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<Slure ! faid Pulcheria — 'Tis the pic-
ture of a fpoilt child, faid her mamma, and re-
fembles many a w^oman of twenty. — A woman of
twenty ! — Yes, my dear, thofe who have been ill
educated, preferve even in old age the defedls of
childhood. You will one day meet in the world
many of thefe grown children, who are alternately
the fcofFandfcourge of fociety.
As for Delphine, fhe was to be pitied j fhe was
the prey both of fretfulnefs and paffion, defedls that
feldom unite. Angry on die flightefl occafion,
and peevifh without caufe, fhe would afterwards
torment herfelf, for having been feeble and unjuft :
fhe wept and lamented, but wanted the power to
correal her faults.
To add to her misfortunes, fhe had not a good
ilate of health. She eat too much, and not of
proper and wholefome food, but of cheefecakes,
t.irts and confedlionary ; tlie confequence was,
fhe was continually affiided with the heart-burn
and head-ach. Her mamma, too, laced her ex-
ceedingly tight, and fhe, herfelf, was very much
pleafed to be thought fine fliaped and {lender ;
which ridiculous vanity made her bear, without
murmuring, to be fcrewed up till fhe could
fcarcely breathe. But though fhe patiently fuf-
fered this fpecies of torment, fhe was tender to an
ecefs i
l8 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE.
cxcefs ; fhe fcldom walked abroad, and never in
winter ; the wind, the rain, the froft, the fun, the
duft, all were infupportable ; and, to paint all her
foibles at a ftroke, fhe was afraid of riding in a
coach, and flirieked at the fight of a fpider or a
moufe.
Inftead of growing ftronger as flie grew up, her
health was every day on the decline ; the phyfi-
cian whom Melifla had confulted, told her there
was no danger in her cafe, and that it was only
neceflary to procure her as much amufement aud
diffipation as poffible. Delphine accordingly
foon had a multitude of toys, play-things, aud pre-
fents ; every wifh was anticipated, every diverfion
fought j 'but whether at play-houfe, opera, con-
cert, or whcrefoever elfe, fhe carried with her a
laflitude and difcontent which no diverfion could
diifipate.
As all her fantafies were indulged, fhe had regu-
larly ten or twelve a day, each more flrange than
the other. Thus, for inflance, one night when
Ihe was at Verfailles, fhe would fend to Paris for
Leonard to drcfs her doll's hair ; and when they
remonftrated with her on the unreafonablenefs of
the whim, fhe broke her doll, flamped, wept with
rage, and had a nervous fit that v/as very dan.-
gerous.
Incrcafincr thus from bad to worfe, fhe became
fo truly didigieeablc, fo odious by her pafHoas, ill
tempers.
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. I9
tempers, and caprices, that no one could love,
hardly could pity her 5 every thing irritated, or
rendered her defperate ; and fhe found that her vi-
olent humours were a greater punifhment to her-
lelf, than to thofe they were intended to torment.
At laft the unhappy Delphine, infupportable to
every perfon as well as to herfelf, fell into a kind
of confumption, from which every thing was to be
feared.
MelifTa fent in defpair for a famous German
do6lor, whofe name was Steinhauffen. He exa-
mined his patient with great attention, and vi-
fited her for fome time j he then informed her mo-
ther he would be repfonfible for her life, but it muft
be on condition file was left totally to his care.
MeliiTa readily agreed, and told him, fhe would
put her daughter into his hands. — Yes, madam :
faid the doilor, but it mufl be entirely, or I dare
not accept the charge* I muft take her to my
country -houfe. — How! my child ! — Yes, madam:
her lungs are attacked, and the firft remedy I fhall
prefcribe, is to pafs eight months in a cow-houfef.
— Well, but I can have that No, madam, I
will not undertake the cafe unlefs fhe is brought
to my ov/n houfe, and put under the care of my
wife. — But, fir, you will allow her governefs and
f This Is a wtll -known lemcciy, and has often been fuc«
cefsfuliy uiVd in iliiiil-.u' •cafes.
woman
aO THE TALES OF TH-E CASTLE.
woman to go with her. — By no means, madart ;
nay more, if you confide her to me, you muft rc-
folve not to fee her for thatfpace of time yourfeif :
I muft be abfolute mafter of the child, and fuffcr
no contradiciion.
MeiijSa faid this was more than fhe could fup-
port j fhe accufed the dodor of cruelty and caprice;
while he, unfliaken in his determination, left her,
without noticing her reproaches.
Refledion foon brought Melifla to herfelf j and
Jcnowing that all the other dodlors had given up
the cafe, while this one would become refpon-
fible for the cure, fent haftily to defire his return.
He came, and fhe confented, not without abun-
dance of tears, to commit her entirely to his jurif-
didlion.
No one can defcrlbe the rage and grief of Del-
phine, when fhe was told fhe muft go with Aladame
Steinhauflen, who was come on purpofe to take
her to her country-houfe. They durft not tell
her fhe was to quit Paris for eight months, much
lefs durft they mention the cow-houfe fhe was to
inhabit ; but, notwithftanding their art, fhe gave
herfelf up to the moft violent dcfpair, and they
were obliged to place her forcibly in the carriage
with Madame SteinhaufTen, who took her in her
arms, ftt her on her knees, and ordered the coach-
man to drive away, which he inftantly obeyed.
Poor
t'he tales of the castle. 11
Poor Delphine \* faid Pulcheria — To leave her
dear mamma for eight months ! I am fure ihe is to
be pitied.
Her grief was natural, anfwered Madame de
Clemire ; it is the excefs of it only which was
condemnable. Rcafonand Religion ought always
to preferve us from defpair. What moreover
heightened Delphine's guilt, was her behaviour j
and particularly her difdainfor Madame Steinhauf-
fen, whom fhe treated with fo much contempt,
that (he did not deign even to fpeak to her.
It was fix o'clock in the evening when they ar-
rived in the valley of Montmorenci, five leagues
from Paris, and entered the houfe of dodlor Stein-
hauflen. Imagine, my children, what was the in-
dignation of the haughty and imperious Delphine,
when they condu£l:ed her into the apartment def-
tined for her. — Where are you dragging me, cried
fhe ? — Into a cow-houfe ! What do you mean ?
What will you do with me ? Oh what a fmell !
Let us get out of this frightful place.— This fmell
young lady, replied Madame Steinhauflen, in a
gentle, complacent tone, is very healthy, and ef-
pecially fqr you. — Healthy, indeed I Let us get
out, I fay, of this hideous place. Shew me the
chamber where I am to lie.~You are there al-
ready Mifs.— How ! there already !— That is your
bed, and this is mine, for I will fare the fame as
you dQ.--Me ! I lay here ! I ileep ia a cow-houfe ?
In
22 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE.
In a bed like this ! — It is a good mattrefs. Do
.you mock me P—No, indeed, Mifs, I tell you the
very truth. This odour, which, unfortunately,
•you diflike, is exceedingly falutary to perfons in
your ftate ; it will reftore you to health ; and it
was for this reafon that my hufband has placed you
here, where you muft remain the grcateft part of
;the time you ftay with me.
Madam Steinhauflen had no occafion to conti-
nue her difcourfe, Delphi nc was not in a condition
to liften. The unhappy child, fuftbcated with
rage, had fallen fpeechlefs on the bed j Madam
SteinhaufTen knew what ailed her, by the fwelling
of her neck and bofom, and the rednefs of her face :
Ihe unlaced her, took off her neck ribbon, and
Delphine again began to breathe ; but it was only
to fcream and cry, in a manner that would have
frightened a perfon of lefs determined coolnefs
than Madam Steinhauffen, who took care to re-
main totally fJent. Seeing, however, at the end
of a quarter of an hour, flie ftill continued her
fhricks and cries, fhe faid to her, — I have under-
taken, Mifs, to nurfe a fick, and not a mad girl,
fo I will wifli you a good night : when you are en-
tirely quiet, and cured of this outrageous behaviour,
I will return.— What am I to be left to pcrifh ? —
No ; one of my maids fhall come to you — Your
maid !— Yes, a patient, gentle, very good girl !—
Catau !— Catau !—
Catau
T.HE TALES OF THE CASTLE. H.^
Catau heard the voice of her miftrefs and ran,
and Madam Steinhauflen went away. And now
behold Delphine left alone with Catau, a flrong,
robufl, chubby, German girl, who could not fpeak
a word of French.
As loon, as Delphine fa w what they intended
file ran towards the door to get out ; which Ca-
tau, to prevent her, locked, and put the key in
her pocket. Delphine fcreamed like a little fury,
and would have the key (he faid : Catau did
not underftand, therefore could not anfwer her ;
but (he fmiled at her mutinous freaks, and having
contemplated the violence of her countenance con-
trafted with the fmall feeble frame before her,
laughable and ridiculous to her, Ihe fat herfelf very
quietly down to her knitting.
The tranquillity of Catau inflamed the choler
of Delphine j her face reddened, her eyes fparkled,
and file went up to her and fcolded in a mofl vi-
olent manner : Catau, aftoniflied, looked at her,
flirugged up her flioulders, and continued her
work. The air of contempt, vifible in Catau,
drove the haughty Delphine befide herfelf, till flie
was fo enraged flie could no longer find words to
exprefs her feeling. She was (landing, and Ca-
tau was fitting with her head bending over her
work, without obferving her : at laft, Delphine,
having abfolutely loft all difcretion and command
of herfelf, ftepped one foot back, raifed her arm,
and
24 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE,
and applied the palm of her hand with all the little
force (he was miftrefs of, full upon- the plump
broad cheek of Catau. This was a language fhe
could not mifunderftand, and was- fomewhat vex-
ed as well as routed, by an attack fo unexpected.
She inftantly determined, however, how to pro-
ceed J (o taking ofF her garter, fhe feized the
feeble Delphine, and tied her hands faft behind her
back. It was in vain to ihriek and ftruggle, fhe
had no power to difengage herfelf; and at lafh,
wearied with exertions beyond her flrcngth, and,
convinced fhe mufl fubmit, fhe fat down, though
with an agonizing heart, and ceafed crying, ex-
pe<3:ing with impatience the return of Madame
SteinhaufTen, hoping fhe would drive away the
filent and flegjriatic Catau.
Madame de Clcmire had told thus much of her
tale, when the Baronnefs informed them it was
half paft nine o'clock, and the children went to
bed, ferry not to have heard the end of the flory ;
it was the fubje6l of their difcourfe all the next
day, and at night, after fupper, their mamma again
thus continued her recital.
We left Delphine, with her hands tied, alone
with Catau, expecting Madam SteinhaufTen, who
came, at laft, and brought v/ith her one of the moft
amiable children in the world. This was her
daughter Henrietta, who was twelve years old.
Delphine ran as foon as ihe faw Madam Stein-
hauflen,
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 25
haulTenj turned about, fliewed her hands, and com-
plained highly of the infolence, as fhe called it, of
Catau ; but (lie forgot to mention the flap in the
face. Madam SteinhaufTen looked round atCatau,
and afked the reafon of it ; and Catau,to the afto-
niHiment of Delphlne, replied in German, and
juftified herfelf in two words. Madam Steinhauf-
fen then addrefled herfelf to Delphine, and thus re-
proved her for her behaviour.
You fee, young lady, to what you have expofed
yourfelf by pride and violence ; you have made
an unworthy ufe of the fupcriority which your
rank gave you over this girl, and have obliged her
to forget the diftinftion which the accident of birth
"had placed between you. If you would have your
inferiors never fail in the refpeiSl tiiey ov/e you, be
careful always to treat them with gentlenefs and
humanity.
Madam Stelnhauflen then untied Delphiue's
hands, v/ho heard with furprize a language fo new
to her. Though more humbled than inftrudted
by this leiTon, fhe yet felt its jullice j but fpoilt
by • flattery and education, fhe was not at prefent
capable of comprehending truth and reafon in their
full force. Madam Stelnhauflen prefented her
daughter to Delphine, who received her coldly
enough, and prefently afterv,-ards fupper was
fcrved. At ten o'clock Catau undrefled the for-
rowful Delphine, and helped her intq her mattrefs
C bed
26 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE,
bed, where, being heartily fatigued, fhe found it
poflible to fleep very foundiy on a hard couch, and
in a cow-houfe.
The next morning the doctor came to fee
Delphine, when {he awakened, and ordered her
to walk an hour and a half before breakfaft. This
ilie thought exceedingly fevere, and at firft re-
fufed, but fhe was foon obliged to obey. They
led her into a vaft orchard, and though it was the
fineft weather in the world, it being the month
of April, fhe complained of tender feet, the wind
and the cold, and wept all the way, but ftill
was forced to walk ; fhe was brought back to her
cow-houfe exceedingly hungry, and for the firft
time within a year, at leafl, eat with a good ap-
petite.
After breakfafl fhe opened her cafket which
contained her jewels, fiippofmg, that by difplay-
ing her riches before Madam SteinhaufTen and
Henrietta, fhe fhould foon obtain a greater degree
of refped. Full of this idea, fhe, with a fignifi-
cant pride, took from her drawer a beautiful pearl
necklace, and tied it about her neck, put on her
emerald ear-rings, and fluck a precious ftone
and a diamond butterfly in her hair. She then
marched in flate, and fat herfclf down oppofite
Henrietta, who was at work by the fide of her
mamma. Her approach occafioned Henrietta to
take her eyes off her work 3 fhe jufl looked for a
moment
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 27
moment coldly at her finery, and continued her
occupation.
Delphine, aftoniftied at the little cfFecl her ex-
hibition had produced, and ftill deilrous of at-
tra£ling the notice of Henrietta, took a magnifi-
cent box of rock chryftal, the hinges of which
were fet with brilliants, and offered her fweet-
meats. Henrietta accepted a few fugar-plums, but
without beftowing any praifes on the fine box.
Delphine then afked her how flie liked her box ?
^Vhy, for my part, faid Henrietta, I tiiink it too
heavy ; a {Iraw-box is much more convenient to
carry — A ftraw-box ! — Yes j like mine, for ex-
ample ; look^at this ; don't you think it pretty ?—
But do you know the price of mine ? how much
it coft ? — Coft ! dear what fignifies coft. Con-
venience is better than coft— But the beauty of
the work ? — Oh, yes, your's is more beautiful,
and would beft fet off" a fhop, but mine is better
for the pocket — What then you do not care for
fuch pretty things ?— Not if they are unhandy, or
incommode me. — And don't you love diamonds ?
— I think a garland of flowers is better when one
is young — And when one is not young, faid
Madam SteinhaulTen, decorations of all forts are
generally ridiculous.
Delphine nov/ became thoughtful, and felt a
kind of melancholy file had never felt before, mixed
with chvagrinj but as Madam Steinhaufien im-
C 2 prelTcJ
2.3 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE.
prefTcd an awe upon her, flie was obliged to
f "mother her feeUngs, not daring therefore to fiicw
her vexation flie continued filent.
After remaining mute for a few minutes i?^ladam
SteinhaufTen find to Delphine, as I find Mifs, you
arc fond of fine things, I will fhew you by and by
fome of my curiohties. Oh dear, yes, fa id Hen-
rietta, mamma has fome delightfully curious
things, and among the reft fome foffils. Foflils !
faid Delphine, what are thofe ?— They are ftones,
faid Henrietta, which, either by chance, or the
fport of nature, have the figures of trees, plants,
animals, and fifh, imprinted on them (i).
This little explanation ended, Henrietta was
once more filent, and Delphine again became me-
lancholy. She now, for the firft time in her life,
made a few reflexions. Henrietta, faid flie to
herfelf, is only the daughter of a phyfician j (he
has nojdwels, no diamonds, no dolls, no play-
things, that I fee ; flie is always bufy, always at
work. How does it happen that flie has fo much
fatisfa(Stion in her face ? Why is flie fo happy,
while I have been weary of my life, as it were, ever
fmce I was born ?
As thefe thoughts pafled in her mind, flie fighed ;
but though flie was far from content, flic was
alfo far from being fo difcontented as flic had
been at Paris. The converfation of Madam
Steiiiliauficn and Henrietta was intcrefting, and
incited
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 2q
incited cuiiofity ; fhe could not help refpecling
the firfl, and fhe began to feel a ftrong inclinv^tioa
towards the young Henrietta.
In the evening fhe aficed for her doll and play-
things, and Madam Steinhaufte-n informed her
they had been forgot, and left at Paris, but that
fhe fliould have them in a few days. Delphine,
notwithftanding her awe of Madam SteinhaufTen,
was ready to murmur, v/licn Henrietta faid flie
would eo and fetch fomcthin? which (be thcuHit
would divert her all the evening. She tlicn ran
into the houfe and })rcfently returned, follov^^-ed by
Catau, who brought in two huge folios full of
engravings ; one volume of which contained a
coIle^Llon of Turkiih habits, and the other ofRui-
flan, by Le Prince. Thefe Henrietta explained
fo well, and with fuch an engaging manner, that
Delphine was very agreeably amufed. Before
fhe went to bed, Ihe killed Madam Steinhauflen
and her daughter, and told the latter, the hoped
{he would learn her fomething more on the mor-
row.
Delphine lay down without fretting, fiept v/ell,
and, as foon as file awaked, called for Henrietta ;
who, being ready drefled, ran, and feeing Delphine
hold out her arms, leaped lightly upon her bed,
and clafped her neck. Delphine hurried on her
clothes ; there was no occafion to perfuade her to
walk, fhe took hold of Henrietta's arm, and chear-
C3 fuUy
30 THE TALES OF THE C A .S T L I?.
fully entered the open air. When they crime to
the orchard, fhe faw and admired how nimbly
Henrietta ran, and endeavoured to run alfc. It
v/as not long before Henrietta perceived a charm-
ing rofe-coloured and black butterfly, and pro-
pofed to her companion to try to take it. The
;io;reement vi^as m.ade, and the chace began : the
girls feparUed ; Henrietta being the ftrongeft and
beft runner, outftripped the butterfly, and turned
it back to Delphine, whenever tlie latter failed to
catch it, as it alighted on the Arubs and buflies.
Delphine at firft did not undcrftand the method ;
file ran too brifkly j the butterfly fliU efcapcd, and
was ftill purfued. After various turns it alighted
at lall upon a hawthorn bough, and Delphine this
time approached gently, and with circumfpeclion,
firfl: one foot and then the other, and with her arms
concealed to entrap her prey. Juft as flie got to
the bufh, her heart beat with hope and fear ; fhc
held in her breath left it fbould agitate the leaves ;
then ftrctching out her arm by degrees, tried to
feize upon the butterfly, and thought at firft fhe
had it ; but alas, it was gone, it had flipt through,
and left the traces of its flight upon her fingers.
Delphine fighcd when flie looked, and faw part
of the duft which coloured the beautiful wings of
the fugitive upon her hand. Fatigued, but not
vanquiflied, flic flill followed, till it conduacd her
and her companion to a ditch, which fcparatcd
their
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE,. gl
their orchard from another : thither it flew, and
thither Henrietta prefently followed ; but poor
Delphine wds obliged to ftay behind ; fhe could
not leap the ditch. She prefently, however, heard
the huntrefs proclaim her vidlory; away fne came,
running and jumping, and holding her captive
lightly by the tip of its wings, while it in vain en-
deavoured to efcape*
Oh dear, what a charming chace ! faid Pul-
cheria ; how I long for fpring, that I may have
juft fuch another ! — Then you wifli the winter
was gone? faid the Baronnefs— To be fure !
who does not ? We fhall have rofe-coloured
butterflies, you knov/, grandmamma. — Yes, but
you cannot Aide, and draw your little fledges
along the ice j you cannot make fnow-balls and
— Oh dear, that's true ; I fliall be forry for
that. — You will not be forry, my dear, when you
have enjoyed thefe pleafures during their proper
feafon. Things are bcft as they are ; were we to
fee flowers, and green fields, and rofe coloured
butterflies all the year round, we (hould look on
them with indifFerence. Remember, my chil-
dren, people who wifh to be happy, ought to en-
joy thofe things they poflcfs, rather than thofe
they hope for. Struggle, therefore, with your
wifhes, and keep your defires within bounds, for
if you want moderation you want every thing.
The remembrance of fpring will make the winter
C 4 irkfome
32 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE.
irkibme and uefobte, and your wilh to tafte the
fruits of autumn, will prevent your enjoyment of
the beauties of fummer : no feafon will bring fa-
tisfadlion ; and you v/ill neither value a race on the
ice, or the cjiace of the butterfly.
Very true, grandmamma, faid Pulcheria ; I
perceive I was lillyi and I promife you, I will
hereafter wait patiently for the fpring.
I ufed, mamma, faid Caefar, to fee butterflies in
my uncle's garden at Neulli, but I never could
catch them, becaufe they don't fly ftrait forwards.
Very true, faid Madam de Clemire ; their
flight is a little extraordinary, always zig-zag j-
now up, and now down ; now to the right, and
nov/ to the left ; which effedt, I believe, is pro-
duced by the wings ftriking the air one after the
other, or, perhaps wilh an alternate unequal force.
This, however, is a great advantage to them, for
by this means they often efcape the birds that pur-
fue them, which always fly in a right line, whereas
the butterflies always do juft the contrary.
Where do they find the mod beautiful butter-
flies, mamma ? faid Caroline. Not in Europe,
rmfwcred Madam dc Clemire ; the butterflies of
China, but efpecially thofe of America, and of the
river Amazon, arc the moft remarkable for their
fizc, the brilliancy of their tints, and the elegance
of their forms. (2.) In China they fend the
mod beautiful as prcfents to the Emperor, who
makes
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 3;^
makes them contribute to adorn his palace. The
inhabitants make little filk nets to hunt them with,
and we are told, that fome of the Chjnefe ladies
have the «:uriofity to Itudy the lives of thefe in-
iects. (3.) They take them in their caterpillar
ftate, when they begin to fpin their web, fhut fe-
vcnil of them up together in a box full of twigs,
and, when they hear thcni begin to flutter their
wings, they let them fly about a glafs-chamber
ftrewed over with flovi'ers.
The children, at hearing this defcription, all
eagerly begged pcrmifllon to imitate the Chiiicic;
ladies, ftudy the lives of butterflies, make filk nets,
and have giafs-ccifes to keep the caterpillars in j
v/hich their mamma promifed them : that is,
•promifed to furnilli the materials, and dirc(5lioris
how to proceed, provided "they would employ
themfelves in the execution ; v/hich they gladly
accepted.
Madame de Clcmire then took up, once more,
the thread of her (tory ; and always addrelTmg
herfelf to her children, thus proceeded.
We left Henrietta and Delphi ne in the orchard,
you remember, and as foon as nine o'clock came.
Madam Steinhauflen permitted the two young
friends to breakfaft together, in a pretty little
apartment that belonged to Plenrietta. Here
Delphine beheld objects that were all totally new
to her J dried flowers preferved in glafles, varicga-
C 5 ted
34- THE TALES OF THE CASTLE.
ted {hells and butterflies were its ornaments. Hen*
rietta anl'wered all her queftions with her ufuai
complacency, fhewed her each thing individually,
taught her that fhells were divided ir.to three
clafles, (4.) and that thefe three clafles formed all
together twenty-feven families, which included
every fpecies of fliell hitherto known ; while Del-
phJneliftened with equal aftoniftiment andcuriofity.
How do you know all this ? faid flie ; you have
a deal of knowledge. — Me ! faid Henrietta: dear,
I know very little ; my notions are confufed, and
only fuperficial ; I have an ardent defire to learn,
for which reafon I love to read. — Love to read !
that's very ftrange ! — How ! ftrange ! it's a very
common thing, I believe. — Oh no, I don't think
that. — Shall I lend you fome books ? — If you
pleafe, till my doll comes. — Well, I will lend you
7 he Converfations of EniiHuSj and The Childrefis
Friend ; which laft is tranflatcd from the Ger--
rnan by Mr. Berquin, and is a very good book. —
From the German ? that's your language-
Yes. — But I can hardly perfuadc mjfelf you are a
German, you fpeak French fo well. You are
only a year older than I am, how is it poflible for
you to have learnt fo much already ? — ^I aflure you
I think myfelf very ignorant, but I read a great
deal with my mamma ; I am never idle, and I have
put away my doll thefe two years and upwards.
Here
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 35
Here Henrietta ran and fetched The ChUdrens
Friend out of her little library, and gave it to
Delphine. She received the prefent coldly enough,
and Madam SteinhaulTen then condudted her back
to her ufual habitation, M^here fhe left her to the
care of Catau, promifing to come to her in two or
three hours.
Madame de Clemire looked at her watch, and
found it was time to break up her aflembly for that
night; and though the children, delighted with
her flory, were not at all fleepy, flie thought pro-
per to fend them to bed.
The next day Caroline and Pulcheria begged
Vivfloire to learn them tofpin, that they might be
able to make nets, and catch ail the butterflies Qf
Champcery as foon as April came ; Caefar, on
his part, was bufy in his enquiries how to make
glafs-cafes at the leaft expence poflible, and his
rnan Morel foon gave him fufficlentinftruftions for
that purpofe. The Abbe made him a prefent of
the SpeSlacle de la Nature^ and it was their after-
noon's employment ufually to read that work.
But thefe amufements did not abate their defire to
know the end of Delphine's ftory ; wherefore, on
the third evening, Madam de Clemire thus con-
tinued.
Delphine being alone with Catau, and without
her play-thing?, thought it beft to drive away her
fpleen, by reading in the book Henrietta had given
C ^ her.
36 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE.
her. She ran over the leaves ac firft with a p-ood
deal of indifference, reading only here and there.
As fhe read on, {he began to take pleafure in what
fhe read, and was furprized to find, tb^t reading
could make time pais away more agreeably than,
mod other amufements.
While fhe was reflecting on this difcovery, fhe
heard fome one knock at the door of the cov/-
houfe. Catau got up to open it, and Delphine
faw an old coinitry- woman, led by a young girl
of fifteen or fixteen, who afked her if fhe was.
