humble, in public life, we willingly renew our pledge, never to lose sight of this interesting topic, and never to remit our endea vours to direct the attention of the public to a subject in which they are more interested than in any other, and on which, if they think at all, it is scarcely possible that they should either think wrong, or fail to realize what they have deliberately approved.

ART. II. Lelters of the Marquise du Deffend to the Honouralle Horace Walpole, afterwards Earl of Orford, from the Year 1766 to the Year 1780. To which are added, Letters of Mad. du Defand to Voltaire. Published from the Originals at Strawberry Hill. 4 vol. 8vo. London, Longman, &c. 1810.

WE have recently had occafion to fpeak a good deal of Mid. du Defnd, and the circle of wits and beaux-efprits with which the variety of her talents and the charms of her converfa tion, in spite of age and blindncfs, continued for fɔ long a period to furround her. The part of her epiftolary correfpondence which was then under our review, confifted chiefly of letters addreffed to her, from friends, among whom the had the happiness to reckon feveral of the most diftinguished perfons in Europe. The letters now before us ave her own, and are most of them addrefied to the late Lord O.ford, one of her moft regular and confiant cor refpondents, and the perfon to whom, in the latter part of her life at kaft, the appears to have been moft fincerely attached. To him fine bequeathed, at her death, the whole of her manuferipts, papers. letters and books of every kind, with a permilion to th. Pince of Beauvau, one of her executors, to take a copy of any of the papers he might defire, before they were fent to Lag

It is probably to this permition that we owe the three voJumes of Mad. du Deffond's correttondence which have just beenreferred to, do eligitals of almoft ad of which are now in the pofiction of the c. or of th fe letters, having been among the papers dep. ft.d at Sawbery Hil No polthumus werk, therefore, can come before the public in a fape kis quetionab, and more decifive of its authenticity, than that which is now

b.fore us.

la or other refpe A, alfo, the circumftances of this publication are greatly in its favour, the editor having left nothing undone that could elucidate the text, or throw light on the perfons and incidents to which it refers. This was highy receflary, and a th, at the fame tave, of no confiderable dificulty. The focisty of Mad, de Delund conflled of a great variety of perfons,

who,

who, though confpicuous and well known at the time when they lived, yet to us foreigners, at the diflance of forty years, mult, many of them, require to be introduced with fome hiftorical detail. In this refpect, the editor has anticipated the wishes of the reader, and has furnifhed him, very concifely and clearly, with all the information he can defire, concerning the perfons and events that are pafling before him. This undertaking was in fact more arduous than at first appears; requiring qualifications which neither editors nor authors are always in poffeffion of; as it could be executed by no perfon who had not lived in the bcft fociety both of France and England, and was not well acquainted with the history and manners of the fafhionable world in both countries. One might have looked long in vain for one poffeffing thefe requifites among the grave and learned bodies from which the ranks of fcholiafls and commentators are ufually recruited.

A preface by the editor, and a life of Mad. du Defand, ferve to prepare the reader for what he is to expect in the letters, and to make him fomewhat acquainted with the perfon of the author.

In the first of these, we are given to understand,

that public events and public characters are less dwelt upon in the following letters than might have been expected; and that they are, therefore, sometimes rendered less generally interesting than such a long-continued correspondence would naturally have been between two persons, so justly distinguished, in their several countrics, for wit, liveliness, quickness of observation, good taste, and knowledge of the world. Both too, living in intimacy with the most celebrated characters of that world, at Paris and London.

Without wishing to be the panegyrist either of the writer or the person addressed, a few words are due to both their characters, in explanation of what has just been mentioned.--Mr Walpole was writing in a language not his own; his style, though (as Mad. du Deffand repeatedly allows) full of energy and life, was itkewise full of inaccuracies as to French phraseology and arrangement; and be felt that he was not alwa, sa sare of the force of His word', or the construction which might be put upon his phrases. he was convinced too (and indeed it was a well known fact) that, in the latter part of the reign of Loris XV, all English letters from and to persons whose names were known in the world, were opened at the Postoffice at Paris; and, before they were allowed to reach the pace of their destination, were often (though containing only private anecdote) sent to Versailles, to amuse the idleness, or feed the malice of the worthless pretigates of both sexes, who, during the later years of his life, coraposed the intimate society of Louis XV. Of this circumstance Mr Walpole was repeatedly reminding Lis come¡dent, and on this account repressing not only his own pen, bu hers,

T4

whenever

whenever it was happily deviating into character, anecdote, or opinion.

:

To this must be added, that one of the principal features, and it must be called (when carried to such excess) one of the principal weaknesses of Mr Walpole's character, was a fear of ridicule-a fear which, like most others, often leads to greater danger than that which it seeks to avoid. At the commencement of Mr Walpole's acquaintance with Mad. du Deffand he was near fifty, and she above seventy years of age, and entirely blind. She had already long passed the first epoch in the life of a Frenchwoman, that of gallantry, and had as long been established as a bel-esprit and it is to be remembered that in the antirevolutionary world of Paris these epochas in life were as determined, and as strictly observed, as the changes of dress on a particular day of the different seasons; and that a woman endeavouring to attract lovers after she had ceased to be ga lante, would have been not less ridiculous than her wearing velvet when all the rest of the world were in demi-saisons. Mad. du Deffand, therefore, old and blind, had no more idea of attaching Mr Walpole to her as a lover, than she had of the possibility of any one suspecting her of such an intention; and indulged her lively feelings, and the violent fancy she had taken for his conversation and character, in every expression of admiration and attachment, which she really felt, and which she never supposed capable of misinterpretation. By himself they were not misinterpreted; but he seems to have had ever before his eyes a very unnecessary dread of their being so by others--a fear lest Mad. du Deffand's extreme partiality and high opinion should expose him to suspicions of entertaining the same opinion of himself, or of its leading her to some extravagant mark of attachment; and all this, he persuaded himself, was to be exposed in their letters to all the clerks of the Post-office at Paris, and all the idlers at Versailles.

