s like passing from the soft
light and tranquillity of a summer evening to the glare and confusion
of perpetual fireworks. Of all the unique figures of a masquerading age
this small and ambitious princess was perhaps the most striking, the
most pervading. It was by no means her aim to take her place in the
world as queen of a salon. Louise-Benedicte de Bourbon belonged to the
royal race, and this was by far the most vivid fact in her life. She
was but a few steps from the throne, and political intrigues played a
conspicuous part in her singular career. But while she waited for the
supreme power to which she aspired, and later, when the feverish dream
of her life was ended, she must be amused, and her diversions must have
an intellectual and imaginative flavor. Wits, artists, literary men, and
savants were alike welcome at Sceaux, if they amused her and entertained
her guests. "One lived there by esprit, and esprit is my God," said Mme.
du Deffand, who was among the brightest ornaments of this circle.

Born in 1676, the Duchesse du Maine lived through the first half of
the next century, of which her little court was one of the most notable
features. Scarcely above the stature of a child of ten years, slightly
deformed, with a fair face lighted by fine eyes; classically though
superficially educated; gifted in conversation, witty, brilliant,
adoring talent, but cherishing all the prejudices of the old
noblesse--she represented in a superlative degree the passion for esprit
which lent such exceptional brilliancy to the social life of the time.

In character the duchess was capricious and passionate. "If she were as
good as she is wicked," said the sharp-tongued Palatine, "there would be
nothing to say against her. She is tranquil during the day and passes it
playing at cards, but at its close the extravagances and fits of passion
begin; she torments her husband, her children, her servants, to such
a point that they do not know which way to turn." Her will brooked no
opposition. When forced to leave the Tuileries after the collapse of her
little bubble of political power, she deliberately broke every article
of value in her apartments, consigning mirrors, vases, statues,
porcelains alike to a common ruin, that no one else might enjoy them
after her. This fiery scion of a powerful family, who had inherited its
pride, its ambition, its uncontrollable passions, and its colossal will,
had little patience with the serene tempera