Mifs SteinhaufTen. No, faid Delphine, I am not
her, but I expe£l fhe will be here prefently. The
old woman then begged fhe might be permitted
to flay for her, for, fays fhe, I mufl fpeak to her-
Delphine now perceived the old woman was blind^
and afked if fhe came to take advice from Dodlor
SteinhaufTen. Truly, young lady, faid flie, I be
not come of my own head, for it was Mifs Stein-
hauffen that kindly fent to fcek me. — Why, faid
Delphine ? The good woman anfwered this quef-
tion, by telling her fhe lived at Francopville, had
been blind three years, and that the thing which
fretted her mofl, was, that her grand-daughter
Agatha, the pretty young girl who condudfed her,.
was beloved by a rich farmer of tlie village where
Henrietta came from ; but that flic refufed to marry
hi m,becaufe file fliould then have a family to marfage,,
und could not take proper care of her poor blind
grandmother j
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 37
grandmother ; fhe could not then affift her, prattle
to her, and lead her about ; and that flie Would
not content to leave her to the care of a fervant.
Indeed, faid Agatha, I fliould be a very bad
girl if I was to do fo ; for you know, grand-
mother, I loft my father and mother when I was
quite young, and you have taken care of me and
brought me up ever fmce. — And fo this dear
child, refumed the old woman, won't leave me ;
fo Mifs Henrietta knows the whole ftory, and
fhe has been fo kind to fend for me in a chaife,
that her papa may try if he can do me any good j
and I am told, he has brought abundance of folks
to their eye-fight again,, that were all as blind as
I be.
Henrietta came foon after ; fhe kifTed them
both with the moft lively affection, and aflced them
many queftions, in a manner that fhe wed fhe was
interefted in their welfare, and liftened with con-
cern to their anfwers. Then taking the old
woman by the hand, fhe faid, come, come to my
papa ; he is juft returned from Paris ; let us con-
fult him, let us hear v/hat he fays.
In faying this, fnc obliged the old woman to
kan on her flioulder, and taking the j/ounp- one
in her other hand, v/ent towards the houfe.
This fcene made a ftrong impreJion on Del-
phine ; Henrietta had never -appeared fo amiable
before i flie recollected every queftion Ihe had
put
38 THE TALES OF THE CASTL:^.
put, and the concern vifible in her countenance
at their anfwers. The remembrance painted
Henrietta in the moft charming colours, augment-
ed her love of her, and infpired her with a more
lively v^ifh to refemble her than (he had ever felt
before.
Henrietta returned in about a quarter of an
hour, in a tranfport of joy. How happy I am,
faid fhe to Delphine, that I had the thought to
bring the good woman here ! My father is certain
he can reftore her to fight : he will perform the
operation of the cataraft upon her in eight days,
a)id has confented, at my requeft, to lodge and
board her till fhe is cured. Imagine hov/ happy
I (hall be when fhe is no longer blind ! Her grand-
daughter will marry the rich farmer, for fhe won't
want her affiftance then ; and the piety and
atfeclion of Agatha will not deprive her of a
good eflablifhment, which fhe might never find
again. Ah ! my dear Henrietta, faid Delphine, I
fee how happy you arc, and how much you merit
ib to be !
The entrance of the do£tor and Madam Stein-
hauflen interrupted their converfation. The
doctor, as ufual, queflioned his patient concern-
ing her flate of body, who anfwered fhe was much
better. I am a little tired it is true, faid Delphine,
bccaufc I have ran a good deal to day, but it does
not make me fo uneafy as I ufed to be at Paris,
after
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 3'f
after having been at a ball or an opera. I am
not at all furprizcd at that, anfwered the do6lor j
the curvets you take about Paris engender fevers,
but in the country they produce a good appetite,
found fleep, and thofe ftreaks of wholefome red,
which you fee in the cheeks of Henrietta. The
doilor then, after feeling her pulfe, defired fhe
might continue the fame regimen till further
orders.
Delphine received a letter that afternoon from
her mamma, w^hich (he fhe wed to Henrietta, who
immediately ran for pen, ink, and paper. Here,
faid fhe, my dear Delphine, here are the materials
to anfwer your mamma ; but inflead of taking
them, Delphine hung down her head and blufh-
ed — Alas, faid fhe, I can't write — What not at
all ? faid Henrietta ; I write a tolerable large hand.
Henrietta perceived the humiliation of Delphine
and was forry. One can't indeed be aftonifhed
confidering your ill ilate of health, that you
are fomething backward in your education faid
file, but it is now time to recover what you have
lofc— I fhall be glad fo to do, faid Delphine j and
if any body now would learn me to write I— .
My writing is not very bad, interrupted Henrietta,
and .if you will permit me, I will be your miflrefs.
Delphine anfwered her, by flinging her arms about
her neck and kiffing her ; and it was agreed their
IclTons fhould commence the next dav.
Delphine
40 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE,
. Delphine now began to blulh at her exceffive
ignorance. She loved and admired Henrietta,
who took advantage of the afcendancy ihe had
acquired over her to make her ijiduftrious, and
willing to learn ; fetting her, at the fame time,
fuch an excellent example, and being hcrfelf {<y
evidently happy, that Delphine could not refill
the defire fhe had to imitate her. She found
likewife in her converfation, as well as in that of
Madam SteinhaufTen, fomething which became
every day more and more agreeable. Sometimes
the latter would difcourfe with her on botany or
mineralogy, (5.) and at others would relate fome
agreeable tale, or trait of hiftory ; tlien again fhe
would fpeak of Germany, its ufeful inftitutions,
and the curiofities to be fcen at Vienna; of the
magnificent collections of pidlurcs at Drefdcn and
Dufleldorf ; of fuperb gardens ; and, among
others, of thofe at Newaldeck, at Ornback, in
Auftria, and at Swetnngua, four leagues from
Manheim, in which were delightfid baths, fine
ruins of a chatcaux-d'eaux, a beautiful temple of
Apollo, a grand mofque, and a great quantity of
exotics and fcarce trees. She defcribed to> 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
<ie Clemire chofe to fee the little Auguftin, who
r was below with his mother. She had heard the
.hiftory of the morning from Caslar, and replied
yes, by all means j they prcfently entered, Auguf-
tin was carefi'ed by every body, and Madeleine
prefented a fmall baflcet of new laid eggs to
Madame de Clemirc. The latter had already
enquired into the fituation of this poor family, and
heard that the father was but juft recovering from
a bed of ficknefs ; flie therefore willingly granted,
at the interceflion of C?efar, four guineas out of
the fum dedicated to charity, and dcfired Auguf-
tin to come every day and play with Caefar.
Auguftin begged leave to bring his little brother
Charles fomctimes, becaufe faid he, poor Charley
will be fo dull if he is always left behind; and,
after praifing the boy's fraternal love, they readily
complied with his defire.
The evening now approached, and C.rfiir and
Caroline perceiving the unhappinefs of their
younger fifter at being excluded from their after
fupper fociety, both determined to beg of their
grandmamma, not to relate any hiftory during tiie
eight days of Pulchcria's peanance ; for they were
better plcafed to be debarred of that pleafure,
though
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 73
though they ardently defired it, than to enjoy it in
the ablence of their fifter. The Baronnefs highly
applauded therr dirintereftednefs, and it was accord-
ingly determined fo to be.
In the mean time, as Madame de Clemire was
one evening diicourfmg with her children, Caro-
line faid to her, you have forbidden us all converfa-
tion with the fervants, mamma, becaufe they v/ant
education you knov/, and yet you permit us to
talk with the peafants; nay, you yourfelf (cenx
to take pleafure in talking to Gaffer Philip and
Goody Monica, and Madeleine.
That is very true • anfwered her hiainma, and
I will tell you why. Though the domeilics of
the rich are ignorant, yet, from frequently hear-
ing their mafters, they get a more refined, or
rather a more affeiled manner of fpeaking than
the peafants," yet full as defective. The chief
vice in their dialect is a meannefs of exprefiioi.,
and puerility of ideas, rather than words. I am
not afraid, that by converfing with peafants, you
fhould learn to fay, / coraiotj I iiiwinot^ I wumiot ;
thefe expreilions are fo different from thofe you
are accuftomed to hear, there is little fear of your
adopting them ; but on the contrary, the languao-c
of fervants is in words fomething folike your own,
that there is great rcafon to apprehend you might
adopt it imperceptibly. But there is another
thing, which is yet far more to be feared ; do-
VOL. I. E • meftics
74 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE.
meitics have, in generrii, vices and defedls, which
are the confequences of the fervile (late they have
chofen. If an ignorant man is not laborious, if
he leads a life of idlenefs, and loiters away his time,
it is hardly pofiible he fliould be virtuous. A
footman, inftead of being employed, pafTes three-
fourths of the day in indolence, and, having no
refource within himfelf, not being able to read or
converfe, he drinks, games, corrupts his manners,
and lofes his probity. Thefe are the conftant
efFe6ls of lazinefs, and not knowing how to em-
ploy one's time. A peafant, on the contrary, be-
ing always bu fy, ahvays aflive, living far from
cities. Hill preferves his fimplicity, his purity of
manners, and all the other virtues which are na-
tural to the heart. I love, indeed to converfe
with peafants, their artle's fmcerity is inviting ;
and though their exprciTions are homely, they are
never mean. The fingular originality of their
fayings pleafe me : they recall to my mind the
fimple and poignant beauties of our old authors.
The peafants of Burgundy, do fo in particular,
for they have preferved in their dialc£l many of
the old Gaulifli words. 1 love, too, to fee, to look
at them, becaufe they are laborious and virtuous ;
and 1 love to hear them becaufe they are fincere,
and never are guilty of the lead exaggeration.
When Gaffer Philip the other day faw Carohne
running, and cried out — ^^Lord lovi the heart on
her^
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE, 75
her, hoiu UJJhn her is I my maternal love was
mucli more highly flattered, than if I had heard
the Parifian phrafe of 0/;, how charming ! which
is ufed fo prodigally with or without occafion.
However, my children, I would have you under-
ftand I fpeak only in general, and that there are
in each cafe m-any exceptions. There are vicious
peafants, and there are virtuous fervants. You
have a proof in Morel, and your grandmamma
wiJ!, when our evening comes, relate you a very
afFedling ftory, which will ftill more fully prove
there is no ftate in which the m.oil fublime virtue
may not be found.
Do you remember the flory grandmamma ? faid
Pi'lcheria. Yes, my dear, replied the Baronnefs,
it- A^as told me circumftantially by one of our
friends who knew the perfons.
Oh dear, how I long to hear it, faid one— ' —
and I and I faid they all. Well, well,
four days hence you will have that fatisfaction—
Four days ! Dear, that's a great while.
Thefe tirefome four days at laft had glided
av/ay, and night and fupper-time was thought on
with rapture. At a quarter after eight every
body rofe from table, took their ufual places, and
liftened attentively while the Baronnefs began the
following relation.
E 2 , The
76 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE.
THE
B R A Z I E Ri
O R,
RECIPROCAL GRATITUDE.
THE unfortunate James the lid of England,
was obliged to abandon his kingdom, and
take refuge in France ; where, at the palace of
St. Germain, Louis XIV. afforded him an afylum.
A few loyal fubjedls followed him in his retreat,
and fettled at St. Germain j among whom was
Madame de Varonne, defccndcd from one of the
beft families in Ireland, and whofe hiftory I am
going to recount.
During the life of her hufband this lady lived
in eafe and affluence ; but, after his death, being
left in a foreign country without protcclion, fhe
had not fufficient intercft at court to obtain any
part of the penfion on which they had before fub-
fifted. She ncgle61:ed not, however, to prcfent
petitions to the miniftcrs, who always anfwered,
they would lay them before the king ; and fhe con-
tinued in fufpcnce for more than tvvo years ; till
at bfl, on a renewal of her requeft, ihe received
a denial,
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 77
a denial, in fo formal and pofitive a ftyle, that fhe
could no longer be blind to the fate that attended
her.
Her fituation was dreadful ; ever fince the
death of M. de Varonne fhe had fubfifted by
felling her plate, and part of her furniture, till fne
had no longer any refource. Her love of folitude,
her piety, and ill health, had alv/ays prevented
her mixing m.uch w^ith the world ; and flill lefs
than ever fmce the death of her hufband. She
found herfelf then v/ithout fupport, v/Ithout
friends, without hope ; flript of every thing,
plunged into a flate of frightful mifery ; and, that
the meafure of her woes might be full, fhe v/as
£fty years of age, and her conftitution v/as feeble
and infirm.
In this her day of diflrefs, fhe had recourfe to
bim who beft could grant her confolation and re-
lief ; who foonefl could, change the feverity of her
defliny ; who mofl certainly could give her forti-
tude to fupport calamity : fhe cafl herfelf at the
feet of the Almighty, and arofe with confidence,
fortified and exalted above herfelf, and with the
full aflurance of a calm refignation reviving in her
foul. She looked with a fleady eye on the deplor-
able fcene before her, and (aid to herfelf, Since it is
the inevitable lot of mortals to die, of what im-
portance is it whether we die by famine or difeafe j
whether we fink to refl under a golden canopy or
£ 3 upon
78 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE.
Upon a bed of ftraw ? Will death be lels v/el*
come, becauil I have nothing to regret ? Oh no !
I fhall need neither exhortations nor fortitude ; I
have no facrifices to make ; abandoned by the
v/orld, I /hall think only of him who rules the
world ; fhall behold him ready to^r^ccivc, to re-
compenfe me, and fhall accept death as the mofl
precious of all his gifts.
She had a deal of courage, interrupted Caro-
line. Is it poflible to die without feeling fome
little regret for this life ?
Remember, my dear, faid the Baroimefs, I.'a-*
dame de Varonne had no children.
And that file had neither a hufband nor a mo-
ther, added Madame de Clemire.
Befidcs, rejoined the Baronnefs, religion is ca-
pable of infpiring this fublime refignation, and
1 have already told you fhe was truly pious. — But
let us continue our tale.
While fhe was in the midfl of thefe reflcclions,
Ambrofe, her footman, entered the chamber. It'
is necefiary you fhould know fomething of this
Ambrofe, I will therefore give you a few traits of
his charadler.
Ambrofe was forty years of age, and had lived
with Madame de Varonne twenty. He could nei-
ther read nor write, was naturally blunt, apt to
find fi^ult, fpoke little, and always appeared to
look with contempt on his equals, and with a
degree
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 79
degree of haughtinefs on his maflers. His fallen
deportment and diflatisfied air, made iiis attend-
ance not very agreeable; but his puncluahty,
good coudu6l, and perfect fidelity, had aiv/ays
made him eftecmed as a moft excellent and
valuable fervant. Kis good qualities, however,
were only known in part j for he poiTclTed
the moil fublime virtue : under a rough exterior
v/as concealed an elevated and generous fouK
Madame de Varonne had difcharged the fer-
vants of her hufband foon after his deceafe, and
had only kept one maid, a cook, and Ambrofe ;
but the time was now come, in which flae mufi:
part with thefe likewife.
Ambrofe, as I have faid, entered her chamber
with a log of wood, it being winter, which he
was going to put on the fire, when Madame de
Varonne faid to him, I want to fpeak to you Am-
brofe. The tone of voice in which flie pro-
nounced thefe words, ftruck Ambrofe, who
flinging down his log upon the hearth, exclaimed,
Good God ! Madam ! — What is the matter ?
Do you know how much I owe the cook-maid,
Ambrofe ? rYou neither owe her, nor me, nor
Mary any thing, you paid us all yefterday. — —
True ; that was not what I meant to fay — I — >
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
a<R:ions 1 wifh he had it.- Admitting, mj
dear, that fuch an event would not make him
forget himfelf, would not render him vain, proud,
and infolent, he yet would be to be pitied.
Morel knows how to read and write, has good
fentiments, and is highly diftinguifhed in his pre-
fent ftate of life ; but what kind of a figure
would he cut in the fafhionable world ? To how
many ridiculous fituations would he not be ex-
pofed ? How would he do the honours of his
houfe and table ; what would his carriage and
converfation be ? Would he know how to manage
his eftate ; could he tell whether his fie ward was
or was not honeft ? He would marry, and
would certainly neither marry a farmer's nor a-
tradefman's daughter, but would chufe an amiable
woman, well educated ; fuch a woman would
marry him only for bis fortune, cojifequcntly
could not be aneftimable woman, but would ren-
der his life miferable ; and thus you fee Morel,
with a great fortune, would be as wretched as
ridiculous. But if, inftead of the twenty thou-
fand, he was to get a prize of one thoufand, he
would buy a little houfe, and a few acres of land,
wo\dd marry a pretty country girl, v»'ith a fortune
of
TME TALES OF THE CASTLE. I33
cf four or five hundred more, that was ufed to
work, would be loved and rcTpecSled by his wife,
would live in affluence, enjoy the good-will of
his neighbours, for being good and charitable,,
and be looked upon as a wifer man than perfons
©f that condition ufually are. Morel would then
be the moft fortunate of men.
That is very true, mamma ; but if Morel,
when he had got the twenty thoufand pounds prize,
would continue in his proper fphere of life, if he
would live in the country, be contented with a
fmall farm, a pretty country girl, and employ the
reft of his fortune in good a6tions, he would'
neither be ridiculous nor unhappjh
Morel, my dear, is, I grant, a very good man ;
but you are fuppofing him a philofopher and a
hero, and I do not believe him either the one or
the other. Befides, according to your fuppofition,
his pretty country girl mufb be a heroine, and
their children all philofophers, otherwife fhe would
be exceedingly chagrined to fpend no more than
one hundred a year ; her children would be of her
opinion, and 'the wretched Morel would hear
nothing from his family but complaints and re-
proaches. Well, mamma, but perhaps he
would not marry. But if he ftiould ?— — Nay,
but let us fuppofe he would not. And o-ive
him no children ! What happinefs would you de-
prive him of! Ah! dear mamma, then let"
him
134 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE.
him have children, and give them a good mother,
and then ! My dear boy ! Well, let it be fo,
we will fuppofe all you wifh, that Morel is retired
to the country, that he lives upon a fmall part of
his income, and gives the remainder to the poor,
I ftiU fee a number of vexations.— -—What,
mamma ? Morel is ignorant of men and things,
and a parcel of artful, humble knaves, cunning
and enterprizing, would creep into his confidence,
under pretence of enlightening and dire<Sting his
benevolent views j deceived, duped, robbed, ruin-
ed by them, in endeavouring to do good, and in
fa(Sl, enriching rafcals only, he Oh, but if he
fhould chufe hoi^ft good men ? Unfortunately
the difhoneft, child, are far the moft numerous.
Befides, pray recolledl how many extraordinary,
and even extravagant fuppofitions we are obliged
to admit, in order to make him happy, if fortune
ihould to-morrow fend him twenty thoufand
pounds.
Very right, mamma, I fee now that it is not
fufficient merely to be good ; in order to do good,
we muft know how to do it ; and I fee too that it
is a great unhappinefs, to be removed from that
ftation of life to which wc are accuftomed.
That is, my dear, for a pcrfon of the condition
of Mortl or Marianne, for a pcrfon who has re-
ceived no education ; for with virtue, educa-
tion, and a knowledge of the world, happlnefs is
t«
THE TALESOF THE CASTLE. I35
to be found in any ftate, and fuch a perfon is
qualified for all — —A good education is a charm-
ing thing ! — Yes ; it makes us capable of all
o-ood, and yields a thoufand refources to adver-
fity ; it preferves us from the weak pride which
the favours of fortune too often infpire, or at leait
it teaches us to conceal our vanity : it levels rank,
gives thofe qualities which are always amiable,
and thofe charms which ever allure, it makes
folitude delightful j teaches us to make ourfelves
refpedled by men ; gives perfedtion to reafon ;
forms the heart, and developes genius. Judge
then, my children, of the gratitude due from per-
fons well educated to thofe who have contributed
to their education.— — And efpecially, mamma,
to their parents. Moft certainly ; and if, like
you, my dears, they have a proper fenfe of their
obligation, they will love and revere the mafters
and inftruclors to whom parents confign a part ot
their authority. Here Madame de Clemire rofe,
I^ifled her children, and fent them to reft.
The next day Caefar and his fifters, as ufual,
talked among each other of the over-night's hif-
tory i they did not forget to praife the virtuous
Marianne Rambour j but, notwithftanding all
their mamma had faid upon the fubjedl, they could
not help thinking her ill rewarded for her virtue,
and not lb happy as fhe deferved to be ; for, faid
Pulcheria, this good girl, wiUi her two hundred
iind
IJO THE TALES OF THE CASTLE,
and fixty livres a year, has only juft enouo-h td
keep her ; and Co fhe muft work continually to rrive
to the poor, and live, as mamma fays, upon what
is barely enough to fuftain nature; now I don't
like that j I wi/h at leaft ihe had the means of
beftowing her charity, without diftreffing herfelf.
When the evening hour of meeting came,
Madame de Clemire faid ta Pulcheria, I heard
your converfation to-day, my dear, about Mari-
anne, and Why do you blufh, child ?
Mamma ! If you are vexed that I fhould over-
hear what you fay to your brother and fifter, ycu
muft go farther from me another time, and not
talk fo loud. Dear mamma, I don't wifh to
hide any thing from you. Then why did you
blufh ? Anfwer, my dear Becaufc, mamma,
notwithftanding the reafons you gave us laft night,.
I maintained, that Marianne was not fufiiciently
rewarded, and feel now I was wrong to hold an
©pinion contrary to your's, mamma. Yes,
my dear, you ought always to fuppofe when your
opinion differs from mine it is falfe j and when
you are not convinced by my arguments and ex-
planations, you fhould tell me your doubts, be-
caufe I am always ready to hear and anfwer you.
This is a juflice that I defire and expe<Sl from you -,
for when you tell your thoughts of this kind to
others, ) ou forget both the affeition and refpedl
you owe to me» Befidcs, if you have mifunder-
itood
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 137
ftood me., I cannot ftiew you your error, if I am
not prefent when you criticize my inftrudlions — — -
Criticize ! mamma ; dear what a word ! ' ■
Perliaps a little too ftrong, Pukheria j and yet
have not you faid you did not find Marianne fuf-
ficiently recompenfed, and that you could not
think like me in that refpeit ? But will you liften
to my reafons ? Yes, indeed, mamma, and
will eiideavour, with all my heart, to underfland
them, that I may be of your opinion.
Well then, the thing that difpleafes you js, I
think, that Marianne is not perfedJy happy, is it
not ? Yes, mamma. And what think you
can render a perfon perfeftiy happy, who is pious,
fimple, induftrious, and who, in fail, carries
virtue to the highcft degree of fublime heroifiTi ?
Is it money ? Surely you do not think it is !
Why, mamma, when one only "wiflies for money
to give it to otliers, may it not add to our hap-
pincfs ? According to that mode of reafoning,
my dear, benevolence would become ambition,
and that it is not. Pride and covetoufnefs only
have a real defire for riches. When we are free
from that vanity which makes fome people virtuous,
we are fully fatisfied with gi^'ing fuch afliftance to
the unfortunate as is in our power. The rich
benefacior gives with greater eclat, but the poor
with greater "plcafure, And why, mamma?
You lliali hear.
Tht
138 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE,
The greater the virtue, the greater the fatis-
fa.dtion -' Oh, certainly, mamma An action
is more or lefs admirable, in proportion to the
facrifices it cofts us. A man, who having ten
thoufand pounds a year, fhould live upon two,
that he might give the furplus to the poor, would
do a very great, and unhappily for the world, a
very uncommon a6lion. And yet what would hs
deprive himfelf of ? A few trinkets, diamond
rings, and race-horfes, perhaps. In keeping two
thoufand a year, he would referve to himfelf every
convenience of life ; he might keep his coach,
his country-houfe, his hunters, and indulge in
every rational pleafure fortune can procure j he
would renounce fuperfluLties only j and this facri-
fice, as admirable as it is c?Syj would add to his
coniequence, and procure him univerfal efleem :
he would certainly be happy, and would deferve
fo to be. And yet the poor benefadlor would
enjoy happlnefs a hundred fold more great.
Imagine to yourfelf Marianne Rambour, with her
two hundred and fixty livres a year, imagine, I
fciy, this angelic woman, ading for the love of
her God, and the fatisfadlion of her own heart ;
fuppofe her working all Jay, to carry fecretly at
night the money to a poor perfon in a bed of fick-
iicfs, or the mother of a large family, which fhall
fupply five or fix children with bread and broth, and
2. morfel of meat j or a perfon that muft other-
wife
THE TALES or THE CASTLE. 139
wife lie and perifli. Then follow her back again
to her cottage, her eyes flill wet with the tears
fhe has been fhedding ; fee her entering her
chamber, where fhe has nothing for her own
fupper, but a bit of dry bread and a little fallad.
Hear her fay to herfelf, the meat which I have
debarred myfelf of to-day will keep five or fix
fouls from ftarving ! Does not this refle£Hon fill her
heart with inconceivable delight ? She remembers
the thanks of the poor mother ! of the children !
fhe flill imagines fhe hears them ; fhe beholds the
little ones feize with avidity the delicious morfel
they have two days been denied. How fwee<
will the frugal repafl of Marianne be made by
thoughts like thefe ! How exquifitc ! In rifing
from table, with what pleafuFc, what confidence,
will fhe thank that beneficent Being, who has
faid, " Take heed that ye do not your alms be*
*' fore men to, be feen of them : otherwife ye have
*' no reward of your Father who is in heaven.'*
Marianne has not the happinefs or the glory to
fnatch a multitude of wretches from mifery, to
form ufeful and durable eflablifhments, or to found
hofpitals, but fhe has given in fecret, and her gift
was the meat from her own mouth. She fought
not the praife or approbation of men, but was
guided by religion and humanity ; aad fhe finds
in her refledions, her memory, her heart, and
efpecially in the grcatnefs of the facrifices fhe
makesj
140 THI TALES OF THE CASTLE.
makes, an inexhauftible faurce of felicity ; Ihe
anticipates the happinefs of angels, is fatisfied with
herfelf, and is convinced tha?: God himfelf ap-
proves and prote<3:s her.
