The rainbow flashing of the fountains, and gleam of statues-the grand stairs of the terrace-they could almost fancy they distinguished. It was he who first broke the thread of their interest. Well, he shouldn't care to have seen King Louis XVI. ; he had once seen George III. It was easy enough to see him, in fact; if you only but knew it was he. He had seen a boy at Eton, fag to a friend of his, who was once spoken to a good while at a turnstile in Windsor Park by an elderly gentleman in drab gaiters, a nankeen waistcoat, and a blue coat with bright buttons; and when a ranger came up afterwards from behind, and told him it was the king, he nearly fainted. He could never learn anything after that, and always turned pale at the sight of a gold sovereign, so he had to be sent to sea. "My dear young gentleman," said Mr Thorpe seriously, "the King of France is a much more powerful monarch than even His Majesty King George! I must beg to correct you on a point of history. He is absolute ruler, not only of all the land we see, but over the property, nay, the very persons of his subjects-he is the State himself as the great Louis XIV. so emphatically told his nobles. Think of those lettres du cachet, given away even blank in thousands upon thousands-a kind of money, as it were exchanged by the courtiers for all kinds of objects-with which, for all one knows, were he worth notice from some enemy, he may be sent to a Bastille on no account whatever, to remain there unknown the rest of his life!" Charles Willoughby still endeavoured to look indifferent, though the slight whistle died between his teeth, while he pushed his cap down on his head, deeply resolved never to lift it to a French king. Mr Thorpe, drawn into unwonted earnestness, by the expression of the ladies' faces, sought to reassure them. "The character of the present king is such as to make this power a benefit," he said. "There seems a rapid decrease of superstition in the church. Really, Lady Willoughby, there was something idolatrous in this excessive honour to a human being! To con ceive that at his Majesty's death, while the body lay for forty days embalmed in lead, a waxen effigy was placed in the grand hall of entertainment, and served by gentlemen-waiters at the usual times, while the meal was blessed by the almoner, the meat carved, and the wine presented to the figure; its hands were washed and thanks returned. The queen, in white mourning-" "In white mourning ?" inquired the governess, with interest. "In white, I think, Mrs Masonsat for six weeks in a chamber lighted by lamps alone. For a whole year she could not stir out of her own apartments, if she had received the intelligence there. Although similar ceremonies were observed after her own decease." The feminine impression of former evils in France grew deep. The tutor could not say whether his present majesty would require such honours. There was only one person of inferior rank who had ever been distinguished by a shade of the same respect, though for a shorter time her effigy had sat. It was the far Gabrielle d'Estrées. "Who was she ?" Rose asked,-" and why" "Miss Willoughby," interrupted Mrs Mason with a sudden air of severity, rustling and extending and drawing herself erect, "there are some questions too shocking and improper for us to ask?" Mr Thorpe, with a frightened look, sat dumb in his saddle; yet Mrs Mason professed to know history, and her charge must surely learn it: nay, unknown to them all, among the distant chateaus, palaces, and mansions they were gazing at, were St Germain's in the blue eminence, which the great Louis had given to La Vallière when he wearied of her for Madame de Montespan; and Luciennes, where Madame du Barry was then living in fashionable retirement. But the one had been gallant, stately even in his vices; the royal patron of the other, in his dissipations, had at least been elegant. Probably Mr Thorpe's confusion led him to a graver topic. "The chronicler I have lately perused," he said, hastily, "is really worth study. Nothing can be so mournfully salutary. As the coffin there is considerable profit to be found." was borne at night to yonder Notre Dame, and thence thereafter to the ancient town of St Denis, the streets were hung with black, and before every house was planted a tall lighted torch of white wax. First went the Capuchins, in their coarse sackcloth girt with ropes, bearing their huge cross, crowned with thorns-then five hundred poor men, under their bailiff, all in mourning as for a father-the magistrates and courts of justice, the parliament of Paris in rich sable furs, the high clergy in purple and goldfollowed by the funeral car drawn by white horses, covered with black velvet crossed with white satin, and the long train of officers of the household." The great knowledge of the tutor as to textile fabrics interested Mrs Mason. "Think of the expense!" Lady Willoughby said. "This vast procession," pursued Mr Thorpe with solemnity, "went on in silence, while, as the chronicler quaintly expresses it, ever and aye the royal musicians made a sound of lamentation, with instruments clothed in crape, very fierce and marvellously dolorous to hear or to behold, until they arrived at the church of St Denis, -blessed be his name! And the bier was borne into the choir, it being a-blaze with lamps and tapers beyond number, and the service lasted for the King's soul several days-whereupon was the body let down into the vault, but not admitted within the inner chamber until the end of the next reign-and Normandy, the most ancient king of arms, summoned with a loud voice, that the high dignitaries should therein deposit their ensigns and truncheons of command-which done, the sacred oriflamme of France was let fall down upon the coffin, until the fleur-de-lis began with the noble Bourbons and the king-ofarms cried three times so that the vaults heard and replied - Ho! the king is dead! The king is dead! The king is dead! And when silence had been renewed, the same voice proclaimed-Long live the king!