tezan.

Tous fit madame de Barre HE great fhare the amour of

had in the caufe of feveral public tranfactions, and the difgrace of that lady fince the death of that prince, may well make the public fomewhat inquifitive in regard to the life and adventures of that lady; and we are glad we have it in our power to fatisfy the curiofity of our readers, with the following authentic memoirs, which came from undoubted authority.

Whilst she was in the zenith of her power, the court fycophants neither faid or wrote any thing about her that could be, in the smallest manner, difagreeable; on the contrary nothing but panegyric and adulation was produced, although nine tenths of the inhabitants of Paris could from their own knowledge contradict every flattering affertion of her birth and courfe of life. Many people faid fhe was the daughter of an Irifh officer of the name of Barry; but her name was really derived from her husband: others faid that husband was an Irish officer himself. And there were not wanting fome of that nation who took a pride in July, 1774.

fhine of favour has wained upon her, people are not afraid to speak the truth without difguife, and the public may now be acquainted with the real transactions of her chequered life.

In the year 1742 Marie Barbe Combejean was cook in the family of Monfieur Laval, an old advocate of the parliament of Paris. She was a very pretty fmart girl, a native of Crotoy, in the province of Picardy. After fome time the was perceived to grow bulky, the quited her fervice, and at length was delivered of a girl, at the houfe of one Grelot, a revendeufe, or feller of old cloaths, in the Halle of Paris. As Marie Barbe had never been married, there were many con-jectures about the father of the child; fome would give that honour to her maf ter, but he, alas! was turned of eighty. Some gueffed one fervant of the family and fome another, but an exclamation of the fair cook, whilft in labour, put the faddle on the right horfe, fhe was heard frequently to cry out, in the extremity of her pain, O Pere Ange! Pere Ange!

A a a

que

que tu as tort de me faire tant fouffrir!O father Angel! father Angel! how are you to blame, to make me fuffer fo much! it was then remembered that father Angel, a capuchin friar, had been very often at the house of Monfieur Laval, and had always taken particular notice of the pretty cook, fo that the girl was univerfally acknowledged as his child.

Little madamoifelle Combejean was left to the care of Grelot, who as foon as as fhe was able, taught her to work, and made her, by degrees, useful to her in her business, in mending and vamping up the caft cloaths in which the dealt. As for the mother she went foon after with a family to Martinique and nothing certain has been heard of her fince.

In the year 1755 Grelot died, leaving her little charge at the age of thirteen, with a large ftock of beauty and vivaciay; a tolerable knowledge in the bufi nefs of a femstress; very little education, and lefs money. However what cash fhe had, the employed in buying linen and lace, which the made up into a kind of millinary goods, which carrying in a bandbox under her arm, fhe offered to fale from house to house.

By these means fhe gained a fcanty living till her beauty was full bloomed, and The found the fale of that more profitable than that of her caps, ruffles and handkerchiefs.

After about two years promifcuous traffic of her charms, and in the year 1759 fhe attracted the notice of Monfieur La Vauvenerdiere, a gentleman of fortune, who took elegant lodgings for her, and kept her for fome time in fplendor: but as he was a man of wit and taste he foon grew difgufted with beauty alone; and, as her want of education rendered her a very unfit companion, he discarded her at the end of nine months,

Vanity has always a great fhare in a Frenchman's amours. Whilft the lived with this gentleman he brought fundry of his acquaintance to behold L'Ange de Vauvenerdiere, Vauvenerdier's angel, as fhe was punningly called, in allufion to the name of her father. Amongst those was the Marquis de Barre, a nobleman, who having been stripped of his fortune at gaming, had commenced fharper, and fought to reemburfe himself by the fame arts to which he had been long a bubble. He therefore took her as foon as the was ted by his friend; but it was not long

before he transferred her to Monfieur St. Foix, an under fecretary in the foreign department, with whom the remained about a year.

