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of old quarrels. It may be safely as and aptly described as one of those sumed that Rousseau is in the wrong women "who write moral treatises on (he has a talent for being in that posi- education in the brief leisure left them tion) and that Louise is inconsequent by their lovers.") She establishes herand imprudent as usual.

One may

self then at Geneva under Tronchin, well pity her. Her Tyrant has joined and lives there a life very modest and the army at the bidding of the Duke of simple. She has her mornings to herOrleans. She writes to him that when self, dines en famille, and after dinner he is with her he inspires her with that receives till seven or eight. She walks feeling of security which a child has a good deal in the public gardens. She resting on its mother's breast. There has always been fond of walking, and are a thousand dangers and difficulties Tronchin, who is greatly in advance of about her loneliness. Her father-in his age in his views upon health, recomlaw, who cared for her, is dead. She mends the exercise to his lazy and has certainly no wisdom or judgment ladylike patients. The little society of her own to rely on. She impetuous- of Geneva is very pleasant and honest, ly confides in everybody, as she lias Madame finds. One plays cards, does always done, and her confidences are, needlework, has a little music, takes very naturally, betrayed. She is sup- tea after the English fashion, and visits posed to inform the Marquis de Saint- one's friends in the afternoons. Isn't Lambert of Rousseau's passion for his this better than La Chevrette and mistress. Perhaps she really does; she Mademoiselle d'Ette (Madame has comdenies the insinuation so warmly. pletely broken with the d'Ette by now), Everybody seems to get mixed up in and the uneasy years of intrigue and the quarrel, and all act after their owu passion that made up her youth? natures, which are bad. Its first ve. When Grimm comes to Geneva for hemence dies out a little. But Rous an eight months' stay, during which he seau, who still keeps her gift-the Her and Louise work together at the "Cormitage-defames the giver with respondance Littéraire,” she is perhaps matchless foulness in his “Confes as happy as she has ever been in her sions." From that effect of her folly, life. She presently makes the acquaineven Grimm (who, from his letters, tance of Voltaire, who calls her his would seem to be the only person who Beautiful Philosopher, and plays with brings any reason and common sense her (all men regard Louise as a clever into the dispute) cannot save her. All little toy, it seems) when she becomes a the time Madame has been writing bini constant visitor at Les Délices, while plaintive little lying letters (giving her she, on her side, speaks of that "with. own convenient, plausible views of the ered Pontiff of Encyclopædism" situation and her conducti, which de more amiable, more gay and more exceive herself, but not her lover or the travagant than at fifteen. world.

When she returns to Paris, after an In 1757 she goes to Geneva, partly on absence of two years, Rousseau has account of money troubles and partly left the Hermitage. Grimm has been to consult the famous Dr. Tronchin. nominated envoy to Frankfort, and she She leaves Grimin behind ber, at var finds a resource from boredom and soliwith Rousseau and revising the firsi tude in the friendship of Diderot and volumes of the famous Encyclopædia the Salon of Baron Holbach, and that with Diderot. With her go her son and “Correspondance Littéraire,” which is Linant, his tutor. (Louise is always a Grimm's true title to glory, and which good mother, according to her lights, has as its aim to render foreign princes

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an account of the art, science, litera- tice leads to Candeille, Goddess of Reature, wit and mental progress of Paris. son. To this Salon comes almost the Madame d'Epinay is now past youth. whole diplomatic corps.

Baron GleiHer mother is dead. Her daughter, chen, Lord Stormont (the Ambassador Pauline, is married. M. d'Epinay, of of Great Britain), Caraccioli, Diderot, whom Diderot says that he ran through Galiani and the ill-fated Marquis de two millions of money without saying Mora, are here almost every night. a kind word or doing a good action to Louise listens equally charmingly to anybody, is completely bankrupt. Ma- them all. Is she a humbug? Hardly. dame takes a very small house, estab- She has only that most dangerous gift lishes her Salon, and reconquers that -the power of seeing things exactly world, which through bad health, dam- as the last speaker sees them. When aged reputation and long absence she this man is talking philosophy to her has lost. She is now, perhaps, both she is an impassioned philosopher. With morally and mentally her best. The a theologian she has a culte for religquick temptations of youth have left ions. To be sympathetic it is not necesher. And this is the woman, alas! who sary to know much of a man's work is only good when there is no incite- and aims, but essential to catch his enment to be bad. It must be said of her thusiasm for them, to respond to fervor that she has shown not a little pluck with fervor, and to realize that what and spirit in the face of poverty and one's dearest hope is to oneself this difficulties. Her fickleness has Grimm's man's career or philosophy or ambistrength to support it. Her sympathy tion is to him. with literature makes an honest inter- If even Madame d'Epinay has this est for her. If she is still something of gift in a less degree than some of her the gay little liar, bright, volatile, in- rival Salonières, that she has it in a triguing, who began the world as very marked degree is not to be doubtLouise d'Esclavelles, that is because ed. life, though it develops character, sel- In the early days of 1775 appear in dom alters it.