And now I hope you conceive, that if Marianne
had a fortune larcre enou2;h ^o fuccour the diftsefl'ed
without debarring herfelf; fhe would not receive
the fame degree of fatI?f-i61:ion from her alms, be-
caufe they could not be fo meritorious.
You may judge, indeed, by yourfelf : the other
day you know you had a bafket of apples fent you,
which you di\'ided with your brother and fifter ;
«nd the day before yeflerday IMadeleine brought
you a little lamb of which your fifter was exceed-
ingly fond, and which therefore you gave her.
From which of thefe two adlions did you receive
the moft pleafure ? From having given my
pretty little lamb to my fifter. And yet you
was very fond of your lamb ? Oh dear, yes,
mamma, and that was the reafon why I received
fo much fatisfaftlon in giving it to my Tiftcr,
Dear me, faid I to m)'felf, how happy would my
fifter be if I was to give her this lamb, and then I
thought how exceedingly fhe would be furprizcd,
and what joy (he would have ; and fo I found that
would give me greater pleafure than even keeping
the lamb. And then I ran to my governed to
beg a rofe-coloured ribband, and I put a pretty
collar round its neck, and made it fo fine, and it
looked
THE TALES OF THE CASTLS. I4I
looked fo innocent and fo milk-white, and then
I ran to feek for my fifter j and my heart did fo
beat all the way I went, you can't th-ink, mamma^
what I felt ! .
This all, my dear, tends to prove, that th(S
greater the facrifice the greater the fatisfa6lion.
If your pleafure was fo great in imagining the ]oj
of your fifter at the reception of your little lamb,
what would your feelings be, think you, had you
given the means of life to an unfortunate family
ready to expire with hunger ?—— It muft be very
great, indeed, mamma ! .When fliall we go and
do fuch charitable adions ? Next winter again
when we are at Paris, if you all behave well till
then That will be the beft recompenfe you can
make us. But is it not ftrange, mamma, that
there fhould be nobody here in fuch extreme want,
and fo many in fuch a fine city as Paris, where
there are fo many rich people ? It feems ftrange,
indeed, my dear, but fuch are the efte6i:s of luxury,
or rather of that defpicable vanity which makes
men feek to ftiine by a falfe magnificence, inftead
of endeavouring to diftinguifii themfelves by their
A irtues ; fuch is that madnefs which makes the
proud poffeflbrs of the city defpicably ridiculous,
while the fimple inhabitants of the village live in
innocence and peace 1 am fure, mamma, that
*lone is enough to make one hate the town, and
love the country. But how can one find out the
miferablc
142 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE'.
miferable creatures of whom you fpeak ? for I have
heard it is not thofe who publicly beg— — Alas^
my dear, Paris is full of them, you may find them
in every ftreet— —— Oh, goodnefs ! What ! Do
we continually pafs by their dwellings, their very
doors ? Are they our neighbours ? Do you think
there are any in our ftreet at Paris ? If I thought
foy I could not clofe my eyes. How can one lie
down peaceably to reft, and know there is a poor
Wretch not a hundred fteps from one ftarving on
a bed of ftraw ! Cherifh -this humanity my
child, and when you have money, and are tempted
to buy fome fuperfluous toy, recollc6l the heart-
breaking refle<Slion you have juft made : fay to
yourfelf what this gauze frippery would coft,
which will be fpoilcd in two days, might fave a
dying child, and a diftrailed mother 1 never
will buy any fuch fuperfluous nonfenfe I am de-
termined— — Do not promife, my dear, what it is
probable you cannot perform. To rcferve only
what is ncceflary, and give the furplus to the
poor, is neither the work of infancy or youth.
Be fatisfied with knowing that benevolence is the
beft, the greateft, the only true happinefs. Ac-
cuftom yourfelf henceforward to refledl upon the
frivolity of the playthings which you arc too liable
to be fond of; remember they can only give a
trifling and tranficnt pleafure, momentary and
vain, while the folc recital of a good action,
much
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. I43
much more the performance, gives your mind
the moft exquifite fenfations. Remember fome-
times the multitude of unfortunate people who
want the bread you wafte, who fuffer in naked-
nefs all the rigour of the winter, while you cut
your clothes to drefs your doll. Thefe reflections
will make you compaflionate, and accuftom you
to oeconomy, without which it 1? impoflible to be
generous. Learn betimes, therefore^ the habit
of being careful, and impofe occafionally voluntary
fecrifices on yourfelf j be mafters of youra6Hons,
and often rccolledl tliat virtue only can make you
diftinguifhed or efteemed, happy or beloved ;
think of our evening tales and converfations, and
your reafon'will flrengthen by degrees, your minds
become noble, your hearts benevolent, and you
will be the delight and glory of your mother 1
would begin now, dear mamma, and if I thought
I could but be fo good as to do at prefent what—
No, my dear, the mind is not capable at your
age of that continued exertion neceflary to at-
tain the perfe61:ion I have dcfcribed. You know
not the world, every thing is new, every thing
pleafing ; but hereafter, when your occupations
fhall become more ufeful, the trifles which at
prefent pleafe will then be infipid ; you will be
delighted with nothing that does not affect the
heart, nothing will fully fatisfy but continual
goodnefs. Neither is one obliged to give every
thing
144 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE.
thing that may be called fuperfiuous to the poor.
The fcripture orders us to be charitable, but not
utterly to ftrip ourfelves. " Give to him that
" afketh thee, and from him that would borrow
" turn not thou away." I grant that thofe who
are totally guided by the evangelical fpirit, will
give all they have to the poor j but religion does
not require us to facrifice every convenience of
'life to our humanity, but that we fhould fet bounds
to our whims and imaginary wants, and preferve
the means of expiating our follies by our benefac-
tions. And fo, mamma, when one is only a
little good one gives a little, wheji one is very
good one gives more than one half, and when one
ispeffe£l one gives all.— —Yes, my dear, that is
exaillythe gofpel definition.
But you told us juft now, mamma, there is no
being good without oeconomy.
Certainly. Whatever is wafted, whntever is
loft, is a real robbery of the poor, and is the more
condemnable becaufe it procures no pleafure.
The account, Pulcheria, which your govcrncfs
has given me of things loft by you within a year
will furnifti an example. One filk cloak, fix pocket
handkerchiefs, four pair of gloves, two thimbles,
three needle-cafes, and a pair of fciffars, which
altogether coft near two guineas to replace j now
had you been more careful, I ftiould have had two
guineas more to fpcnd, either upon you or in do-
ins
THtff TALES OF THE CASTLE. I45
ing fome good adioii; and if you do not corredt
this fault it will coft me ftlU more as you grow
©Ider, becaufe your necefTaries will be more ex-
penfiv^e. To-morrow I will relate a little flory
on that fubjed, which I hope will make fome im-
preflion upon you. — — But why, mamma, will
you not tell it us now ? It is not late ! Be-
caufe I have not ended that of yefterday How !
exclaimed the children altogether, not the ftory
of Marianne Rambour ?— — — I never faid it was
finifhed ; you have always interrupted me, and
your queftions did not give me time to purfue my
tale. I have endeavoured to make you compre-
hend that (in general) perfons without education
are to be pitied, when any accident alters their con-
dition of life. I believe I have proved to Pulche-
ria, that Marianne Rambour ought to have been
happy with her two hundred and fixty livres a
year ; but I did not fay this fmall inheritance was
the only recompenfe heaven referved for her vir-
tues ; and I beg you to recoil e6l the maxim that
(jn heroic anion never ^oes unrewarded even in this
vjorM. You all of your own accord protcfted
againfl- the mediocrity of the reward, without
waiting to hear the whole. 1 fee, faid Ca^far,
one fliould not decide haftily, nor till every thing
is thoroughly explained ; we deferve for our pu-
niftiment, to be deprived of the remainder of the
ftory, though I fliould be heartily forry. — No, faid
^^01" I. H Madame
14-6 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE,
Madame de Clemire ; let me only defire you to
be more cautious in future, and judge lefs precipi-
tately. But let us return to Marianne.
She learnt in her retreat, that the Vicar of
S*** had read her letter to his pariftiioners. Far
from being flattered at it, fhe was affliiled : fhe
wrote to him on the fubjedl. " I am vexed," faid
fhe, " that you have publifhed a tranfadlion,
" w^hich I defired fliould be only known to God
" and you." But, notwitliftanding the fmcerity of
her regret, her hiftory was foon publicly known
at Charleville, and the moft diftinguiflied people
of the town wifhed to fee, to know, and to invite
her to their houfes ; feveral, too, ufed every ima-
ginable means, to engage her to receive fuch af-
fiftance as was neceffary to make her perfedlly at
eafe. She, however, conftantly refufed, and al-
ways anfwered fhe had enough and was perfectly
contented with her ftate. The Vicar of S***, at
laft, took a journey to Paris, where he often fpoke
of Marianne Rambour. Among others, to whom
he related the behaviour of Marianne, was a lady
to whom he likewife gave fome of her letters, and
a copy of the deed of foundation or the fchool.
Thefe the lady gave to one of her friends, a man
f>flcttcr«, 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<Sl likewife.
Doralice had all the necefTary qualifications to
form an excellent tutorefs, exxept experience j fhe
had never before prefided over the education of a
child, and in all cafes we muft pay our apprentice-
ihip by errors i in this inftance fhe was guilty of
a very capital one. She did not forefee all the ill
confequences of her daughter's reigning defcctj
and which was in {^6i very difficult to overcome*
She flattered herfelf that age and experience would
jnfenfibly communicate that activity to Eglantiiiej
of which flie was deprived, and therefore only
chided when fhe ought to have punlflied j neither
did Ihe perceive her error till it was too late to be
remedied.
So you think, mamma, if Eglantine had been
punifhed Ihe would have been- good ?
It is feldom neceflary to employ violent mean-
to corred children that are affedionate and a6live,
becaufe of their fenfibility : a trifle afFedts them,
and a word is fufficient to punifh. Cold and in-
dolent characters muft be diiferently treated, they
are hard to move, and they muft occafionally re-
ceive fnocks that may awaken them from their le-
thargy.
And what pennance, mainma, would you have
made Eglantine undergo ?
H 5 Th€
154 THE TALES OF THE CASTIE.
The moil rigorous that could have been for her
and yet the moft fimple. If flie would not have
run or walked a good pace, I would have kept her
out an hour longer. When fhe had read her leflbn
negligently, I would have made her begin it agaix,
and fo of other things. Eglantine therefore, to
avoid double trouble, would have been careful at
firft, and apparently adlive, which in the end would
have made her fo in reality, and infenfibly have
changed her character.
Doralice, in the end, bitterly repented that
/he had not followed this method. Seeing, how-
ever, the negligence of Eglantine increafe every
day, flie bethought herfelf of keeping an exatft
and daily account of all the things deftroyed by
Eglantine, with what they had coft. In this jour-
nal fhe inferted a lift of all books torn or fpoilt,
broken play-things, filk robes fpotted, fo as not to
be worn any more, bits of bread flung in every cor-
ner of the garden, and crayons, paper, and pens,
thrown about and become ufelefs. The fum total
of all the things thus wafted, at the month's end,,
came to ninety-nine livres, that is ta fay, to al-
moft four guineas.
Oh dear, cried Pulcheria, that is fcarcely to be
conceived ; for my part, I have only loft during
the whole year, as much as came to a guinea and
» half.
True,
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 155
True, faid Madame de Clemire, but that is
only reckoning what you have loft, and not what
you have fpoilt and fillily wafted. Befides, I am
not rich ; you wear neither embroidered muflins
nor Drefden lace ; you can lofe nothing but what
is tolerably cheap ; your jewels are made of ftraw,
your boxes of pear-tree, and all your riches are
not worth above five fhillings.
So much the better, mamma, faid Pulcheria, I
am like Henrietta, the daughter of Madame
Steinhauften j I feel that fine things would only be
troublefome : a beautiful apron, edged with lace,
would make me unhappy ; for, like Delphine, I
wifh to gather the rofes, without fearing the
thorns.
It is natural thatyou fhouldfo wifti, but remem-
ber, Heiuietta, with the fame fimplicity, wzs much
more careful, fhe loft nothing; remember too,
that according to the difference of our fortunes,
you are as expenfive to me in lofing your -vory die
and Englifh fciflars, as Eglantine to her mamma
when fhe loft her golden bodkin, or her inlaid
needle-cafe.
But why, mamma, did not Doralice educate
her daughter in greater fimplicity ? When ftie gave
her fuch dear and frivolous toys, ftie furely did not
employ her riches properly.
Doralice enjoyed a large fortune, and as fhe had
no imaginary and falfe wants of her own, fhe might
H 5' be
«56 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE*
might be allowed to difpofe of her fuperfluity m
favour of her child.
But was not that to infpireher child with a love
of fuch trifles ?
No; it is by keeping them onefelf, and not
"by giving them away that a love for trifles is
infpired.. Eglantine afked her mamma why {he
had only a plain gold watch, and a filken firing j
and Doralice replied,, becaufe a plain watch was
infinitely more convenient, confeqiiently more
agreeable than a more expenfive one» But you
have given me an. enamelled" watch fet with dia-
monds, and a fine ornamental chain, faid Eglan-
tine* Becaufe, anfwered her mamma, the mind
at your age is light and frivolous ; fhew is fe-»
dudtive, the tafte is puerile, and pearls, dolls,,
diamonds, toys, and tliifel give delight ; and
when I give you fuch. baubles, I treat you like
a child ^
Neither was Doralice, In anfwering thus, guilty
©f the leaft exaggeration ; fhe fpokc nothing but
the truth. In fact, all perfons who are arrived at
the age of reafon and refledlion, and yet take plea-
fure in decorating themfelves with thefe vain and
fuperfluous gewgaws, have no more folidity or
reafon than a child of fix years old.. But let u»
continue our talc.
At the year's end Doralice fhewed her daugh-
ter the account of the things Ihe had loft, fpoilt,
and
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. l$f
and walled, the grofs fum of which amounted to
more than fifty pounds. Eglantine, who then
was only feven years old, was not much moved
by this calculation ; and her mother, who ima-
gined (he would be ftruck more forcibly, as fte
better knew the ufe of money, ftill continued her
journal with the fame exactitude. In this flic
was aflifted by the Governante of Eglantine^
who gave in, each day, an account, on a flip of
paper, of fuch profufions as file had obferved,
Thefe Doralice kept in a box diftin6l from her
own journal, and the memorandums of the Go-
vernante prefently became fo numerous, that it
would have required much time to have extract-
ed and caft up the fum of their contents j Dora-
lice, therefore, preferved them always with care,
and determined not to trouble herfelf with the
computation, till Eglantine was old enough to fee
her intention.
In the mean time, the more the days and months
pafled away, the greater were the proofs that Eglan-
tine's indolence rather increafed than diminiihed.
She ufed often to walk in the Bois de Boulogne (^j,
where in lefs than four months, file lofl: as many
jewels as had coft between fifty and fixty guineas.
This time a ring, the next a golden thimble, and
the following a medallion, without ' reckoning
|^«) A wood, or rather a kind of park, near Pan's.
handkerchiefs
158 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE.
handkerchiefs and gloves left upon the grafs. Be-
fides which, fhe regularly tore a fan a day, and
broke fometimes the glafs, and fometimes the mam
ipring of her watch j thus watch-makers bills were
paid continually.
Winter increafed thefe expences. Eglantine,
like all indolent people, was exceedingly chilly,
would fit with her head over the fire, and let any
thing fall into it fhe happened to have in her hand.
Her muffs, frocks, and petticoats were burnt, and
her wardrobe vras new once a month. When her
jnallers came, fhe had almoft always a head-ache
that would not permit her to take lefTons, and the
teacher received his ticket and went away.
Well, but mamma, faid Csfar, did Eglantine
then complain of having the head-ache falfcly ?
Yes ; fhe complained purpofely, and only to be
excufed her tafk.
But that was horrible ! She told lies ?
Hence then you may learn the effects of indo-
lence, a fault which at firfl fcems fo light ; and
hence too you may infer there is no defciS^ however
trifling in its origin, but, when we are thoroughly
under its dominion, occafion the moil dread-
ful confequences. Eglantine was naturally fincere,
yet her idlcnefs overcame her fincerity ; fhe had
recourfe to falfehood when it could fcreen h^r
from the leaft fatigue, though not without re-
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 159
morfe, but indolence ufually vanquifhed con-
fcience.
Eglantine now began to quit her ftate of in-
fancy, and approached her tenth year, and her
mamma provided new mafters for her. Weary
of the harpfichord, on which (he had made no
progrefs, fhe owned at laft ihe had an invincible
diflike to the inftrument, and pretended fhe had a
defire to learn the lute. Doralice permitted her
to quit the harpfichord, though fhe had began to
pradlife it at five years old, and indulged her with
a mafter on the lute. The money, therefore,
that had been paid the teacher, and for the
harpfichord, the piano-forte, the mufic books,
and tuning the inflruments, was all loft when
Eglantine gave over learning ; and Doralice added
this fum, which was not lefs than three hundred
guineas, to the account. She did not continue
above a year at the lute ; her mafler, tired with
her want of induflry, left her. The guittar was
then began with the like fuccefs, which was again
abandoned for the harp.
Eglantine had various other maflers to teach
her drawing, geography, Englifb, Italian, writ-
ing, dancing, and finging, befides a mufician to
accompany her on the violin j and all thefe maflers
coft nineteen or twenty guineas a month, while
the indolent Eglantine reaped little or no benefit,
and the expences of her mamma on her account
were
l6o THE TALIS OF THE CASTLE.
were almoft without bounds. Every two or three
months her mufic, her books, her maps, were ali
torn, and new ones were bought. Her harp was
left carelefsly in the damp and open air, and
wanted new ftringing continually j and more than
four times as much as would have been neceflary
to a careful girl, was fpent in every little thing
ihe flood in need of.
As indolence rendered all kind of order infup-
portable to her, fhe was a fhameful flattern. In
two years time her apartment had been twice new
furnifhed ; her caps were thrown upon every
diair in the room, which they filled with powder
and pomatum ; her pins were fcattered about the
floor, and her frocks and fkirts were covered over
with fpots of crayons, ink, and wax.
All thefe circumflances concurred to fpoil one
C)f the prettieft figures in the world. Eglantine
fpent a vafl deal of time at her toilette, on account
©f the extreme flownefs of all her motions, and
yet no perfon could be more aukwardly drefTed ;
flie looked without obferving, fhe a(5led without
thinking, and took no delight in any pofTxble oc-
cupation. She was totally deficient in grace ;
Ihe never could fubjedl herfelf to the trouble of
wearing gloves, and her hands were red and
rough : her feet fpread, and Ihe walked with a
.fliuffling gait, becaufe ihe always went flipfhod.
Doralice
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. l6l
Doralice had taken pleafure in forming a charm-
ing library for her, hoping it might infpire her
with a love of reading. 'Tis true, that in obedi-
ence to her mother, fhe read at her toilette, and
in the afternoon : that is to fay fhe held a book in
her hand j for Ihe looked with fo little attention
it was not poflible to gain the leaft inftru6tion.
And thus was fhe, at fixteen, the more inexcufably
ignorant, in that no money or pains had been
fpared in her education j fhe neither knew hiflory,
geography, nor even how to fpell ; fhe was inca-
pable of writing a letter, or making an extract 5
and though flie had been taught arithmetic ten
years, a child of eight years old would reckon in
general better than fhe could.
About this time a young gentleman procured
an introdudion to Doraiice, called the Vifcount
d'Arzelle ; he was three and twenty, and as
fingularly diflinguifhed for wit, virtues, and re-
putation, as for birth, fortune, and perfbnal ac-
complifhments. He appeared to have a flrong
defire to pleafe Doralice, and obtain her friend-
fhip ; he felt the v/orth of her fimplicicy of man-
ners, her gentlenefs and perfed equality of temper,
and was delighted with her turn of converfation,
equally natural, noble, folid, and agreeable. He
had often met her at the houfe of a relation, and
paid her feveral viuts before he faw Eglantine.
Doralice
l62 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE,
Doralice at laft invited the Vifcount to fupper,
and at nine o'clock Eglantine entered the apart-
ment. Her mother had that day prefided at her
toilette : fhe had nothing ftudied in her drefs, ~
but her hair did not hang about her ears, her
neck was not covered vi^ith powder and pomatum,
and her hands were wafhed.
The Vifcount examined her with great atten-
tion : the firft moment he found her a perfect
beauty, the next he faw fhe did not poflefs a fmgle
grace, and in lefs than a quarter of an hour he
thought no more of her, but even forgot fhe was
in the room.
He neverthelefs continued afliduouny to vifit
Doralice ; and one day, finding her alone, fpoke
with fo much confidence, that Doralice was au-
thorized to alk if he intended to marry. Yes,
madam, replied he ; but though my parents leave
me an abfolute liberty of choice, I feel I cannot
eafily decide. It is not intcrcft or ambition that
can determine me ; and a blind pafHon would only
make me guilty of follies. I would marry, not to
acquire more wealth, or greater importance, but,
to be happy ; it is therefore neceflary I fhould
find a pcrfon perfectly well educated, and who has
virtue, grace, and underftanding j it is alfo nc-
cefTary her parents fhould be eftimablc, that T may
chcrifh and refpeft them ; and that her mother, for
example, fhould poflefs all thofe qualities by which
you
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 16'^
you are diftinguiftied, fince flie will be the guide
and Mentor of my wife.
The converfation was here interrupted by the
entrance of a vifitor. Some days after, Doralice
learnt theVifcount had inftruded one of his people
to privately queftion her fervants concerning
Eglantine ; and that he had moreover addrelTed
himfelf perfonally to feveral of her teachers, from
whom he had learnt with little difficulty the exa<ft
truth ; and fo explicitly, that he no longer had the
leaft room to doubt, of Eglantine's having received
little or no benefit from the expenfxve and diftin-
guifhed education beftowed upon her.
From this moment the Vifcount's vifits to Do-
rahce became lefs frequent, and were foon entirely
dropped. Certain he would have married Eglan-
tine, had fhe been more amiable, Doralice moft
fmcerely regretted the lofs of fo advantageous antl
brilliant an eflablifhment, and which the merit
alone of the Vifcount would have made her prefer
to all others.
Indolent, however, and infenfible as Eglantine
had hitherto been, fhe could not fee and liften to
the Vifcount d'Arzelle entirely without emotion.
There was fcarce a young man in France of fo
manly and beautiful a perfon, fueh engaging man-
ners, or fo entertaining and intelligent in con-
verfation'. Eglantine felt fomething more than a
bare wifh to pleafe, to appear graceful when he
was
164 THE TALES OF THE CaSTLB,
was prefent j but a confcioufnefs of inability, and
the inveterate power of habit were not eafily over-
come, and the ftruggies of infant love were un-
equal to the mature and full grown force of idle^
nefs. The Vifcount came no more, and a lan-
guid regret, fpen't in feeble and ineffedual fighs,
remained.
The grief of Doralice was far more poignant :
Eglantine was feventeen, and ftjll had all the
teachers ufually difcarded at fourteen. She detefted
employment of every kind j but, as her heart was
good, and as fhe really loved her mother, (he
fometimes would make an effort to pleafe her.
This motive, added to the fenfations the Vifcount
had infpired, gave her a fhort interval of induftry,
during which Ihe aftonifhed every body widi th^
capacity and genius flic difcovered ; the maternal
and kind heart of Doralice expanded with hope
and joy j but, alas ! this happinefs was of ftiort
duration. Eglantine infenfibly fell into her former
apathy ; (he felt her errors coufufedly, and this
fenfation rather infpired defpair than gave new
vigour. Little accuftomcd to rcflcdion, flie knew
not how ungrateful flie repaid the tender cares
of her mother. " It is true," flie would fay, " I
« put my parents to much ufelcfs expence, but
« this expence will not be felt by a man (o rich
« as my father. I am young, rich, and, as fome
« people fay, handfome, furely I may be excufed
« the
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 165
« the acquirements they talk fo much about."
She might as well have faid, " Surely I may be
<' excufed gratitude to my parents, making my-
*' felf ami others happy, and being lovely and
*' beloved." Thus foolifhly v/ill an incapacity
for proper reflection make us realbn.
Her want of a wifh to pleafe and obtain the
approbation of others, incurred a total want of
refpedt towards her in the family ; the fervants
and friends of Doralice always treated her as a
child, and ihe was fo inattentiv%and fo fmgularly
infipid, for want of obferving, /and faid things fo
ill timed and out of place, that fhe was difagree-
able, tirefome, and troublefome to fociety.
All conftraint was infupportable to her, and
every thing was to her conftraint j the cuftoms of
the world feemed tyrannical ; civility was irk-
fome, and flie was never at eafe but in the com-
pany of inferior and ignorant people. Far from
feeking the advice fhe flood in need of, fbe dreaded,
becaufe (he found fhe had not the power to follow
it ; and when Doralice repeated at any time the
jnconveniencies of her own character, fhe liftened
with more vexation than repentance. Such con-
versations always occafioned an embarralTment
and moodinefs in her which fhe could neither
vanquifh nor difTemble. Accuftomed cowardly
to yield to thefe impreffions, and having no com-
mand of her temper, fhe rather chofe to aggra-
vate
l66 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE,
vate her faults than take the trouble to correct
them.
While fhe thus acquired new defedls, fhe did
Hot lofe thofe of her childhood ; fhe had received
an allowance for two years paft, as confiderable as
if {he had been married, and yet fhe was always
ill provided and in debt.
At laft fhe attained her eighteenth year ; a happy
sera for her, becaufe then fhe was to be entirely
freed from all her teachers, and their difagrecable
importunities. Doralice entered her chamber in
the morning, fhe had a book in her hand, which
fhe laid upon the table, and fat down by her
daughter. This day, fhid fhe, you are eighteen
years of age ; the time at which education is com-
monly ended : I have brought you proofs that I
have done every thing in my power for you. Here
is the journal of which I have fpoken fo often ; it
contains an account of the things you have loft
and fpoilt from your infancy to this hour, as well
as of the ufekfs expences you have put me to. I
have added to thcfe the bills I formerly received
from your Governante, and latterly from your
woman ; and I find the fum total of the account
to be, an hundred and three thouf;\nd livrcs
(above four thoufand guineas.)