By this time the Marquis de Barre had obtained permiffion, probably through the means of Monfieur St. Foix, to open a brelan, or gaming houfe, and St. Foix having expreffed that he was tired of his miftrefs, the marquis agreed to take her back again. He had, its true, already gratified his paffion for her, but he now thought he might make her fubfervient to his intereft; and ufe her fair face as a powerful means of drawing company to his houfe: he accordingly gave her proper inftructions, with full liberty to make what use the pleafed of her favours, provided they were to fhare the profit of her difpofing of them; and that the would implicitly follow his prudent directions, to make the moft of her charms. this purpose, knowing that though her perfon might attract lovers, he had neither education nor converfation to secure them for any time; he employed propermafters to inftruct her in neceffary accomplishments; but ftill, in fpite of all his endeavours, fhe was fo deficient in natural requifites, that no pains could make her a woman of fenfe or wit; but nevertheless whilft the remained there, fhe had many lovers, and the Marquis received great emolument from the fale of her favours.

+

For

The long indifpofition of Madame de Pompadour, left a vacuity in the King's mind, which could be only filled by a variety of miftreffes; and her death laid him open to the attacks of every beauty of the court, who were constantly laying fnares to entrap the royal heart. But Louis, who in the affairs of women, fought rather for the gratification of fenfe than fentiment, made no permanent connexions; but employed one La Bel as his purveyor of, beauty, and gave him the office of pimp in ordinary and fuperintendant of the occafional feraglio in the Pare au Cerfs, or Deer Park,

About the beginning of the year 1767. Monfieur Le Bel being in fearch of frefli beauty for his maffer, was led by public fame to the Marquis de Barre's houfe. He found our heroine to his taste, and thought the might please the King. He had indeed conceived a paffion for her himself, but de Barre, to

whom

whom he had communicated his defigns, foon convinced him that introducing her to the King, might be of effential fervice to all three: fhe was called to the council and preliminaries were foon fettled. She was to be prefented to the King, and to follow the united advice of both De Barre and La Bel, to fecure his Majefty's affections. La Bel was to be gratified by a participation of her favours; and De Barre was to share with her the King's bounty.

His Majefty expreffed great fatisfaction at his first interview with Mademoiselle; he repeatedly fent for her, and every time became more and more pleased with her, fo that he refolved at length to felect her for his avowed miftrefs. In order to which, according to his maxim, it was to be firft married. The Marquis was not long before he found a husband for her, in his own brother, the Count de Barre, from which time he took the name by which the is now known, of the Countefs de Barre.

It may be a matter of furprize with many of our readers, how a woman that has been described to be very deficient in fenfe, and the charms of converfation, could gain an afcendency over the King, who might have chofen a thoufand women far fuperior to her in every natural accomplishment. But the cafe was different: all with whom he had any familiar commerce, feemed rather intimidated; and converfed with him with an awe and reservedness that foon difgufted him, who had rather have had them pleafed with the man, than feem to fubmit folely to the monarch. De Barre had none of that timid fhynefs in her compofition; fhe did not feem framed to be in awe of any man to whom he was fuppofed to give pleasure. After the first interview, he behaved to him without the leaft referve; talked, joked, and played with him with the fame familiarity as she had been accustomed with her lefs elevated lovers. This behaviour was quite new to Louis; it flattered his felf love when he thought he pleafed her more as a man than a King. She became quite neceffary for his hours of relaxation; he could not pafs a day without her company, which charmed him the more as he did not pretend to be wifer than himself; and thus the en

tangled him in chains which were not broken but by death.

We have hitherto feen De Barre only in the light of the fille de joye; we must now confider her as the politician; for it is certain fhe affected the state affairs of France in a most abundant measure; in all which the acted as the tool of the Dukes of Richelieu and Aguillon, and of her former keeper the Marquis; for as for her husband, he became the tool of all four.

(To be concluded in our next.)

The Juft Revenge. An hiftorical Fat. (Written exprefly for the Hibernian Magazine.)

A

NDREW, King of Hungary, was

a prince of great courage, humanity, and love of juftice. His fole ftudy was to make his people happy, and his kingdom flourishing; to which end he omitted nothing that could tend to their felicity, or to the aggrandifement of his dominions, over which he ruled with the greatest mild nefs, accompanied with the ftrictest justice.