print her "Conversations d'Emilie," The Salon of Madame d'Epinay has which are, in fact, literal reproductions that characteristic common to nearly of conversations she has had with a all the Salons-its presiding genius is certain dear little granddaughter, her neither young, beautiful, wealthy, nor daughter's child. The book, though it even well educated.

is really a book of education, is only A woman, in fact, always influences another proof that nature and naturalnot by how much she knows, but by ness are always delightful. Little how much she feels. In the gatherings Emilie's replies have the innocent of this little Louise, at any rate, the naïveté of childhood and all the freshgravest subjects are discussed and ness of truth. Madame d'Epinay's threshed out. After the ivresse and talent as a writer is, indeed, like the folly of the Regency, gravity has sud- literary talent of nearly all women, denly become the mode. The most and lies in this work, as in her “Mefrivolous women are profoundly ab- moirs,” in reproduction and observasorbed in political economy and phi- tion, and not in invention. "Emilie” is lanthropy. Philosophic ideas are daily smiled on by Voltaire in his old age at gaining ground. To-day one is evolv- Ferney, and by that cleverest of woming a new religion-some fine religion en, the Empress Catharine of Russia. of Humanity, which works out beauti- Diderot, Grimm, Gleichen and Galiani fully in talk or on paper, and in prac- praise its gaiety and originality, and,

in 1778, it goes, to every one's satis- her sick bed composes and sends to faction, into a new edition.

Grimm, with a lock of her hair, the Before this time Madame d'Epinay's verses which begin: health, never robust, has begun to cause her friends great anxiety. She Les voilà, ces cheveux que le temps a would seem, like many delicate people, blanchis: to bear, and to have always borne, her D'une longue union ils sont pour nous physical sufferings very pluckily. The le gage. little Emilie is with her a great deal. Grimm, never impassioned, is yet al She has friends and relatives about ways faithful. He has an extraordi- her to the end. Her last correspondnary attachment for the grandchild, ence is with that chief of all the Enwhich, perhaps, brings him the more cyclopædists, d'Alembert. And then often to see Louise. In 1777 she hears, her "Conversations" attain the supreme of Francueil's marriage to a daughter honor of being crowned by the Acaof Marshal Saxe. (Of this marriage is démie Française. So that she dies smilborn a son, Maurice Dupin, who is the ing as she has lived. father of Madame George Sand.) In 1778 Louise sees in Paris Voltaire, now Her "Memoirs," which are chiefly near his death. Rousseau (whose "Con known to English people through Sydfessions" have had so fatal an effect ney Smith's brilliant critique, owe their upon her good name) does not long great claim to fame in the vivid picsurvive him. It is Madame's part, tures they give of Rousseau, Duclos, though she is herself not an old woman, Voltaire, and many other minor celebto watch the going of almost all the rities. They are written in a style very acquaintances of her youth. Her situ- bright, easy and vivacious. They reation is very lonely. Her husband's cord not a few inimitable conversations death does not make it any lonelier, (as in the two scenes at Mademoiselle perhaps. Her son is wild-after such Quinault's), and here and there a meman upbringing and amid such examples orable axiom. They present strikingly how should he not be? Her daughter the life and manners of the day. Furhas her own life to lead. What must ther than this they are worth little. be the feelings of the woman with death These are the "Memoirs" of false in the near future and that wasted ex names and suppressions. Madame inistence to look back at in the past? vents a tutor to tell the story of the

Is it repentance, agony, remorse, ter- charming Emilie, and only tells the ror, that she suffers in these lonely truth about her because she does not hours of sickness and solitude? It perceive how damning that truth is. would not seem to be so. After all, When, indeed, the conduct of this "one can be but what one is.”

heroine has been too obviously shame. The dying woman faces the great less even for her to think it virtuous, mystery with, at least, something of she appeals very prettily from the readthat légèreté with which the coquette er's judgment and moral sense to that of La Chevrette faced life. A sinner? much more gullible thing, his feelings. Well, perhaps. But not half such a The whole book is full of very brightly great sinner as most of one's acquaint written details of very dull intrigues; ance! If one lives self-deceived one of sordid details of bankruptcy and may well die so.

creditors; of minute details of old quarMadame is removed presently to a rels; of loathesome details of sickness little house at Chaillot, and there from and sin. If one wants to keep intact a

faith in noble aims, in self-devotion, the littleness and meanness of great and in that spirit which has made some men and of a great age; while the hisput honor first and pleasure a great torian will certainly find a niche in the way after, one will not read Madame temple of fame for the woman who ded'Epinay. But if one is a pessimist picts so vividly, because so unconabout human nature and wants his pes- sciously, the crying need in her class simism confirmed, he can hardly do and time of that cleansing by fire, the better than study this lively account of French Revolution. Longman's Magazine.