Is it pofEble ? Mamma ? cried Eglantine.
Befidcs which, it mwft be underflood, that I
have not entered any thing in this book, which
was
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 167
was necefTaiy either for your maintenance, or
mafters, when they have fucceeded in teaching you
any thing. Thus, for example, you write a to-
lerable hand, and read mufic pafTably, therefore I
have not mentioned thole mafters in my journal ;
although they were kept much longer than would
have been necefTary had you had more induftry.
I ought to add alfo to the number of unnecefTary
expences, all that I have paid to teachers of in-
ftrumental mufic, drawing, geography, hiftory,
heraldry, arithmetic, and others i not forgetting
the miftrefs who came two years to teach you em-
broidery, and the enormous quantity of chenille,
filk, fpangles, fattin, and velvet wafted, without
ever producing a work that could be worn.
But a hundred thoufand livres ! faid Eglantine
It is fcarcely conceivable, mamma !
Your furprize will ceafe, anfwered Doralice, If
you will recoIlc£t what I have repeated a thoufand
times, that there is no expence, however trifling,
but the repetition of It may become exorbitant,
and of courfe ruinous ; a fingle example will
fhew you the truth of this You have two
watches ; ever fince you were eight years old to
the prefent moment, you have fcarcely mifled a
fortnight in which you have not fejit them to the
watchmaker or jeweller's, either to have new
glafTes, new dial-plates, or inward repairs : now
a diamond feM out, and another time the minute-
hand
l68 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE.
hand was loft, fo that not a month has paflcd m
which thofe watches have not coft three crowns
to keep them In order ; and there have been many
in which they came to three or four guineas ; info-
much that during the ten years, the bills for that
fole article amount to one hundred and eight gui-
neas. When we remember the various ufes to
which money may be employed, we ought to
think of fuch waftefulnefs with great regret. The
hundred and three thoufand francs you have fpent
would have made twenty unfortunate families
happy for life.
This laft reile<a:ion cut Eglantine to the heart.
The Vifcount d'Arzelle had left an uneafy, an
irkfome remembrance of her own want of worth
upon her mind, which indolence itfelf could not
erafe, and made her more fufceptible, more liable
to be rouzed from her apathy. How intolerably
culpable am I, faid fhe, taking the hand of her
mamma, and bathing it with her tears. But
though I am without knowledge, without acc^ire -
ments, mamma, ftill the elements of what I have
been taught remain.
Without doubt, anfwered Doralice, you cannot
have received fo much inftrudlion, but the feeds of
knowledge muft be fcattcred in the mind ; and a
ferious and determined application may yet bring
them to maturity, may yet retrieve a great part of
the fum I have here fet down as loft ; but you muft
henceforth
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 169
henceforth, if you wifh to fucceed, be as a£Hve
and perfevering as you have hitherto beea idle
and inconftant.
Eglantine fighed andfell into a reverie.
I knov/, continued Doralice, your fortune, and
the praifes beftowed upon your perfon, per-
fuade you that you have lefs need of accompliili-
ments than others ; but muft v/e, becaufe wc
pofTefs advantages the moft fragile and mutable,
and moreover the leaft eftimable, in reality, of
all advantages, muft vv^e negle6l and defpife thofe
only capable of procuring us that praife w^hich is
truly flattering ? Is it beauty that makes us lovely?
Deprive beauty of grace and what is it ? It has
not then even a right to pleafe. Will riches
make us happy ? Are not you your felf continually
a prey to chagrin, contented neither with yourfelf
nor others ? Befides— — Do you know any thing
of your father's affairs ? Or whether he may not
be a ruined man ?
The attention of Eglantine was recalled, {he
liftened to what was faid laft, and ftared at her
mother in a kind of fright ; Doralice ceafed fpeak-
ii'^gi fighed, raifed her eyes to heaven, and, after
fomc moments of a mournful filence, which Eg-
lantine wanted courage to break, changed the con-
verfatioja. In a few minutes afterwards (he rofe,
and left her daughter overwhelmed with grief and
difquietude.
VOL. I, I Eglantine's
lyO THE TALES OF THE CASTLE,
Eglantine's alarm was but too well founded.
Mondor, her father, was as infatiable asDoralice was
moderate : not contented with two hundred thou-
fand livres (eight thoufand guineas) (<?) a year,
he had engaged in immenfe concerns, and was upon
the verge of ruin. Doralice knew not the full
extent of their danger, but (he fufpecled fomcthing
of it, which was what fhe meant to hint to her
daughter. Mondor, better inftru6led, and hop- .
ing to preferve his credit, endeavoured to conceal
the bad ftate of his affairs ; but feveral of his af-
fociates becoming bankrupt, foon difcovered the
dreadful diforder in which they were.
The foul of Mondor was not capable of flip-
porting adverfity ; he fell ill, and all the tender
cares of Doralice and Eglantine could not recover
him from the arms of death ; he expired, deteft-
ing ambition and covetoufnefs, the fatal caufes of
his ruin and deccafe.
The firft care of Doralice was to fatisfy all the
creditors, but Mondor's whole fortune was infuf-
ficient. She pofiefljbd an eftatc of fix hundred a
{a) For the cou'venience of thofe nuho knotv not the
rvalue of Trench money, the fu/n is generally reduced tb
Englijh ; but as inftrting pounds, Jlnllings and pence, luotild
be too minute in a ivork of imagination, a round fum
nearejl the value is given : thus the exaSl value of tivo
hundred thoufand livres is 8333/. 6s. Zd. cjlioiating the
li'vrc Tournois at ten-peuee Engli/b, T.
year,
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. \*jl
year, over which the creditors had no right ; ilie
however, gave up the rents for fix years to pay
her hufband's debts, and Eglantine facriiiced the
diamonds her mother had given her to tlie fame
purpofe.
After thefe arrangements, there only remained
for their maintenance, during the fix years, fome
plate, and the jewels of Doralice, which together
were fold for eight hundred pounds. Let us go,
faid fhe to her daughter, and live in a country
where this fum will fuffice for the time j I think
of living in Switzerland, till I once more recover
my eftate.
Oh, my dear mamma, cried Eglantine, and are
eight hundred pounds all you have left ! What a
cutting thought for me, when I remember tlic
fums I have fquandered.
Think of that no more, faid Doralice, killing
her ; had I forefeen the misfortunes that awaited
us, you never fhould. have heard a detail, the
remembrance of which muft add an additional
pang to affliclion : I would have burnt the jour-
nal, and effaced every article it contained from
my memory
Never, replied Eglantine, falling at the feet
of her mother, never can I forget the faults you
pafdon with fo much generofity : my repentance
is too fincere. The defire, the hope to amend
I Z them.
172 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE.
them, and to make you yet happy, alone can
give me now a wifh to live. Had you a daughter
worthy of you, fhe might confole, might mitigate
your griefs : and can 1 not correct my errors, can
I not acquire the virtues necefTary for fuch an of-
fice ? She would become your friend : and can-
not I, to purchafe a title fo dear, obtain a vidory
over myfelf ?
During this difcourfe, Doralice beheld witk
raptures Eglantine bathed in tears : and clafping
her knees, fhe raifed, took her in her arms, and
prefTed her to her bofem. All the tranfports,
which the heart of a fond mother can fe«l, faid fhe,
dofl thou give me at this happy moment : go my
child, weep not at my misfortunes.
Doralice could not herfelf refrain from tears as
{he fpoke this, but they were the moft delightful
tears fhe had ever fhed.
Rouzed by fo many motives. Eglantine could
no longer refifl this impulfc to reform, occafioned
by the fhame of remembering her defects, and the
confequenccs they had induced. She looked with
pain on what fhe was, and with a mournful retro-
fpecl on what fhe might have been. Awakened
from her lethargy, fhe thought of the Vifcount
d'Arzelle, and fav^^ no poflibility of a union ; which
the more her heart became alive to fenHxtion, the
more fhe wifhed. Her lu) pofed great fortune was
gone, and every thing about her reminded her of
her
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. I73
her lofs. There was no longer a croud of fervants
ready to fupply her leaft want, and adminiiler to
indolence : the carriages no longer rattled in the
court-yard, the filks no longer ruftled in the
drawing-room. Moft of thefe who beheld her
looked upon her fall with pity, and fome as fhe
imagined with a malignant fatisfaftion. She
happened, accidentally, to meet the Vifcount on a
vifit ; her heart fluttered, file beheld his accom-
plifhments with the magnifying eye of love ; but
the pains, which flie too plainly faw he took to a-
void her, cut her to the heart.
Every thing thus concurred to fhew Eglantine
her deficiencies, and their effects, and to infpire
her with tlie moft ardent defire to have them re-
medied. The affairs of Doralice detained her a
few weeks at Paris ; and Eglantine demonftrated
not only her anxiety to learn, but her great capa-
bility : her progrefs was aftonifhing, and her
change of manner and deportment fcarcely to be
conceived.
Madame de Clemire had gone thus far in her
recital, when the Baronnefs, looking at her watch,
gave the fignal of retreat : the children's proper
hour of reft was come, and they could not obtain
VL prolongation of the evening. On the morrow,
at the ufual time, Madame de Clemire thus pur-
fued her flory.
1 3 It
.174 THE TALES OF THE CAStLF,
It is not eafy to defcribe the feelings of a mother
likeDoralice, at beholding this change inher child,
and feeing thus the firft wiih of her heart likely
to be accompliflied. Every day produced an al-
teration, and difcovered latent talents j but, alas,
all human happinefs is mutable : two days be-
fore they were to depart to their country retire-
ment, Eglantine complained, in the evening, of a
violent head-ache, and on the morrow was in a high
fever. Doralice fcnt inftantly for a phyfician, who,
when he had queflioned his patient, declared fhe
had all the fymptoms which precede the fmall -pox.
He was not deceived, the difeafe foon manifcfted
itfelf in a very alarming way; and he held it his
duty to inform Doralice, it was of a confluent and
moft malignant kind. This tender motlier, over-
whelmed with defpair, never quitted her daughter's
pillow, but pafTcd four days in the utmoft anxiety.
Eglantine, in dreadful fits of delirium, received
the afllftance of her mother without knowing her,
called for her while flic was in her arms, and con-
tually cried, as it were in defpair My jiiothcr
abandons 7r:e ! / dcferve it /— — / did not make
her happy f 1 JJjall die tvithout her hl'jfing /— —
O/.', God of mercies pardon jr^ !
Her wild difcourfe, continuarlly interrupted by
broken fobs and fighs, pierced the foul of Dora-
lice. In vain Ihe anfwered her j Eglantine heard
not
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. f/^
not her prayers, was infenfible of her tears, and
every moment began anew her mournings.
The progrefs of the difeafe was ,rapid, an 1
fpread all over the face ; the eyes werefoon cover-
ed with a continued and thick cruft, that totally
deprived her of fight. At firft this accident was
not alarming, it being common enough to that
difeafe when violent ; but after awhile it increafed
fo greatly, that the phyfician durft no longer con-
ceal from Doraiice his apprehenuon that Eglantine
would lofe her fight. Oh, heaven ! cried the
diftra6led mother, muft my child be blind ! The
evil may not, perhaps, be paft remedy, faid the
phyfician ; nothing, however, but the moft watch-
ful and fl:ri(5l attention, together with fuch aluft-
flance as medicine may afford, can prevent it.
The humour muft not only be drawn off by every
poffible means, but the patient muft not be left a
moment unguarded : a touch with the hand, or
even a fudden turn of the head, will make all the
efforts of the phyfician ineffectual.
I will watch, I will guard, I will proteft her,
faid Doraiice : my eye Ihall never quit her, my
hand fliall hover over her, eagerly, inftantly, to re-
pel the fudden mifchief !
Confider, madam, faid the phyfician, how long
and intenfely you have already watched : nature
cannot fupport fatigue beyond a certain degree.
A careful nurfe may
1 4 A nurfe !
176 THE TALIS OF THE CASTLE.
A nurfe ! Oh, no f my child is in danger, and
nature has given mothers fupcrior powers to other
mortals. A nurfe ! Yes, my child, I will be thy
nurfe ! and heaven vt^ill aid, v/ill look with mercy
on my efforts 3 heaven, I hope, will preferve tbee
from blindnefs.
So great was the anxiety of Doralice, that na-
ture appeared, indeed, as ihe faid, to render her.
fuperior to fleep or fatigue : her eyes feemed ri-
vetted upon her daughter, and nothing could di-
vert her attention, or diminifli her care. When
the violence of the fever abated. Eglantine's deli-
rium ceafed ; and, though fhe could net fee, it
was not pofHble for her to avoid remarking, that
her mother was continually and inftantaneoufly
prefent to fupply her fmalleft want. Affefted by
fuch proofs of maternal tendernefs, and beginning
to fear the confequences of fuch fevere watchful-
nefs. Eglantine became very uneafy, and befought
her mother moft earneftly to truft her to a nurfe's
care, and give herfelf fome repofe. The phyfi-
cian, too, conjured Doralice not to fit up any
longer, it v/as too hazardous, it might be fatal ;
befides, he added, he now had hopes the crifis of
danger v/as paft. Nothing, however, could pre-
vail on this tender mother to defift : her eyes were
indeed incapable of fleep, and her heart of reft, till
fhe could be certain of her daughter's fafety. But
though file would not quit the bed-fide, in order
to
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE, I77
to quiet the apprehenfions of Eglantine on her ac-
count, fhe bade the nurfe to anfwer continually du-
ring the night, as if it were fhe who adminiftered
to her wants, and not Doralice.
At laft, by the great attention of Doralice,
and care of the phyfician, the humours were
drawn ofF and difperfed j and, in the dead of
night, when every thing feemed huflied and a
total filence prevailed. Eglantine opened one
of her eyes. The firfl object fhe beheld, by
the light of the candle, was her mother, fitting
with a fixed and immoveable attention by her
fide. Good God ! faid Eglantine, is it you, my
dear mamma ! Did not you bid me good night !
Did not you leave me to the nurfe ! I perceive !
—-—I fee your goodnefs ! So you have only
pretended to leave me ! Flow great muft have
been your fufFerings ? Oh ! how unworthy have
I bden of fuch a parent !
The joy of Doralice, at finding Eglantine had
again come to her fight, was fo extreme, that it
eafily overpowered a frame which had been fo long
and fo much exhaufled : fhe juft had power to ex-
claim — —-Oh my child ! and funk down by the
bed-fide : in that flate fhe was carried to an ad-
joining room and put to bed.
The extreme watching of Doralice, now pro-
duced the efFe^l the phylician had forefeen and
forewarned her of i that very day fhe was in a
1 5 hJgli
170 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE.
iiigh fever, which had nearly proved fatal to both
her and Eglantine. The latter knew her mother's
illnefs was the confequence of an unbounded af-
feftion for her ; it went to her heart, to remember
how ill flie had defervedfuch a mother; her com-
plaints were bitter, her accufations of herfelf in-
CelTant, and her mind was fo much difturbed, that
had not the diforder of Doralice foon taken a fa-
vourable turn, Eglantine would have been in great-
er danger than ever.
As foon as it was prudently practicable, the
mother and daughter, at the earneft defire of both,
had their beds removed fide by fide, where each
had the pleafure of indulging thofe fenfations
which did fo much honour to their hearts. For
your fake, madam, faid Eglantine, life will hence-
forth be dear to me ; I ftiould be unhappy to lofe
it, before I have proved how fenfibly I am aiFecled
bj' your tendernefs, and that at leaft I have a grate-
ful heart ; yes, my dear, my honoured mother, I
would live to make you happy.
Though the danger of death was paft, it [was
eafy to fee the fmall-pox would leave traces of its
power on the face of Eglantine. She was not
Teamed it is true, nor deeply pitted, and yet fo
altered as fcarcely to be known. She loft the
flneft hair that could adorn the head, her features
were lefs delicate, and {he no longer poffefTed
that pure red and white which had lately been (o
beautifulr
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. I79
beautiful. Knowing how much {he was changed,
Ihe had little inclination to look in a mirror j how-
ever fhe could not well avoid feeing herfelf the
firft time fhe got up ; for, as flie was going to-
wards a couch at the other fide of the room, fhe
necclTarily paffed before the glafs. She caft a
look, fhuddered and flopped ! Is this the face,
faid fhe, that three weeks fince was praifed fo muck
for beauty ?
What would have been your feelings, faid Do-
ralice, had you been weak enough to fet a great
value upon that beauty which a moment has obli-
terated, and which muft inevitably have pafTed
av/ay in the courfe of a very few years.
The health of Eglantine and Doralice was In
due time re-eflabliflied, and the former did not
lole the determined relblves fhe had made to con-
tinue the reformation fhe had begun, previous to
her illnefs. She had additional reafons j the hap-
pinefs of a mother, v/ho would willingly have fa-
crificed her life for her fake, and the lofs of beauty,
which fhe had before indolently and \'ainly hoped
would fupply tlie want of grace and accomplifh-
ments ; inibucled by gratitude and misfortunCj
fhe learnt to vanquifh her defedls j and became as
rational, adive, and worthy to be beloved, as ilie
had been idle, giddy, and inconflant.
Agreeable to the plan which Doralice had pro-
pofed, they now departed for Switzerland, and
1 6 pafTing
iSo THE TALES OF THE CASTLE.
pafling through Lyons, took the road to Geneva.
They faw the fortrefs of Eclufe, between Chatillon
and Coulonges, fo remarkable for the fingularity
of its fituation j and ftopt at Bellegarde, to behold
what the people of that country call the lofs cfthe
Rhone. This place is near the bridge of Luce (a)^
where the Rhone is feen to lofe itfelf, defcending
beneath vail rocks into tremendous gulfs, and
afterwards re-appearing, by precipitating itfelf in
cafcades upon other rocks.
After pafling fome days at Geneva, Doralice
vifited the delightful borders of the Lake, in order
to find a houfe to her liking, where fhe might re-
main ; and fhe came to a determination to fix her
abode at Merges j a pleafant town, and moft
charmingly fituated upon the banks of the Lake,
between Laufanne and Geneva.
Dorahce hired a fmall houfe in that agreeable
place, the windows of which opened on one fide
towards a fmiling and fertile country, and on the
other towards the Lake and thofc flupendous
inountains by which it is bounded, and whofe
fummits are eternally covered with ice. It is im-
poflible, without feeing them, to form an idea of
thcfe mountains : they prcfcnt a thoufand varying
afpeds in a day, occafioned by the varying lights
(a) One half of that bridge belongs to Franccj the other
halt to Savo/t
which
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. l8l
which fucceed each other. In the morning their
rocks and heights are of a rofe colour, and the
hills of ice with which they are cloathed feem like
tranfparent clouds. As the fun become^'more ar-
dent, the mountains take a deeper tinge and are
in fucceflion grey, red, violet, and dark blue. At
fun-fet they feem gilt with gold, and the fpe6lator
imagines he beholds enormous mafles of the topaz,
while his eyes are dazzled with the fparkling
brightnefs of their colours.
The Lake of Geneva prefents a variety equally
" inviting. In a ftate of tranquillity, its pure and
limpid waters refled: the colours of the fky 5 but
when agitated, it roars like the fea in dreadful ma-
jefty. Tumultuous and peaceable by turns, it at-
tracts, charms, and aftonifhes the eye, by appear-
ances continually new.
Eglantine was never weary of thefe ravifhing
profpeils. How infipid, faid fhe, does every thing
I have hitherto beheld, appear at prefent ? with
what indifference fhould I now look on the en-
virons of Paris, its vaunted gardens, and the
famenefs of its ornaments ? Henceforth I fhall
defpife their artificial mountains, rocks, and
rivers.
And had you travelled through Italy, added
Doralice, you would have defpifed artificial ruins
like wife.
It
-«82 THE TALES OF THE C A S T L t.
It feems to me, faid Eglantine, that painters
ought not to make landfcapes, nor poets paftorals,
till they have iirft feen Italy and Switzerland.
I am of your opinion, anfwered Doralice.
Auteuil and Charentonmay infpire pretty thoughts,
but not thofe fublime ideas which alone can infurc
immortality. Louis Bakhuifen, a famous Dutch
painter (a) expofed his life a thoufand times in
tempeils upon the fea, in order to obferve the
agitation of the waves, the fhock, and wrecks of
vefiels upon rocks, and the efforts and terror of
the diftra^ed mariners. The celebrated Rugen-
das (b) a painter of battles, was prefcnt at the
fiege, bombardment, capture, and pillage of
Augfburg, where he often braved death, that
he might confidcr at leifure the effects of balls and
bombs, and all the horrors of an aflault. He has
been ken defigning in the midft of carnage, and
producing drawings executed with as much care
as if he had been at eafe in his ftudy. Vandcr
Meulen (c) followed Louis XIV. in all his wars,
drew the plan of fortified towns and their environs
(a) He died m 1709.
(b) He died in 174.1. Having forfome time loft the life
«f his right hand by a hurt, hepraflifed with his left, and
fucceeded to perfcflion. See — Extraits des differens ouv-
rages publics fur la 'vie des Pcititres, par M, P.D.L. F.
This work is in two volumes, and much «fteem«d,
(c) He died at Paris In 16901
upo n
The tales of the castle. 1S5
upon the fpot, with the various marches, encamp-
ments, halts, and fkirmifnes of the army, that he
might paint with truth and nature his hiltorical
pictures of that prince.
Such is the adivity and courage which a noble
emulation can give ; but when the trifling praife
of the moment is preferred to this true glory, there
is little need of abilities or inftruftion j to vifitjin-
trigue, cabal, and form parties is far more necefla^
ry. There are many who paint and write coldly
and unnaturally, confequently ill, who yet obtain
the praife of a day, though indeed, fuch people ge-
nerally do juftice to themfelves in not pufhing
their ambition further.
Eglantine now began to liften to her mother
with unufual delight : formerly infenfible to the
charms of converfation, her indolence and ab-
fence of mind prevented her from joining in it;
but her misfortunes had produced an aftoniihing
re^'olution, her charadler was abfolutely changed,
ihe reflected, felt, and enjoyed an inexpreflTible
fatisfadlion at converfing with her mother. Eager
to make fome amends for the vexation fhe had
formerly given her by being indolent, fhe acquired
an hiduilry which foon became habitual. Reading,
drawing, and mufic, employed all her time ; and
ftudy and work, far from being irkfome, were
her beft amufements j delighted and furprized at
j84 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE.
her own progrefs, her daily improvement became
her daily pleafure.
As two people may live in affluence upon five
hundred crowns (125I.) a year, fhe did not even
perceive the lofs of fortune. Her houfe was com-
modious, her apartment charming : fhe could fit
at her table and fee the Lake and mountains, and
Ihe found that profpeil could well fupply the lofs
of the infignificant Seine, and the noify Boule-
vards. Her table fare was better than in her days
of opulence ; fruit, game, the delicious dairies
of Switzerland, and the excellent fifh of the
the Lake, left her nothing to wifh. The neigh-
bourhood of Alorges and Laufanne likewife afforded
that kind of focicty which is mod defirable. In
this happy country, which luxmry has not yet cor-
rupted, the pureft fimplicity of manners reigns, and
the women are equally amiable, well informed and
virtuous.
Doralice and her daughter often went to Lau-
fanne, where they made an acquaintance with a
young widow, whofe name was Ifabella, and who
added to all the charms of a thoufand exterior at-
tractions a delicate, cultivated, and acute under-
ftanding, a feeling heart, and all thofe qualities
which are moft eftimable, and moft engaging.
She became the friend of Doralice and Eglantine,
vifited them often at Morges, and went with them
ill their little rambles round Geneva* Sometimes
they
THE TALES OF THE CAST! E. iS^
they would take long walks upon the banks of the
Lake, at others they would aflemble a chofea
number of their friends, and form a concert, or
2 bal-champetre beneath foliage, decorated with
garlands of natural flowers.
Eglantine foon became, by her accomplifli-
ments, her good-humour, and her talents, the
chief ornament of thefe little feafts. She was no
longer a perfc6l beauty, but flie pleafed a thou-
fand times more than when every body admired
the exa6l fymmetry of her features, and the fine-
nefs of her complexion ; (he had ftill a moft beau-
tiful fhape, and had acquired an elegance and man-
ner which beft can embellifh a fine form. Her
drefs always had tafte, though not magnificence ;
file was fcen on a firft view without aftoniihment,
but the more (he was looked at the more flie
pleafed. Her countenance was become expreflive,
and though Ihe had not thofe charms which at-
tract all eyesj Ihe had thofe which fix them when
attrailed.
Doralice remained eighteen months at Morges
before fhe could determine to leave it, and make
the tour of Switzerland, which had always been
part of her plan ; but as fhe was defirous of fliew-
ing her daughter this interefting country, fhe re-
folved at laft to quit her little houfe for fome time
and her amiable frieml Ifabella,
They
l86 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE.
They departed about, the end of June, and went
firft to Berne, a town which is delightful for its
regularity, and the beauty of its fituation. The
ftreets are exceedingly wide, and have a brook of
pure water running through the middle of each ;
they are arched on each fide, are paved with flag-
ftone, have covered galleries, and handfome fhops,
which make them both pleafant and convenient to
foot paflengers. The walks round Berne are
charming, and from the terrace fituated upon the
banks of the Aar, beautiful lanuicapc: are feen,
in all directions (a).
Doralice pafled fome days at Berne, and, after
vifiting Indlebank, a place famous for its fuperb
tombs (9) fhe left Berne, and took the route of
the famous Glaciers of Grindelwald, twenty
leagues from thence.
Of all the Glaciers of the Alps, that of Grin-
delwald is the moft remarkable. On the fummit
of the mountain is an immenfe refervoir of water,
frozen. The rock, which ferves as a bafon to this
lake, is of black marble, ftreaked with white, and
(a) There is an infcription in a corner of this terrace,
which prefei ves the memory of a fingular accident. A
fcholar on horftback fell from llie top of the terrace a hun-
dred and twenty feet j the horfe was killed, and the mnn
had only his legs both broken. He lived forty years after-
wards, became a miailler, and died in 1694..
tllC
THE TALES OF THE GASTLE. 187
the fides and declivities are beautifully variegated.
