courtesy, and preserved very little of the burly bearing, or the sturdy manners or opinions of a Republican.

Poor Julien le Jeune, like D'Alembert, had the gift of shedding tears at pleasure, to which don le larmes that belonged to D'Alembert, La Harpe was indebted for the success of one of his dramatic pieces.

"C'est à ce don de larmes que La Harpe dut le succès de sa Melanie. L'etiquette voulait qu'on eut pleuré à ce drame. D'Alembert ne manquait jamais d'accompagner La Harpe. Il prenait un air sérieux et composé, qui fixait d'abord l'attention. Au premier acte il faisait remarquer les apercues philosophiques de l'ouvrage; en suite profitant du talent qu'il avait pour la pantomine, il pleurait toujours aux mêmes endroits, ce qui imposait aux femmes la nécessité, de s'attendrir -et comment auraient elles eu les yeux secs lorsqu'un philosophe fondait en larmes ?"-Tom. ii. 10.

It used to be a scene, that it was most difficult to witness with due restraint, and certainly not without great efforts at external composure-when Monsieur Julien le Jeune, all radiant with smiles and overflowing with urbanity, having paid his devoirs to her Ladyship, would be approached by Count D'Orsay, and with the eyes of the whole circle fixed on him (duly prepared to expect amusement), the poor old man would be entreated to favour Lady Blessington with the recital of another canto of his political afflictions. Then Julien would protest he had read all that was worth reading to her Ladyship, but at length would yield to the persuasions of Lady Blessington, with looks and gestures which plainly said, “Infandum Regina jubas renovare dolorem.”

On the first occasion of my witnessing this scene, Julien had just gone through the usual formula of praying to be excused, and had made the protestation above referred to, when D'Orsay, with a gravity that was truly admirable, and surprising how it could be maintained, overcame all the re

e

luctance assumed by poor old Julien, to produce the poem. expressly brought for recital, by renewed supplications, and on a novel plea for the reading of it.

There was one present the Count observed, who had never heard the "Chagrins," long and earnestly as he desired that gratification" N'est ce pas Madden, vous n'avez jamais entendu les Chagrins politiques de notre cher ami Monsieur Julien ?"

All the reply that could be given to the inquiry was— "Jamais."

"Allons mon ami," continued D'Orsay. "Ce pauvre Madden a bien besoin d'entendre vos chagrins politiques-il a les siens aussi-(I had recently suffered at the hands of some reviewers)-Il à souffert-lui-il a des sympathies pour Jes blessés, il faut le donner cette triste plaisir-N'est ce pas Madden ?"

Another dire effort to respond in the affirmative-“ Oui, Monsieur le Comte."

Mons. Julien, after playing off for some minutes all the diffident airs of a bashful young lady dying to sing and protesting she cannot, placed himself at the upper end of the room, near a table with wax lights, pulled the roll of paper from his breast pocket, and began to recite his "Chagrins Politiques" in a most lugubrious tone, like Mademoiselle Duchesnois-avec des pleurs dans sa voix. The saloon was crowded with distinguished guests. On the left hand of the tender-hearted poet and most doleful reciter of his own sorrows-this quondam secretary of Robespierre-was Lady Blessington in her well-known fauteuil, looking most intently, and with apparent anxious solicitude, full in the face of the dolorous reciter. But it would not do for one listening to the "Chagrins," to look too curiously into the eyes of that lady, lest he might perceive any twinkling there indicative of internal hilarity of a communicative kind. On the

other side of Mons. Julien, but somewhat in front of him, sat Count D'Orsay, with a handkerchief occasionally lifted to his eyes; and ever and anon, a plaudit or an exclamation of pain was uttered by him at the recital of some particular "Chagrin." At the very instant when the accents of the reciter were becoming most exceedingly lugubrious and ludicrous, and the difficulty of refraining from laughter was at its height, D'Orsay was heard to whisper in a sotto voce, as he leaned his head over the back of the chair I sat on-" Pleurez donc !"

