1853.] Flower saves Mrs. Harcourt. Flower was struck with the stillness of the place. Although the magistrate kept a number of servants, not a soul was to be seen. On hearing the sound of a horse's hoofs, Mr. Brade came out into the verandah. When he beheld the thieftaker, he stood aghast. He believed him to be dead: for Flower had enjoined Major Grimes not to mention the capture; and he contrived to bring his party into Sydney without being recognised upon the road. Is that you, Flower?' said Mr. Brade. It is,' said George. 'Is there nobody to take my horse to the stable P' 'I'm afraid there is not,' replied Mr. Brade. My rascally servants have all gone away.' Then I will tie the nag to the fence,' said Flower. And he did so ; and placing his hands in his pockets, and walking boldly up to the magistrate, and looking him full in the face, and becoming red with rage, he said, in a measured tone of voice Are you not a cowardly villain?' What do you mean, sir?' said Mr. Brade, pale with fear. 'Why do you turn white, and cower under my eye? Why do your hands shake? You are all alone. No one to come to you if you screamed for help! None to save you if you implored for mercy from a strong ruflian! You expected an innocent lamb, you wily wolf, and you find yourself face to face with a roaring lion.' And, seizing Mr. Brade by the arms, Flower pinioned him with his back to the wall, and glared hideously at him, grinding his teeth, while he foamed at the mouth, and the saliva ran down either side of his finelychiselled chin. 'Release me, Flower,' gasped Mr. Brade. You knew she was a lady. You knew she was an object of pity, such as the world never saw before. You knew that the end of her visit here to-day would have been her deaththat she would have killed herself. And yet you 'Release me, Flower.' 'Don't speak, or I'll take your life here, and spare you the disgrace and misery I am going to bring upon you. I will see you, before 415 three months have passed away, walking about the streets of Sydney in ragged clothes, and your toes peeping through your boots. You shall be starving, and compelled to pick up the half-crown I will throw to you, just as I would throw a bone to a hungry dog. You shall be horsewhipped, by a gentleman, in the public streets. You shall be spat upon. You shall be turned out of your office, and forbad to come near Government House. Your friends will not dare to countenance you-mark my words-you cowardly villain! And in your poverty and wretchedness, your vanity shall not be consoled by the reflection, that your name has been coupled with that of the lady you expected here this evening. No; you shall not have that satisfaction. Good evening to you, Mr. Brade.' CHAPTER XXIX. WHEN Flower left Mr. Brade he went forth in quest of Roberts. He knew all Roberts's old haunts, but he could not find him at any of them. From a woman, however, Flower learnt of Roberts's disaster on the race-course, and of his being stabbed by the Enchantress.' To her cottage he therefore repaired, and placed his ear to the shutter. He heard Roberts's voice. He was teaching the woman how to play double dummy. Flower knocked at the door, and as soon as it was opened he forced his way into the his rings entered his flesh, and one of them was broken. 'Don't make such a noise,' said the Enchantress, you will have all the police here.' 6 My dear Madam, I am all the police,' said Flower, and a pretty scrape you will get into for harbouring a convict, contrary to an act passed by the Governor in council. I am sorry to deprive you of this gentleman's 's company, but he must go with me, unless you will permit me to dust his jacket with this whip in your house. Yes, you really must give me leave,' and thereupon Flower seized Roberts by the hair of his head, and began to belabour him soundly. 'On second thoughts I will not take him with me, madam,' said Flower. I could not trust myself alone with him to-night. He may remain with you till two o'clock in the morning, and at that hour he may go home to his wife, and tell And so I was before I became so sunburnt,' returned Flower. 'I hear that you went to the races with my friend the Captain. While the Captain scrapes the mud off my boots, oblige me, madam, with the whole story, and I promise you I'll say nothing about finding a convict in your house at this hour of the night.' Roberts did not require to be told twice to remove the mud from Flower's boots, and the Enchantress, seeing him so employed, and knowing full well the extent of his power, began the story, which Flower enjoyed extremely; while he smoked a pipe and drank a bottle of pale ale which she produced. WHO IS SHE? FROM THE SPANISH OF QUEVEDO. 