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But know, Sir, though I can never fufficiently bewail my indifcretion, my crime neither provokes repentance nor remorfe. It proceeded from excefs of fondness for the object of my love; for him whom alone I ever defired to please, and whose heart I confidered as a pledge for my honour. Veil not then your coldness under the mask of religion:-confcious of its own innocence, my foul fmiles at the deceit.

"It is not what I have done, but the effects of it that grieve me. I lament the abfence of thofe fweet viciffitudes of hope and fear, thofe fond wishes and gay denres that introduced our paffion; thofe fine reveries in its more advanced flate. -Is the paffion altered, or are we changed?-Diftruft, jealousy, and dif tracting fears, are the mournful fucceffors of love, confidence, and joy.

"You accuse yourself; of what?-I never reproached you. Seducer and hetrayer are terms of your own inventing. They never could have entered my thoughts. No, Modeftus, I difdain a falfehood, I am fenfible of the fuperiority of your virtue: often have I feen you give law to your defires when I was incapable of refiftance. But, ah! I am afraid you have still subject of felf-acculation-Do you ftill love your So phia with the fame integrity of heart as when you first declared your paffion?— with as much warmth as when he refigned to you her honour?-Or rather, is no: your bofom become the feat of cold indifference, difguit, and dif- esteem ?— It is the dread of this that is the caufe of my melancholy.

"But, O Modeftus!-though I hope it can never be the cafe-if you no longer love your Sophia, I conjure you to tell her fo. Say frankly-alas, my foreboding mind-Sophia-my heart is changed. She may be grieved, the may be alarmed at the words; the may defpife herself, but the will efteem you the more."

To SOPHIA.

"What a queftion do you put to me, Sophia! But, happily for my honour, your own reafonings furnifh me with an answer. You are fenfible that our interviews are no longer productive of their wonted pleasure, and fufpicious of a fallacy fomewhere, fay, Is the paffion altered, or are we changed ?--Both, Sophia. We have deviated from virtue, and happinefs has bid us adieu. Our love is no more that calm, that tranquil paffion, that fhed enchantment around it:-that found its fweeteft enjoyments in a reciprocation of kind offices, and

expreffions of mutual tenderness. These chatte delights are fled beyond a poffibility of recal.-What now remains of our once elegant connection is what was then leaft regarded. Humbling thought!-

"Be not therefore, Sophia, fo far deceived, as to imagine our former felicity can ever return. Without our former innocence it is impoffible.-Vice can never enjoy the reward of virtue. We can no more taste the unreproved transport of the blameless heart. However you may be convinced of the integrity your affection, you cannot be infenfible of this change;-nay, you acknowledge it. -I am not confcious of a defire but our mutual felicity; yet experience convinces me, that a mistaken indulgence has ruined it for ever.

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"Your views perhaps were honourable; that apology I cannot plead.-But though I cannot urge matrimonial intentions in extenuation of my crime, I would gladly make that facrifice, as an atonement for my guilt, could I hope it would have the defired effect. But would the fanction of the church restore our innocence, give purity to our affections, or infpire us with that mutual confidence and felf-esteem, that is neceffary to the felicity of fuch a flate ?—Ah, no, Sophia! you could never forget that you had been weak, nor I that I had been base. That confciousness would imbitter all our joys; and make us curfe the tie that bound us; without a poffibility of release, to be the eternal remembrancers of each other's guilt. But this your own good fenfe will fufficiently point out.

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If in your prefent-I am afhamed and forry to fay-unhappy fituation, I might offer my advice, it would be this; that as your mother's affection has pointed you out a husband of confiderable fortune, and honeft principles at least, a compliance with her inclinations feems your moft prudent courfe. Though the gentleman is not in all refpects what you could wish, a sense of duty may ripen into love; and habit may render, what at prefent offends, not only indifferent but agreeable. In that cafe, you would not only fhield a parent's age from forrow, but wifely fecure your own and her felicity.

"But whatever you may think proper to do in this matter, I have no occafion to fay my affection is changed, to convince you, that all further intercourse, between two of the fondeft hearts that ever felt the force of love, would not only be imprudent, but dangerous. Farewel then, Sophia-farewel."