Doctor Quin, who was present at this scene, one of the richest, certainly, I ever witnessed, during the recital, contributed largely to its effect. Whenever D'Orsay would seize on some particular passage, and exclaim, "Ah que c'est beau!" then would Quin's "magnifique !" "superbe !" "vraiement beau!" be intonated with all due solemnity, and a call for that moving passage over again would be preferred, and kindly complied with, so that there was not one of Mons. Julien's" Chagrins Politiques" which was not received with the most marked attention and applause.

At the conclusion of each "Chagrin," poor Chagrin," poor Julien's eyes were always sure to be bathed with tears, and as much so, at the latest recital of his oft-repeated griefs, as at the earliest delivery of them.

It was always in this melting mood, at the conclusion of a recital, he was again conducted by the hand to the fauteuil of Lady Blessington by D'Orsay, and there bending low, as the noble lady of the mansion graciously smiled on him, he received compliments and consolations, most literally bestowed on his "Chagrins Politiques."

Of one of those displays of D'Orsay's peculiar power in drawing out absurd, eccentric, or outré people, of a similar kind, one of the most distinguished writers of his time thus writes, in April, 1838 :

"Count D'Orsay may well speak of an evening being a happy one, to whose happiness he contributed so largely. It would be absurd if one did not know it to be true, to hear Dickens tell, as he has done ever since, of Count D'Orsay's power of drawing out always the best elements of the society around him, and of miraculously putting out the worst. Certainly I never saw it so marvellously exhibited as on the night in question. I shall think of him hereafter unceasingly, with the two guests that sat on either side of him that night. But it has been impossible for me to think of him at any time, since I have known him, but with the utmost admiration, affection, and respect, which genius and kindness can suggest to every one."

The last time I met Monsieur Julien was at a breakfast given by Colonel Leicester Stanhope, on which occasion many remarkable persons were assembled. Julien, at that period, had abandoned his "Chagrins Politiques," and adopted a new plan of attracting attention. He exhibited a small dial, on the circumference of which, in opposite directions, moral and evil tendencies were marked, and to these a movable index pointed, shewing the virtue to be cultivated when any particular defect in character was referred to. This instrument Monsieur Julien called his "Horloge Moral" The old man was lapsing fast into second childhood, but with his senility, a large dash of charlatanerie was very obviously combined. On the occasion I allude to, a brother of Napoleon, one of the Ex-Kings of the Buonaparte family, was present for a short time, but on seeing Monsieur Julien he immediately departed. On the same occasion, L. E. L., who was one of the guests, was singled out by Julien for special instruction in the use of the "Horloge Moral," and she allowed herself to be victimized with most exemplary patience and good humour, while Monsieur Julien was shewing off the latest product of his ethical and inventive faculties.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE BREAK-UP AT GORE HOUSE.

POOR Lady Blessington, when she launched into the enormous expenditure of her magnificent establishments, first in Seamore Place, next in Kensington Gore, had little idea of the difficulties of her position in the fashionable world, with a jointure of £2000 a year, to meet all the extensive and incessant claims on her resources, and those claims on them also of at least seven or eight persons, members of her family, who were mainly dependent on her. Little was she aware of the nature of those literary pursuits, and the precariousness of their remuneration, from which she imagined she could derive secure and permanent emolument, that would make such an addition to her ordinary income as would enable her to make head against the vast expenditure of her mode of life; an expenditure which the most constant anxiety to reduce within reasonable limits, by an economy of the most rigid kind in small household matters, was wholly inadequate to accomplish.*

A lady of quality, who sits down in fashionable life to get a livelihood by literature, or a large portion of the means necessary to sustain her in that position, at the hands of pub

*Lady Blessington's punctuality and strictness in examining accounts, at regular periods, inquiring into expenditure by servants, orders given to tradesmen, and the use made of ordinary articles of consumption, were remarkable. She kept a book of dinners, in which the names of all persons at each entertainment were set down; this register of guests served a double purpose, as a reference for dates, and a check on the accounts of her maitre d'hotel.