He had married Elidura, fifter to the reigning Count of Moravia, a woman of compleat beauty, and remarkable in her affection for her royal confort. Thus the King was fupremely happy in both his public and private capacity; and tafted all the joys which a beloved hufband or a refpected monarch could poffibly feel; when one foible brought diforder, diftrefs, and bloodshed into his family; and planted ever-pointed thorns in his noble bofom.

Mistaken piety has ever been attended with fatal confequences. In the times in which Andrew reigned, one fpecies of it overfpread the chriftian world; a mifguided zeal for the recovery of the holy land from the Sarazens, who then poffeffed it, had warped the minds of the Kings of Europe from strict juftice: This was enflamed by the peachings of the clergy (perhaps for private and lucrative ends) and Croifades were every where the reigning folly of the age. Crimes of the blackest dye were commuted for fo many years fervice in Palestine; and an expedition thither, was made, by feveral Popes, the only road to falvation.

In thefe circumftances, it is not won A aa 2 derfu

derful that a prince of Andrew's piety and magnanimity, fhould give into them. As his prudence and valour were well known, he was appointed the chief and general of the Croifade, fet on foot in the year 1216, and neither the love and happiness of his people, nor the tender endearments of his Queen were of fufficient power to detain him, when he thought religion and glory demanded his abfence. He fat out for Conftantinople, to wait for the affembling of the Italian Croifades, and depart with them and thofe of other countries, already afsembled, as soon as they should arrive, to attempt the recovery of the holy fepulchre from the infidels.

However, before his departure, he took every precaution in his power to fecure the happiness of his Queen and people during his abfence. He had alloted for her the royal palace, with a fufficient fupport suitable to her dignity, and had appointed a number of ladies of the first rank to attend her, and alleviate her melancholy. In regard to his kingdom, he had no other care but for its internal police and the due administration of juftice, for the treaties entered into with the furrounding states, on account of the Croisade, left him nothing to fear, in regard to any attacks being made upon it.

The Palatine of Hungary, named Banchannus, was the nobleman to whom the King confided the adminiftration of public affairs. His zeal, fidelity, juftice, and prudence, were well known to his majefty; and he was appointed fole regent of Hungary, during the abfence of the King; with a ftriét charge to be impartial in the administration of justice without any respect to the rank of the offenders.

The King departed amidst the tears of his Queen, and the prayers, bleffings, and good wishes of his people, and foon arrived at Conflantinople.

For fome months after every thing went well in Hungary. The regent difcharged his duty in all refpects, proving himself well worthy of the confidence with which he had been honoured; and whilt he devoted all his time to the business of the ftate, his lovely Gertrude (a lady of most extraordinary beauty and virtue, to whom he had been married about three years) endeavoured by every of Tiduity about the Queen, to

alleviate the unhappiness occafioned by the abfence of the King her husband.

The regent having fettled every thing with the greatest propriety in the capital, went to vifit the other parts of the kingdom, to fee that peace and good order were univerfally established: and made the tour of the whole frontier.

He was but just departed when the Count of Moravia, brother to the Queen, and whom fhe loved with the utmost tenderness, arrived to pay that princefs a vifit. For a while nothing was feen but joy and festivity, and the attention of the whole court was engroffed by feafts and merriment; but alas! the dangerous poifon of love foon entered amongst these amusements. The Count of Moravia had feen the beautiful Gertrude, and had become deeply enamoured of her. Proud of his rank, and vain of his youth and perfonal accomplishments, he prefumed to make her acquainted with his paffion, but met with the repulse he deserved; not indeed from her tongue, for fhe did not think him deferving of an answer, but by a proper severity, expreffed in her countenance and manners.

This rebuke, and her conftantly fhunning every opportunity of being spoken to by the Count, had the ufual effects. It piqued his pride and augmented his defires, which at laft grew fo violent, that he no longer relished the public fpectacles, invented for his amusement; but loathed both his food and company; fought folitude; and his pallid countenance, and waining form, teftified openly that he laboured under fome fecret anguifh of mind.

