ed him of it before I had done with him. It was necessary to make my approaches cautiously, and to attack his heart by a show of deference to his understanding. O Mr. Editor, what fools are philosophers in love! I soon brought my stoic, who professed to regard every thing with indifference, to tremble at my frown; nay, I have actually seen him turn as pale as ashes at my giving a kind look to any body else.

rangue to gain my consent to a more philosophical connection; but Ievaded it by declaring, that my object be

an obstinacy which piqued me into a desire of convincing him that pain was not an imaginary evil, and I flatter myself that I completely convinc-ing what the grand object of every rational being ought to be, the promotion of general utility, I could by no means consent to a step which would divert, at least for a time, his energies from their proper source: but as I was determined not to leave him without hope, I added, that when he had succeeded in bringing the greatest part of the nation over to his opinions, I would then join him in setting an example to our converts of a rational union. One might reasonably suppose that such an offer as this would be received by a man of his principles with transport; but instead of that, he flew into a most unphilosophical fury, and as in his passion he made some very severe reflections on my conduct, I answered him with an asperity which brought on a violent quarrel, and we parted.

As I considered the conquest of Mr. Doubtall's heart as the most glorious I ever made, I took the greatest delight in exhibiting him as my captive; but in riveting his chains I unluckily loosed those of Lord Listless, who, happening to be present one day at a dispute which I had with his rival on the doctrine of innate ideas, was struck with such horror at hearing me use a Latin quotation, that he abruptly quitted the room, and never could be drawn by any artifice to pay me another visit. As he was at that time the only ostensible pretender to my hand, Mr. Doubtall saw him retreat with great exultation, and seized the occasion to press for my consent to an immediate marriage. I evaded a reply as long as I could, but when I was at last obliged to speak, I told him gravely, that I was really shocked at his making so unphilosophical a proposal; for, thanks to the pains he had taken to enlighten my mind, I was above submitting to so senseless a yoke; and if he meant to preserve my friendship, he must talk no more about it. He tried in a florid haVol. III. No. XV,

Being at a ball one evening, soon after I had lost Mr. Doubtall, I observed a young gentleman looking at me earnestly, but with perfect indifference. Surprised and piqued at the cold and scrutinizing air with which he eyed me, I inquired who he was, and was answered, "Oh! it is Sir George Worthy: he is lately come to his title and a very fine estate, which is a monstrous pity, for he is a sad stupid animal; indeed some people think him a Methodist." This last piece of information did not discourage me; I soon contrived to be introduced to Sir George, whom I found a man of sense, taste, and of morals more strict than men of fashion generally are, to which it was owing that he acquired the charac ter of a Methodist. He was extreme

T

ly particular in his ideas of women: || No sooner was I sure of Sir George, he had heard that I was a coquette, than I began to look back with reand that made him treat me with a gret on the number of conquests that petrifying politeness, a hundred times I had probably missed making while more mortifying than rudeness would I was subduing him, and to long for have been. I saw clearly that my an opportunity of spreading my nets usual weapons would here be useless; for new admirers. Unfortunately, he he was proof against all the artillery of informed me that he should be blushes, looks, and smiles, and there obliged to spend a few weeks in the was no enlisting his amour propre in country; and on the first evening of my service, for he had no foibles ap- his absence I accepted an invitation parently, not even, as I thought, a to a fancy ball. It so chanced that he master passion. In short, any body forgot some papers of consequence, but myself would have given up the and being obliged to return for them, case as a desperate one; but nil de- he came to pay me a visit at the very sperandum was always my motto. I moment that I had finished dressing laid down a regular plan of opera- for the ball. He flew to me with all tions, and persisted in them, though the impetuosity of love, but stopping for some time without any success: short, and surveying me with a look I began by assuming, when in his of displeasure, or rather of disgust, presence, a thoughtful air at times, said, that as he saw he was evidently soon afterwards I appeared to disre- not expected, he would not intrude gard the attentions of the fops by upon me. Stung at this speech, whom I was surrounded; my dress which was plainly levelled at my by degrees became more simple, and dress, or rather undress, for to say though it was in reality never less the truth I was rather fashionably studied, yet it had an air of easy than decently attired, I made a very negligence: with all this, however, haughty reply. He quitted the room I gained very little ground, but chance with a silent bow, and the next mornstood my friend unexpectedly. I had ing I received a farewell epistle from secretly relieved a poor family; the him, written in a style which convinccircumstance became known to Sired me that all hopes of a reconciliaGeorge, and from that moment he regarded me with a more kindly aspect. This gave me fresh courage; as we grew more intimate, I affected to regret the past, and to be determined on an entire change of character: I made him my Mentor, pretended to consult him on all occasions, and in fine succeeded at last in completely conquering his heart.