The fuperfluous waters of the lake and of the ice
which lies upon its furfice, as they flow down an
inclined plane, form what is particularly called the
Glaciers, or that vaft afTemblage of ice in py-
ramids with which the declivity of the mountain
is hung. Nothing can equal the brilliancy of
this amphitheatre, which is covered with obelifks
and towers, feemingly of the pureft cryftal, that
raife their heads in the air to the height of thirty
or forty feet. When the fun darts its rays upon
this pyramidical foreft of ificles, it begins to
exhale, and cafts forth a light fo dazzling, as
fcarcely to be fuftained by the eyes. On each fide
of the valley is a mountain covered with verdure
and fir-trees.
After feeing Grindelwald, Doralice and Eg-
lantine continued their journey through the in-
terior parts of Switzerland, and being defirous of
knov/ing the author of the death of Abel, they
went to Zurich. Here they beheld that great poet,
who was fo much the more interefting, in that he
owed much of his fuccefs to the fenfibility of his
heart and tlie purity of his manners. Had he
lo\'ed great cities, had he not lived in the moft
delicious country in the world, and had he not
been a good father and a good hufi^and, he would
never have written thofe charming paftorals, where
virtue difcovers itfelf by fuch touching ftrokes,
and
l88 THE TALES OF THE C A S T L P.
snd in fo inviting a form. Why have thefe finiplc
works fo many attractions, or v/herefore have they
been tranflated into all languages ? It is becaufe
the author has felt every thing he has exprelTed,
and ken every thing he has defcribed.
Gefner accompanied Doralice \i\ almoft all her
walks ; and while they wandered along the en-
chanting banks of the lake of Zurich, and of the
rivers SIl and Limmat, he fhewed her the delight-
ful landfcapes he had drawn (a) or defcribed in his
poems. Doralice was particularly pleafed with
the grove of Pampres, where he had compofcd
the fweet idyllion of Myrtillo.
Doralice and Eglantine flayed a week with
Gefner, contemplating him in the midft of his
family and occupations, and ftill beheld in him a
happy fage, a true philofophcr, and a pairitw
worthy bf nature.
After an abfence of two montlis, they returned
with tranfport to their little houfe at Merges.
Ifabella enlivened their retreat, by pafTing a part
of the winter with them, and fpring ajain brought
back pleafures, country paftimes, and charming
walks. It was now two years fuice they had quit-
ted Paris ; Eglantine had pafled her twentieth year;
was the delight of her mother's life, and knew
not an approach to happinefs till fhe knewMorges.
(m) Gefner defigns as well as he writes.
One
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 189
One evening, as Eglantine and Dorallce were
v/alking late by the fide of the lake, they met a
young man in black, fauntering flowly, and appa-
rently plunged in a melancholy reverie. As he
pafTed Doralice he raifed his eyes, gave a motion
of fudden furprize, and returned j and Doralice
(aw v^ith aftonifhment, the Vifcount d'Arzelle in
the fuppofed llranger.
After they had paid their mutual refpedis, the
Vifcount informed her he had juft fuftained the
greatefl: of misfortunes, in the lofs of his dear
father j on which account, Paris had becom.e
odious to him, and he had determined to travel ;
that he intended to flay two months in Switzer-
land J after which he fhould go to Italy. When
he had nniflied his recital, he begged permiflion
to fee Doralice home, and offered his arm,
Juft' at this inftant he recolle^d the daughter
of Doralice, and feeing Eglantine, rightly con-
jeilured that was her. Darknefs, and the emo-
tions of Eglantine, which had caufed her timidly
to conceal herfelf as much as poiTible, had pre-
vented him from obferving her before. He now
addrefled himfc;if to her, and made an apology for
his feeming negle61:. The heart of Eglantine
impeded language ; fhe had but juft power fuffi-
cient to return fuch^fnort anfv/ers as good breed-
ing made necelTary.
Doralice
iqO THE TALES OF THE CAsTLE.
Doralice and her company were foon at home ;
flie rang, a maid fervant came to the gate, and as
they entered the court, the Vifcount could not
help exclaiming, with compafHonate furprize— —
Good God f madam ! is this yonr habitation ! In
faying this, he remembered the immenfe fortune
Doralice had formerly enjoyed j the worthy ufe
fhe had made of it, and her voluntary fequeflration
of what remained, for the difcharge of her huf-
band's debts.
They went up flairs, and Doralice condu(fled
the Vifcount into an elegant little apartment, or-
namented with excellent drawings, and furnifhed
with tafte. This is a delightful room, faid the
Vifcount. It contains nothing but what Eglan-
tine has adorned it with, anfwered Doralice. She
worked thofe chintz-pattern window-curtains ;
ihe embroidered thefe chairs, and (he drew all
thefe landfcapes.
The Vifcount liftened with an allonifhment that
refembled incredulity. He caft his eyes on Eg-
lantine, and ftruck with a change fo remarkable
in her face and figure, the one fo much altered for
the worfe, and the other fo infinitely improved,
he remained fixed, and fcarcely could recollecSl or
believe her to be the fame. Eglantine trembled,
blufhed, and felt her former fenfations all forcibly
revived. Her blulhes were fo many embellifli-
ments that gave charms to her form and face.
What
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. iqt
What was at firft curiofity in the ' Vifcount, foon
became fomething more ; he found himfelf inter-
eiled by the kind of miracles he beheld ; he ad-
mired the beauty of her fhape, the dignity of her
manner, and the exprellion cf her countenance j
and his heart whifpered, the graces flie had ac-
quired were a thoufand times fuperior to the fine
complexion and cold regularity jQie had loft.
Her converfation gave him a new, and ftill
riore aftonifhing, degree of furprlze ; with pain
Qould he perfuade himfelf, while he heard her, flic
was the perfon he had formerly tliought fo infipid ;
with difficulty could he conceive, that three years
could produce a change {o total and extraordinary.
Not that {he fpoke much ; the agitation of her
heart, as well as the gentlenefs of her nature
forbade that ; but there was a meaning, an in-
telligence, a force, in the little flie did fay, that
fufficiently difcovered her knowledge, and the na-
tural fuperior ity of her mind.
The Vifcount, when taking his leave, earneftly
begged permiiTion to renew his vifits, and the
greateft part of the day following was fpent in
their company. It happened to be their concert
day, and he heard, with wonder. Eglantine fing
and play upon the harp ; he thought he dreamt,
whenever he recoUeded that this was the fame
Eglantine whom formerly he had found fo igno-
rsA-it ar»<J unaccompliihed, and whom, with all
her
192 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE.
her beauty and fortune, he had rejcded as a
wife.
The Vifcount refided at Laufanne, which was
two leagues from Adorges ; and yet he heard of'
nothing but the fame and eulogiums of Eglantine.
Her underftanding, her mildnefs, her equality of '
temper, and efpecially her love for, and lively
gratitude to, her mother, had gained the hearts of
all who knew her. The Vifcourit liftened with
delight to her praifes. Ifabella fpoke of her at-
tra6lions and virtues with all the ardour of friend-
fnip, and he was continually with Ifabella when
he was not with Eglantine,
Although he had now been above two months' /
in Switzerland, he fpoke no more of Italy : every
moment, that good manners would permit, he
fpent at the houfe of Doralice. Timid and re-
ferved, in the prefence of Eglantine, he fcarccly
durft fpcak to her, while he teftified all the refpedl
and afFedion of the moft amiable and tender fon
to Doralice.
Another month was pafTed at Laufanne ; at
length, pcrfe6tly iatisfied both by what he had heard
and what he had feen of the worth of Eglantine,
he no longer attempted to conceal or reprefs feel-
ings which reafon itfelf approved, and formally
demanded the hand of Eglantine.
You dcfcrvc her, replied Doralice ; you refufcd
her rich and beautiful, and chgofc her wbenihe is
neither
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. I93
neither: manners, talents, and virtues, only have
been able to itifpire you with a true and rational
attachment j the duration of love. Tike this, may
be depended upon. However, as it is poilible one
7nay deceive onefelf, I muft beg of you again to
confult your heart, and more minutely ; take time
to refled upon an engagement, on which the hap^
pinefs or mifery of two people depend. Purfueyour
intended travels forfix months, and if at your re-
turn you ftill preferve the fame fentiments, the
fame afFeilion, Eglantine lliall be your's j for I
have obferved her, and have no reafon to fear
objeilions on her part.
The Vifcount threw himfelf at the feet of Dora-
lice, as (he ended, and conjured her not to retard
his happinefs ; but file, however, remained in-
flexible ; fhe was neither moved by his prayer.s
nor proteftations ; and the Vifcount, in defpair,
preprired to fet ofi' immediately. Unable to quit
the country Eglantine inhabited, he wandered
difconfolate up and down Switzerland, and the
very day when his term was expired appeared
once more at Morges.
Wherif he arrived, Doralice v/as with her
daughter in her own room. All at once the door
opened, the Vifcount appeared, and ran with pre-
cipitation to throw himfelf on his knees before
Eglantine and Doralice. It was the firft time he
had ventured to fpeak of his paffion in the prefence
VOL. I. K of
194 THE TALES OF THB CASTLE.
of Eglantine. He begged her hand, with all the
enthufiafm of pure love ; he protefted he never
would fcparate her from her mother ^ and Eglan-
tine, on that condition, gave her confent, as no
confidcration whatever, fhe faid, fhould make
her quit a mother to whom fhe owed fo much.
The Vifcount allured her a fentiment fo natural,
fo aft'eClionate, made her flill dearer to his heart.
That very evening Doralice, the happieft of
mothers, figncd the marriage contract ; and three
ilays afterwards the Vifcount attained the height
of his hopes and wifties, by efpoufing the virtuous
and amiable Eglantine.
I declare this is a charming ftory, mamma, faid
Caroline ; well, well, you Ihall fee I won't lofe
any more gloves and handkerchiefs, nor waftcfully
throv/ bread and butter about in the garden. Oh,
no ! I'll be very careful, and very induftrious,
that 1 may not be fo ignorant and aukward at
feventeen, and give you fo much uneafmefs,
mamma.
And if you Jhouhl happen to be handfomc, f.iid
Madam de Clemire, remember then the hirtory
of Eglantine. Remember, that beauty attracts
vain compliments only, while a cultivated mind,
and a geod difpofition, gain the prajfes of all
' tongues, and the love of all hearts.
I'hiis finifhcd the tenth evening, and Madarr.e
dc Clemire told the children, at parting, fle
would
THE TALES 0F THE CASTLE. I95
would take them on the morrow to dine with M.
de la Paliniere, where you will fee, added fhe,
fome fine medals ; for, notwithftand'ing his black:
round wig, and abfent air, he is a well-informe4
and intelligent gentleman.
Medals ! Mamma ! "What are medals ?
I will explain that to-morrow at breakfaft.
The next morning the children did not forget
to renew their queftions about medals j for know-
ing they fhould be admitted to fee M. de la Pali-
niere's cabinet, they were defirous of gaining at
leaft a fupcrficial knowledge of the fubjedl. T6
fatisfy them, therefore, their mamma read thcra
an extra6l from the book, entitled Sciences da
Miclailles, (10).
After hearing it, the children afked if they made
any ufe of fymbols jointly with emblems.
Certainly they do, anfwered Madame de Clemire,
for where there is an emblem the fymbol is indif-
penfible. But do you underftand what is an
emblem or device ?
Not perfectly, mamma.
It is a kind of allegory, and ought to exprefs
the fituation or character of the perfon who choofes
it. For example, Madame dc M***, with whom
you are acquainted, is a perfon of great modefty
and fimplicity of manners, with little tafte for
fafhionablc life, and only defirous of pleafmg her
friends, and difcoveriiig the good qualities of her
K ^ heart
196 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE,
heart and underftanding to a fmall chofen circle.
Her device, therefore, is a violet half hid beneath
the grafs ; and her motto-^ 1/ fa ut me chercher^
I MUST BE SOUGHT.
That is very pretty and exprefllve, faid Caefar.
Let me fee if any of you comprehend the fol-
lowing, continued Madame de Clemire. A certain
man of difrindion has taken for device a nofegay
of fleurs-de-lys and rofes ; and his motto is — Tout
pour eux & pour ellcs. All for these, and
FOR THOSE. What docs that fignify?
I underftand the firft part of it, faid Caefar.
The fleurs-de-lys are the emblems of our king
and country ; but as for the rofes,'
Oh, faid Pulcheria, the rofes mean the ladies,
I dare fay.
That is not ill guelTed, at your age, faid Madame
<le Clemire ; if your memory has not aflifted you,
that is J and if you have not heard me mention it
before. However, fmce, between you, an ex-
planation has been given, you ought to underfland
its force and elegance alfo.
Oh yes, mamma ; though it fcems rather
going too far, replied Caefar, to fay all for the
adies. All for one's mamma, one's fifter, or
one's wife, would be very well j but all for women
univerfally, is, I think, a little exaggerated.
That kind of exaggeration is what is called
gallantry, and is not underftood in u literal fenfe ;
therefore,
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 197
therefore, fince; authorized by cuftom, is not ri-
diculous. But to return to the device, it adds to
the merit of precifioii, that of being equally in-
genious and delicate.
But how ingenious, mamma ?
In that it is clear, eafy to underfland, and yet
explains itfelf only in part.
How fo ?
It only fays, 'fiutpour eux i!^ pour dies ; whereas
if its meaning were written at length, it would
read thus r-" There are no difficulties we ought
" not to encounter, no perils we ought not to
" brave, to ferve our king and country, or to
" obtain the fmiles of virtue and beauty."
Oh ! but that would be too long for a motto : I
like Tout pour eux y pour elles better.
You have reafon fo to do ; many words, on fuch
occafions, are proofs of a bad tafte and a want
©f wit, and the very reverfe of ingenious.
But may not one, in endeavouring to be iii»
genious, become obfcure ?
Very eafily ; but as foon as you become ob-
fcure, you ceafe to be ingenious ; you are then
what is commonly called ftrained and far-fetched,
which is contrary to the rules that reafon and
good tafte prefcribe. When a thought is defi-
cient either in perfpicuity or precifion, it has only
the appearajice of ingenuity, and will pleafe none
but fuperficial people.
K 3 The
198 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE.
The fen'ants here came to inforai Madame de
Clemire the horfes were put to : Csefar bade a
fhort farewel to the little Auguftin, whofe heart
was full at parting, for he began already to be
fincercly attached to him ; nor was the love of
Csefar to Auguftin lefs, alid he delighted to re-
peat to him the lellbns he had received from his
preceptor.
When the family were all in the carriage, Caefar
fpoke in praife of Auguftin, and vaunted highly
of his goodnefs, induftry, and dcfire of informa-
tion. I hope, faid the Baronnefs, you will one
day take great delight in making him the com-
panion of your ftudies, and that his good qualities
will alfo infpire you with a fpirit of emulation ;
tliat you will become attentive, thoughtful, and
active, like him ; otherwife your ftory will re-
femble that of the Cardinal d'Oflat.
Oh dear grandmamma, do teU ine how that
wa«, will you ?
Willingly. Arnaud d'OiTat was born at
Caflagnaberc, a fmall village, near Auch, of poor
parents, and was left an orphan at nine years old.
He was educated with the fon of the lord of the
village, and made fo great a progrefs in his ftudies,
that in time he became his tutor.
I hope Auguftin will never be mine though.
But did not you fay this poor boy became a car-
dijial, grandmamma ?
Yes;
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. IQC)
Yes ; having fludied under Cujas, a great
lawyer, he applied to the bar at Paris, and be-
came famous : the friends his merit had acquired,
procured him a magiiirate's place ; after which^
Paul-de-Foix, ArchbilLop of Touloufc, who v/as
fent by Henry III. .of France, ambaffauor to Rome,
chofe d'Offat as fecretary to the embaily. When
the archblfhop died, d'Offat was charged, in chief,
with the affairs of France ; and Henry the Great
was indebted to him for his abfolution and rccoHr
ciliation to the court of Rome. Thefe important
fervices were rewarded with a cardinal's hat, and
he died at Rome in r6o4, aged fixty-feven. We
have many of his letters, which are in great effi-
mation.
You fee, my children, what dignities merit and
genius may procure, and what a luflre they may
add to life j but you nluft obferve, virtue likewife
mufl be added, or elfe even genius will b€ infuf-
ficient.
Oh yes ; I perceive that if one would become
famous and happy, one muff refolve to be learned
and virtuous. And yet, mamma, fome wicked
men have been very fortunate.
But they could not be happy amidff their good
fortune ; for fortune, ill-acquired, is ever ill-enjoy ■
ed ; they fear juftly they (hall lofe it, and feat
is ever an antidote to plcafurc. It is poffible that
abilities,
K4
-^10 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. .
abilities, v/ithout virtue, may procure wealth, but
tliat wealth is always liable to be loft or reclaimed,
And never produces true glory.
The children thought thele obfervation very
juft ; and in converfrng thus, they arrived at the
chateau of M. de la Paliniere.
After dinner they were fhewn a fine cabinet of
rnedals, fome beautiful paintings of the Italian,
mafters, and a charming collection of prints.
The day paffed like a dream. M. dc la Pali-
niere had knowledge, wit, and underftanding ;
and though at firft fight the fmgularity of his
figure caught the attention, he gained upon
every body, the more he was known: he had
fomething original, yet natura4 about him, and
his converfation was folid, yet intercfting.
He Intreated the Baronnefs and Madame de
Clemire to pafs a few days with him fo earncllly
that they confented, during which interval he re-
lated various paflages of his paft life, fo full of in-
tereft and moral inftrudlion, that they regretted
the children had not been prcfent at the recital.
This gave occafion to M. de la Paliniere, who
had heard of their evening ftories, to offer again
to relate his tale in a more conne^ed manner, if
fhe would confent to ftay two days longer than
the time appointed for their departure, and the
propofition was accepted.
Pulcheria,
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. aOI
Pulcheria, in the mean time, afked her mamma
if his ftory was mournful or gay.
M. de la Paliniere, anfwered her mamma, has
had ftrong paffiens, and you know we have be-
fore fpoken of paffions and their efFedls,
Then he has been unhappy. But what were
his pafHons ?
Love and jealoufy : but as you cannot have
any precife ideas of thefe paffions, at prefent, my
childreia, I think it proper to inform you, that
when we fay love fimply, and not maternal-love,
conjugal-love, or filial-!-ove, we mean the af-
fection which fubfifts between man and woman,
when that affection becomes unreafonably violent.
You muft underftand, however, that love, even
when it becomes a paffion, may be virtuous, when
it has for its objedt a huftand, a wife, or a child ;
v/e only then become lefs happy, lefs reafonable ;
and when our affection is thus placed, its excefs
is not criminal till it occafions us to nesledl
fome one of our duties. I own it feldom hap-
pens that a paffion does not influence our con-
duel, and therefore it is that our paffions are fo
dangerous.
But pray, mamma, what is a jealous hufband ?
A hufband who fufpeds the virtue of his wife,
who fears fhe loves another man as well or bet-
ter than flie loves him.
K 5 And
202 THE TALES eF THE CASTLE.
And is it pofTible, mamma, for a virtuous wife
to have a jealous hufband ?
Certainly, becaufe we are all imperfedl, and
men may be unjuft.
But if my hufband was jealous I ftiould be very
angry.
Then you tvould be very wrong ; for though it
is a great misfortune to fee onefelf defpifed by the
objedl of one's aiFctSlion, yet there is this confof
folation, which is, that every woman, even
though her hufband might hate her, maybe cer-
tain of regaining all his confidence and love by
perfedl prudence, mild indulgence, and a fweet
temper.
Various other qucftions and explanations
were afked and returned, and in the evening,
after fupper, M. de la Paliniere, his vifitors be-
ing all affcmblcd,. began to relate the following
ftory.
THE
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 203
THE
HISTORY
O F
M. DE LA PALINIERE.
IW O R E not always the black round wig in
which you fee me, nor was I always fubjedt
to that abfence of mind with which at prefent I
am reproached j in my infancy I was very pretty,.
at lead according to my mother,, v/ho pretended
I was too pretty for a boy ; I own, nobody elfe ever
reproached me with this fault. Be that as it will,
I was an only child, and my mother, who had re-
fle6ted but little on education, humoured and
fpoilt me , infomuch that at nine years old, I wa^
one of the mofi froward, mifchievous little boys
you have ever feen. I was idle, headftrong, tur-
bulent, and teazing ; I a&ed a thoufand queftions,
and never liftened to an anfwer. I would neither
learn any thing, nor do any thing, except keep
tattooing my drum, and whiflling my fife. No>
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 affe<Sled by this proof of generous love,
and all my diflike to Belinda vaniflied ; I flew to
her houfe, entreated her to forget my late behaviour,
and brought her in triumph to my wife, v/ho had
not feen her fince the filly fcene in which I inter-
rupted their converfation.
The fliort remains of the winter glided away in
tolerable tranquillity, and in fpring I repaired to the
army ; when the campaign v/as ended, I returned
to Paris with Sinclair, who joined me on the road.
His chariot waited for him a league from Paris,
and his fervant gave him a note, which he read
v/ith great er^gernef:^, and quitting me, drove away
in his own carriag-e.
However fimple all this might be in appearance,
I lound myfelf involuntarily uneafy v.'hen I con-
fidered it, for which I could affiign no caufe ; or
rather, the caufe of which I was afraid to difcover.
'''OL. J, L Tai
2l8 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE.
Till then, I had always fuppofed Sinclair totally
bufied about military promotion, and the advance-
ment of his fortune ; I was now convinced the
note came from a woman ; he was moved while he
read it, and what was more, I remarked he wasem-
baraffed by my prefence.
He was in love then, that was certain ; and
why fhould he make a myftery of his love to me ?
If there was nothing criminal in his attachment,
wherefore hide it from his xnoiX intimate friend ?
Then followed a thoufand ideas, which I vainly
endeavoured to drive from my memory. I recol-
lecSled the enthufiafm with which he had fo often
fpoken of my v/ife and fhuddered ; my brain
was difturbed, and I no longer had the power
to expel a doubt that racked my foul. I found
a terrible kind of plcafure, in yielding to the jea-
loufy which I had vainly imagined was for ever
vanquiflied.
With fuch difpofitions I arrived at Paris. Julia
could not come to meet me, a violent fore throat
confined her to her chamber. At the fight of her
all thefe fatal imprefllons vaniflied ; and while I
looked and liftcned, I felt a calm ferenity take
poilcflion of my heart. I reproached myfelf for my
odious fufpicions, and fcarcely could conceive how
they had been formed.
I did not, however, fneet Sinclair with the
fame pleafure in the company of my wife as for-
merly y
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 21^
n^erly ; not but I fufFered full as much from the
fear of his perceiving my difeafe, as from jealoufy
itfelf J for fuch was my inconceivable caprice,
though he infpired me with fufpicions the moft in-
jurious to his honour and friendfliip, I yet had fuf-
ficient value for him to dread he fhould think me
capable of fufpicion. I fom.etimes looked upon
him as a rival, but oftner as a cenfor, whofe efteein
and approbation were abfolutely neceflary to my
happinefs.
Agitations like thefe ait poVv'eifuUy upon the
temper when under the impulfe of palHon ; they
influenced and infe6led all my thoughts,' and I was
in a delirium, that deprived me of the ufe of reafcti,
Alore incapable than ever of reflecT:ion, I had
not only ^iven over the idea of vanquifhing my
errors, but of hiding them alfo, and yielded to all
my natural impetuofity. Pundilious and eafily
oftended, like all people who want education, 'arid' '
goaded befides by the fecret thorns of jealoufy, the
only vice I was afraid ihould be ken^ I was ■] ,1 v ;
piqued, or difgufted, or angry, and nobody iaiC vf
why.
In thefe humours, I thought the angelic milJ-
nefs of Julia hypocrifyj her gentle manner of
Jpeaking appeared afftaed, and drove me n---d.
The next moment I perhaps became fenfible of
my injuftice, would filentlyown it was impoffib^
for any perfon to love me, and fall into fits of
L 2 defpairj
220 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE.
defpair s during which I would bitterly reproach
myfelf, for making the woman I adored rai-
lerable.
Then would I remember my Julia in all her
charms, fee her in all the fplendour of her beauty,
ajnd all the mildnefs of her afFedlion, and wonder
at my own cruelty. I would recolle«5l my paflions
and caprices, and the thought would fting me to
the heart. I called myfelf barbarian, madman, de-
tefted myfelf, fhed the fcalding tears of repent-
ance over my errors, determined to fubdue them,
imagine myfelf cured, and, three days after, was
guilty of the fame excefs.
Unhappy in my mind, and ftill more fo becaufe
my unhappinefs was all my own fault, I endea-
voured by difiipation to drown my forrows, I
formed new acquaintance, went more into fafliion-
able life, feldom made fmall parties, but invited
twenty or thirty friends once or twice a week to
my houfe j kept boxes at all the theatres, and
never, during the winter, miffed a mafquerade,
©r a firft reprefentation. But in this vain re-
fearch I found not the happinefs that fled me,
though I injured my health, and deranged my
fortune.
Sinclair did not fail to remonftrate concerning
my new mode of life. You are become a Game-
fter too, faid he, and have given yourfelf up to
the moft fatal and mgft inexcufable of all pafHons.
Have
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE^ 22^
Have you well confidered what a perfon v/ho plays
deep muft inevitably become, that he muft con-
tinually endeavour to enrich himfelf at the expence
of his friends ?
I cannot fay I have made any profound reflec-
tions on the fubjedl: ; I only know men may play
deep, and yet preferve their honour.
Yes, by alv/ays lofing. I do not fay merely by
ruining themfelves, for that is the common deftiny
of the lucky and unlucky Gamefter j the only dif-
ference is, the fate of the one is a little longer in
fufpenfe than that of the other. Neither is your
bare ruin fufEcient ; to preferve your charatSler
unfufpe6ted, you muft never win any confiderable
fum.
