put on when the scholars laugh and trifle, while saying to each, like Hue de Tabarie himself in his Ordène de Chevalerie,

"Que vous aijez bien en corage

De Diu servir tout vostre éage."

In the life of Mme. d'Esturville these points are touched on. But it is later, when the shores of qui, quæ, quod are reached, that this care yields lessons; for then what sacrifices to further the object of instruction! It might be a curious book that would represent in etching the various studies for which teachers are provided, as in that great German volume where we are shown how many things the young wise Kunig was taught; and every boy is a king in his mother's eyes. As, for instance, wie der jung weyss Kunig, die Musica und Saytenspiel lernnet erkennen, &c. * Here the financial prodigality is seen taking a right direction. But to the last there is a field reserved for the exercise of maternal care; for with all their love, such mothers never spoil its objects, though on this point alone they manifest their scruples, expressing fear at times if they ever witness the least impatience, however innocently evinced towards others, lest perchance, through over-petting of their little dears, they may have been accessory to it. Nevertheless such confidence on this head as she ought to have felt, seems not only natural, but consistent with the gravest lessons, as also with the most divine instincts. The mother of René d'Esgrigny, seeing him near death, and fast approaching to his God, desired him on one occasion to pray for a certain friend of theirs, adding, “Et n'oublie pas ses enfants, et surtout son fils, les garçons ont tant besoin de prières." The saintly boy replied, “Oui, je le ferai; mais je ne sais pourquoi, je prie mieux pour les grandes personnes. Il me semble qu'elles en ont plus besoin." However, in the instance more immediately before us, it is to be noted that if any one praised her children in their presence, she was pained and alarmed, and would find another topic for the conversation. But to return. It is related of Mme. d'Esturville, that she inspired her children with an aversion for the worldly

* Der weiss Kunig, Wien, 1775.

character. Who can estimate the value of such adorable lessons? I should like to know what there is of good that they do not include. You know what the poet says,

"Childhood," says a

Is it nothing to hear of such gifts? French author, "has natural graces; it has no need of factitious ones. It is a depraved taste which can like to see the forms and manners of the world in childhood. The world rests on conventions which no doubt have their reason, but it is not right to place them on a par with sacred and obligatory laws. A true child will be always just the thing, that is the principle, and that is what is forgotten when children are taught to distinguish themselves by acting and speaking like grown-up people according to conventional shows and rules. It is thus that the world is formed. It has only to compare positions and persons, each one striving to be more than another. This false pleasure and bitter suffering is the life of worldly people. Is it not terrible to instil into childhood these miserable passions? teaching it to compare, to envy, and to despise; whereas left to itself it would know nothing of all that, it being the age of equality and indifference. Nothing more shocking than a child who has the manners, mien, phrases, and dress of a grown-up person. People of taste lament when they see these lovely creatures, whose charm is in simplicity and unconsciousness, stupidly wrapped up in these stiff, swollen, garnished dresses, contending with people of fashion for richness and costliness of dress, and breathing with their elders the withering perfume of vanity. The principle of a wise education is to preserve and prolong childhood in the child as long as possible." It is hardly needless to add, that in such feelings she cordially participated.

In fine, we are reminded by the voice which lingers under these vaults of the wisdom of conformity with nature in regard

* Paul Janet, La Famille.

to the relation of mother and child. Thanks to that divine maternal tenderness, for the loss of which no lessons and no discipline, however ordained, can ever compensate, such a mother knows the heart of her children better than all the philosophers of the world, and she is loath to part with them.

"So doth the swan her downy cygnets save,

Keeping them prisoners underneath her wings."

She cannot bear to hear of children, under any pretext, without a very urgent necessity, being forcibly separated from their mothers. She can never comprehend how the state should be benefited, how religion should be advanced, how minds can gain solid advantages by separating the daughter from the mother, who, besides all that she had already suffered, is so ready to make still any sacrifice for her, counting all her own delights as nothing. She would make no distinction in favour of the higher classes, or to the prejudice of the lowest, when faith existed in a mother. The bond of blood she deems invincible. Like the poor queen in Shakspeare's Richard, she exclaims,

"Hath he set bounds between their love and me?

I am their mother; who shall bar me from them?"

Accustomed from an early age to hear the natural and legitimate voice of society in a Catholic country, which perhaps ought never to be wholly ignored, she thought that such things ought not to be without a grave cause for them. She thought that the family should continue to be somewhat,—that the will of parents was not an absolute nullity when it was a question of the destiny of a child. Nor even with regard to these views, when embracing the other sex, do we find that those who entertain them are left without any approval from dispassionate ob-` servers. "I fear nothing for a young man," says Janet, "so long as he retains the spirit of the family-l'esprit de famille; but if you deprive him of this altogether, I form no favourable expectations from whatever provision you may choose to make for him. There is no substitute for the love of home, and for the influence at least at short intervals of the maternal example.

The college without the family, is a barbarous and brutal expedient, to which I deem immeasurably preferable the family without the college *." These are the words of one who is himself a Professor of the University, and they occur in a work which has been crowned with academic honours, as useful to the state.

But it is time to close this visit. Let us repeat, as we depart, the lines of the poet, so doubly applicable to the person we have had in view,

"She was belov'd, she loved; she is, and doth;
But still, sweet love is food for fortune's tooth."

岭

what I do know.

OW go

which I disbelieve,

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CHAPTER IX.

with me, and with this holy man, into the chantry by. We are to hear to-day of some singular traits, that may be thought taken from a black-letter chronicle, of justice, humility, and charity, all leading to a great affection for the poor, and even to a familiarity with their fortunes; and here, again, I am to speak "Enemies," if there were ever any such,

shall say all this,

Then in a friend it will be cold modesty."

It appears, therefore, if one may more plainly say it without offence, that our proposed theme will possess the interest which belongs to a description of things, that are placed somewhat beyond the limits of ordinary observation. At least, the poet might be thought disposed to take this view of it; for he considers the pure spirit of justice to be a thing rather rare just at present, saying,

Whom the best might of conscience, truth, and hope,
For one day's little compass, has preserved
From painful and discreditable shocks

Of contradiction, from some vague desire

Culpably cherished, or corrupt relapse?

Profession mocks performance. Earth is sick,

And Heaven is weary of the better words

Which states and kingdoms utter when they talk
Of truth and justice. Turn to private life

And social neighbourhood; look we to ourselves.
How few who mingle with their fellow-men,
And still remain self-govern'd and apart,
Like this our honour'd friend."

Heinrich, the German traveller of the sixteenth century, seems to have been of an opinion somewhat similar, so far, at least, as Florentine manners, at one particular moment, were concerned; for he says that "all the citizens had two sets of scales, one for their neighbour, the other for themselves." Be that as it may, here we have to speak of one not so

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'Dejected, and habitually disposed

To seek in degradation of the kind

Excuse and solace for her own defects;"

but of one ever humble, who yet appeared to stand to every eye, and without the aid of any rhetoric, unless you qualify as such the use of plain English words necessary, to express your meaning, distinguished by the greatness of her soul, the nobleness of her inclinations, and the generosity of her heart, making "magnanimity and justice," as Sir Philip Sidney says, "to shine through all misty fearfulness and foggy desires;" justbut not according to advanced notions in this age of morality and progress, but rather as your ancient ballads would distinguish, according to that

66

old threed-bare Conscience that dwelt with Saint Peter *;" just-but so as to resemble the simplicity of Turenne, having

* Percy, ii. 271.