utor, "politicians to vary the
excitement! How I hate political women!

"_Alda._ Why do you hate them?

"_Medon._ Because they are mischievous.

"_Alda._ But why are they mischievous?

"_Medon._ Why?--why are they mischievous? Nay, ask them, or ask the
father of all mischief, who has not a more efficient instrument to
further his designs in this world than a woman run mad with politics.
The number of political, intriguing women of this time, whose boudoirs
and drawing-rooms are the _foyers_ of party spirit, is another trait of
resemblance between the state of society now and that which existed at
Paris before the Revolution."

In another place, however, the same judicious and usually discriminating
writer is betrayed into giving--more from conjecture, it would seem,
than close acquaintance with the facts of her life--an historically
false and singularly unjust estimate of Madame de Longueville's
character.

"_Alda._ Women are illustrious in history, not from what they have been
in themselves, but generally in proportion to the mischief they have
done or caused. * * * Of those which have been handed down to us by many
different authorities under different aspects, we cannot judge without
prejudice; in others there occur certain chasms which it is difficult to
supply; and hence inconsistencies we have no means of reconciling,
though doubtless they might be reconciled if we knew the whole, instead
of a part.

"_Medon._ But instance--instance!

"_Alda._ Do you remember that Duchess de Longueville, whose beautiful
picture we were looking at yesterday?--the heroine of the Fronde?--think
of that woman--bold, intriguing, profligate, vain, ambitious,
factious!--who made rebels with a smile; or if that were not enough, the
lady was not scrupulous,--apparently without principle as without shame,
nothing was _too_ much! And then think of the same woman protecting the
virtuous philosopher Arnauld,[3] when he was denounced and condemned,
and from motives which her worst enemies could not malign, secreting him
in her house, unknown even to her servants--preparing his food herself,
watching for his safety, and at length saving him. Her tenderness, her
patience, her discretion, her disinterested benevolence not only defied
danger (that were little to a woman of her temper), but endured a
lengthened trial, all the ennui caused by the necessity of keeping her
house, continued self-control, and the thousand small daily sacrifices