Do- you fuppofe then a lucky Gamefter cannot
be thought an honourable one ?
He will be difputed the title at leaft. A croud
of enemies will rife againft him; a mother, in
defpair, will accufe him of having ruined the heir
and hope of her family, and publickly call him
rafcal, and no father will ever mention his name
in his children's prefence, but with contempt. He
will be purfucd by hatred, overwhelmed by ca-
lumny, and condemned by reafon and humanity ;
and who, amidft this univerfal outcry, ftiall dare
to take his part ? His friends ? Can a Gamefter
have friends ? He, who every day rifks the ruin of
thofe to whom he gives that facred title ?
L ^ What
222 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE.
What, Sinclair, have you never met a Game-
fter worthy of your efteem ?
I have, I own ; and yet had not experience con-
vinced me of it, reafon never could have con-
ceived their exigence. Men, who are occupied
only by dreams of enriching themfelves, think all
delicacy the prejudice of education : it is very
difficult for fuch perfons to preferve noble fenti-
ments ; their probity is ftriflly reduced to not
fteal, and fuch kind of probity can never confer
a defirable reputation. Such is the general opi-
nion (admitting many exceptions) concerning a
certain clafs called monied m^n, who yet ufe nonte
but legitimate means and calculations, which
often imply great genius to get rapidly rich ; and
if fuch a prejudice exifts againft thefc men, what
muft be thought of Gameftcrs ? men who conftant-
ly feek happinefs in the deftrutSlion of others ?
Thofe who dedicate their lives to this moft tirc-
fome, as well as difgraceful trafnc, prompted by
cupidity alone, fufficicntly prove the defire of
winning will induce them to make any facrifice'j
and that fuch, who will fubmit to any mean'nefe
for fordid intcreft, think little of fame and emu-
latioji.
Well, let me counfel you in my turn, Sinclair,
not to be fo very intolerant to Gameftcrs ; it may
breed you many enemies in the prcfcnt age.
That
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 223
That fear fnall never hinder me from fpeaking
wholefome truths, faid he ; and fo ended our dia-
logue.
Sinclair's reafoning made fome impreffion on
my mind, but led away by fafliion and example, I
forgot his advice, and wealcnefs and iJlenefs con-
tinued me a Gameller. But, added M. de Pali-
niere, it is paft ten o'clock, and therefore high
time, that, for the prefent, I break off this hiflory
of the follies of my youth. To-morrow you iliaJI
have the continuation. And, accordingly, on the
morrow, he began the eleventh evening in the fol-
lowing manner.
My propenfity to play foon brought on many new
connexions ; I vifited all thofe which are called
open houfes, becaufe at fuch I was fure to find a
large aflembly of Gamefters.
One night, after fupper, at the *** AmbafTa-
dor's, I won three thoufand guineas of a young
man called the Marquis de Clainville. I was not
acquainted with him, but his perfon and manners
intereiled me in his behalf; I faw his defpair
at the lofs of fo confiderable a fum, and as I was
not yet Gamefter enough to remain infenuble to
every thing but money, I had a great defire he
fhould win his guineas again; he faw my defign,
and through dehcacy would play no more ; but
whifpered me, with great emotion, I fhould be
paid the next day. He quitted the company, and
L4 lef
-2-24 THE TALES OV THE CASTLE,
left an impreilion of anxiety on my mind, which
was incrcafed by the ill fortune that attended my
play the reft of the evening ; during which I loft
two thoufand guineas, and went home at fix in the
morning, fatigued, exhaufted, and out of humour
with myfelf, and the way in which I had fpent my
night.
I received the three thoufiind guineas I had won
en the morrow, and four days after my uncle en-
tered my room betimes in the morning, telling me
he was coming to fpeak to me concerning a very
important affair. We retired to an inner apart-
ment, and I afked my uncle what were his com-
mands.
You fee me grieved to the foul, faid he, and
you are the caufe.
1 ? Which way ? How ?
You know d'Elbene has been my moft intimate
friend for thefe thirty years j he has an only
daughter, whom he adores, who was on the
point of marriage. Authorized by the copfent
of her father, fhe loved the Marquis de Clainville,
her deftined hufband, and each party had given
their promife
Well !
The Marquis loft three thoufand guineas at play
with you, and d'Elbene has withdrawn his con-
fent : he will not give his daughter to a Gamefter.
But that is not all ; the father of the unfortunate
young
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 2^5
young man, irritated at this adventure, has ob-
tained a lettre de cachet, and poor Clainville is this
day departed for Saumur, v/here, it is faid, he is
to be confined for two years.
Oh heavens ! unliappy youth ! To lofe at once
his father's affe<5tion, his miftrefs, and his liberty I
And am I the caufe, the innocent caufe of all his
mifery ! But how could I divine his fituation ?
How might I prevent his folly ?
When we have only a flight knowledge of who
we play high with, and cannot tell whether they
can pay their debts of honour, without their own
deflrudion, fuch horrid confequences muft often
■follow ; and thus it is, that Gamefters always unite
inhumanity to extravagance. To play high againfl
a perfon who cannot pay is madnefs, and it iv
favage barbarity when the paymeut muft ruin the
lofer and his family. Seldom does a Gamefter re-
flect, except in the moment of lofs j he has then
feme glimmerings of reafon j he reproaches him-
felf, forefees his deftrucftion, and the mifery of
'thofe who depend on him, and the dreadful picture
' infpires a fhort remorfe. But, did not avarice
exclude all generous fentiments from his bofom,
what a multitude of cutting reflexions would rife
to his imagination when he wins. He would
then fay " What is the fituation of the perfon
" who pays me this money ? Perhaps he has fold
'•'• his eftates, reduced his children to beggary^
I' S " a^id
226 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE.
" and facrificed all the feelings of nature t©
" honour. Perhaps this fum, which is deftin-
" ed by me to my plcafures, is his all ! Perhaps,
" induced by defpair, he is now meditating foiiie
** terrible fooke againft his own. life ! Pcf-
« haps."
Hold ! hold ! my dear Uncle ! you freeze my
blood v/itb horror ] The three thoufand guineas
lie on that table : I cannot bear to look on them- !
And yet am I to blame, for being the indirect
means ofthisyoimg man's affliction ? I did not
prefs him to plaj', and how could I refufe to take
his money ?
But do you not know that, by becoming a Game-
fter, you muft ncceffarily be the caufe of a thoufand
fimilar events ; and muft jiot a thought like this
render fuch a character dcteftable to all thinking
people ? Can we be faid to be the indireSi means
of mifery, when that rnifery is the inevitable con-
fequcnce of our conduct. Saint- Albin, always
idle, yet always bufy, a ufclefs citizen, an infig-
nificant courtier, driving from place to placr?, to
fly from bis own thoughts, and breaking hishorfcs
wind to give them air ; Saint- Albin tlie other day
ran over a man in his way to Verfailles, who died
on the morrow. You know the noife this aftair
made, you know the public outcry it excited.
And wherefore ? Becaufe tliis tragic accident was
•ccafiooed by his want of care ; becaufe he drives
ful
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 22.;
full fpeed, and becaufe fuch careielTnefs implies as
little prudence as humanity.
I am convinced my dear uncle, you have
opened my eyes ; T have been a Gamefter for a
moment, becaufe I had not made thefe reflec-
tions ; fhould I continue one, I am now to-
tally inexcufable»
In fa61:, the misfortune of Clainville, and the
expoftulations of my uncle, made an impreflion on-
my mind which was not to be effaced .
I inftantly went to Clainville's father, and ten-
dered the three thcufaml guineas I had had the
unhappinefs ta win of his fon ; informing him he
might take whatever method he pleafed for the pay-
ment, and protefting I v/as in no immediate want
of the money. But my propofition was refufed
with difdain ; I was even given to underftand, he
was well perfuaded lafFedled agenerofity I did not
feel, and that I fhould never have m.ade the offer,
had I notbeen afFured k would not be accepted.
Stung by an infmuation fo unjufl, I rofe with:
fome warmth, and faid. Well, Sir, fince nothing
can prevail with you to revoke the cruel order that
deprives your fon of liberty, do not fuppofel will
put the m.oney I detefl to my ovi^n private ufe. I.
will carry it to the Conciergerie, get a lift of the
debtors, and fmce it has thrown one man in. pri-
fon it fiiall make many free..
L 6 So
228 THE TAtES OF THE CASTLE,
So faying, I haftily left the room, went to th&'
Conciergerie, did as I had faid, and with the three
thoufand guineas gave Hberty to forty prifoners.
When I renounced play, I neceflarily renounced
mofb of the new connexions I had formed within
the laft three months. I had negledted my wife ;
I returned to her with tranfport, and fhe received
me with tendernef?, and an indulgence that made
her a thoufand times dearer to my heart than ever.
During the firft effufions of my reconciliation, I
acknowledged all my wrongs, all my caprices, nor
did I hide the injuftice I had been guilty of in fuf-
pedling Sinclair.
Julia feemed both aftonifhed and affli<5led at this
ftrange confelHon ; and, dreading left I fhould
again relapfe into the fame weaknefs, begged of me
not to bring Sinclair fo often to the houfe as former-
ly ; for during the laft three or four months I had
leldom feen him, and he had, of his own accord,
been much lefs frequent in his vifits.
This was very prudent advice, but I did not
follow it ; I fuppofed myfelf cured, and would
prove I was ; I haunted Sinclair, and made him
every kind of advance : he loved me, and was
eafily perfuaded I had at length become reafonable,
and though he had too much penetration not to
have perceived my jealoufy, yet he had no certain
proof of it, nor could fuppofe it more than a flight
and momentary diftemper.
u
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 22^
In this renewal of our friendlhip, however, he
thought it prudent to confide a fecret to me, which
unhappily produced an efFe<Sl entirely oppofite to
what he intended. He owned he had long been
in love ; the perfon I love, faid he, made me pro-
mife not to truft the fecret to any one ; family
reafons, of the utmoft importance, occafion this
myftery. It is only within thefe three days,
though I have a thoufand times, this year paft, en-
deavoured the fame thing, that I could obtain
merely her permiffion to inform you of the fitua-
tion of my heart, and fhe ftill obflinately infills
that her name fhall be concealed.
Had Sinclair told me all this with a natural and
open air, he, perhaps, would for ever have re-
eftablilhed tranquillity in my fold ; but, befides
his wiih to give me a proof of his confidence, he
like wife defiredtoiafpire me with a perfect fecurity
refpedting himfelf ; and as he was unwilling I
fhould difcover he had ever divined my jealoufy,
this diffimulation gave him an air ofconftraintand
embarralTment which did not efcape my obferva-
tion ; and which, by being attributed to a wrong
motive, again produced all my former fears.
Had he openly told me the truth, had he ac-
knowledged he had feen my injurious fufpicions;
and added, tliat to prevent their return, had in-
formed me of this his fecret tie, he would have
fpoken without embarxaiTment, and I ihouldhave
thought
230 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE,
though he fpoke truth. But from a friendly, tho'
falfe delicacy, he wilhed to fpare my Ihame j he
feigned ignorance of my ever being capable of
lufpeding him ; his behaviour was conilrained,
and his v/ords had neither the manner nor ton*
of truth : his eyes avoided mine ; he feemed to
fear I fhould read his thoughts in his looks ; he
appeared confufed,. and I fuppofed myfclf deceived.
Thus by an aukward and ill-timed precaution, did
he rekindle the jealoufy he wiflied for ever to ex-
tinguifh.
Criminal or not criminal, artifice is always
dangerous and frequently fatal ; diflimulation can
hardly in any cafe be innocent, and plain fmcerity
ever was and ever will be tlie beft policy. It is
the natural fyftem of capacious fouls, and a cer-
tain indication of the fuperiority of mind and ge-
nius in thofe who adopt it.
I endeavoured, however, to hide what pafled
in my heart j but this heart was mortally wounded j
and I determined ftridlly to obferve in future the
motions and condudl of Sinclair. Vexation, and
the neccflity of deploring my misfortunes m.ade rae
guilty of a thoufand follies ; I difcovered my jea-
loufy to more than one perfon, and the world is
apt enough to believe, that a hufband has always
his rcafons for his fufpicions, and tljat he knows
more than he reveals.
Thus
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 231
Thus did I injurioufly wound my wife's reputa-
tion, and give fcandal a plaufible pretext to take
away her character. Silly, unreafonable, and un-
juft, I heaped ridirule on my own head.
As I obferved Sinclair with a jaundiced eye, I
daily confirmed my own fufpicion. Unable .to
©vercome the chagrin that devoured me, and know-
ins Sinclair's affairs would detain him fome tim,e
at Paris, I took Julia to a country-houfe I had near
Marli. My uncle, went with us, and her friend
Belinda followed.
So entirely was my mind occupied by paflion,
and fo much was I altered, that 1 was become
almoft infennble to things the moft interefting;.
I had been ardently defirous of children, and
though my wife was five months advanced in her
pregnancy, J fcarcely felt any joy at the event :
though Julia dwelt on it with rapture,^ and was
conftantly forming prqjedts for the happinefs of
her child, whom fhe Intended to fuckl#, and bring
up hcrfelf.
When we had been in the country a fortnight
I went one morning into Julia's apartment, in-
tending to come to an explanation with her. Un-
fortunately flie was gone with her friend Be-
linda into the garden. Determined to wait for
her I vvent into her bed-chamber, fat down on a
couch, and fell into a melancholy reverie. Tired
«f waiting, in about a quarter of an hour I got
up
£3^ THE TALES OF TH2 CASTLE,
up haftily and as I rofe overturned the pillow, un-
der which lay a pocket-book. I had never ken.
this pocket-book in Julia's poffeflion, and yet it
was not new. This was enough to incite my
curiofity, and raife a thoufand conflifed fufpi-
cions, I feized it, put it in my pocket, and
inftantly retired, or rather (kulked to my own
room.
As foon as I was there I locked and bolted m.y
felf in, and funk down in an arm-chair to take
breath j I was almoft fuffocated, a heavy oppref-
fion lay upon my breaft, and the power of re-
fpiration was nearly loft. My hands trembled,
and unable to hold the pocket-book, I laid it up-
on the table, looked earneftly at it, and the tears
ftarted in my eyes.
What am I doing ! cried I An z£i I could
not excufe in another! Is not wafer upon a
piece of paper an impenetrable wall to a man of
honour or honefty j and fhall I break a lock ? — ■ —
Oh heavens ! Fraud and violence are not more
horrible ! What have my paflions brought me
to!
The reflexion made me fhudder ; I confidered
a moment, if I fhould not carry it back to where
I found it ; but paflion was too powerful, 1 gave
way to defpair, took up the pocket, book with a
kind of frenzy, gave the lock a wrench, and it
flew openi
Heavens?
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. £35
Heavens ! faid I, what is this ? A pidure ! A
portrait !
My blood ran cold, my heart funk within me,
my head became giddy, and a univerfal trembling
came over me. My eyes were fixed on the fatal
pi6lure ! It was Sinclair himfelf ! — — Wretch !
Woman ! perfidious v/oman ! I cried, thou
dieft !
I am fure fhe was innocent, interrupted Pulcheria,
fobbing, with great emotio n— ■ ■ I am fure fhe was
— — And fo fir if if you were— —were fo
wicked as to kill her, I beg you—- — you— «—
won't tell us any more of your ftory— —
M. de la Paliniere wiped a tear from his cheek,
and replied ■ D o not be alarmed. my dear girl !
Heaven protedled the innocent, and puniflied me
who was guilty.
In die firft tranfports of rage I quite loft all
reafon and recolleftion ; I thought Julia a monfter
that fcarcely belonged to the fame fpecies. I
burnt with a defire to diftionour, to defame her,,
and publifh to the world her ftiame and my mif-
fortunes. I began by writing a note to Sinclair :
it contained the followino- words !
o
" At length I am convinced you are the falfeft
" and vileft of men, neither fuppofe you ever
" deceived me ; 'tis above a year fince I learnt
" your perfidy. Meet me this evening behind
" the Chartreux :. charge your piftols. I claim
« the
234 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE.
" the choice of weapons, you have that of
" feconds."
I figned it, and flew from my chamber, at the
door of which I met a fervant ; aftoniflied at my
wild and diftraded air he flopped, I gave him the
note I had juft written, and ordered him to fend
a man and horfe away with it inftantly to Paris ;
after which, added I, with the voice of furv, " Go
" to your miftrefs, tell her I am about to depart,
^' that I will never fee her more, and that a con-
" vent henceforth fhall be her eternal refidence."
I then ordered my horfes, and ran to my un-
cle's apartment ; he was alone, and drew back
with terror when he faw me. I related my ftory
in two words ; and added, that before this dif-
ccvery, I had long been well ailured of Julia's
falfchood.
My uncle was willing ftill to doubt, begged of
me to fay nothing of the matter, nor take any
ftep till after mature reflection ; he added, all re-
folutions made in the moment of anger are im-
prudent, and ever incur repentance and regret ;
that befides, the ftrongeft appearances arc often
falfe ; and that the longer we live, and the mora ■
experience we have, the lefs do v/e take thing-*
upon truft. But my uncle talked to the deaf:
poflcflcd by dcfpair, and fo)ely occupied by pro-
jeds of terrible vengeance, I heard him not.
I was
THE TALES OF THE CASTLI. 2^5
I v/as loft in a "profound and dreadful reverie,
when all at once the door opened, and Julia en-
tered ! Audacious creature ! cried I, be gone !
or dread my fury ! My uncle terrified, threw
himfelf before me, feized me in his arms, and
held me with little trouble, for paflion had de-
prived me of ftrength.
Julia advanced, and addreffing herfelf to my un-
cle Let him go, faid {he 1 have notliing
to fear.
It is impoffible to defcribe the impreffion thefe
few words made on my heart ; the found of her
heavenly voice pierced my very foul, and filled
me with doubt and remorfe j my fury was gone ;
I looked at her and trembled ; there was a ma-
jc-ftic confidence, an undefcribable dignity in her
form and behaviour that gave additional power to
her beauty, while the tranquillity of her counte-
nance enforced the timidity I began to feel.
Fixed in aftonifliment and diftruft Hooked at her,
but the power of fpeech was fled.
This was a moment of fearful fdence. At
laft Julia looked round and faw the pocket-book
open, and the lock forced, which I had thrown
upon the floor. She {looped, and taking it deli-
berately up, faid 1 now fee the caufe of your
prefent fituation, and the outrage you have com-
mitted.
Ah!
236 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE.
Ah ! Julia I cried I Is it pofTible you may
be innocent f Yet why do I doubt it, your very
looks have juftified you !
Why then cruel man have you condemned me
\inheard ?
And yet is not that the portrait of Sinclair ?
Yes ! But it is not mine.
May I believe it I
Sinclair has been married thefe fix months ; the
pocket-book is his wife's, and that wife U
Belinda*
A jufllfication (6 {hort, fo clear, fo precife, left
me without a doubt j it took from jealoufy all
poflibility of remaining or returning, but it cover-
ed me with confufion fo durable, and guilt fo
palpable, I was no longer capable of happinefs ; I
could not tafte the joy of finding a wife fo lovely
and fo virtuous, while I felt myfelf fo very un-
wortliy ef her.
While my uncle wept over Julia, and clafped
her in his arms, humbled and confounded, I re-
mained (landing immovable in the fame place.
My repentance was without tendernefs, for it
was without hope of pardon. Julia returned the
tendernefs of my uncle, wiped the tears from her
eyes.
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 2^7
eyes, and coming to me witli a cold and ferious
afpeft, began to relate Belinda's ftory.
She informed me that Belinda had loved Sin«
clair above two years, but having little fortune,
ajid great expe£lations from her uncle, vyrho had
conceived a pvG]c& of marrying her to a man of
his own name, Ihe had determined to keep her
inclinations for Sinclair fecret ; but being her
own miftrefs, and ftrongly importuned by Sin-
clair, fhe had at laft confented to marry him, on
(Condition the marriage fhould remain private, till
fuch time as fhe could bring her uncle to her
opinion, which, with a little patience, fhe was
■certain of efFedling.
In fa(fi, continued Julia, ftill addreffing herfelf to
me, her uncle has within thefe two months infenfibly
been inclining towards the wiflies of Belinda ; and
fhe was determined in about fix weeks to in-
form him of every thing ; that is, as foon as the
man who governs her uncle, and who wiflies to
have Belinda himfelf, fhould be gone out of tov/nj
but the public breach of to day, has entirely broken
her meafures. She had left her pocket-book in
my chamber, not finding it on her return, and
hearing the meiTage you fent by the fervant,
eafily gueiTed the truth. I know my uncle, faid
fhe, and am certain that the difcovery jufl at this
moment will be fatal ; but I will not hefitate an
initant, to Ikcrifice fortune to the honour and
eafe
!13^ THE TALES OF THE CASTLE.
eafe of my friend. Go, juftify yourfelf to your
hufbaud ; I will feek mine, and inform him of
this event.
. Julia's laft fentence, inftantly recalled to my
mind the note I had written to Sinclair. It was
above an hour fmce I had been fo occupied by
my paflions, and Julia, that I had forgot the
whole univerfe ; at length recollecting the mortal
offence I had given Sinclair, I cried out in a fud-
den burft of exclamation, oh heaven ! Sinclair
has by this time received my note !
■ The thought drove me half diftracled ; all the
injurious expreffions of this note came to my
mind, and the remembrance heightened my con-
fufion and remorfe. I wrote to him, however,
inftantly ; implored his indulgence, his pity, and
conjured him to forget the fins which repentance
and defpair in vain endeavoured to expiate.
I received no anfwer that night, but the next
morning a letter from Sinclair was brought to my
bed ; I trembled while I opened it, and read as
follows :
" It is true I was your friend, but you never
** were mine : you ! who openly avow you ha'v'e
" long fufpedled me of the bafeft of all perfidy,
'' you ! who have believed me the v'lleji of men,
" were you ever my friend ? Oh no ! 1 own
*' I faw your jealoufy, but imagined your hearf
'* difavowed the mean fufpicion, and ultimately
" trufted
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 23^
** trufted me : I thought you fuppofed it an invo-
" luntary pafTion, and believed I deceived myfelf
« in my own feelings ; therefore I concluded your
"jealoufy extravagant only and capricious, but
" that you could not for a moment doubt the
" probity of your friend. Such was the opinion
" I had of you ; in deftroying this belief, you havs
" for ever deftroyed the friendfhip of which it
" was the bafis. Appearances you alledge were
'' fo Itrong in this lalt inftance. But have not
'' you accufed me in your heart a thoufand times
" previous to this event ? Befides, when the ho-
*' nour of a wife and a friend is in queftion, ought
" wc to judge from appearances ?
" Being determined never to fee you again, it
" is my duty here to clear up whatever may ap-
" pear myfterious in the condudt of your wife.
" Her prudence would never fufFer her to hear a
" fecrct from a perfon of my age ; her friend Bc-
" linda was fufficiently acquainted with her to be
" certain of this ; therefore, in confiding her own
*' to Julia, file was afllired I fhould remain a
" ftrangcr to that confidence, fo long as it was ne-
*' cefiiiry you fliould be fo too. On the other hand,
" Belinda, doubtful of your difcretion, and mor-
" tally fearing I fhould open my heart to you,
" exafted a promife that I abfolutely would not ;
" and to engage me more readily and firmly,
" protefted fhe was irrevocably rcfolved not to
" confide
240 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE.
■^ confide the fecret to any one perfon, no, not
"even to Julia ; neither was it till yefterday that
'" I difcovered this artifice.
" After this explanation, when you will under-
" ftand the excefs of your injuftice, it is to be hoped
*' you will feel, at the fame time, how terrible it is
'' never to fee our miftakes till they are paft repa-
" ration. The reafonings and counfels of friend-
" ftiip have been all infFe6lual ; experience I hope
" will bring convidtion. Remember, that to dif-
*' truft without ceafing thofe tliat are dearejfl to
* you, to cherifh improbable and dreadful fufpi-
^* cions againft them is an infupportable felf-pu-
'* nifhment, and the torment of the wicked and
*' the weak.
** Farewel ! You have loft a faithful frjend ! I
** an Illufion ! but that lUufion was too dear to me
" not to be for ever regretted ! What focial mo-
*' ments have you forgone ; what ties have you
*' diflblved ! Unhappy man ! I bewail your fate.
" However, a new fource of felicity prefents itfelf,
*' you will foon be a father, may you be a happy
« one ?"
As I ended the letter, my uncle entered haftily
into my chamber Rife inftantly, faid he, Julia
aflcs for you j fhe has pafTed a fhocking night ;
yefterday's dreadful bufinefs has had an elfe6l
which, in her fituation, may be fatal,
An
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 24I
An efFea ! what efFeft ? Good God ! cried I^
fend to Paris for help inftandy.
I have done that already, faid my uncle ; but in
addition to her trouble, flie has received news from
Paris, which (lie has fcarcely ftrength to fupport.
Belinda has written her a note, which contains no-
thing very interefting ; but Julia, hearing this note
was brought by the Valet de chambre, fhe would
fpeak to him, and learnt that Belinda has feen her
uncle, declared her marriage, and he has deter-
mined never to look upon her again. The rela-
tion has mortally afRi6led Julia, and the more fo,
for that you alone have been the caufc.
During this explanation, I drelTed myfelf with a
bleeding heart, and flew to my wife. I found her
in a fever, and fuffering the pangs of labour.
The Plvyfician arrived, and foretold the confe-
quences, for the fame evening file mifcarried.
Inconfolable for the lofs of her child, flie could
not diflemble her grief; fee, faid (lie, bitterly
weeping, fee what you coft me.
This cutting reproach, the firft fhe ever made
me, compleated my diflrefs. I had myfelf in
horror ! fuppofed myfeJf detefled ! and, far from
endeavouring to redrefs the v/rongs I had done, I
aggravated them by a "gloom.y defpair.
