Glory what art thou? with one equal fate, Glory what art thou then ? a craving void ; Born of long miseries, a dear deceit: In life, thou givest a keen edge to hate, NOTES FROM THE PORTFOLIO OF A FRENCH LADY, OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. E. THE CARDINAL DE MONTMORENCY. Those who have known the Cardinal de MontmorencyLaval, Bishop of Metz, Grand Almoner to Louis the 16th-and Cardinal, will find no possible comparison between his Eminence and the prelates of our times. His income was estimated at £30,000, and it was not sufficient for his wants, though he passed more than half the year at his bishoprick; some idea may be therefore formed of his magnificent style of living. Frescati, his usual place of residence (destroyed, since, during the revolution) was a country house fit for a prince of the blood royal; the beauty of the Chateau, of the garden, terraces, and groves, was only eclipsed by the splendour of the apartments. The richest tapestries of Aubusson lined the great gallery, and was renewed every five years. That which I saw hung, represented a selection of subjects from La Fontaines' Fables, and cost £1,500. No strangers ever passed through Metz without paying their respects to his Eminence the Cardinal, and they were received by him, at Frescati, with dignity and politeness. I was very young, almost a child, when particular circumstances placed me habitually, either at Frescati or at Metz, in the immediate society of the Cardinal. I fancy him at this moment before my eyes. The Monsieur de Montmorency was of the highest stature, with large squinting eyes. In his youth he may have been fair; but when I knew him, years had already whitened his hair. expression of his countenance was imperious and harsh; his authoritative carriage exhibited nothing of his clerical profession; still, there was so much elegance, so much dignity in his manners, that in spite of an "ensemble" of defects, he was not unpleasing. He was (if I may so express myself) a piece of lordly ugliness; and I think, that even without seeing him in his Cardinal's dress and his red stockings, he would be taken for a man born to move everywhere in the first rank. His Eminence was almost continually attended by four vicars general, who, forming about his person a species of Etat-Major, had their eyes fixed, though perhaps at some distance, on the bishopricks to which they hoped, one day, to succeed. Those vicars general, were the Count de Clugny, canon of Lyons, the Abbe de Chambre, the Abbe d'Argons, and the Abbe Sinneti; all four of noble birth, and agreeable company; more or less sedate in their manners, more or less discreet in their conduct; but on the whole, of a propriety of deportment suitable to the respect due to his Eminence. The Cardinal passed four or five of the winter months at Paris, where he lived in the greatest simplicity. I met him once on the Quays, dressed like a country parish priest, with oranges in his hat, which he had bought on the Pout Neuf. Who could ever suppose, that those oranges would find their way into the hat of a Cardinal! At Frescati, on the other hand, all breathed wealth and luxury. The number of stewards, butlers, footmen, and servants of every kind, was countless. I have often partaken of dinners, where there were a hundred guests, and all the servants wore the livery of his Eminence. On the approach of spring, workmen filled the palace, the gardens, stables: every thing was set to rights, repaired, and beautified, at great expense. The Cardinal had his return announced, bringing back with him a part of his noble family, his nephews and nieces; that lovely Viscountess de Laval (whose name appears so indiscreetly in the Memoirs of the Duke de Lauzun); the Duchess de Laval, who was not so beautiful, buț had the prettiest foot in the world;—and those ladies would not come alone to Frescati. What an assemblage of gracesMesdames de Limiane, de la Chatre, d'Osmond, de Jaucourt, and some others, whom I am wrong, perhaps, in omitting. What charming rooms were prepared for their reception! What a noise in the attics, which were occupied by waiting women almost as elegant as their mistresses, and almost as well bred. Those ladies had nothing to fear from the monotony and gravity of an episcopal palace. Did not the spring, so delightful in a thousand respects, also bring back to the garrison of Metz, a crowd of handsome officers, the Viscounts de Narbonne, de Chabrillant, de la Luze, and many others whose names I am unable to recall, because at that time I was too young, to pay much attention to colonels, For the same reason, they did not pay much attention to me. The Cardinal possessed that amiable indulgence so pleasing to youth. He did not insist that every one should adopt the habits of seventy. He dined early, and went early to bed; but it was not to sleep the longer, for he never remained more than four hours there. His greatest pleasure was to get up with the sun, for he liked to see it rise. We have now to speak of a noble and distinguished lady, who was no relation of the Cardinal's, but for whom he professed one of those deep attachments which disarm censure by their respectability. The Countess of C was no longer young, but she was distinguished by her graceful manners, her elegance, her wit, and especially by that tone of court society, which resembles no other. The sister of a minister who governed with more authority than the King, her excessive pride did not appear unsuited to her; besides, it was redeemed by the noblest qualities. She was, indeed, fastidious, disdainful; her eyes turned aside, with involuntary disgust, from whatever bore the appearance of suffering or poverty: her beautiful hands did not distribute the offerings reserved for the poor; but she employed charitable agents, who carried her gold to the habitations of the destitute, where her name was daily blessed. After this, let it be said that at Frescati a door of her boudoir opened into the Cardinal's bed-room. What does that prove? I saw the door, but I saw nothing else. Whatever may have been the real truth, I know that every one spoke openly, and without mystery, of the attachment. What is curious, no one seemed to