain tliat we have no real, money of the ancients ; and that the medals we now have, never had any comTe as coins. Between thefe two ex- tremes there is a medium, v^rhlch appears, by much, more • I'eafonabk thaae;;her of them. Medals are divided into ancient and modern. Ancient medals are either of the higher or lower anti- »iuit> The foimer coniilU oi fuch as were ftiuck before iht- U e T E S TO VOL. I, 295" tlfe end of the third century : the latter of fuch as were ftruck before the third and ninth centuries. The aerugo of ancient n,edals adds gieatlyto their valua,. It 1*8 fometimes found of a blue, ibmetimes of a crimfoTV,, and fometinies of a violet colour. It is faid to be inimi- table by ait ; for as to that produced by fal-ammoniac and vinegar, it comes far behiiid it in beauty. The genuine kind infmuates itfelf into the fineft ftrokes of the letters, &c». without effacing them, better than any enamel ; it is only obfcrved on brafs coins j for as to thole 0/ filver, the serugp deftroys them, and tiierefore is to be carefully fcoured off with vinegar, cr iemon-juice. Modern medals, are thofe ftruck within thefe few hundred > years.. Among the ancient medals, fome are Greek, others Ro man. Thefe may be diftinguiflied into two daffej, via,, thofe of the ftate, and thofe of particular ciiias and colonies': . for befides the money coined by the ftate, it appeal s that di- vers cities and colonies had the privilege of coining ; where, it is probable, the chief magiftrate was the miat-malter. The Greek medals are the moft ancient. That people flruck medals in all the three metals with fuch exquifite art- as the Romans could never corae up to. The Greek medals have a defign, accuracy, force, and a delicacy that exprefs even the mufcles and veins ; and it muft be owned, goe in- finitely beyond any thing of the Romans., There are alfo Hebrew medals-j and Punic, Gothic, and Arabic medals, which make new clafTes in the ancient and . modern ones. Medals have been ftruck in three kinds of metals, which make three feveral fets or feries in the cabinets of rhe curious. TJiat of gold is theleaft numerou?, as not confining of above «ne. thoufand, or twelve hundred of the innperial : .that of 5ig6 NOTES TO VOL. I. filver may contain about three thoofand imperial } and that of brafs or copper, of the three feveral fizes, viz. the great, the middle, and the fmall, confifts of fix or feven thoufand, all imperial. It is not either the metal, or the fize which makes a medal valuable ; but the fcarcity of the head, or of the reverfc, or the legend. Some medals ard common in gold, which yet are very rare in copper j and others very rare in filver, which in copper and gold are very common. The reverfe is fome- times common, where the head is lingular; and fome heads are common whofe reverfes are very fcarce. There are alfo medals very fcarce in fome lets, and yet ■very common in others : for inftance, there is no Antonio in the fets of large copper, and the middle copper Is forced to fuppiy its place. The Otho is very rare in all the copper jets, and yet common in the filver ones. Othos of the lai-o'e copper, are held aj an imraenfe price j and thofe of the middle copper at forty or fifty piftoles. And the Gor- ^dians Afric are rated near as high. Singular medals are ior valuable. M. VailJant has colle£ted all the medal* ftrwlc by the Roman Colonies j F. Hardouin thofe cf the Greek and Latin cities ; F. Noris thofe of Syria. M. Morel alfo undertook a univerfal hiftory of medals, and profniftd cuts of twenty-five thoufand. Ke ranges them under four claffes ; the fiift contains the medals of kings, cities, and people, which have neither the name nor image of the Ro- man Emperors ; the fecond contains the Confular medals j the third the Imperial medals ; and the fourth the Hebrew^ Punic, Parthian, French, Spanifli, Gothic, and Arabic. He begins with the Imperial, and trirgs them dcv»n as low as Heraclius ; He places the Latin in order above the Greek. Ad» WOTIS TO VOL. I. 297 AJ. Occo, a German Phyfician> and Count Mezzabarba, liave endeavoured to range the medals in a chronological ©rder ; but that is Impraaicable : for in many of the Imperial medals there is no mark either of the Confulate, or of the year of the reign j and fince Gallineus, there are few of the Roman Imperial medals that bear the leaft footfteps of chronology. The moft noted medalifts, or authors on medals, ar» Antonius Auguftinus, Wolf, Lazius, FuLUrfinus, a learn- ed Antiquary, iEneasVicus, HuberGoltzius, a famous gra- ver, Oifelius, Seguin, Occo, Triftan, Sirmond, Vaillant, Pa. tin, Noris, Spanheim, Hardouin, Morel, Joubert, Mei- zabarba, Beger, &c. There is an Introduaion to the Knowledge of Medals by Dr. Jennings, publlflaed iu 1764, which may be ufeful to convey a general acquaintance with the fuhjea. A very eafy and elegant way of taking impreHions of medals and coins, not generally knowiv, is this : Melt a lit- tle ifinglafs glue, made with brandy, and pour it thinly over the metal, fo as to cover its whole furface ; let it remain on for a d ly or two, till it is thoroughly dry and hardened, and then, taking it oft, it will be fine, clear, and hard as a piece of Mufcovy glafs, and will have a very elegant im- predion of the coin. Cychpad'ia. (11) The raoft interelling natural curioHties of Fianche- Comte, are the Fall of Doux, a natural cafcade of great beauty; the Grotto of Qiiingey, where the water falling drop by drop from the :.nch to the roof of the cavern, con- gealing, forms itfelf i;ito various figures of columns, fef- toons, trophies, and tombs ; the famous Grotto of Befan- con, or the Glaciere, another large cavern, funkina moun* tain, five leagues from Befancon } it il 135 feet wide, and s6S; long ; many pyramids of ice are therefeen, and the va- riatiaa. 2^3 NOTES TO VO tf ct., riation.of the Thermometer,, between \A'inter and Cummer, is very inconfiderable. Thus, fays M. de Bomaie, this Giotto prerenis a phaer.omenon unique in nature j-the ice, which is there formed during the heats of Aimmer, proves that the cold is regular, and not relative, as in other ca- verns. The other celebrated Grottos, «re the Grotto of Arcy, in Burgundy, in the Auxerrcis, remarkable by its apart- n^ients, which run one into another, and in which areobferv- ed various fports of nature; the Grotto of Balnie, dven. leagues from Lyons, where are concretions of various co- lours and forms ; the Grotto of Bauman, in the Duchy of Brunrwick; the Grotto of Chien in Italy 5 the Grotfos . of the Fairies, two leagues from Ripaille, in Chablais ; thefe are three Grottos, one over the other, into which you can afcend only by a ladder. A bafin is feen in each -JSxotto, in which. the water^, according to popular opinion, has marvellcus virtues. Add to thefe the Grottos of Anti- Paros, in the Archipelago, which -are the moft beautiful and extraordinary of them all. End of the First Volume. ■l^-^.'^ UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY AA 000 945 772 2 hm^^^:^^'^:!^^i!I^W 'M