As foon as my wife was able, we- returned
to Paris. In vain did flie endeavour to conceal
her' grief ; fhe moaned over her late lofs, and wept
VOL. I, M for
242 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE,
for her friend j for Sinclair, inflexible and de-
termined to fee me no more, had taken his wife
into the fartheft part of Poitou ; add to which,
Julia had flill another fubjed of aiHidlion, not lefs
fevere than the former.
All Paris was acquainted with my jealoufy ; and
tlie hiftory of the pocket-book, and my behaviour,
had been told a thoufand different ways. The
avowal of Sinclair's marriage had not juflified
Julia in the eyes of the multitude, who had been
deceived too by falfe recitals ; they concluded, from
my fury and my rupture with Sinclair, it was im-
poiTible fhe ftiould be innocent. Julia immediately
law, by the manner in which Ihe was received
in the world, fhe had loft that confideration and
refpe(5t, which, till then, had ever been paid to
her virtues.
With feelings too acute for confolatlon, and
too proud to complain, flie cherifhed in her heart
a fecret and cruel chagrin. I faw the injuftice fhe
fufFered, imagined her grief, and felt ftronger than
ever how much reafon Ihe had to hate me, for
being the fole author of all her troubles ; conclud-
ing my felf, therefore, the objedl of her refentment
and averfion, I endeavoured not toconfole her, and
ittributed the gentlenefs with which file treated
me to principle only, not love. Such reiterated
fancies, by increafmg my defpondency, foured
my Impetuous temper to that degree, that I be-
ciune
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 243
came each day more and more fullen, favage, and
infupportable.
Several months pafled thus, till, at laft, per-
ceiving Julia's health daily decline, and that flie
was ready to fink under her woes, I fuddenly took
a refolution to part from her, and give her back
her liberty. I informed her of my determination,
afluring her, at the fame time, it was irrevocable.
I confcfs, however, notwithflanding my certitude,
at moments, of her hatred, I fecretly flattered
myfelf, that tliis declaration would aftonifh and
produce a moft lively emotion in Julia ; and it is
certain, had I difcovered the leaft figns of regret
on her part, I fliould have caft myfelf at her feet,
and abjured a refolution which pierced my very
foul.
I was deceived in fuppofing myfelf hated ; I
was equally wrong in imagining my condudl: could
infpire even momentary love. Great minds are
incapable of hatred ; but a continued improper
and bad conduct will produce indifference, as i
did with Julia. I had loil her heart paft recall.
She heard me with tranquillity, without furprize,
and without emotion. My reputation, faid ftie,
is already injured, and this will confirm the un-
jufl fufpicions of the public ; but if my prefence
is an obftacle to your happinefs, I am ready to
depart ; my innocence is ftill my own, and I (hall
h.ive fufficient flrength to fubmit to my fate.
Ml ' Cruel
244- THE TALES OF THE CASTLE.
Cruel woman, cried I, fhedding a torrent of
tears, with what eafe do you fpeak of parting.
Is it not your own propofal ?
And is it not I who adore you, and you who
hate me ?
Of what benefit is your love to me ; or what
injury is what you call my hatred of to you ?
I have made you unhappy ; I am unjuft, capri-
cious, mad : and yet if you do hate me, Julia,
your revenge is too fevere j there is no mifery can
equal your hatred.
I do not haiie you.
The manner in which fhe pronounced this,
faid (o pofitively / do not love you^ that I was
tranfported beyond all bounds of patience ; I be-
came furious, yet the next inftant, imagining I
faw terror in the eyes of Julia, I fell at her feet.
A tear, a figh, at that moment, had changed my
future fate, but fhe ftill preferved her cold tran-
quillity. I got haftily up, went to the door and
flopped. Farexvclfor ever ! faid I, half fufFocated
with paflion. Julia turned pale, and rofe as if to
come to me ; I advanced towards her, and fhe fell
back in her chair, ready almofl to faint. I in-
terpreted this violent agitation into terror. What
am I become a fubjedl of horror ! cried I ; well,
I will deliver you from this odious objeft. So
fjxying, I darted from the chamber in an agony of
dcfpair.
My
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 245
,- Mj Uncle was abfent, I no longer had a friend,
no one to advife or countera<3: the raflinefs of the
moment. Diftra6led, totally befide myfelf, I ran
to the Parents of Julia, declared my intention, and
added, Julia herfelf was defirous of a feparation,
ajid that I would give back all her fortune.
They endeavoured to reafon v/ith me, but in
vain ; I informed them I fhould go direftlylnto
the country, where I {hould flay two days, and
when I came back -expedled to find myfelf alone
in my own houfe. I next wrote to Julia to inform
her of my proceedings, and departed, as I had
faid I would, the fame evening for the country.
My paflions were too much agitated, to let me
perceive the extent of mifery to which I condemn-
ed myfelf; and, what feems now inconceivable,
was that, though I loved my wife dearer than
ever, and was inwardly perfuaded I yet might re-
gain her afFe6lions, I found a kind of fatisfa61:ion
in making our rupture thus ridiculoufly public.
I never could have determined on a feparation
from Julia with that coolnefs and propriety, which
fuch things, when abfblutely neceffary, demand.
I wanted to aftoniili, to agitate, to rouze her
from a ftate of indifference, which, to me. Was
more dreadful even than her hatred. I flattered
myfelf that, hearing me, fhe had doubted my
fmcerity, and fuppofed me incapable of finally
parting from her.
M 3 I likewif?
246 THE TALES GF THE CASTLE.
I likewife imagined that event would rekindle
•in her heart all her former afFedion, and this hope
alone was enough to confirm me in the execution
of my project. I took pleafure in fuppofing her
incertitude, aflonifhmcnt, and diflrefs : my fancy
reprefented her when reading my letter ; beheM
her, conducted by her relations, pale and trem-
bling, defcend the flairs ; faw her ftop and figh
as fhe pafTed the door of my apartment, and weep
as (he ftepped into the carriage.
I had left a trufly pcrfon at Pari?, with orders
to obferve her as carefully as pofllble ; to watch
her, fallow her, queflion her woman, and in-
form me of all iiie faid or did at this critical mo-
ment J but the relation was not long. Julia con-
tinued fecluded in her chamber, received her
friends without a witnefs, and departed by a pri-
vate ftair-cafe unfeen of any one.
M. de la Paliniere had proceeded thus far in
his recital when the clock ftruck ten, and the
young auditors retired to reft : the day following
he thus continued his tale.
I left off at the dreadful period of rriy parting
with Julia. The fame afternoon that (he left my
houfe file wrote me a note, which contained
nearly thefe words :
" I have followed your orders, and departed
" from a place whither I fhall always be rcr.dy to
" return, whenever your heart fliall recall me.
« As
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 247
" A& to your propofal of giving back a fortune
" too confiderable for my prefent fituation, I dare
" expecft as a proof of your efteemj it will not be
** infifled upon : fo to infift would be now the on-
" ly remaining thing that could add to my uneafi-
" nefs. Condefcend, therefore, to accept the half
" of an income, v/hich can give me no- pleafure
*' if you do not partake it with me."
This billet, v/hich I wafhed with my tears, gave
birth to a croud of refleilions. Tllb contraft of
behaviour between me andjulia forcibly ftruck mc,
and confequences taught me how much affedlion,
founded upon duty, is preferable to paflion. I
adore Julia, faid I, and yet am become her
tormentor, have determined to proceed even to
a ftparation ; {he loved me without paffion, and
was conftantly endeavouring to make me happy j
was ever ready to facrihce her opinions, wiihes,
and will, and continually pardoning real offences,
while I have been imputing to her imaginary
ones : and at laft, when my exceffive folly and in-
juftice have loft her heart, her forgivenefs and
generofity have yet furvived her tendernefs, and
(he thinks and acts the moft noble and affeiftia-^
duties towards an object Die once loved. Oh
yes ! I now perceive true affection to be that
which reafon approves, and virtue ftrengthens.
Overwhelmed by fuch like reflections, the moft
bitter repentance widened every wound of my
M 4 bleeding
2^3 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE.
bleeding heart. I fhuddered, wlien I remembered
the public manner in which I had put away my
wife; and in this fearful ftate of mind, I had
doubtlefs gone and caft myfelf at Julia's feet,
ncknowledgfed all my wrongs, and declared I could
not live without her, had I not been prevented by
fcruplcs, v/hich for once were but too well
founded,
I had been a Prodigal and a Gamefter, and
what was ftiil worfe, had a fteward, who poffefled
in a fuperior degree the art of confufing his ac-
counts, which indubitably proves fuch a perfon
to y/ant either honefty or capacity. Inftead of
at firft difcharging him, I only begged he would
not trouble me with his bills and papers ; which
order with him needed no repetition, for it was
not unintentionally that he had been fo obfcure
and difiufe.
About fix months, however, before the period
I at prefent fpeak of, he had feveral times de-
manded an audience, to flicw me the declining
flate of my afiairs. At the moment, this made
little impreflion upon me; but after reading Julia's
note it came into my mind, and before I would
think of obtaining my pardon, I refolved to learn
my real fituation.
Unhappily for mc, my conduft had been fuch I
had no right to depend on my wife's cfteem ; and
if ruined, how could I afe her to return and for-
get
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 249
get- what was pafled ? Would not fhe afcribe that
to intereft, which love alone had infpired ? 'The
idea v/as infupportable, and I would rather even
never behold Julia more, than be liable to be fo
fufpedted.
With fuch fears I returned haftily to Paris.
But what were my fenfations at entering a houfe
which Julia no longer inhabited, and whence I
myfelf had had the madnefs and folly to banifh
her ! Attacked by a thoufand afflifting thoughts,
overwhelmed with grief and regret, I had one
only hope, which was, that by oeconomy and
care I might again re-eflabiifh my affairs, and
afterwards obtain forgivenefs and be reconciled to
Julia.
I fent for my fleward, and began by declaring,
the firft ftep I ihould take would be to return my
wife's fortune. He feemed aftonifhed at this,.
and wanted to dilTuade me, by faying he did not
think it poffible I could make this reftitutioii,
without abfolute ruin being the confequence. I
faw, by this, my affairs were even much worfe
than I had imagined.
This difcovery threw me into the moft dreadful
defpair j for to lofe my fortune, was, according to
my principles, to lofe Julia eternally !
Before I fearched my fituation to the bottom, I
reftored Julia's whole portion ; I then paid my
debts i and thefe affairs finifhed, I found myfelf (o-
M 5 completely
250 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE*
completely ruined, that I was obliged to pur-
chafe a trifling life-annuity, with what remain-^
ed of a large fortune. My eftates, horfes,
houfes, all were fold, and I hired a fmall apart-
ment near the Luxembourg, about three months
after my feparation from my wife* My uncle was
not rich, he had little to live on except a penfion
from government,, though he offered me aiTiftance,
which I refufed.
Julia, in the. mean time, had retired to a con-
vent. On the very day I had quitted my houfe,
1 received a letter from her in the following
terms :
" Since you have forced me to receive what yoii
*' call mine, fmce you treat me like a ftranger, 1
" think myfelf juftifiedin doing the fame. When
" I left your houfe, the fear of offending you, irt
"'- appearing to defpife your gifts, occafioned me
" to take with me the diamonds and jev/ela
" which you had prefented to me : it was your re-
" queft, your command that I fliould do fo, and/
« 1 held obedience my duty. But fince you;
" {hew me you will not act with the fame deli-
" cacy, I have determined to part with thefe ufe-
" lefs ornaments, which never were valuable
" but as coming from you. I have found a
" favourable opportunity of felling them- advan-
" tageoufly for eighty thoufand livres (33341.)-
" which I have fent to your. Attorney, as a fum.
" I v/as
THE TALES OF THE CASTLEi 25 1
*< I was indebted to you, and which you cannot
" oblige me to take back, fince it is not mine.
" I have been in the convent of *** for thefe
" two months paft, where I intend to remain
" for fome weeks at leaft, unlefs you take me
" hence. We have a fine eftate in Flanders,.
" they fay it is a charming country. Speak but
** a word, and I am ready to go with you, to live
*' with you, to die with you."
How fhall I defcribe my feelings 2^t reading
this letter ! Oh Julia ! cried I, lovely, adorable
woman ! Is it poflible ! Oh God ! Can it be that
I have accufed you of perfidy ! have done every
thing in my pov/er to difhonour you ! have aban-
doned you.!' What ! a heart fo delicate, fo noble^
did I once poflefs, and have I loft it ! Oh mifery !"
I mighthave been the happieft of men^ I am the
moft wretched. And can I, in my prefent cir^-
cumftances,. accept the generous pardon thou:
otFereft \ Oh no ! Better die than fo debafe my-
felf ! No,. Julia, though thou mayeft truly accufe
me of extravagance and injuftice, thou never
fhalt have reafon to fufpe6l me of meannefs^.
Streams of tears ran down my cheeks, while
I reafoned thus. I wrote twenty anfwei-s, and.
tore them all; at laft I fent the following:
" I admire the noble manner of your proceed-
" ing, tlis fublimity of- your mind 3,, and yet this.
M 6 '<-exce;k
252 THE TALES GF THE CASTLE.
" excefs of generofity is not incomprehenrible
" to me. Yes, I conceive the heart-felt fatisfaclion
" of faying, Jll which the moji tender love can in-
^'^Jpircj virtue alo7ie jhall make 7ne perform.
" But I will not take advantage of its empire over
^^ you Live free, be happy, forget me •
" Adieu, Julia You have indifputably all the
*' fuperiority of reafon ov€r paffion And yet I
*' have a heart, perhaps, not unworthy of your's.'*
. With this letter I returned the eighty thou-
fand iivres, ordering it to be told her, that
the diamonds having been given at her marriage,
were undoubtedly her's ; and having once re-
ceived, fhe had no right to force them back
upon me.
I had now made a facrifice the moft painful j
Julia had oitered to confecrate her life to me, and
I had renounced a happinefs, without which there
was neither peace nor ple'afure on earth for me.
My grief, however, was rather profound than
violent 5 I had offered up felicity at the altar of
honour, and that idea, in fome meafure, fupported
me. Befides, I did not doubt but my letter would
prove to Julia, that notwithftanding all my errors,
I yet was v/orthy her efteem. The hope of ex-
citing her pity, and efpecially her regret at parting
from me, again animated my heart : 1 fuppofed
her relenting, and grieved, and the fuppofition
gave me a little eafe,
I had
THE TALES ©F THE CASTLE. 253
I had lived about a fortnight retired in my lodg-
ing ' near the Luxembourg, when I received an
order to depart immediately and join my regi-
ment. Peace had been declared near a year, and
my regiment was in garrilon two hundred leagues
from Paris. I was one of the moft ignorant colo-
nels in Europe ; befides that I ftill fecretly che-
rifhed the fond hope Julia was not loft to me for
ever ; though I perfe<5lly felt I could not recede,
nor could ftie make any further advances j yet ftill
I flattered myfelf, fome unforefeen event would
again confer a blefPing on me which I had never
fincerely renounced.
In rail, I could not refolve to quit Paris, and
put the intolerable fpace of two hundred leagues
bttween me and Julia j I wrote therefore to the
minifter, to obtain leave of abfence, which was
refufed me, and I inftantly threw up my com-
miffion.
Thus did I quit the fervice at five-and-twenty,
and thus did paflion and folly diredl my condu6l in
all the moft important events of life.
This laft a6t of extravagance was the caufe of
great vexation to me ; it increafed and completed
the difFerence between my uncle and me, who was
previoufly very angry with me for raftily feparating
from my wife : fo that I now found mjfelf abfo-
lutely forfaken, by every perfon in the world whom
moft I loved,
A
254 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE.
At firft, indeed, I did not feel all the horror of
my fituation, being folely occupied by one idea,
which fwallowed up all the reft. I wifhed to fee
Julia once more. I imagined, if I could but find
any means of appearing fuddenly and unexpe£ledly
before her, I fhould revive fome part of the aifec-
tion fhe formerly had for me. But I could not afk
for her at the convent ; for what had I to fay ? She
never went out, and her apartmejit was in the in-
terior part of the houfe, how then could I come to
the fight of her.
I had a valet, who happened to be acquainted
with a coufm of one of the Touriere's (a)^ I fpoks
to this mattj and got him to give mc a letter for
his coufin the Touriere, in which I was announ*-
ced as one of his friends, and fteward to a country
lady, who wanted to fend her daughter to a con-
vent.
Accordingly, at twilight, I wrapt myfelf up in a
great coat, put on an old fiouched hat, and went
to the convent. The Touriere was exadlly fuch a
perfon as I wiflied ; that is, fhe was exceedingly
talkative and communicative. At firft I put fome
vague queftions to her, and afterwards faid, my
miftrefs wa-s not abfolutely determined to fend her
daughter to a convent, whence I took occafion to
afk if they hud many boarders.
{a) A kind of Female Runner or Turnkej to a con'vmt. T.
Oh.
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. ^5$
Oh yes, replied fhe, and married women too,
I aflure you. Here my heart beat violently, and
(he, with a whifper, a fmile, and an air of fecrecy,
added You muft know, Sir, it is this very
convent, that inclofes the beautiful Madame de la
Paliniere, of whom you have certainly heard fo
much.
Yes Yes 1 have She is a charm i«ng
woman.
Charming ! Ob beautiful to a degree I It rs a
great pity ! but it is to be hoped God will grani
her the gift of repentance.
Repent ! of what I
Sir ! Yes, yes. Sir, it Is plain enough you are
juft come from the country, or you could not afk
fuch a queftion. So you don't know !
I have heard fhe had a capricious unjufc huf-
band, but
Oh yes ? That to be fure fhe had : every body
talks of his folly and brutality, but that will not ex-
cufe her conduit. I hear every thing, and can af-
fure you fhe is here much againfl her inclination ;
iiay, fhe would not have come, had fhe XK>t 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<Sledly, " tell me,
" I will know."
Ah, unhappy man !
Go on ! continue ! ftrike me to the heart !
Sinclair anfwered not, but wept and embraced
me. Tell me, continued I, v.'hat is my fate ? Is
it her hatred, or her lol's thou wouldll announce ?
Sinclair's lips opened to anfv/er, and my heart
funk within me ; I wanted the courage to heai'
him pronounce my fentcnce ; " Oh my friend !'*
added I, " my life this mojr.cnt is in tliy
« hands."
The fupplicating tone with which I fpoke thefe
words, fufficiently expreflcd my feelings. Sin-
clair looked at me with compaffion in his eyes.
" I can be filent," faid he, " but dare not de-
" ceive :" he ftopt ; I afked no more -, and the
reft c^ the route we both kept a profound fi-
lence, which was only interrupted by my fobs and
fighs,
Si<nclair conduiled me to a country houfe,
where I at length received a confirmation of my
mifery ; alas ! all was loft ; Julia exifted no more ;
her death not only deprived me of all felicity, but
took from me the means of repairing mj-^aults;
N 3 of
270 THE TALES OK THE CASTLE.
of expiating my paft errors, except by regret,
repentance, and grief.
The remainder of my hiftory has nothing in-
tereftiiig ; confoled by time and religion, I con -
fecratcd the reft of my career to friendfhip, ftudy,
and the offices of humanity ; I obtained my uncle's
pardon, and the care of making him happy be-
came my greateft delight j and I fulfilled, without
effort, and in theinv/hole extent, thofe facred duties
which nature and gratitude required. Though
my uncle was far advanced in life, heaven ftill
permitted him to remain with me ten years, after
which I had the misfortune to lofe him ; I pur-
chafed this eftate, and retired hither to end
my days. Sinclair promifed to come and fee me
once a year, and though fifteen are now paft fmce
that event, v/e have never been eighteen months
without feeing each other.
Sinclair, at prefent in his fifty-eighth year, has
run a career the moft brilliant and the moft for-
tunate J a happy huftand, a happy father, a fuccefs-
ful warrior, covered with glory, loaded with for-
tune's favours, he enjoys a felicity and fate the
more tranfcendant, in that they only could be pro-
cured by virtue united to genius.
As for me, I, in my obfcure mediocrity, might
yet find happinefs, were it not for the mournful,
the bitter remembrance of the evils which others
have fufFered, through the errors of my youth.
So
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 27I
So faying, M.de laPaliniere fetched a deep ligh,
and ceafed to fpeak : a fhort filence followed ;
after which the Baronnefs and her daughter returned
him thanks for his complaifance, rofe, and with
their children retired to refl.
As foon as Madame de Clemire found herfeJf
alone with her children, fhe demanded what *in-
ll-ru61:ion they had reaped from the Hiftory of M.
de laPalijuere ? Has it not proved to you, faid fhe,
how dangerous a thing paiHon is ?
Oh yes, faid Caefar ; and, as you have often
told us, we muft never be paflionate'y fond of any
thing but fame.
True J that is to fay, whatever is virtuous,
whatever is great, whatever is heroic.
But what is a heroic adlion, mamma ?
Something ufeful, fomething generous, which
yet duty does not exa61: : but as the duties of a
good man are exceedingly extenfive, there are
few a(5lions which a noble mind can truly confider
as heroic : when an adlion demands fome great
facrifice, when we cannot perform it without
making ourfelves contemptible, then, for exam.ple,
it becomes heroic. A wealthy perfon who gives
alms only does a good, and not a heroic aftion :
he would indeed do ill, were he to fpend his money
in fuperfluities. A man, who in battle, difcovers.
nothing more than coolnefs and courage, is not a
N 4 hero ^
272 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE,
hero ; he difhonours himfelf if he be not cool and
courageous. To judge, therefore, properly of
an ailion, confider firft, if it wound neither hu-
manity nor juftice, for true grandeur is infe-
parable from equity ; think next how far it may
cffe6l the mijid and fortune, and laftly the repu-
tation.
Oh, I underftand, mamma. If an aftion be
equitable, if it demand fome great facrifice, and
cannot be performed, v/ithout rendering him
who performs it contemptible, it is then certaiiily
heroic.
The definition is exceedingly jufl ; do not for-
get it ; efpecially when you read hiflory, where
you will find a multitude of errors on that fubjedl ;.
many hillorians, for want of refledling, mifplace
both their ccnfure and their praife ; a judicious
reader will never judge blindly after them, but
will coolly examine the things they approve, and
the things they condemn.
Do you often find heroic aiflions recorded in
hirtory, man" ma ?
Yes J but they are feldom ihofe which hiftorians
praiie the mod:.
Fray, mamma, recount to us a heroic anec-
dote.
Willingly ; and I will take it from the Turkifii
Illftory. ""
The
THE TALES OF T H E CA S T L E. 273
The Emperor Achmet I. fucceeded Mahomet
III. and mounted the throne in the year 1602 (-7),
He was only fifteen years old, and was the firft
Prince fo youthful who had ever reigned in
Turkey. He had not enjoyed his dignity many
months, before the Grand Vizir died. Achmet
chofe not a fucceflbr to this important place among
thofeby whom he was environed ; Murad, Bafliaw
of Cairo, was an old, a wife, and an experienced
man ; in the midft of the troubles of the laft
reign, he had kept all the African States in the
moft profound peace, and exactly colledted all the
public taxes, without diftreffing the people or
enriching himfelf. Having never feen his new
mafter, he was far from expecting this preferment,
and did not imagine, thatwith fo young a Monarch
the abilities of a faithful fubjecfl would vanquiili
the intrigues of a court.
He received however, in diftant Egypt, tlie
feals, and a command to come to Conflantinople j
and the choice of Achmet announced to the em-
pire a Prince defirous of the public good, und
a lover of his people.
Some years after, war v/as declared againft
Perfia, contrary to the advice of Murad, who had
the command of the army, and who chofe Nafuf
for his Lieutenant j an adive enterprizing man,
(m) loro of the Flegira,
N 5 in
274 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE,
in the prime of life, who had acquired great riches
in the different Governments he had enjoyed. The
Grand Vizir departed at the head of his troops,
but, inllead of haftening their march, his opera-
tions were all flow ajid dilatory.
This want of adlivity,. fuggefted to the perfi-
dious Nafuf, the idea of fupplanting his bene-
fa6lor and friend ; he fecretly wrote to the Porte,
and offered the Emperor fixty thoufand fequins,
to defray in part the expences of war, if his
Highnefs would make him Grand Vizir inftead
of Murad.
The Sultan, full of eftcem and gratitude for
liis Minifler, and enraged at Nafuf s ingratitude,
returned the letter to Murad ; giving him, at the
fame time, an abfolute power over his Lieutenant;
and leaving it in his option to either preferve, de-
grade, or ftrangle the offender.
Murad immediately ordered Nafuf before him,
and fhewed him the Emperor's mandate, in which
he imagined he read an irrevocable fentence of
death : willing, however, to \mdertake his own
juftification, or rather defcending to interceffion,
Murad interrupted him thus : " You have been
" perfidious, but you have great talents ; in fadl,
" I think you capable of commanding the army ;
" I therefore commit it to your charge, and with
" it the Seals of the Empire, now become too
" weighty
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 2/5
** weighty for my age : be faithful to the Em-
" peror, and may your arms Ipe vidlorious."
Murad then afiembled the troops, and pr©-
daimed him his fucceflbr ; after which he retired
to a private flation, and ended his days in tran-
quilHty. But Providence did not long permit
Nafuf to enjoy the fruits of his treafon ; become
Grand Vizir, he married a daughter of the Em-
peror, but having unworthily mifufed her favour,
he was llrangled by the order of Achmet.
How I love tliis Murad, fays Caefar, mamma ;
that was furely an heroic a(5Lion.
Examine it according to the rules 1 have given
you.
Firft, It wounded neither humanity nor juftice.
No ; Nafuf deferved to be puniihed ; but he
had offended Murad only, who therefore had a
power to pardon.
It next muft have ccft Murad much to have
overcome refentment fo well founded j he could
neither, v/ithout rendering himfelf contemptible,
give up his place, nor deprive Nafuf of bis em-
ploy ; knov/ing, therefore, that Nafuf from yeani
and abilities, was better adapted to the command
of armies, he facrificed, without hefitation,, his
own wrongs to the public good, and ftript himfelf
to reward ingratitude. Thus you fee this aftioii
was truly heroic.