'TIS said a justice of the quorum, Who was no fool, When theft or murder came before 'em, At once to stop the lawyer's chatter, Let's probe the bottom of this matter. And this, in truth, was the proceeding To trace she agents at the breeding For oftentimes in face of day Because the judge forgets to say, In every law-suit which by man Put miracles apart, we can In each a woman figures,-maid, The nothing ever need be said If Adam lost his Paradise, 'Twas Eva's tripping; Some hidden thing beguiled her eyes, Or fig or pippin; From whence the author of our woes And all creation groaning knows If you should trace where once was Troy, And think of Grecia's guileful joy And ruthless band, Let your stern judgment Suspended be, 'twixt the two Until Homerus answers you,- Or if poor Blaize has spent his gold Till everything that could be sold Ask not what fatal star has ruled But ask how luckless Blaize was fooled, When in the street you hear a rout And one sore wounded falters out, Say 'requiescat' to the slain, The slayer, let him be, And at the next tap ask again, If on the bed of pain you see And of his grievous malady Let not of fever or catarrh But ask a wiser thing by far,- It is a sex both kind and chaste, The old and snubnosed are my taste; Like a poor coward, from the maid Both fair and free, And pop my question half afraid,- VOL. XLVIII. NO. CCLXXXVI. EE 417 MODERN FRENCH MEMOIRS. AMONG the memoirs which must be read and referred to, with a view to a more perfect light on the history of the Regent Orleans, we would mention the Mémoires Secrets et Correspondance inédite du Cardinal Dubois, collected together and collated by M. N. de Sevelinges, Chevalier of the order of St. Louis. These two volumes did not appear till 1815, nearly a century after the Cardinal's death. The title of Memoirs which the work bears would induce many to suppose that Dubois had himself written them with his own hand; but this would be an incorrect conclusion, and not exactly borne out by the facts. The memoirs are extracted from the correspondence of Dubois-a correspondence touching the authenticity of which there can be no doubt whatever. This correspondence was placed by Dubois himself in the hands of M. Le Dran, first clerk in the Foreign Office under the Cardinal, a gentleman who for many years aided and assisted the Minister in his most important labours, and who enjoyed his full confidence. So long as Le Dran lived there was no possibility of publishing the letters: a sufficient time had not elapsed from the death of the Cardinal, and persons yet living might be compromised. Le Dran left his precious deposit to the care of another employé in the Foreign Office, younger than himself, but already distinguished by discretion and talents M. Gerard de Rayneval. For a long time motives of delicacy and discretion induced M. de Rayneval to be as reserved and secret concerning the possession of these MSS. as his predecessors. But a month before his death, which happened in 1815, M. Rayneval confided the papers to M. de Sevelinges, who published them, with notes. There can be no doubt that the volumes contain valuable matter, more especially with reference to treaty-history. Lord Mahon, a careful and judicious reader, and particularly well up,' to use the current phrase, in French memoirs, remarks in his History The work, which is very valuable, is compiled from the correspondence of Dubois. I have found it particularly useful for the negotiations at Hanover and the Hague.' It also contains some valuable matter relative to the negotiations for the peace of Utrecht. But it is the correspondence and the occasional anecdotes and traits of character in the volumes that give to them the greatest interest. Correspondence, anecdotes, and pièces justificatives, however, all fail to give a just idea of the marvellous cleverness and adroitness of this remarkable man and able minister. The history of Dubois is altogether a curious one. He was the son of an apothecary in the small town of Brives la Gallicarde, in the department of Correze, in one of the most delightful climates of France: town, indeed, it would scarcely be called in England. Brives very much resembles a small Welsh or Irish village, and it may be supposed what the rank of an apothe cary was in such a place 197 years ago, for Dubois was born in 1696. In his earlier years the young man was alternately employed in the 'culling of simples,' in the handling the pestle and mortar, and in the other humbler offices of the petty provincial pharmacie. Even in these almost menial occupations the young fellow showed such quickness and intelligence that his father entered him of the college of Brives, with a view to make him a priest. Having received the tonsure at twelve or thirteen years of age, he travelled up to Paris, in the