But, alas! Mr. Editor, I was in the situation of many others, who work very hard to obtain a treasure, and do not know how to use it properly when they have at last got it.

tion would be in vain.

His loss cost me the severest pangs I ever felt, and it was a considerable time before I could divert my chagrin by collecting round me again the group of triflers whose homage I had for some time appeared to disdain.

It would fill a volume instead of a letter, Mr. Editor, if I were to recount to you the history of all my achievements in this way; suffice it to say, that although I set out with a positive determination to marry before my power over your sex began

to decline, yet the habit of coquetting, coquette is a much more respectable character than any conqueror that ever existed, from Alexander the Great down to Napoleon le Grand. But I forget that I am not writing a vindication of my class, but a history of myself, which I beg leave to conclude by stating the motives which induced me to trouble you with it. In the first place, I think it an injus tice to the class, not to give them that prominent place which they deserve among the sisterhood; and in the next, I think my adventures may be of service to the younger members of our class, who have not yet quite reached the verge of old maidenism, by inducing them to reflect in time, whether it may not be better to secure even one loyal and obedient subject in the person of a husband for life, than to risk being left at last in that most degrading of all situations, a deposed toast, deprived of all the pride, pomp, and circumstance of empire; no train of admirers in public, no sighing adorers in private, no partners contending for her hand at the ball, no opponents eager to lose their money to her at the card-table. All this, Mr. Editor, I have felt; and I have charity enough to wish to prevent others from feeling it, unless they think they can console themselves with reciting to some humble cousin, or ad miring waiting-maid, the long-past glories of those days, in which they shone in all the pride and power of conscious beauty, and broke hearts as easily as they cracked walnuts. I am, sir, your most obedient,

carried me on from conquest to conquest, till at last I was roused from the delightful dream of empire, by perceiving, that though I was still toasted, flattered, and admired, yet I was no longer proposed for. In fact, my character was by this time so generally understood, that nobody could be hardy enough to think of making a wife of me. My female acquaintance, who still dreaded, though they affected to despise my power, endeavoured to hasten its downfall by ridiculing me as an old maid, through my own fault. And here, by the way, I must digress a moment to observe, that I don't see there was any fault in the case: I might perhaps justly be accused of miscalculating my resources, or of want of tact in applying them, but to a pointblank charge of folly I never can submit; for surely, if the love of conquest exalts men into heroes, it may with equal justice be said to transform women into heroines. What are the achievements of warriors compared to the conquests of a coquette? Can the instinct which you dignify with the name of courage, that induces you to hazard your own lives and take those of others, merely to acquire what you call glory, be compared to the magnanimity with which we sacrifice our health, our comfort, nay, often the tender ties of love and friendship, in order to extend our conquest, not by spilling blood or devastating provinces, but by subduing the minds of our enemies, and forcing them to bless the hand that loads them with chains? Depend upon it, Mr. Editor, that a successful

SERAPHINA.

CHARACTER OF CARDINAL DE RICHELIEU. NEVER did any one carry dissimu- | chapelles, Bouteville's second, killed Bussy d'Amboise, Beuvron's second. Bouteville and Deschapelles took flight immediately, but they were arrested at Vitri le Brûlé, and criminal informations directly filed against them.