The Queen was greatly fhocked at this change; as the had ever the greateft affection for her brother, she laboured to difcover the caufe; for a long time he refifted her entreaties, till at length he told her, he could not live without the fight of Gertrude, who, through fear of increafing his paffion, had left the court, and refided at her husband's palace, waiting his return.

There are many follies and vices which fpring from virtues in excess. Such was the over piety of King Andrew, which eftranged him from his own court, and gave room to the dreadful calamities which enfued therefrom; fuch was the over affection which the Queen bore her brother, which prompt

ed her to effect his cure, though at the expence of virtue, justice, and a lady's honour.

The Queen recalled Gertrude to court, who could not refift the poffitive commands of her fovereign; and the Count, happy in the fight of what he fo ardently loved, for fear of difpleafing her, diffembled his fentiments; and the most respectful behaviour fucceeded, in appearance, to the fire and eagerness which had before accompanied his pafLion.

This discreet conduct, the effect of the Queen's advice, impofed on the virtuous Gertrude: who thinking herself secure, and that the Count had got the better of his adulterous paffion, continued to appear at court; till one fatal day, the Queen, pretending fome particular bufinefs, conducted her into a retired apartment of the palace; where having locked the door, fhe abandoned her to the criminal defires of her brother, who had been fecreted by the Queen in a closet. The abused Gertrude left the room with fhame in her countenance and grief in her heart. She fhut herself up in her own palace, where the bewailed in fecret the Count's crime and her own miffortune. She fhut out the day light, and faw no one but one old lady, who had been her nurse.

In about a fortnight after this difafter, the Regent returned: borne on the wings of love he ran to his wife's apartment, and held out his arms with eagerness to embrace her. Gertrude, overpowered with anguifh, repulfed him. Stop, my Lord," faid the," approach me not; but rather fly from a wife who is no longer worthy of thy chafte embraces. An audacious wretch, has, by force, defiled your bed, and the Queen his fifter, was not afhamed to betray me to him. I should have already punithed this crime on myself, had not religion forbidden me to attempt ought against my own life. But that prohibition does not extend to you, you have a double right as my hufband and my judge. Strike then the ftroke of juftice, I am too criminal, for, alas! I am dithonoured. I fue for death, I beg it as a favour, I demand justice, I claim it as a right. Prevent me then from furviving my fhame and my difgrace."

The Regent, tho' overwhelmed with grief, raised her from his feet, took her

in his arms and ftrove to comfert her. Gertrude, faid he, an involuntary fault, like yours, is in the eye of strit justice, as well as of tender love, a misfortune, not a crime: which fhould I punish in you would ftain the character which I have univerfally acquired of an upright and impartial judge. Pity is your due, death the punishment of those who have injured you and me. The violence that has been committed against you hath not altered the purity of your mind. I intreat, nay I command you to keep this affair a total fecret, and retire immediately to the convent of Quinque Ecclefia, where my fifter is abbefs; till I have found an opportunity for a just vengeance, proportionate to the enormity of the offence."

The forrowful Gertrude obeyed, and departed in the night for the convent, whilft the Regent meditated on what was to be done.

The Count was deftined for the first victim of his juftice, but he had retired to his own country the day after he had committed this horrid crime. The Regent went next morning to the court, and telling the Queen he had letters to communicate to her from the King, engaged her to go into her closet, where having reproached her in the most bitter terms for her criminal confederacy with the Count, and her treachery to his wife, he told her, "as Regent of the kingdom, in her husband's abfence he was obliged to execute ftrict juftice; that as fle was a criminal of the highest rank he would do that justice himself, and not delegate it to a common executioner," on which he plunged his dagger in her heart, and leaving her weltering in her blood, he went with the dagger fill reeking, to the council, which he had ordered to be convened, and there publicly proclaimed his injury and his revenge. Then, mounting his horfe, and attended by fome nobles who were witneffes of this dreadful catastrophe, he departed for Conftantinople, where the King yet was; whilst the aftonifhed court, from a mixture of surprise and refpect, never attempted to stop him.

(To be concluded in our next.)