think there was either scandal or blame in it. I looked for the reason. Perhaps, I found it; the Countess had four thousand a year, and the Cardinal forty. Gold is like fire; it purifies what it touches. She loaded me with kindnesses; I am not ungrateful for them ; her memory is united in my heart with a sentiment of gratitude and friendship. She it was, who so often brought me to Frescati, where I was a good deal spoiled. The very silly proof, I am about to give of this, will also show how mere a child I then was, and with what indulgence I was treated. I had a horror of wasps. The chrystal plateau, which covered the dining table, was overspread with the finest flowers; those flowers attracted them, for the windows of that immense dininghall were open while we remained at table. I did my best to be quiet, whilst they kept away from me; but no sooner did one approach my face, and settle on my shoulder or my gown, than I cried out, ran from table, and refused to return to it. I was laughed at ; appeased; the wasps were driven away, while I was lectured on my folly; lectures, which either I did not listen to, or forgot immediately. For sometime back, I had borne the Cardinal a grudge; the cause of it I cannot even now explain to myself. I had been known to his Eminence from my infancy, but was never able to remember what it was, in the beginning, that brought about a little familiarity from him to me. He always called me, my little comrade. Whilst I was eight, ten, twelve years old, this neither surprised nor vexed me; but when I was fourteen, when my looking-glass and the eyes of the other sex, informed me I was handsome, I was much annoyed at being treated in a manner so little respectful, and I used to ask myself, "Why and wherefore, I was the little comrade of a Cardinal of seventy?" I only waited the moment to be revenged, and it soon came. One day, I had just entered the great drawing-room of the Countess, who passed a portion of the year at Metz. There was a very large company assembled. Many ladies of the city, very stiff and highly dressed, sedate, respectful, timid. A universal constraint_prevailed; every one looked tired to death. Habituated, as I had been from my infancy, to scenes of this kind, which never lasted very long, I cared little about them. I threw open the door, without paying the least attention to the disordered state of my toilette, which long and active exercise had greatly deranged. The powder, which was then worn, whitened all my clothes; my curls were quite undone, and my hair fell loosely over my shoulders. It required all my heedlessness not to perceive the state I was in, or to presume to show myself. As I have no intention of giving my name to the public, I should be very inconsistent to give my portrait, which, however, most probably, no one would now recognise. However, to explain what follows, I must say one word about my face, and the expression peculiar to it. I had the most beautiful complexion possible, of dazzling delicacy and fairness; but I was habitually very pale; pale, at least, until the slightest emotion brought to my youthful but colourless countenance the rose of spring. Now, what are the emotions of fourteen! Pleasure, pain, fear, self-love, censure, praise, all affected me; so that, in truth, I never had time to be pale. It required but little to excite me! The very way in which I was stared at, on coming into the room, flushed my features with the deepest scarlet. The Cardinal remarked my giddy manner more than my agitation; and, in that tone of familiarity with which he always accosted me, he said, "Ah, my little comrade, where do you come from? how you are dressed!" "My Lord, I have been running." "You look like a little mad woman.' This drew the attention of the whole circle on me; the rose left my cheeks, and was replaced by a burning fire. "Dear me, my little comrade," resumed his Eminence, "what a state you are in! How you blush! Have you a mind to be angry? Take care, it is only truth which gives offence; it is an old proverb, very old.” “Yes, my Lord, and because it is old, is the reason why it talks non.. Had a thunderbolt fallen into the centre of the room, it could hardly have produced greater consternation. The ladies looked down, in silence. The gentlemen turned their heads aside and smiled. For myself, carried away by my feelings, I was both surprised and alarmed at what I had said. Soon after, cards were brought in, and the tables were put in order. I had time to change my dress; and to believe that I was no longer thought of; but the Countess de C- made me a sign to follow her to her bed-room. 66 Madame," said she to me, in a very sharp tone, "you have been guilty of a great impertinence to his Lordship, 66 and I desire you will express to him your regret, and atone as quickly as possible for your fault." I, Madame? what have I done?" "You replied, the proverb did not not know what it was saying, because it was very old." "Well, Madame, his Eminence is not a proverb." "Be silent-you understand, as well as I do, the application his Lordship may be disposed to give it; he also is old-that is, he is no longer young, though I do not consider him old neither." " What, Madame ! would you have me pay him so bad a compliment? Assuredly, I shall do no such thing." In vain did the Countess insist; I made no apology; and it is with gratitude I add, that his Eminence forgave me, without requiring me to do so. My repartee was forgotten. I now think, it was every way unbecoming in me to have made it; but his Eminence gave the greatest proof of good taste; in forgetting it. (To be continued.) TO GEOFFREY OLDCASTLE, ESQ. "all RESPECTED SIR-great litterateur of Kent-I may say the Talents,"-poetry, I know, is at a low ebb; so take a psalm, which is, I hope, not spoiled by poetry. If you will turn to your Prayer Book, I think you will find the paraphrase nearly word for word. Yours, JNO. HODGE. Hythe, Kent. PARAPHRASE OF PSALM 148. Oh, praise the Lord of Heaven, ye saints; oh, praise Him in the height, Oh, praise Him, all ye heavens; ye watery realms, the heaven above, For ever and for ever bound by his supreme decree, The law which God hath given to them can never broken be. |