8. G. Tallentyre.

THE LAZARUS OF EMPIRE.

The Celt, he is proud in his protest,
The Scot, he is calm in his place,
For each has a word in the ruling and doom
of the Empire that honors his race;
And the Englishman, dogged and grim,
Looks the world in the face as he goes,
And he holds a proud lip, for he sails his own ship.
For he cares not for rivals nor foes-
But lowest and last, with his areas vast,
And horizon so servile and tame,
Sits the poor beggar Colonial,
Who feeds on the crumbs of her fame.

He knows no place in her councils,
He holds no part in the word
That girdles the world with its thunders
When the fiat of Britain is heard-
He beats no drums to her battles,
He gives no triumphs her name,
But lowest and last, with his areas vast,
He feeds on the crumbs of her fame.

How long, oh, how long, the dishonor,
The servile and suppliant place?
Are we Britons who batten upon her,
Or degenerate sons of the race?
It is souls that make nations, not numbers,
As our forefathers proved in the past.
Let us take up the burden of empire,
Or nail our own flag to the mast.
Doth she care for us, value us, want us,
Or are we but pawns in the game;
Where, lowest and last, with our areas vast,
We feed on the crumbs of her fame?

W. Wilfred Campbell.

MR. BLACKMORE AND “THE MAID OF SKER.

em

It is common report that "The Maid tion in the artist. A Welshman might of Sker," and not "Lorna Doone,” was have understood Davy as well, but he of all his novels the late Mr. Black would have been to him too familiar a more's favorite, and many have been type to deserve artistic treatment; puzzled by his preference. There was whereas an ordinary Englishman would much, however, to account for it in the have sketched Davy as an unredeemcircumstances under which the novel able villain. Blackmore, with rare inwas written, though perhaps it was sight, saw him exactly as he was, more especially due to the pride which and recognized his possibilities. About Mr. Blackmore felt in the drawing of Newton Nottage people will tell you one of the chief characters. To me it that Davy Llewellyn was a well-known would seem that only those who are Newton poacher, and will point out well acquainted with South Wales and where his house, lately pulled down, its people can fully realize the genius once stood by the village-green and which inspires the book. I have lived facing the ancient church. They will for several years past just two miles show you the inns that he frequented, away from the "vast lonely house" of the Jolly Sailors, and the Welcome to Sker and in the very parish of Newton Town, next door to the chapel, which Nottage, where Davy Llewellyn are unaltered. But they see nothing schemed and poached; and my love wonderful in the portrait of Davy; for the book, which began in the old it is to them a mere transcript of fact, novel room of the Oxford Union some tricked out with some foolish twenty-five years ago, has of late been bellishments. Blackmore did not even ever deepened and widened, till it is change the name of his original; he no longer to me a subject of wonder only transferred him to an earlier genthat Mr. Blackmore set "The Maid of eration and introduced him to pictuSker” on the highest pinnacle of his resque adventures. But in taking an esteem.

ordinary and every day character from The Maid herself is a delightful char- the real life of a Welsh village, he has, acter, and as Mr. Blackmore drew the by the force of genius, invested it with infantile ways and prattle of Bardie a peculiar charm. "The humble but from a favorite niece, it was natural warm-hearted Cambrian,” garrulous for him to regard her with a particular and conceited, proud of his ancestor, affection. But the masterpiece of the the bard, and of his Welsh nationality, book is Davy Llewellyn. To say that but ever ready to serve his own interest he is a typical Welshman, would be an and not overscrupulous as to the methinsult to Wales, which has far nobler ods of doing so; skilful in selling fish types of character to boast of; yet, no with a gamesome odor; cautious and where else than in Wales could exactly crafty and subtle as any Boer; submissuch a character be found, for he is as sive to his betters, but, when provoked, truly Welsh as Sir Hugh Evans, with dangerous (take, for instance, "his whom he has several points in com righteous action" of burning Parson mon. But, saving Shakespeare's rever- Chowne's ricks), an arrant poacher, and ence, Blackmore's picture is even better with a weakness for rum and water,than his, and such as needed the com- is yet withal brave, upright according bination of rare qualities of apprecia- to his standards, a good Church and

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