—and all the other heralds repeated it. Then was all finished, and they departed joyously.' Really, in those older writers, compared with those of the present day, however superstitious, And the worthy graduate settled his glasses complacently, used his pocket-handkerchief in the loud manner he was addicted to, and looked round with increased attention on the mighty view; for devouter wishes had long been breeding dimly in his mind, such as the chill Protestantism even of his revered mother-church did not at that period satisfy. He did not notice the shrinking, under that full sunlight and wide azure, with the swarm of summer flies in the ears, and the warble of birds at hand, with which the youngest of his hearers, at least, felt the thought of death-above all, that universal one, of sovereign power. As for Lady Willoughby, her anxious look was chiefly from a reference to her watch; and it had been growing. She had not even heard Mr Thorpe. It was time for them to turn into the road from Versailles, as Colonel Willoughby - Sir Godfrey-would soon be leaving Paris, and he was punctual to a moment. There was no other way, Jackson said in reply, but by turning right again through the last village; at his mistress's request, accordingly, he suited the action to the word, by backing and wheeling round. But where was Charles? He had vanished over the wall, apparently, during his tutor's irrelevant remarks. To the calls of Mr Thorpe, echoed from among the woods, he returned no sign. It was annoying. They must wait; and, at any rate, according to the views of Jackson, generally unfavourable if required -with these beasts, it would be impossible to get on in good time, besides having to walk through that village, which was like nothing English whatever-with perhaps a bucket of water needed at that there tavern, if such a thing was to be had. The sudden intelligence of Mr Thorpe suggested a way he could ride off at once to meet Sir Godfrey, and set him at ease; in fact, for himself, at least, it would be easy to avoid the village of Charlemont altogether—by—yes— by taking that chemin des affronteux, as they called it. Lady Willoughby's face brightened. Her thanks to Mr Thorpe were something energetic for her: and spurring, rising in his stirrups, bumping up and down on his white mare, that worthy man disappeared. Rose pressed her parasol against her mouth to repress a smile, at the thought how Charles would have enjoyed his following the bear and monkey but, through her means, she was resolved he should know nothing of it. When least expected, Charles reappeared, jumping with a flushed face over the wall, and carrying a load of wild-flowers for his mother, for Rose, even for Miss Mason. He had heard distant sounds over the woods of the chase, which he thought were those of hunting-horns. But all was again still, bright, sleepy and solitary, under the glory of the sloping sun. He got in; Jackson whipped his horses at last to a trot, for again and again they had been passed each way by humbler vehicles; and they rolled on their way back towards Charlemont. Mr Thorpe's mission excited no extraordinary satisfaction in Charles, though he was sure they would get on better without him. Mr Thorpe ran a strong chance of being taken up as a spy. All at once it occurred to him that Mr Thorpe had all their passports. But a scene of far more exciting interest next moment eclipsed everything like that. Again, from the distance of those secluded glades, did a sound draw his ear-and it was really the sound of a bugle-horn-a faint, far-off, musical sound, sometimes smothered by the woods, then breaking out clearer. It sank into a long-drawn, almost wailing note, that rose up into a livelier quaver, joined by a burst from others. It must be a hunt. They were blowing the Mort-as they did only for a stag, and a stag that was dead. Such luck!-for it came ever nearer. But what a crowd at the turning, near those splendid gates-twenty times even Charlemont must be there, by the swarming noise! And the gates themselves, thrown each way open with their double leaves, closed up the road. The lad rose half up, with breath suspended, and without a look to spare for his party, kept mute as the carriage rolled into the crowd on that side. He did not so much as think what it could be. Though had there been a chance of the chemin des affronteux, and the carriage could have gone through it-indeed through one long enough and circuitous enough to avoid all France it might have been better for the Willoughbies. Yet who knows? The master-history that shapes our ends is wiser than we. CONSERVATIVE REASCENDANCY CONSIDERED. OURS is an age of peculiar importance. Events seem to be crowded into a small space of time which, if, spread over half a century, would yet mark the time as one of peril, action, and renown. In the political world we view a rapid succession of exciting scenes. The calm of peace yields to the turmoil of war, and Europe, but lately placid, is now rocked to its very base, and every nation on the Continent seems torn with present evils or convulsed in the contemplation of those to come. The strife of nations has doubtless called forth all the energies of mankind; and though England is removed from the sphere of action, and the immediate influence of the war, yet it cannot be said but that she, too, lies in peril, and partakes the general restlessness of the times. It becomes her, then, to consider in what lies her safety, and into whose hands she should commit the guidance of her affairs at this moment of danger. Is not England, too, a sharer in this general convulsion? Let us look to her senate, the heart of this great nation, where all the movements by which she is agitated can be seen and analysed. First, we see the Whigs quarrelling amongst themselves, and their consequent fall from power. Next, we see the Conservative party, with the general acquiescence of the country, installed in power. Ten short months have elapsed, and we see that Government, after having conferred, in its short tenure of office, lasting benefits upon the country, now falling, though by a slight majority, before a combination of all those various sects, panting for office, which range between conservatism and turbulent democracy-between Popery on the one hand, and practical atheism on the other; at war amongst themselves, yet combined together against a Government which seemed determined to legislate for the country, and not for the exclusive interests of any one party. Well might the Minister exclaim, as he fell before the machinations of his enemies, prescient of the future, while contemplating the events of the present-"England has not loved coalitions." Well might he "appeal from that coalition to that public