From

From SOPHIA, "In vain, Modeftus, you endeavour to hide the change in your affections under a cloud of myfterious reafoning. The eyes of love can pierce the gloom, and detect the fallacy. Would it not have been more honourable, Sir, to have owned the lapfe of your heart, than have taken fo disingenuous a method of evading it -O faithlefs! O impious man! nature and paffion must be blafphemed, because you are false; and the whom you called by every tender name -who is only what you have made her -must be confidered in the light of the abandoned to apologize for your inconftancy-Infernal fcheme! to lure my fimple, unfufpicious heart-to rifle all my beauties in the bud, then throw them, like a worthless weed, away!

"Be not afraid, Sir, that I mean to urge you to the performance of that facrifice you fo much dread, and which is fo justly due to my injured honour. No! I fcorn to owe to duty, or even to gratitude, what love fhould pay. I defpife your hand, fince I cannot have your heart.

66

But, alas! why add infult to cruelty? Was it not enough to abandon me, Sir, that you firive to murder me by your barbarous advice?-Modeftus! is it poffible, that you were capable of fuch a thought-Modeftus advise me to marry his rival !—him of whom he spoke so contemptibly!-of whofe brutality he expreffed fo many fears!-O, i fhall go mad!-What have I done, juft heaven! that I should suffer this?-and from the man I love! It would have been kinder, Modeftus, to have pierced this fond, believing heart!-Say, deceiver! which of all my kind endearments-for thefe alone are my crimes-which of thefe could bring me under the suspicion of fo much bafenefs-Know, Modeftus, though you are altered, I am still the fame.—My heart can never know a fecond love. But granting it were difengaged; could I, who have lavished all my affection on you, take shelter in the arms of another! Could I, for a few worldly conveniences, speak what I did not think, and mimic what I did not feel?-Forbid, great God, the thought!-Whatever may be my lot, I fhall never act unworthy of her whom Modeftus once loved.

"My life too may be of fome ufe to my own fex; as I fhall ever be careful to teach them the leffon, which I have learned from fatal experience; THAT SHE-WHO WOULD SECURE THE HEART OF A LOVER, MUST TREAT

HIM WITH THE CAUTION OF AN

ENEMY."

Hiftories of the Tete-a-Tete annexed; or,
Memoirs of the Earl of Stormont and
Madame Le Brun.

THE nobleman to whom we are go

Ting to introduce our readers upon

this occafion, is defcended from an antient and noble family in North-Britain. He early difplayed an uncommon thare of knowledge, which being still farther improved by a regular claffical education, he was foon diftinguished for his learning and abilities. Being one of the fixteen peers of Scotland, he in courfe has a feat in the upper houfe; but notwithstanding his literary talents, he has seldom difplayed his oratorial powers in any important debates; he feems to have referved his judgment and penetration for the cabinet, where he has evinced himself an able statesman, well acquainted with the interefts, views, and difpofitions of the different courts of Europe; he was, therefore, fome time fince appointed ambassador at a certain foreign court, where he ingratiated himself with the prince and his minifters, and became a great favourite of both. By this means, among others, a mutual good understanding has been maintained between the two courts, which is likely to be permanent and durable. The vifit, however, of a relation of the ambassador's, to the court where he resided, gave some opportunities to the minor politicians, to fuggeft that the state of affairs between the two nations was in a critical fituation, and that it required the extraordinary abilities of that great nobleman to affift his nephew upon fo intricate an occafion. It is now, indeed, generally believed that the vifit in question was founded only in curiofity, and to relax from the fatigues of business during the vacation.

Our hero's political character we have fufficiently dwelt upon; we shall now confider him as the courtier and the fine gentleman; as the first he has peculiarly diftinguished himself at one of the firft courts in Europe, for his addrefs and politenefs, which united to his talents and learning, juftly entitle him to the fecoud appellation. The young prince at whose court he appeared in a public character, has teftified his approbation of this minifter's conduct, by presenting him with his portrait in miniature, fet round with diamonds of confiderable value, and which he fixed in the infignia of the order which he bears. It is faid that his lordship had the misfortune to lose those valuable jew

els

els upon a late public occafion at St. James's; but as no reward has been offered for them, this report has probably been founded on an event fomewhat fimilar which occurred to the late duke of Bedford at the opera-house, where he loft a valuable snuff-box, with the late king of France's picture in it, which that monarch had prefented him with.

