ly, Bonaparte, who was born at the decease of
the marchioness, owed to her his title of French citizen.

Women look not to the future; their reign is from day to day; women of
genius, who have at various epochs sought to govern the world, have never
contemplated the clouds which might be gathering in the distance; they
have been able to see clearly enough within a narrow circle traced around
them, but have never succeeded in piercing the shadows of futurity.
"_Apres moi le deluge_," was Madame de Pompadour's motto.

The eighteenth century was a century of striking contrasts. The prime
minister after Cardinal de Fleury was Madame de Pompadour. With the
cardinal a blind religion protected the throne against the parliament;
with the rise of the marchioness's power we perceive the first dawnings
of philosophy, tormenting in turns both the clergy and the parliament.
Under Madame de Pompadour's direction the king, had he been only as bold
and determined as his mistress, would have become a greater king than
ever. The cardinal was miserly and avaricious, the marchioness liberal to
prodigality; she always said, and justly too, that money ought to flow
freely from the throne like a generous stream, fertilizing and humanizing
the entire State. The cardinal had been hostile to Austria, and favorable
to Prussia; the marchioness made war with Frederick to humor
Marie-Therese. The battle of Rosbach certainly belied her policy, but, to
use her own words, "Had she the privilege of making heroes?"

And after all, is the historian justified in accusing this woman of all
the dishonors and defeats of the reign of Louis XV.? She attained to
power just as the old legitimate royalty--the royalty, as the French
would call it, _par la grace de Dieu_--was fast giving way before the
royalty of opinion. There was nothing left to be done at Versailles,
simply because in Paris the power was already in the hands of Voltaire,
Montesquieu, Rousseau, and Diderot. And so well did Madame de Pompadour
comprehend this future royalty, that far from seeking to arrest its
progress, she, on the contrary, sought to meet it half way. For we do not
find her openly protecting and encouraging the philosophers of the day;
those very men who, by the mere force of ideas, were destined to
overthrow that throne on which she herself was seated! Thus we find also
the various painters of the time, in their several portraits of the
favorite, never failing to represent her s