years hence.' The deliberations of these wretches are well known. They made the duke believe that the Dutch had given Madame a slow poison, which had not taken effect till then; for, as to the poison itself, there was no denying it; she had three holes in her stomach. One Morelli was the agent employed to bring the poison from Italy: by way of recompense, he was afterwards placed in my household as chief maître d'hôtel; and, after plundering me in every way he could, his patrons made him sell his office at a high price." She describes him as a man of superior talents, but totally unprincipled, given to every sort of debauchery and wickedness, and professing atheism even on his deathbed.

There seems, then, no reason to suppose that the Duke of Orleans had any participation in the murder of his wife. He had never loved her, for he seems to have been incapable of loving any one; and he was led by the machinations of her enemies to treat her with neglect and unkindness. But neither, on the other hand, does he appear to have been capable of atrocious crimes. He was weak, not wicked. It was the vile policy of Mazarin to enfeeble his mind from his very infancy. "What do you mean," said the subtle Italian to Mothe-leVayer, the young prince's preceptor, "by trying to make the king's brother an able man? If he were better educated than the king, he would soon forget the duty of blind obedience." His mother, Anne of Austria, seems to have concurred in this odious policy. Even when grown up, she used to treat him like a great girl, dressing him in petticoats for the amusement of her court; while his brother was accustomed to manly occupations. Thus the Duke of Orleans was, all his life, imbecile in character, and effeminate in his tastes and amusements. He was fond of dress, parties of pleasure, masquerades, the pageantry of the drawing-room, and pompous ceremonials. The natural result of his education, too, was utter selfishness and insensibility; and, if he had no hand in the assassination of his unfortunate wife, it was evident that her death was a matter of entire indifference to him.*

Some writers deny, or at least doubt, the guilt of the Chevalier de Lorraine. "It was alleged," says Voltaire," that the Chevalier de Lorraine, a favourite of Monsieur, in order to take vengeance for the exile and imprisonment which his culpable conduct towards Madame had brought upon him, had committed this horrible act. people did not consider that the Chevalier de Lorraine was then at Rome, and that it was no easy matter for a Knight of Malta, only twenty years old, and living at Rome, to purchase the death of a

But

"The satisfaction," says Hume, "which Charles reaped from his new alliance received a great check by the death of his sister, and still more by those melancholy circumstances which attended it. Her death was sudden, after a few days' illness; and she was seized with a malady upon drinking a glass of succory-water. Strong suspicions of poison arose in the court of France, and were spread all over Europe; and, as her husband had discovered many symptoms of jealousy and discontent on account of her conduct, he was universally believed to be the author of the crime. Charles himself, during some time, was entirely convinced of his guilt; but upon receiving the attestation of physicians, who on opening her body found no foundations for the general rumour, he was, or pretended to be, satisfied. The Duke of Orleans indeed did never, in any other circumstance of his life, betray such dispositions as might lead him to so criminal an action; and a lady, it is said, drank the remains of the same glass without feeling any inconvenience. The sudden death of princes is commonly accompanied with these dismal surmises, and therefore less weight is to be laid on the suspicions of the public."

great princess." This is but a weak presumption in favour of Lorraine; for the circumstances related by the Duke de St. Simon and the second Duchess of Orleans show that he was enabled to gratify his revenge, not by purchasing the death of the princess, but by having confederates about her very person, whose motives for desiring her death were as strong as his own.

Lorraine's restoration to favour, within two years of the commission of this crime, has been urged as a presumption that he could not have been the criminal; for, had he been guilty, it is said, the king would never have permitted him to return to France. We have already seen, from the passage written in cipher, in the English ambassador's letter to his own court, how much he was astonished at the permission which Lorraine had received to return to court, and to enter the military service. Madame de Sevigné, in a letter to her daughter Madame de Grignan, in February 1672, says that Lorraine's restoration to favour by the king was owing to the earnest entreaties of the Duke of Orleans, whose joy at obtaining it was as passionate as his grief had been when his favourite was sent into exile. Although the king had been acquainted with Lorraine's guilt, he could not well have resisted his brother's importunities; for, in the circumstances under which he had received his information, he could not allow it to appear that he knew anything of the matter; and he was therefore under the necessity of outwardly treating Lorraine and his confederates as if the fatal secret had never come to his knowledge. Lorraine's return, too, was useful to the king; for, having unbounded influence over the duke's conduct, he was the fittest instrument to manage him according to the policy of the court.

Those who wish to relieve the Chevalier de Lorraine of the imputation of this dreadful crime, seem inclined to throw the suspicion of it on the Countess de Soissons. This Italian was of a deep and dangerous character. She bore a deadly hatred towards the Duchess of Orleans. She was so much implicated in the dark transactions of the notorious women, La Vigoureux and La Voisin, that, when they were convicted of preparing and selling poisons, she fled precipitately to Brussels; and though Louis was greatly attached to her, as the companion and playfellow of his tender years, yet he would never hear of her return to France, and allowed her to die abroad. He sometimes even expressed his regret at having permitted her to make her escape, and used to say, "I fear I am responsible before God for not having had her arrested." From all this we are warranted in believing that the Countess de Soissons was capable of any atrocity; but, of her being a party to this crime, there does not seem to be a vestige of evidence.