In a court of gallantry, like Verfailles, it was impoffible for a nobleman of his lordship's diftinguished rank and character to pass unnoticed by the ladies. Women of the first fashion courted his company, and thought it an honour to be of his tetea-tete parties. As the ladies are not fo fqueamish in this country as they are in England, they let the voice of fame make as free with their name as it chufes; nor are they confidered to have forfeited any part of their reputation for a few innocent gallantries, especially with men of rank and fortune. His lordship, however, efcaped many lures that were thrown out for him, 'till at length the amiable Madame Le Brun came in his way. She was a widow, about eight and twenty, ftill poffeffing all the attractions of a fine woman: She was tall and genteel, though rather inclined to the embun point: her father had been a colonel in the army, and having given his daughter an education fuitable to her rank, and placed her in a convent till she attained the age of maturity, as is ufual; about her fixteenth year many advantageous matches were propofed for her, and at length Mr. Le Brun, a man of confiderable fortune, and a financier, offered his hand, which was accepted. This was not a match of interest or family, as is ufually the cafe in France; he fincerely loved Mademoifelle Deffein, and he had reafon to flatter himself that their paffion was mutual. He refused taking any portion with her, but begged it might be added to the younger lifter's fortune, which would, probably, recommend her to a better match than her fmall dower feemed to entitle her to. Madame Le Brun had no fooner changed her former name, than the began to ex ert all thofe privileges which a married woman in France judges herfelf entitled to. She at least coquetted in public with every gay young fellow the mét. She played deep, and loft fums far larger than what her pin money could fupply. Though Mr. Le Brun tenderly loved his wife, he could not help remonstrating to her upon her conduct; he was almost a fingular inftance of a man in France loving his wife, and he could not refrain teftitying his jealousy whenever the was in

.

Aug.

company with any other men; befides,
he heard of her loffes at play, and could
not account for the manner in which her
debts of honour were acquitted, unless
her female honour was prostituted in lieu.
In fine, Mr. Le Brun became every day
more unhappy, as all his remonftrances
proved ineffectual, and the infitted upon
Grief had now so far seized him, that his
acting like other women in her fiation.
phyficians began to defpair of his recove-
ry; and at the end of about a twelvemonth,
Mrs. Le Brun was a hand some, rich,
widow. Being now without any controul,
fhe was refolved to take a full fwing of
young
pleasure, which he confidered as the
fole object of this life. Her fyftem of
amours was not unfimilar to that purfued
by the celebrated Ninon de l'Enclos; the
acknowledged to her lovers, that the fhould
was fincere in her friendship, but frankly
never continue a connexion after it be-
came either cool or irkfome. She was
conftant to her admirers whilft fhe allow-
ed them to remain upon that lift, but
when the alliance was once interrupted,
fhe never repaired the breach; though
her friendship ftill continued the fame. A
ftriking inftance of her generofity appear-
ed in the affiftance she lent a young muf-
queteer, whofe fighs had not heretofore
proved unfuccefsful, but who had been
abfent from her feveral months. She
heard that he was greatly embarraffed in
his affairs, and was in confinement for a
confiderable fum; fhe was no fooner ac-
quainted with this circumftance, than the
flew to the place of his detention, and
enquired the fum for which he was a
prifoner, and without speaking to him,
immediately paid it. He was greatly afto-
nifhed to find himself at liberty, and
could not, for a confiderable time, con-
jecture to what generous hand he was in-
debted for his release. After reviewing in
his mind all his friends and acquaintance,
he could not fuggeft any one except Ma-
dame Le Brun, who had fincerity fufficient
cordingly waited upon her to thank her
to go fuch lengths in his favour. He ac-
for her kindness, and teftified the great
love and esteem he entertained for her.
She ftopt him fhort, telling him what the
had done for him was from a principle of
friendship, love now was entirely out of
the cafe; intreating him, at the fame
time, not to renew his vifits, as they would
not be agreeable.

formed a very intimate acquaintance, a-
Such was the lady with whom our hero
bout the time of her doing the generous
deed juft related; and when the difffed
the mufqueteer, left his lordship shoul! be
apprzed

apprized of his vifit, and attribute it to an erroneous caufe.