hope of attaining a bourse, of which, however, he was disappointed. Entering the college of Pompadour, he continued his studies, simultaneously improving his mind and polishing the boots of the principal. The fact was, that to eke out a subsistence, Dubois acted as the servant of the head of the house. He became the private tutor of the son of a tradesman named Maroy; subsequently entered the family of the President de Gourges, in the same capacity; * History of England, from the Peace of Utrecht, vol. i. p. 329. whence he transferred himself to the Marquis de Pleuvant, who held a confidential situation in the household of Monsieur. It was by the accident of his being in this last family that he became acquainted with M. de St. Laurent, the tutor of the Duke of Chartres, who subsequently became Duke of Orleans. Dubois was at first only entrusted with the most subordinate duties, for which Duclos, with somewhat of hard cynicism, says, he was properly clothed in order to give his paltry features the true look of an abbé, and le rendre presentable. Soon, however, the Prince and his preceptor were on the very best of terms. The wit, the readiness, the easy and familiar assurance of Dubois rendered him the greatest favourite. All the memoirs of the time, and more especially those of St. Simon and Duclos, aver that it was by his suppleness, and by his corrupting the mind of his pupil, that the young abbé gained an ascendancy over the Duke. There seems no reason to doubt the fact, though it is exaggerated by the two authors whom we have named. Dubois augmented his first favour by the most scandalous compliances. He became purveyor to the pleasures of the Duke, and triumphed over the easy virtue of many female victims. Such conduct might have aroused the anger of Louis XIV. and the formalist prudery of Madame de Maintenon, if Dubois had it not in his power to render an important service to the monarch. He induced the Duke to marry Mdlle. de Blois, one of the natural daughters of the King, and was rewarded with a canonry of St. Honoré and a rich benefice, without entering orders. On the death of Louis XIV., the Prince, whose preceptor he had been, obtained from the Parliament the position of Regent, which had been denied him by the Grand Monarque. There were now no limits to the hopes or the ambition of the young Dubois. He was sent to this country as minister plenipotentiary, and gave proofs, in his diplomatic character, of tact and talent. Triumphing over many obstacles, he concluded the triple, and subsequently the quadruple alliance, and completely changed the political system of France, uniting that country 419 with England. It cannot be denied that in this achievement Dubois exhibited unequalled boldness and dexterity. He had to triumph not only over the old routine diplomacy of Louis XIV., but over the prejudices of the French princes, and the personal antipathy of George the First towards the Regent. He had to triumph, too, over the careless indifference of the Regent himself, and over the Italian astuteness of the minister of Spain, the famous Alberoni. Success completely crowned his efforts. The happy diplomate now sought ecclesiastical honours. At the death of Cardinal de la Tremouille, the profligate plenipotentiary, who had never been a priest, wished to become archbishop of Cambrai. You archbishop!' said the Regent. Mais tu es un sacre! Quel est l'autre sacre qui voudra te sacrer?' 'If that be the only difficulty,' rejoined Dubois, 'the thing is already done, for here is your Highness's first almoner in the anti-chamber, who will be happy at the preference.' The Bishop of Nantes was at once introduced, and in one day Dubois, who was merely tonsured, received minor orders, the orders of sub-deacon, deacon, priest, and bishop. It is strange, but nevertheless true, that among the bishops who answered for the purity and theological science of Dubois, and who averred that he was fit to sit in the see filled only five years before by the persuasive and gentle Fenélon, was the great preacher Masillon, bishop of Meaux. In the following year, Dubois ascended a step higher in the ecclesiastical ladder; for, thanks to the interference of his agents, the Jesuit Laffiteau and the Abbé de Tencin -thanks to the efforts of George I. and the Pretender at the Eternal City, the Bishop became the Cardinal Dubois. A clever fellow the son of the apothecary must undoubtedly have been to interest in his favour at the court of Rome the Protestant George the First and the Romancatholic Pretender. To George Dubois promised that he would disable and destroy the Pretender; to the Pretender he promised that he would restore the Stuarts to the throne of their ancestors. Both heretic King and orthodox Pretender |