It does not seem that any further light can now be thrown on this melancholy history. The character of the unfortunate princess is drawn, by all her contemporaries, in the most engaging colours. Except by her cold-hearted husband, and the wretches who were leagued together for her destruction, she was universally beloved; and her death is described as throwing a gloom, not only over the court of France, but the whole nation. Even her faults are treated, by those who are far from charitable in their judgments, with indulgence and pity; and, though she was an object of the libels and calumnies of Bussy Rabutin and writers of his stamp, the purity of her character as a wife has not been impeached by a single respectable authority.

And happilye lived theye and long,
And to that angler olde
Their gratitude was much and strong,
For well his planne had tolde.

Ye manne who once was lothe to live,
Now merrie passed his lyfe;
And good advyse this song doth give,
To manage well a wife.

If she with devil be possessed,
And shrewish be, and crosse,
Let her like pheasante be well dress'd,
And give her good oake sauce.

But, if she keep a quiet house,

And oft doth smile and laughe,
The loon that swyngeth such a spouse,
Himself sholde have ye staffe!

A PRIVATE ACCOUNT OF THE LATE FIRE.

[EXTRACT OF A LETTER FROM JENKIN MORGAN TO HIS BROTHER DAVY, NEAR ABERYSTWITH.]

"DEAR DAVY,

"LAST Wednesday night I happened to pass with master, our young squire, through the city. We saw the watchmen a-smelling all round a place they call the Royal Exchange,-smelling for all the world like our hounds in the country, for there was a huge smell of fire, which soon afterwards broke out, and burnt to the ground this grand building. But, as you in your ignorance may not know what is the Royal Exchange, I shall tell you for your instruction. It is a big place, sixteen or twenty times more usable nor the market-place in Aberystwith,—yes, indeed I am not joking,-with a pent-house all round it, when it rains, for people to go in. All the great merchants of London and the Lord Mayor used to meet here every day to talk about their stock, and such matters; but you must know it was not stock of sheep and oxen, but something, young master says, about paper; and, sure enough, Davy, there was an uncommon sight of paper there, as you shall hear presently. It was a shocking cold night, cruel cold, and master said that the 'mometer was down to nero; but what part of the world that is, I never heard. Well, there was one old watchman,—which minded me of old Towler in our park,-smelled himself all the way to a room called the Captains' Room; and there, sure enough, was a big fire whirling about as if it was doing some great act of kindness to come out of its snug dwelling in such dreadful cold weather. Then master got himself into a famous passion, and sweared in good Welsh, and kicked the gateway with all his might; but it was no use. The key was gone down to Greenwich, where it seems it lived. So, after a great deal of talking and councilling about whether it would be propriety to break open the door; or whether it would be polite at all to throw cold water upon the fire without axing the Lord Mayor to make him a speech; it was unanimously decided that nothing could be done without sending a deputation to the Mansion-House, which is the place where the Lord Mayor is kept. After a good deal of knocking and blustering, the door was opened by one of his lordship's women; and when he was made to know of the fire, he got up in a minute out of his warm bed, and after fastening on his great chain, which the Common Council always make him wear,-he calls for a stout, jolly-looking fellow, with a red nose,-who al

ways carries his lordship on these occasions, and, mounting_on his back, he rides him in great state before the gates of the Exchange. When his lordship had arrived there, he observed that there was a fire to the alderman, which all agreed to, except the opposition leader, who said it couldn't be, because it was impossible: however, it was agreed by the majority that the gates should be instantly broken open. In the mean while, many fire-engines had arrived, all loaded with brisk, active fellows, riding upon real tea-kettles full of hot water, and they all began to pour with all their might upon the Exchange. Oh, it was a grand sight, Davy! On went the fire without mercy, destroying papers, money, bills, the corporation seal, all the old kings of England, and a great deal more lumber besides; and the air was filled with clouds of paper and bank-notes, which fell upon the crowd in showers of fire; and no use was all the money to any living soul but to burn their clothes instead of their pockets. Then it made one 'most cry to see the flames enter the beautiful tower, and curl round it as if it was embracing a young bride: and, oh, Davy!—indeed to goodness it is true I am speaking,-the bells of the tower began to ring, in a most melancholy way, the old song 'There's no good luck about the house;' and they rung the song all through to the end, and then fell down to the ground one after another. And the old clock, Davy, he went on without getting a minute too fast or a minute too slow, although the noise and fright might well have put him out; - but at last it got so hot that he couldn't bear it any longer, and then he struck. It was now one great blaze all round the building;-a more awfuller sight could never be seen. Old master in the justice-room was nothing at all to it; and it blazed and burned for a great many hours before it left off. And now and then there was a huge crash heard as the old kings and queens-who have been standing in the Exchange ever since they were dead-fell into the square below. There was one of these fellows, who stood in the middle of the building because he was so wild and had such a bad character, so the gentry would not allow him to come up stairs,-this chap escaped altogether; and master says it was all proper that he should escape, so I've no doubt it was. After this we went home, and sorry in the heart is master at what he saw; so I unburden myself by writing the account to you. Love to sister and the rest, from your loving brother, JENKIN MORGAN."

THE FEMALE WALTON.

DICK pays no compliments to lively Sall.

She says she don't expect them from that quarter. "You 're fishing for a compliment, my girl."

"No, Dick, indeed, not in such shallow water."