This connexion continued feveral months, with equal fatisfaction on both fides; and notwithstanding his lordship has been obliged to return to England about bufinefs of great confequence, the correfpondence is till kept up by letter; fo that it is reasonable to fuppofe it will not be interrupted upon his lordship's return, as it has not transpired that Madame Le Brun has formed any new alliance, and her letters are animated with the fame ardour which the constantly expreffes

tó her moft cher ami.

The following, which accidentally fell into the writer's hands, will convey an idea of her tile and manner, it being tranflated almost literally.

“Can you, my dear lord, fupport this abfeuce any longer? To me it is fcarce endurable, and were it not for the dedommagement I receive from your kind billets, life without you would be utterly infupportable. I have had a thousand fine things faid to me from all the fine fellows at Versailles, but they can make no impreffion till I can erafe your dear idea from my breath, where it operates fo forcibly, that it will, I am fure, remain for life. The coronation has afforded me no kind of gratification; every thing to me is dull and infipid, and must remain fo till your return. I beseech you write to me next poft, and afford me the confolation of converfing with you upon paper. Let me know when you propofe fetting out. If I imagined your stay in England would be of any length, I would go over, and be a spectator or your fo much celebrated Regatta: though after the account you gave me of your Bottle Conjuror, and the Jubilee at Stratford, I have no high opinion of your English fhows.

"I have this inftant received your laft letter, and after kifling it a hundred and a hundred times, I have been devouring it with my eyes; but they could not perform the task half fwift enough to read all you have to fay, and glut my fancy with fuch a rich banquet.

Bon foir, my dear, dear Lord, And believe me entirely your's, LE BRUN." We fhall make no comment upon this letter, but conclude, that his lordship writes full as energetically to the lady, though we cannot gratify our readers with any of his epiftles.

Such is the prefent ftate of this correfpondence, which there is the greatest reafon to think will speedily be perfonally renewed, and that thofe extatic ideas, August, 1775.

which the fo pathetically feels, will be
completely realized.

Memoirs of the late Pope Clement XIV.
T is commonly faid in Italy, that a

reads the Gospel. Clement, without em-
ploying fpies, the refource of low and
little minds, caft his eyes about him, and
faw himself what it was neceffary for
him to know; whereby as a prince who
knew how to reign, he rewarded and pu-
nifhed; he declared himself, or he dif-
fembled. Providence, faid he, has placed me
as a centinel, only carefully to watch over
Ifrael. It is true, his extraordinary vi-
gilance created murmurs; but he was
convinced that a people is happy only in
proportion, as their fovereign pays at-
tention to every minutia that relates to
their welfare; and thofe who filled offi-
ces and employments were obliged to be
very careful in conducting themfelves
properly, which was not the cafe in the
former reign, when maiverfation was
practifed with impunity.

Lambertini (Benedict XIV.) attained the reputation of a great doctor, and was refpected abroad, without abilities to goThe Romans in vern his dominions. speaking of him, used to fay, Magnus in folio, parvus in folio. Corfini (Clement XII.) was ten years blind out of the twelve that he reigned; and it may be judged from thence, whether the treafurers or receivers had not then good eyes. Orfini (Benedict XIII.) of the order of the brother preachers, too fanctified to fufpect any ill, was inceffantly impofed upon by the unfortunate cardinal Cofcia, who though only the fon of a barber in the kingdom of Naples, enriched himself at the cost of the holy fee, became a prifoner in the caftle of St. Angelo, and died in 1755, loaded with riches and the public indignation.

The duties of a prince and paftor are very difficult to reconcile; policy often exacts what religion does not allow; if the character of a pope infpires clemency, that of a fovereign enjoins severity. Thus we read that Sixtus V, was a great monarch without being a bigot; and that S. Pius was a good pope and a poor prince. This made an historian fay, that fuch pontiffs as had been taken from the order of the Cordeliers, and were fix in number, were all poffeffed of the talent of governing well; and those who had been of the order of the Dominicans, were more capable of edifying.