This accounts for the ungracious language in which he often replied to the importunities of her anxious affection; a language so foreign to his heart, and so contrary to his own habits in friendship. This too accounts for his constantly repressing on her part all effi sons of sentiment, all disquisitions on the human heart, and all con:munications of its vexations, weaknesses, and pains. She frequently, and with much reason, laments the shackles which Mr Walpole imposed on their correspondence, and is aware that they often reduce her letters to a dry enumeration of insignificant facts, complaints of misapprehended sentiments, and repetitions of the few subjects on which she was allowed to touch with impunity. These repetitions the Editor has endeavoured to suppress as much as was thought compatible with the preservation of the original character of the Letters and of their Writer.' Prejace, p. vii-xi.

But after all the warning here given, and the apology made, the reader will be a little astonished at the warmth with which the old lady frequently addresses Mr Walpole; he will at least

stem

scem to recognize the language of a sentiment more tender than that of friendship, and will smile at the formal and repulsive seriousness with which the latter reproves the former for her indiscretions, and her emportemens romanesques.

Her

A life of Mad. du Deffand, which follows the Preface, is extremely well written, and abounds with excellent remarks. character appears to be drawn with great justness and discrimina

tion.

It would be superfluous, and indeed impossible, to trace the be ginning of Mad. du Deffand's acquaintance with the series of dis tinguished persons who frequented her society, and courted her correspondence.

All the letters addressed to her prove how much both the one and the other were sought, by those from whom such a distinction would be the most flattering; and all her own letters prove how unavailing the applause of friends, the flattery of wits, and the homage of the world, to the real comfort and happiness of life, to that enviable situation of mind

-" Quod se sibi reddat amicum

"Quod purè tranquillet."

This Mad. du Deffand seems never to have known. Courted as she was, to the last moment of a protracted life, by all the great, the gay, and the distinguished, both of her own country and those of every other, whom business or pleasure led to Paris, she might na turally be supposed to enjoy the most agreeable existence that her age, sex, and infirmity could admit: yet, we see Mad. du Deffand devoured by that ennui which she considers as the most insupportable ill of the human mind, and which her whole life seems to have been consumed in an ineffectual effort to avoid.

We see her repeatedly complaining of existence as an irreme. diable evil, and yet owning her repugnance to quit it. We see her by turns dissatisfied with all her friends, and for ever doubting the. reality of friendship; though eagerly seeking its support, exacting its attentions, and indeed, on her own part, fulfilling its duties. We see her yet more constantly discontented with herself than others"Si je ne fais pas cas des autres, j'en fais encore moins de moi. "J'ai plus de peine en vérité à me supporter, que je n'en ai à supporter les autres." Much of this ennui must certainly be attributed to her blindness, which making her entirely dependant upon others for very species of occupation and amusement, converted society and conversation, from an indulgence and a luxury, into an absolute necessary of life; but much too must fairly attach to her character; to the habits of a mind naturally lively and acute, uncorrected by any real education, unsustained by any real religious principles, and consequently unenlightened by any of those great and benevolent views of human nature, which assure superior minds of the existence both of virtue and friendship, while it leads them to lerate deviations from the one, and to forgive neglects in the other;

because

because they consider the human character, in spite of all its vices and all its follies, as the work of an infinitely benevolent Being, in which, as in all his creation, benevolence must necessarily predomi

nate.

، Of herself, her talents, and endowments, she seems to have entertained a very humble opinion, and she owns all the faults and weaknesses of her mind with a sincerity, a regret, and an absence of all affectation, which certainly formed the principal charm of her character, and indicated its capability of becoming much superior to what it ever really was. Mr Walpole, in a manuscript note upon ber character, dawn by herself, and published in this collection, • says-- Eer severity to herzelf was not occasional or affected modesty. She costantly thought and sp ke unfavourably of her own amazing parts; and In,wing nɔ language but her own, and never having taken any st diep, (though she had read a vast deal) to improve herself, she imagined that she was more ignorant than many others. But the vivacity and strength of her mind, her prodigious quickness, her conception, as just as it was clear, her natural power of reasoning, her wit, the simplicity of her cloquence, her scoin of whatever was false or affected, and her long acquaintance with, and knowledge of the world, her intercourse with the brightest geniuses of the age, and of that brot age ( at least such as remained), raised her to a level with them." "Life, p. 1--liv.

The letters are, throughout, ftrongly impreffed with the charac ter of their author. They are writion with great liveliness and force; with a considerable share of wit, and in a style perfectly natural and unaffected. In this fast quality, indeed, which forms one of their principal charms, we do not know that they are outdone by any epistolary writings, either of antient or of modern times. Where they treat of character, they are often severe and satirical, in an extreme degree: they show deep and penetrating observation; and are evidently the work of one who had little indulgence to give; who had a pleasure in dwelling on blemishes and imperfections; and was by no meatis disposed to gloss them over, even in a friend. There is one defence, however, which may be fairly taade for Mad. du. Derfand, as stated in the passage already quoted from her life, that she was more severe and unforgiving to herself, than to any other person; and never inveighed with such bitterness against any one's errors as her own. In many of her letters, she does nothing but complain of her own wretchedness; a wretchedness that does not arise from misfortunes that had befallen her-from loss of friends-from the evils that wring the heart, and overwhelm it with sorrow. From these last, the structure of her mind probably furnished her with a sufficient defence: the great misfortune she complains e, is that of having been born. It is not from incident or passion, but from the want of both, that

her