opinion which governs this country," and before whose searching tribunal that unprincipled combination must soon be brought. If he desired revenge, he has it now. A government of "all the talents," containing, as we are told, within its ranks all the men of official experience, administrative ability, of parliamentary renown, and so forth, calling down upon them the contempt of Parliament and the scorn of the country, succeeds the Derby administration. Forced to abandon measure after measure, fairly vanquished in those with which they proceed, obliged to fall back upon their own imagined talent and ability, which must at any sacrifice of character be preserved at the service of the country, they are evidently, to all men but themselves, and a few of their own devoted adherents, eliciting the pity of their friends and the derision of their enemies. But, then, we are told that it is the war which prevents them from carrying their measures; that last session they carried their budget, India bill, &c., with large majorities, which they regard as a sign that they possess the confidence of Parliament, and that now Parliament and the country, with their attention distracted by the war, simply refuse to legislate. We protest against such arguments as these. It is introducing a dangerous principle, though it may serve as an excuse for clinging to office with a disgraceful pertinacity. But does it not occur to them, that probably the reason they carried their measures last year with such a semblance of triumph, was in consequence of that forbearance-nay, even favour-with which every government, new to office, is regarded; that it was, to a great extent, the result of that disorganisation of their opponents which ever follows defeat; and that the people, dazzled with appearances, were willing to admit that we had a government which was worthy of the confidence of the country. But how have these feelings been dispelled? Credulity or connivance, disgraceful in such keen-sighted and patriotic statesmen, has done it all-Parliament has lost confidence in them, and the country contemns them. Moreover, blinded by their confidence in their own talents, which has now become a byword among sensible men, they still declare they carry with them the confidence of the country, because in all matters connected with the war they still possess majorities. Such reasoning as this does not hold. The reason that they carry their financial measures so decisively through the House is, that many, who do not feel so strongly as others on the injustice of the measures proposed, are willing to support those measures rather than have it appear on the Continent that the House of Commons has refused the sinews of war at the very commencement of the struggle. It is not the war which prevents their carrying other measures, it is the war which enables them to carry what they do. But how has this been brought about?-how is it that this Government has so rapidly lost the favour of the people, and been reduced to the position of being a Government on sufferance? The reason is to be found in that general discontent and excitement which from Europe have infected England. Men are excited at what is passing abroad, and distrustful of affairs within. The want of union and mutual distrust which exist in headquarters, is spread throughout the kingdom. Those feelings of distrust and disagreement existing in the Government become every day more apparent, and add to the anxiety with which its motions are regarded. This distrust and anxiety must be prevalent whilst this state of things continues. It is only by the reascendancy of the Conservative party that they can be surmounted, and by the advent to power of men who have confidence in each other, who have unity of sentiment amongst themselves, and who are backed by united followers; who have, each and all, the same objects in view-viz., a firm resistance to Russian aggression and the establishment of a durable peace, the maintenance of our ProVOL. LXXVI.-NO. CCCCLXVI. 66 testant religion, and justice to all parties in the State. Unity of sentiment amongst the members of a government is of the greatest importance to the happiness and welfare of the people. There never, probably, was a Cabinet in which there were so many open questions" as the present. Since so many of them are Peelites, we may as well have the opinion of Sir Robert Peel himself on those self-same open questions. We subjoin an extract of a speech delivered in 1840 by that eminent_statesman, on a motion of want of confidence in Ministers, in which he refers, without any ambiguity of expression, to the fatality of open questions: "But there is a new resource for an incompetent Administration-there is the ingenious device of open questions, the cunning scheme of adding to the strength of a weak government by proclaiming its disunion. It will be a fatal policy, indeed, if that which has hitherto been an exception, and always an unfortunate exception in recent times, is hereafter to constitute the rule of Government. If every government may say, 'We feel pressed by those behind us-we find ourselves unable, by steadily maintaining jority and retain the confidence of our our own opinions, to command the mafollowers,our remedy is an easy onelet us make each question an open question, and thereby destroy every obstacle to every possible combination;'-what will be the consequence? The exclusion of honourable and able men from the conduct of affairs, and the unprincipled coalition of the refuse of every party. The right honourable gentleman has said that there have been instances of 'open questions' in the recent history of this has scarcely been one that has not been country. There have been; but there pregnant with evil, and which has not been branded by an impartial posterity with censure and disgrace. He said, that in 1782 Mr Fox made Parliamentary Reform an open question; that Mr Pitt did so on the Slave-trade; and that the Catholic Question was an open one. Why, if ever lessons were written for your instruction, to guard you against the recurrence to open questions, you will find them in these melancholy examples. The first instance was the coalition of Mr Fox' and Lord North, which could not have taken place without open questions. Does the right honourable gentleman know that that very fact-the union in office of men who had differed, and conQ |