lation farther than this minister: when he spoke in council, it was difficult, nay impossible, to tell to which side he inclined, so great was the seeming impartiality with which he weighed the pros and cons. The condemnation of Bouteville furnishes an ex- Richelieu reported the case in the ample, among many others, of the privy council, and used every arguaddress with which Richelieu veiled ment that could be urged in favour his real sentiments. Duelling, ac- of Bouteville. His birth, the sercording to the ancient laws of France, vices that his family and himself had was punished with death, but this done to the state, his bravery and was a penalty seldom enforced. Boute- intrepidity; he even found something ville had fought twenty-one duels; to say in defence of his insensate pastwenty-one times he had received his sion for duels; in short, it was impardon; and, as if in contempt of possible to defend Bouteville in a the lenity shewn him, he again trans- more masterly manner than he did: gressed. He had sought refuge at nevertheless, he had previously deBrussels, with his cousin Descha-termined that the rigour of the law pelles. After the commission of should be executed. This factis provhis twenty-first offence, the arch-ed by the discontent he manifested duchess, who was governess of the Low Countries, solicited his pardon from the King of France, who replied that he could not grant it; but nevertheless for her sake he would take care, that if Bouteville entered France he should not be apprehend-Richelieu saw the sentence, he said, ed, provided that he did not appear at Paris, and especially at court. Piqued at this reply, Bouteville had the insolence to boast, that he would | return to fight a duel in France, nay, But the talents of the cardinal apeven at the Place Royale in Paris, peared to still greater advantage in where the king resided. He had parrying the blow aimed at him by been followed to Brussels by Beu- Marie de Medicis, who, after having vron, who was anxious to fight him, made his fortune, became his enemy, in order to revenge the death of a and sought to banish him from the friend of his, who had fallen in one court, by accusing him of being the of Bouteville's preceding duels. He principal author of the troubles with appointed a meeting with Beuvron which France was at that time torn. at the Place Royale, on the 12th May, When the council of state met to 1627. They had neither of them any deliberate on the means of appeasing advantage over the other, but Des-these troubles, Richelieu would at first

at the sentence of the Parliament, in which, contrary to the usual custom, Bouteville was honourably spoken of, and only a third of his property confiscated, though the law directed that the whole should be forfeited. When

in an angry tone, "It is well to be related to the President de Mesmes." The president was father-in-law of Bouteville.

have excused himself from speaking enemies. This prince was surroundon a subject that might be consider-ed by confidants, counsellors, and fa

ed to affect him personally; but being compelled by the king's order to speak, he proposed at some length, and with a great deal of artifice, five measures that might be employed; but having examined each of these in turn, he reduced them to two. One was his own resignation, which he said he would not hesitate to propose, if it could be regarded as a feasible expedient, and one that could be resorted to without difficulty; but he took care to add, that with regard to it there were many things to consider; and he drew such a pic-|| ture of the evils that might attend his quitting the helm of the state, as to prove very plainly, that the remedy was worse than the disease. He then, with great apparent confusion and timidity, passed to the other expedient, which was the exile of the queen mother. He displayed || with great appearance of candour all the evils to which this step also might give rise; but, nevertheless, he ended by proving that it was the only one which could save France from the horrors of civil war. Constantly surrounded by nume-ton then was. "Monseigneur," said rous and powerful enemies, it required all the address and the courage of which Richelieu was master, to baf-me: however charmed I should have fle their efforts. Even these would been to do the honours of my house have been insufficient to guard a man to you, I consider it still more expeof principle, but the laxity of Riche- dient to leave your royal highness at lieu in that respect is notorious: all liberty to amuse yourself as you means were good to him that were please; I have therefore quitted my necessary for his safety or aggran- house, which is entirely at your serdizement. He gave abundant proof vice." of this in the manner in which he dispersed the powerful party raised against him by Gaston, the king's brother, who was at once the most constant and the most terrible of his

vourites, who employed themselves without ceasing in plotting against the cardinal. Some of these Richelieu contrived to get banished, others he had arrested and put into the Bastille, and many of those whom he dreaded most, he caused to be condemned to death. While we hate his cruelty and dissimulation, we are forced to respect his courage and prefea-ed sence of mind. He gave a striking proof of these qualities in the manner in which he escaped the snare laid for him by Madame Chevreuse. This lady, who had great influence over Gaston, engaged that prince to go to the Chateau de Fleury, accompanied by several of his friends, to ask for a dinner of the cardinal. As they judged that Richelieu could not refuse the rites of hospitality to the prince, it was settled that the latter should, during the time of dinner, create a quarrel, and during the tumult stab Richelieu.

The cardinal was informed of this plan by the commander of Valançay, and without losing a moment, he hastened to Fontainebleau, where Gas

he, "I am informed of the honour which your royal highness designs

One may easily imagine how confounded Gaston must have looked. As to the Duchess de Chevreuse, Richelieu took care not to give her any time to devise a fresh plot against