Ganganelli was the pope who most united thefe two qualities; as a manly piety Nan

is more analogous with fovereignty, than an effeminate and pufillanimous devotion. His religion bore the impreffion of his character and his genius: it was ftrong and elevated; otherwife he would often have been ftopt in his operations; but feeing all things as a great man, and rifing fuperior to public rumours, prejudices, and even events, he knew how to be a prince and a pontiff.

The little artifices practifed by narrow minds to obtain their ends, he was a ftranger to. Though peculiarly calculated for a court which is accufed of being the very centre of intrigue and chicane, he never deceived the politicians, but by remaining filent; for when he fpoke he uttered the truth. He was too upright a man to act by finifter, means, and was, indeed, too great a genius to ftand in need of them.

No one knew better than he when to feize the proper moment, when he neither was flow nor precipitate. The hour is not come, he would fay, when he was folicited to haften fome operation. He wrote to cardinal Stoppani, "I miftruft my vivacity, and therefore I fhall not anfwer till the end of a week, concerning what your eminence enquires of me. Our imagination is often our greatest enemy I am ftriving to weary it before I act. Matters of bufinefs, like fiuits, have their maturity, and it is only when they are haftings, that we fhould think of accomplishing them "

His manner of reading refembled his other operations; he abflained from books, if he found himself difpofed to refect; and as fovereigns are led by circumitances, from whence we may conclude that all men are born dependant, he often kept vigils great part of the night, and fiept in the day-time. Rule is the compafs of the clergy, he ufed to fay; but the wants of the people is the cloak of fovereigns; let it be what hour it may, if they want us, we must attend them. La buffula di frati e la loro regola, ma il bifogno del popolo e l'orologio dei fovrani.

This maxim, when he was a pope, often attracted him from his books. He then read only to edify, or to relax from bufinefs. He was of opinion, that all the books in the world, might be reduced to fix thousand volumes in folio, ani that thofe of the prefent age were nothing but pictures, which daubers had found the art of cleaning, in order to prefent them in the propereit light to public view.

It is to be lamented that he produced ing in the literary way, though fome

have afcribed to him part of the works of Benedict XIV. We thould have found in his the phlegm of the Germans, blended with the vivacity of the italians: but he was fo thoroughly perfuaded that there were too many writers, that he was always fearful of increafing the number. He faid, one day, fmiling, "Who knows whether brother Francis may not take it into his head to write? I fhould not be in the least astonished to fee fome work in his manner; but furely it would not be a history of my ragouts, or the book nuft be very concife?"

"the

When any one mentioned to him the fathionable productions that appeared against chriftianity, he would fay, more they are, the more the world will be convinced of the neceffity of it." He obferved, "that all the writers who oppofed chriftianity, knew only how to dig a ditch, and that was all they could fupply its place with." He said, "that Mr. Voltaire, whofe poetry he admired, attacked religion fo often, only because it was troublesome to him; and that J. J. Rouleau was a painter, who always forgot the heads, and who excelled only in the drapery."

He explained himself one day upon a work called the Syftem of Nature, and added, "What hurts me is, that the more it is founded on falfe principles, the more, in an age like ours, it will gain reputation and readers; and it will receive an additional value by its being feriously refuted." He afterwards obferved, that "the author of this bad book is a mad man, who imagines, that by changing the mafter of the houfe, he can difpofe of it juft as he pleafes, without reflecting that no creatures can breathe but by exifting in God, in ipfo vivimus, movemur, & fumus. But every age is diftinguifhed by a new fangled mode of thinking. After the times of fuperftition, are come the days of incredulity; and the man who formerly adored a multitude of gods, now affects not to acknowledge any one. Virtue, vice, immorality, annihilation, all appear to him fynonimous, provided fome infignificant pamphlet ferves him as a rampart against heaven; and it is in the very bofom of religion that thefe fcandalous opinions originate, and where they multiply. Whilft religion was perfecuted by the Pagans, a pope had at least the glory and the good fortune to defend it at the price of his blood; but now that he cannot fly to martyrdom, I am unfortunately compelled to be the miferable witness of error and impiety."

Thefe

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