againft the fee of Rome. I would not have princes ftoop to trifles, which always betray a weak mind; a prince on the throne hould act with magnanimity.

The Pretender publifhed a manifefto in vindication of his rights, addreffed to the people of England; but this manifefto contained only empty words, whilf George had on his fide troops and cannon.

Marfhal Belleifle more than once took notice to me of a remarkable paffage in this manifefto. Prince Edward there owns that the houfe of Stuart loft the English throne in fome measure by its own fault, and promifes amendment. If, fays he, the complaints formerly brought again! our family did take their rife from fome errors in our administration; it has fufficiently expiated them.Young Edward took poffeffion of the kingdoms of England, Scotland, France, and Ireland, in his father's name, declaring himself regent. For England well and good; but thus to make a king of France, was too hafty. Thofe titles, however, refting on no furer grounds than the poffeffion, as quickly disappeared.'

The paffage that follows will convince the reader that there are the jufteft grounds for imputing a bafenefs of difpofition to this celebrated memorialift. My husband loudly complained of my living at Verfailles, and wrote to me a very paffionate letter, full of reproaches against me, and ftill more against the king; amidst other indifcreet terms, calling him tyrant. As I was reading this letter, the king came into my apartment; I immediately thruft it into my pocket; the emotion with which I received his majefty, fhewed me to be under fome disorder; I was for concealing the caufe, but on his repeated inftances, I put my husband's letter into his hands. He read it through without the leaft fign of refentment: I affured him that I had no fhare in his temerity; and the better to convince him of it, defired that he would punith the writer feverely. No, Madam, faid he to me, with that air of goodness which is so natural to him, your husband is unhappy, and fhould rather be pitied. Hiftory does not afford a like paffage of moderation in an injured king. My fpoufe, on being informed of it, left the kingdom to travel.'

6

Madam Pompadour, who introduces almoft every fubje into her memoirs, has given us a curious letter which the received from a girl in a convent. All France, fays fhe, was mouldering away in convents: every town and village had numerous communities of girls, who made vows against having children. The following letter, which I received from a nun at Lyons, and communicated to the king, occafioned deliberations for reforming this abufe.

6 MADAM,

<< MADAM,

"I was at firft for writing to the pope, but, on farther reflection, I thought it would be full as well to apply to you. The point is this: when I was but feven years of age, my parents fhut me up in the convent where I now am; and on my entering into my fifteenth year, two nuns fignified to me an order to take the veil. I deferred complying for fome time; for though quite a ftranger to every thing but the houfe I was in, yet 1 fufpected there must be another kind of world than the convent, and another ftate than that of a nun; but the fifter of Jefus's heart, our mothef, in order to fix my call, faid to me, that all women who married were damned, because they lie with a man, and bore children: this fet me a-crying most bit-. terly for my poor mother, as burning eternally in hell for having brought me into the world.

"I took the veil; but now that I am twenty years of age, and my conftitution formed, I daily feel that I am not made for this ftate, and think I want fomething; and that fomething, or I am much mistaken, is a husband.

66

My talking continually of matrimony fets the community a-madding; the fifter of the Holy Ghoft tells me, that I am Jefus Chrift's fpoufe; but, for my part, I feel myself much inclined to a fecond marriage with a man.

"On a young girl's coming into a convent, half a dozen wheedlers get about her, and never leave her till they have perfuaded her to take the veil. Children are buried every day in monafteries, whilft their early age does not admit of any folid reflections on the vows they are drawn to make.

"Let me intreat you, Madam, to perfuade the king to reform this abuse; it is a reformation which both religion and the profperity of the flate call for. The facrificing fo many victims to the avarice of parents, is a great lofs of people to the state, and the kingdom of heaven is not the fuller. God requires voluntary facrifices, and thefe are the fruit of reflection. It is furprifing, that the laws, in fettling the age for our fex's paffing a civil contract, fhould forget the age for making vows is reafon lefs neceffary for contracting with God, than with men? This I fubmit to yours and his majefty's reflections: in the mean time, give me leave to be, Madam, your most humble fervant, Sifter JOSEPH."

The king thought that fifter Jefus's heart, and fifter Holy Ghaft, had done wrong in drawing fifter Jofeph into the state of celibacy, as with fuch happy difpofitions for marriage, fhe bid fair to have been a fruitful mother, and thus have benefited the

state.

Ta

To fupprefs the aforefaid abufe, his majefty iffued an arret, forbidding all religious communities to admit a novice under twenty four years of age and a day.'

The method which the king's confeffor took to withdraw him from his licentious amours, and particularly from his attachment to Madam Pompadour, by whofe enemies, fhe tells us, the confeffor had been employed, has fomething new and curious

in it:

My enemies having mifcarried in their defign of inducing the king to remove me from court, by political motives, fet religion to work; and no lefs a perfon than his majefty's confeffor was put at the head of this cabal. He was a Jefuit with only morality for his inftrument; but as that, with a prince, feldom gets the better of pleafure, he contrived a way which struck my

monarch.

This reverend father employed one of the beft hands in Paris, in a picture reprefenting the torments of hell. Several crowned heads feemed chained down in dreadful fufferings; there was no beholding their contortions without fhuddering. This infernal mafter-piece he made a prefent of to Lewis XV. The king having viewed it for fome time, with a frown, afked the meaning of the picture, the very thing the fon of Loyola

wanted.