N 6 J am
Orjh THE TALES OF THE CASTLE.
I am quite delighted, m-amma, that you have
given me fuch certain rules to judge of adions j
one is flattered to think, that after a moment's re-
flexion, one can determine onefelf whether anatSl
be heroic or not.
Pray, mamma, fuid Caroline, permit me to afk
you one queftion, relative to the biftory of M. de
la Paliniere, in which there is a thing that gives
me great pain. I allow that M. de la Paliniere,
whofe temper was fo violent and extravagant,
ought to be punifhed ; but furely that charming
Julia, who was fo gentle and fo prudent, ouglit
to have been happy.
You think then that virtue and perfe£l pnu
dcnce, when united, ought to preferve us from all
the di{li"efs which fhe experienced.
Oh yes, mamma, that would only be juft.
And fo in faft it does.
Yet, mamma, Julia is a proof to the contrary..
Not at all ; firft, you may well fuppofe fht
nev^er fufFered fo much as her hufband.
O ! certainly : fhe had no remorfe.
Innocence eafily infpires refignation, and Julia
found, in the purity of her own heart, the confo-
lation fhe ftood fo much in need of. This is the
tribute of virtue, and this tribute is great riches.
She, however, underwent many troubles, of which
her want of experience was the fole caufe.
And
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 277
And yet, mamma, her condu£l was irreproach-
able.
Not entirely ; Hie had her defers, her impru-
dencies.
Julia ! Imprudent !
You remember fhe had received a perfe6l eda-
cation under a tender motlier, whom fhe did not
lofe till {he was fixteen ; at feventeen fhe was
married, and the principles fhe had received were
too deeply written in her heart ever to be erafed ;
fhe had, befides, the beft of tempers, and as far
as fhe knew her duty fhe always followed it, was
always virtuous, but, I repeat, fhe wanted expe-
rience ; fhe had lofl her guide, was guilty of error,
and her misfortunes were almoft inevitable.
Dear 1 mamma ! you aflonifli me I Of what
errors was Julia guilty ?
In the firfl place being young, and having a
violent and jealous hufband, flie fhould not have
heard any thing v/hich mufl be kept a fecrct from
fuch a man ; but that was not her greatefl fault,
fhe had two others flill more confiderable : as fooii
as fhe was convinced that M. de la Paliniere had
conceived an avcrfion for Belinda, fhe fhould
have ceafed all intercourfe with her till her mar-
riage was publicly declared ; this was not facrificing
her friend, but merely depriving herfelf of the
pleafure of feeing her for a few m.onths : and fuch
a procedure, by penetrating M. de la Paliniere
with
3178 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE,
with the moft lively gratitude, would have for
ever deftroyed his doubts of not being beloved.
'Tis true, mamnna, had Julia done fo, the in-
cident of the pocket-book and the pidure would
never have happened, and Julia would have pre-
ferved her reputation and her happinefs ; but you
know Ihe offered, if M. de la Palini^re pleafed,
never to fee Belinda again.
Yes, fhe offered, but that was not enough, it was
only an offering of politenefs which fhe knew
would not be accepted j fhe fhould have come to a
firm and pofitive refolution which fhe fhould have
kept ; and the more fo, becaufe, fuch a facrifice
was not a very painful one, it was nothing more
than a fhort ab fence, and not a rupture.
Very true, mamma, I fee that was a fault,
and I wonder how Julia could commit it j but
. what was the other ?
Of the fame kind, but flill more inexcufable ;
that of not pofitively breaking off all intercourfe
"with Sinclair, after M. de la Paliniere had openly
avowed his jealoufy. It is true, he pretended he
was cured ; but did not Julia know his charadler I
his inconfiflency, caprice, and fufpicion ? Befides,
how could fhe fuppofe a cure fo fudden ? How
could fhe be ignorant of the wound a wife gives
to decency and duty, in admitting an intimacy
with a man of whom her hufband has been jea-
lous, more efpecially when that jealoufy is recent ?
Julia,
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 279
Julia, without doubt, was induced to receive
Sinclair's vifits by the certitude fhe had, that all
her hufband's fufpicions would vanifh, the moment
he fhould be informed of the marriage of his
friend ? but why did fhe not wait till then ? Had
Ihe refufed to fee Sinclair, till his marriage was
openly avowed, fhe had redoubled the efteem and
tendernefs of her hufband ; while, by a. contrary
conduilr, every thing was at rifk ; her hufband's
repofe annihilated j herfelf expofed to ridiculous
and vexatious fcenes, and at lafl every thing was
lofl.
Yes, its very true, I fee fhe was guilty of great
imprudence.
And obferv^e, I beg, what dreadful confequences
may follow from imprudence.
I tremble to think of it.
Efpecially when you remember, it is almoft
impoffible to find a young perfoil of Julia's age
more rational.
But then, mamma, it is impofTible that young
people fhould not be guilty of imprudence.
Yes, if they hav^ not an enlightened guide, a
friend, whofe experience may afford falutary ad-
vice, and preferve them from the accidents, which
are almoft always the refult of a fmgle falfe flep,
and a want of knowledge of the world.
Ah, cried Pulcheria, had poor Julia had her
mamma, fhe would never have been imprudent ;
that
aSo THE TALES OF THE CASTIE.
that lofs was her real misfortune, and brou^rht on
ail the reft.
You are very right, anfwered Madame dc
Clemire j Julia, whofe mind was fo rational, Co
fuperior, would always have alked, and always
have followed her mother's advice ; and what
advice can be more fage, or have the interefl of
the objeil more at heart than that cf a good
mother.
Oh, mamma, we fhall never be imprudent,
we Ihall be always happy ! So faying, the three
children ran to their mamma, clung about her,
and afFedliouately kifTed her ; and thus It was that
their converfations generally terminated.
Madame de Clemire remained two days longer
on her vifit to M. de la Paliniere, and then re-
turned to Champcery ; the Abbe not having been
fatisfied with Csefar, in the morning, would not
permit him to be prefent at the evening's amu&-
ment. Caefar, being greatly vexed at this punifli-
ment, became a little fullen, and went to bed
without making an apology to the Abbe ; be
wiftied him only a good night !
He had been in bed about half an hour, when
Madame de Clemire entered his chamber. Arc
you adeep my fon, faid fhe, in a low voice ?
Not yet, mamma, anfwered Carlar, in a for-
jfowful tone.
I /bould
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 281
I ftiould be farprized if you were, replied Ma-
dame de Clemire j for if it be true that you have
a good heart, of which I cannot doubt, it is im-
pofTible you fliould pafs a peaceful night. What
my fon ! have you laid your head upon your pillow
with fullennefs and rancour in your bofom, againft
a man you ought to love ? Have you permitted him
to leave your chamber, without an endeavour to be
reconciled to him, and left him thus for twelve
hours ? Oh Caefar ! — Liften my child, to an anec-
dote I read this morning.
The Duke of Burgundy, father to the late king,
was one day angry with one of his Valets de
chambre ; but as foon as he was in bed, he faid
to the fame man who lay in his room. Pray fcv
givt what I fa'id to you this evenhig, that I may go ta
Jleep (a). Judge, my fon, if he could have been
capable of going to bed without being reconciled
to his Governor : and yet this young prince was
then but feven years old j you are almoft ten.
I afiure you, mamma, I could not go to fleep
thus J permit me to rife and afk M. Fremont's
pardon.
Inftantly ! Come, my fon.
So iaying, Madame de Clemire gave a robe de
chambre to Csfar, which he haftily flipt on, and,
(a) Vk de Dau^hhy Pin d^ Ltuh XV. far M. I'Aihi Prey-
*rt. Tom, I.
conduced
t22 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE,
conducted by his mother, went to M. Fremont's
apartment -, he knocked gently at the door, and
M. Fremont, who had already put on his ni<^ht-
cap, feemed much furprized at the fight of Carfar ;
the latter advanced, and with his eyes fwimming
in tears, made the moll humble and affectionate
excufes. When he had finifhed fpeaking, the Ab-
be, inftead of anfwering him, turned coolly to-
wards Madame de Clemire, and faid, " You are
** very good, Madam, and fince it is your defire,
*' I will endeavour to forgive what is paffed."
Csfar feemed aftonifhed that the Abbe had not ad-
drefled himfelf to himj the Abbe added, as to you,
fir, I have no anfwer to make : it is to your mam-
ma alone I am indebted for this vifit and this apo-
logy.
I affure you, dear M. Fremont, mamma did not
bid me get up and come here.
But, fir, had you been prefent in my chamber, if
Madam, your mother, had not made you fenfible
of the cruelty of your behaviour to me? (Cacfar
here caft his eyes upon the ground, and began
to weep.) Be certain, fir, continued die Abbe,
if, of your own proper motion, without being
cither counfelled or excited, you had come to
me, be certain, I fay, I Ihould have received
you with friendfhip ; though you would ftill have
been guilty of a very great error, that of permit-
ting me to leave your room, without teftifying re-
gret
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 283
gret for your fault j I, therefore, repeat, fir, out
of refpccl to your excellent mamma, I ftiall wil-
lingly pardon you j tliat is to fay, I (hall not inflidt
any punifliment on you for the fulleraiefs you have
difcovered.
Well, fir, faid Cafar, then I will infliil one on
myfelf ; I give you my word of honour, to deprive
myfelf, during a fortnight, of attending our even-
ing flories, which is the greateft facrifice I can
make 5 but, dear fir, do not treat mc with this fe-
vere coldnefs, and I Ihall then fupport my punifh-
ment with courage.
As he fpoke thus, the Abbe, v/ith an afFeclionate
air, held out his arms, into which Csefar leapt,
weeping for joy that he had obtained his pardon ;
and more efpecially, that he had performed an ac-
tion which had reconciled him to himfelf.
You fee, my fon, faid Madam de Clemire,
how much it cofts us when we defer to make
reparation for our errors j this is to "Aggravate
them, and nothing but extraordinary actions and
painful facrifices, can then obtain forgivenefs.
Had youj in going to reft, made a proper apology
to M. Fremont, you would have been pardoned,
and not for a fortnight deprived of your greateft
pleafure.
All the three children had mutually made a law
to renounce their evening entertainments, when-
ever any one was excluded, Caroline and Pulcheria
difcovered
284 THE TALES OF THE CASTLE,
difcovered that Caefar had irapofed too lono- a pe-
nance on himfelf, read him various lefTons upon
the inconvenience of refractory tempers, and gave
excellent advice upon that head, which he promifed
to profit by in future.
Spring now approached, the month of March
was almoft ended, the violet and hly of the valley
began to appear j Auguftin, who was perfedlly ac-
quainted v/ith all the environs of Champcery, led
them every day through the woods and meadows,
whence they continually brought herbs and flowers ;
the trees dfd not yet afford any fhade, and they en-
Joyed in the forefl, as well as in the field, the mild
warmth of April, while' the want of verdure flill
recalled the rigour of December j though the clear
fky and the budding earth, proclaimed the return
of fpring-time andpleafure.
Caefar and his fillers pofTefTed in common a
fmall garden, which was their delight ; it was in
two divifions, the one was the kitchen, and the
other the flower-garden ; at the bottom they had
•a well, that is to hy^ a barrel funk in the earth,
but yet with baluftrades, like a real well, to pre-
ferve them from falling in, and a windlafs and
bucket. The children, with the help of Auguf-
tin, drew their water, and cultivated their ground
themfelres, and had fpades, hoes, and other utenfds,
adapted to their ftrength ; the gardener, Mr.
Steven, inftrudcd, and furuiflicd them with feeds,
ruotsj
THE TALES OF THE CASTLE. 285
roots,' and plants. Ah ! Caroline would fay, while
watering a tulip, I wifh it was blown ; how glad
I fliould be to pluck it, and carry it to mamma ?
Yes, Pulcheria would reply, but that will not be
before I fhall have a nofegay ready for her of pinks
and carnations ! I Ihall give her a fallad firft, faid
Caefar.
The twelfth of April was a fine day; Caefar's
penance was ended, and the children rofe, recol-
ledling the Tales of the Caftle were to begin again
that evening. They ranfacked their garden, and
found fallading, hyacinths, primrofes, fnow-drops,
and violets, enough to fill a hand-bafket j this
they ornamented with ribbons, and it was carried
in pomp by the whole party, each lending a hand,
to Madame de Clemire, and their grandmamma.
The flowers were difpofed of with care in beau-
pots, and the fallad was eat at dinner ; and never
was fallad fo praifed.
In the evening the Baronnefs informed them fhe
had a hiftory ready ; and fupper over, (he began af-
ter the following manner her narrative :
NOTES,
NOTES,
Referred to by the Figuris,
In vol. I.
(i)QTONES bearing the figures of Plants, are called
'>-' 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 <hak,e the branches of trees in places where they are fuf-
pefted to be, and they will often be driven out in fwarms.
In this cafe they never fly far, but fettle again upon thefiift
tree or bufli they come to ; and in fummer, if any one goes
out into the fields or gardens with a candle, in a calm ftill
night, there will numbers of different kinds of them almoft
immediately gather about it. Thefe are called by Naturalifts
niglst-hutttrJlitSt phaUua, and motks,
(3) Thofe
NOTES TO VOL. I. 287
(3) Tliofe beings are ufually called inre6ls, the bodies
of which are coirpofed of rings or fegments.
One fpecies of the Butterfly, Mr. Reaumur has called
the Bundle of Dry Leaves. This, when it is in a ftate
of reft, has ■wholly the appearance of a little clufter of
the decayed leaves of feme herb. The pofition and colour
of its wings greatly favour this refemblance j and they
have very large ribs, wholly like thofe of the leaves of
plants, and are indented in the fame manner at their edges,
as the leaves of many plants are. This feems to point out
the care of nature for the animal, and frequently may pre-
ferve it from birds, tec.
The Skull Butterfly is another lingular fpecies, fo called
from it's head refembling, in fome degree, a death's head,
or human fkull. This very remarkable appearance is ter-
rible to many people ; but it has another yet greater fingu-
larity attending it ; which is, that when frighted, it has a
rtiournful and harfh voice. This appeared the more fur-
prizing to M. Reaumur, as no other known Butterfly had
any the leaft voice at all ; and he was not ready of belief
that it was a real voice, but fufpefted the noife, like that
of the circadas, to be owing to the attrition of fbme part of
the b dy : and, in ftne, he, by grent pains, difcovered that
the noife was not truly vocal, but was made by a hard and
brifk rubbing of the trunk againft two hard bodies between
which it is placed.
(4) Shells are divided into three clafl"es, the firft clafj ia
called Univalve, or fliells of one piece, fuch as the Snail j
the fecond Bivalve ; fuch as Oyfters ; the third Muhivalve,
cr flitlls of feveral pieces, fuch as the Pholas and Balanus,
(5) Botany is the Science of Plants j or that part of phy-
fiology which treats of plants, their ieveral kinds, form*,
virtues, and ufes.
Authori
288 NOTES TO VOL. I.
Authors are divided about tlie preclfe objeil and extent
d Botany, which fonie will have to include the whole pro-
vince of plants, in all their ftates, ufes, and relations ;
others reftrain it to the knowledge of the elalTes, genera,
fpecies, external figures, and defcription of plants, ex-
clufivc of their origin and generation, which belong to
Phjjiology ; of the culture and propagation, which belong
to Gardening and Agriculture j and of their virtues, which
are objefts of confideration in Pbyfic and Pharmacy,
Mineralogy Is that previous part of Metallurgy which
teaches the ways of finding, judging, and digging of mines.
Mineralogy i$ an art that requires a confiderable compafs
©f knowledge before it can be pradlifed to advantage ; for
it demands a competent fkill in the nature, effluvia, and
cfFefts of mineral matters, whether earths, falts, fulphurs,
ftones, ores, bitumens, gems, or metals : it likewife re-
quires a knowledge of the internal ftrufture of the earthy
and it's various ftrata, with a competent /kill in fubterra-
neoas architedlure, menfuration, hydraulics, levelling, and
mechanics.
The places abounding with mines are generally healthy,
as (landing high, and every way expofed to the air ; yet
fume places, where mines are found, prove poifanous, and
can upon no account be dug, though ever fo rich. The
way of examining a fufpedled place of this kind is to make
experiments upon brutes, by expofing them to the effluvia
or exhalations, to find the effcfl,
(6) Cataracts, couching of . This operation in Surgery is
performed by penetrating the globe of the eye with the
couching needle, through the tunica conjunSii'va and albu-
ginea, at a very fmall diftance beyond the circumference of
the tunica cornea, and as exactly as poflible, In a line with
the moft external part of th« circle of the pupil.
Qataractt,
K O T E 1 T O r O L, I. 289
<fcta'ra£ls, extraSlion of, Mr. Davlel, in 1745, firft
began this operation for the cure of the catarafl j and out
of a hundred and fifteen different operations, a hundred fuc-
ceeded. Though it is faid that M. St. Yves praflifed it
ibout fixty years before.
Great flcill and care are ncceffary, in order to avoid
wounding the Iris, which would endanger the eye. The
whole operation requires about two minutes, and is attended
with little or no pain. This operation is in many refpcfls
preferable to eeiuhing j as it may be performed at all times,
and in all kinds of cataraSis^ whether they are come t»
maturity or not, and many accidents are avoided. Th«
principal accident to which this operation is liable, is a«
exceflive evacuation of the vitreous humour, at the time of
performing it, which may occafion a finking down of the
globe of the ey«, a deformity, and an irrecoverable lofs of
fght.
Catara£l of 'water, a fall, or precipice in the channel or
ted of a river } caufed by rocks, or other obftades, flopping
the courfe of its ftream : from whence the water falk with
impetuofity and noif«.
Such are the CataraSls of the Nile, the Danube, Rlilne, &c.
In that of Niagara, the perpendicular fall of the water
is 137 feet : and in that of PiftileRhaiadr, in Nortl* Wales,
the fall of water is near 240 feet from the mountain to the
lower pool.
Strabo calls that a CataraSi which we call a Cafcaiie^
and what we call a Catara6i^ the Ancients ufually called a
Catadupa.
(7) It is known that agreatPrincefs, exceedingly diftinguifh-
ed by her virtues and piety, died with a tranquillity admired
by all who were prefent. After flie had received the facra-
ments, and after a long agonizing fit, fhe fuddenly cried, O.
l\ow delicious is death t And ihefe were her iaft words.
Vol, I. O C^) O economy
2^0- NOTES TO VOL. I,
(?) Oeconomy ci Bees. : Naturalifts relate wonders pn
this fubje6l. The moral virtues have been all, at one tlm^
or other, attributed to Bees j and they have been parti-,
cularly celebrated for their prudence, induflry, mutual
affe(5lion, unity, loyalty to their Sovereign, public fpiritjj
fobriety, and cleanlinefs. The fagacity of Bees, in fore-
feeing rain, has been often mentioned, but it is very queC
tionabie. Though fome of the accounts that have been given
of thefe infefls are fabulous, yet an intimate acquaintanc«
with them, in their domeftic operations, has furniftied many
real (aSis, that are as furprifing as thofe which are ground-
lefs. It nuilt not, however, be omitted, that at certain
time?, when they think their ftores will fall fliort, they
make no fcruple to throw out of the hives their own oif-
fpring ; the nymphs, and young Bees of the drone kind,
fcarce extricated from their covering, have been carried
away and left to perifh. Though they are juft in their own
kingdom, and to thofe who may properly be called their
fellow -fubjefls, they rob and plunder ftrangers and fo-
K'gners, whenever they have power and opportunity ; and
they have frequent battles in committing depredations
on neighbouring colonies and hives, or in felf- defence,
which end fatally to many of their number. But it fliould
be obferved, that this never happens, unlefs in the Spring
cr Autumn, when the weather is warm and honey fcarce,
and there are no flowers to produce it. In this cafe, when
they have ranged the fields without fuccefs, they endeavour
to fupply themfelves, at the hazard of their lives, from the
flocks of other Bees. However, if the Queen of either hive
that happens to be engaged be killed, the conteft is finiflied,
and both parties unite under the furvivor.
(9) Among others, is that of Madame Lagnans. This
Tomb, of which I have feen no defcrlption in any work,
is equally interelting for beauty of defign, and excellent
.r workmanihip*
NOTES T O VO L. I. 2qi
workmaivfliip^ Mr. Lagnans, Minifter of Berne, who wa«
living in 1775, had a wife who was a perfect beauty, and
who died in child-bed, in the twenty- eighth year of her
. age J her child only outlived her a few minutes. M. Nan],
a celebrated German Sculptor, was engaged to erefl a mo-
nument to the memory- of this jnother and her child. He
reprefented Madame Lagnans, at the moment of i-efunec-
tion. After having funk a kind of grave, fufficient to con-
tain a Statue, he placed therein a large ftone, that fe^meJ
unequally fpllt or broken, and £0 contrived, that the young
wife appeared rifing from her coffin, juft awoke from the
„fleep of death, holding her child with one hand, and pufli-
ing away a ftone with the other, that apparently impeded
her refurreflion. The dignity of her figure, her candour,
innocence, and that pure celeftial joy which fliines in htr
countenance^ give it a moft feeling and fublime expreQion.
There is nothing vyanting to this Monument, but to have
had it cut in marble. The Epitaph is worthy of the Tombj
it is engraved upon the ftone, and, notwithftanding the large
cleft, maybeeafily read: it is written ?h theGerman language,
and Madame Lagnans is fuppofed to fpeak. The following
is a tranflation of it :
" I hear the trumpet j it penetrates to the depth of
*' Tombs ! Awake child of anguifti 1 The Saviour of the
*' world calls us| the empire of death is ended, and an
«* immortal palm will crown innocence and viitue. Be-
, «♦ hold me. Lord, with the infant thou gaveft me !"
The Monument of I.y^ Brun's Mother, in the church of
St. Nicholasdu-Chaidonneret, at Paris, has neaily the fame
idea, but the defign is lefs flriking. The Artift (Colignon)
has here placed a large Urn, of a reddifh colour, upon ,1
tolerably high Altar, the lid of which is thrown down j an
old woman, of a venerable figure, rifes out of it, with her
hands clafped, her eyes fixed on heaven, and clothed in her
O a winding-
292 K O T E S TO VOL, I.
winding flieet, the drapery of which falls over the sdgc ©f
the urn ; the whole buft of the figure is feen, and, as well
28 the drapery, is of white marble ; behind her, agaiiift the
niche of the altar, is the angel of judgment, with the' lad
trumpet in his hand.
(jo) Medal, medalia, a fmall figure or piece of metal,
in the form of a coin, defined to preferve to pofterity the
portrait of fome great man, or the memory of fome iWvf-
trious a6iion.
The parts, of a medal are the two fides; one whereof is
called the face, or head, the other the reverfe.
On each fide is the area, or field, which makes the middt&
«f a medal J the rim, or border, and the exergur,
which is beneath the ground whereon the figures represent-
ed are placed. On the two fides are diftinguiihed the type,
and the iafcription or legend. The tjpe, or device, is the
figure reprefented ; the legend is the writing, efpecially
that around the medal ; though in the Greek medals, the
infcription is frequently in the area. What we find in the
kXERGUM is frequently no more than fome fnitial letteri,
whofe meaning we are ufually unacquainted with ; though
ibmelimes too they contain epochas ,or words, that may be
accounted an infcription.
The exergue contains fbmetimes the date of the coin,
cxprtlfing in what conful/lilp of the Emperor it was ftrucfc,
as Cos. IIJ. upon the reverfe of an Antoninus. Some-
times it fignifies the place where it was ftruck, and ta-
•which the coin properly belonged, as S. M. A. L. for
Jl^na Moneta Alexandria, upon the reverfe of a Licinius.
Sometimes the name of a province, the reduflion of which
the medal is defigned to celebrate; as Judza in thetevepfe
of a Vefpafian. On the face of medals we have commonly
riie portrait of fome g^i«at and. illuftrious perfgn j ufualiy,
if.
N O T £ S TO V O L^ r» 393;
if not always. In profile. The confular medals have com-
monly the heads of feme of their gods, or of their ancient
kings, or of Rome, which is a manly face wearing a
helmet. The heads of the Roman kings are generally
drelled wiih a diadem : Julius Caefar was ihe firft among;
the Romans who ftruck his own head upon the coin, in
which he was followed by all the fucceeding Emperors,
The proper drefs of the imperial head is a crown, common-
ly of laurel, the right of wearing which was decreed to
Julius Caefar by the fenate, and afterwards continued to his
fuccelTors. Befides, there are feveral crowns found in
medals, as the roftral, mural, radiated, &c. The Emperor
Juftinian was the firft. who ufed an arched ciown, fur-
mounted with a crofs, fuch as Is worn by Chiiftian kings
at this day. Some heads of Emperors are wholly naked, as
thofe of Auguftus, Nero, Galba, and fome others. Though
it is obfcrved, that a naked head firuck in the imperial ages,,
is a fign that it is not the head of an emperor, but of one
of his fons, or the prefumptlve heir of the empire. The
heads of the gods are diltinguiflied by their proper crown j,
as Ceres, by a crown of ears of corn } Flora, by a crown
of flawers, &c. Heads are alfo dittinguiftied, not only by
their drefs, but by certain fymbols attending them ; as tlie
LiTUUS, which is fhe fymbol of the Pontifex Maxiir.us.
We have alfo on medals the heads of Queens, and other
ladies of high rank, chiefly the wives of the emperors.
Some medals are alfo charged with two heads, either fet
face to face, as the medal of Severus and the Emprefs
Domna ; or back to back, as that of Julius Csef.ir and
Oflavianus, afterwards Augudus, his adopted fon and
fiiccedor: and fome few are (tamped with tiiree heads or
more on the face. The titles are alio generally found upon
the face of the medal. Thefe are titles oi honour, as Im-
O 3 p«i:atQr»
294' VO-TEa 7 O- VOL. I.. ^
perator, CxCzr, Augyftus, given to all the Roman en»»
perors after 06lavlanus ; Dominus, firft aflumed byAurelian> .
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.
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