"Sire, faid he, the prince you fee there fuffering eternal torments, was an ambitious monarch, who facrificed his people to his vain delight in glory and power. He next to him, whom. the devils are infulting, was an avaricious monarch, who laid up in his coffers immenfe treasures, fqueezed from his oppreffed fubjects. This third wretch was an indolent fovereign, who minded nothing, and inftead of governing by himself, left every thing to his minifters, whofe incapacity produced infinite mifchiefs. This fourth, whofe fufferings exceed thofe of the others, his crime being greater, was a voluptuous king, openly keeping a concubine at his court; and by this fcandalous example had filled his kingdom with debauchery, &c."

The fecond volume abounds more with political details than the firft, and turns chiefly on the fubject of the late war.

With refpect to the authenticity of thefe memoirs, we cannot pretend to form an abfolute judgment, how far they were or were not writen by Madam de Pompadour herfelf. All the information given us by the anonymous Editor, on this head, is briefly this, that the ufed to write by ftarts, detached eflays, without any coherence; and thefe on feparate bits of paper. Thefe were very numerous and diffufe, as generally are the materials intended to form a book, if the really had any fuch defign.

< We

We were obliged to throw by on all fides, and clear our way through an ocean of writings, a long and tirefome bufinefs.

It is far from being improbable, that Madam de Pompadour got fome statesman, well verfed in fuch matters, to affift her in compiling this book."'

Our Readers will on this occafion, recollect fome pretended memoirs of this celebrated lady, publifhed a few years ago: the prefent publication has the appearance of better authority, with refpect to the materials of which it is compofed.

*See Review, vol. xx. p. 330.

Elementary Principles of the Belles Lettres. By M. Formey, M. D. S. E. &c. with Reflections on public Exhibitions: Tranflated from the French by the late Mr. Sloper Foreman. 12mo. 3s. F. Newbery.

THO

HOSE academics who have always walked in the trammels of fyftem, and who, inftead of deriving their opinions from tafte founded in natural fenfe and original obfervation, have laid down rules even for taste itself, we generally find to be very indifferent judges of the fine arts. Their judgment, if not borne away over the little barriers which the forms of fcholaftic erudition have drawn around it by the native and irrefiftible force of genius, is narrow, partial, and confined. They fee through the falfe medium of lights that have been borrowed, and borrowed without fkill. They depend upon rules that have been derived from the fuppofed design and conduct of fome ancient performances, though it is more than probable that the very conduct of thofe pieces was purely accidental and thefe they apply invariably as the criteria of modern productions. Such are the poor fubftitutes which unenlightened minds find for the powers of genius and the force of native difcernment; and, under the influence of fuch notions as these, we cannot wonder at our venerable Profeffor's fpeaking in higher terms of the Henriad than of PARADISE LOST: The fublime beauties of the latter, and its glorious magnificence and fuperiority, could not be comprehended by the narrow eye of the Tyitematic fchoolman; while the little decencies and regular precifion of the former, were perfectly fuited to his artificial taite. The Henriad, fays he, may be put in the scale with the Æneid; we need but compare the plan, the manners, the marvellous of thefe two poems, the fimilitude of perfonages, the correfponding of epifodes, and the taste of both poets in the choice of thefe epifodes; the art with which they have com

bined the facts, their comparisons, their defcriptions, and their tafte in general.'

After this it may be worth while to hear what our curious academic fays concerning the poem of the immortal Milton: Some learned Englifhmen, fays he, and particularly the celebrated Addifon, having relifhed this poem, pretended that it was equal to thofe of Virgil and Homer. They wrote to prove this affertion. The English perfuaded themselves that it was fo, and Milton's reputation was fixed.'

If Mr. Formey can be fuppofed to be not altogether deftitute of true tafte, or relish for the genuine beauties of poetry, we must conclude that the predilection of country, and the prejudice of connections, might induce him to put Voltaire in the fcale with Virgil, and leave Milton only under pretenfions to an equal reputation. However, we shall be better able to judge of the profeffor's tafte in the belles lettres by attending to his obfervations in the article of poetry. Poetry, fays he, is the art of bringing under the yoke of meafure, or of rhyme, ideas fit to paint certain objects, and to move the heart. The different fpecies of poetry may be reduced to four kinds; the narrative, the dramatic, the lyric, and the didactic. Each kind of poetry is eflentially characterifed either by the quality of the actors, or the nature of the fubject, or the very effect which the work produces. However, it is the effect which attracts every thing to itfelf: It is the center, the defign, and the term of the piece.-In diftinguishing the different forts of paffions that may be wrought upon, we find the several species of poety. The epic poem creates admiration ; tragedy forces tears from us; comedy makes us laugh; and paftorals produce gentie and calm fenfations. It is the fame with all the other kinds. Every reader expects to receive from them an impreffion of fuch, or fuch a kind; and if the work does not convey it to him, or conveys it but imperfectly, in a confufed, equivocal manner, he has a right to be difgufted.It is nature that forms poets, but it is art that brings them to a certain degree of perfection.'

Thus M. Formey exprefles himself in his fection on poetry in general-Let us examine the merits of the little he has advancedPoetry, according to his general definition, is the art of bringing certain ideas under the yoke of meafure, or of rhyme-So then this fublime art, in the profefior's terms, is nothing more than the meafuring and adjusting of words and fyllables; to bring ideas fit to paint certain objects, and to move the heart, under the yoke of meafure. To felect, to raife, to combine thofe ideas, to exert the powers of nature, and to operate upon the affections, are not faid to be any part of the poet's province. A little further we are told that the different fpecies of poetry may be reduced to four kinds, the narrative, the dramatic, the lyric, and the didactic. Now, we would