have all recorded the impression they produced upon them. Louis XV. was so far interested as to have them read to him, and Madame du Barry had the more striking passages played as proverbs.

The verdict of the parliament put an end to this paper warfare. On the 26th of February, 1774, Beaumarchais was condemned au blâme, which comprised at that time civic degradation. M. and Madame Goëzman did not get off more easily: the husband was suspended from his judicial functions, the wife was also condemned au blâme, and to the restitution of the fifteen louis. The Parlement Maupeou did not itself long survive its vindictive sentence. "In striking with a civil death a man whom public opinion bore in triumph," his biographer says, "it inflicted a death-blow to its own existence." One of the first acts of Louis XVI. was to dissolve the existing, and to re-establish the ancient parliament.

As to Beaumarchais, the court had little power to carry out its verdict against him. He was not summoned to the bar, as was enjoined by the law. All Paris called to condole with him; the Prince de Conti and the Duc de Chartres gave brilliant fêtes in his honour, and the king himself sent for him to employ him on a secret mission; but this was not till he had made an acquaintance, brought about by the renown of his writings, with Marie Thérèse Emilie Willermawlaz, a woman of great intellectual endowments as well as personal charms, and who was destined to become, at a later period, his third wife.

The history of the secret missions of Beaumarchais are instructive, if merely to show what importance matters often trifling and contemptible in themselves obtained under absolute governments. We have seen lately much of the weak side of free constitutions, how much they may be abused by one nation, how little with another they answer for effectively ensuring the progress of the greatest human undertaking a successful war; the reverse of the medal is not, then, without its use at the present moment. It is in the secret proceedings of bygone absolutism, as it would be in those of existing absolutisms if they could only be made known, that the glaring inconvenience of such are most made manifest.

There lived at this epoch an adventurer-Théveneau de Morande -who, having taken refuge in England from criminal pursuit in his own country, sought a livelihood there by publishing a tissue of scandals and calumnies in a paper justly called Le Gazetier Cuirassé. The system he pursued was to send demands across the Channel for sums of money to obtain exemption from the personal outrages in which he found a profit. To a person of this description Madame du Barry was a real California. He wrote a letter to that lady, in which he requested the transmission of a large sum of money, or in case of refusal, he should immediately proceed with the publication of a very interesting work, the subject of which was her life, with a title admirably adapted to tell with persons of a cynical disposition. Alarmed and furious, Madame du Barry appealed to the king. The king asked of the King of England that Morande should be sent out of the country. The British government replied that it could not expatriate the man, but that it would not oppose his being removed, so long as that removal could be secretly effected. whole brigade of officers of police was accordingly sent to this country to effect his capture, but Morande got scent of the mission, denounced it to the people-always ready to side with the oppressed, whether virtuous or

ignoble-and they exhibited such unmistakable signs of committing the French police to the Thames, that they were glad to hide themselves and get back to their own country as fast as they could.

Protected in this manner by the English public, Morande proceeded with his publication. Louis XV. endeavoured, all other means failing, to come to terms with him, but Morande had reasons to doubt the character of his emissaries, and would not let them come near him. It was in this emergency that Beaumarchais was engaged to go to London, to put himself in communication with the Gazetier Cuirassé, and to purchase his silence and the suppression of the Memoirs of Madame du Barry.

It was not, his biographer justly remarks, une mission d'un ordre bien relevé, but it must be kept in mind that, at that moment, Beaumarchais was suffering from the loss of two lawsuits, one of which had deprived him of all his worldly goods, and the other of his civil existence. He was glad to do anything that promised an opening to the recovery of all that he had thus lost. The distinguished pleader started then for London, in March, 1774, under the name of Ronac, the anagram of Caron. In a few days he won the confidence of the libeller, mastered a negotiation that had now lasted eighteen months, and reappeared at Versailles with a copy of the formidable Memoirs, and the additional manuscript of another projected libel, to receive the king's instructions in respect to a definite arrangement. Louis XV. was delighted with the skill and promptitude of his emissary, and he referred him to the Duc d'Aiguillon. The latter was more desirous of discovering Morande's accomplices in France than of destroying the libels, and it is upon record, to Beaumarchais' credit, that he would not lend himself to any inquiries of the kind. The king was obliged to send him back, in opposition to the counsels of his minister. The MSS. and three thousand copies of the Memoirs were burnt in a lime-kiln in the neighbourhood of London, but to preserve the reputation of Madame du Barry from the pen of an adventurer cost the French government 20,000 francs down, and an annuity of 4000 francs! The French government, under Louis XVI., subsequently bought up half of the annuity for a further sum of 20,000 francs. "On doit avouer," says De Loménie, "que l'honneur de Madame du Barry étoit estimé ici fort au delà de sa valeur." At a later period of his history Mirabeau publicly reproached Beaumarchais with his relations with a man of such bad reputation. It was, however, in a pecuniary point of view, of far less advantage to the emissary than the libellist, for while the latter became so wealthy as to die a juge de paix at Arnay-le-Duc, Beaumarchais only received the thanks of the old king, who died a few days after his return. "I admire," he wrote upon this occasion, "the oddity of fate that pursues me. If the king had only enjoyed his health for eight days longer, I should have been restored to that condition which iniquity has robbed me of. I had his royal word to that effect, and the unjust aversion which had been inspired in him towards me was changed into a kindness even to predilection."

It was not to be expected that Louis XVI., attaching less importance to the reputation of Madame du Barry than his predecessor, should view the diplomatic labours of the author of the "Barber of Seville" in quite so favourable a light as Louis XV. But fortune here favoured Beaumarchais. The manufacture of libels at London had turned out too profit

able a speculation to be dropped in a moment. No sooner had the king mounted the throne with his young wife, than the most abominable scandals began to be whispered abroad. Outrages of this description, which have gone by under the influence of free governments and a free press, were state matters under the régime of silence. The success of Beaumarchais' mission under Louis XV. caused his services to be again sought for. On the present occasion he accepted gladly; and he started full of zeal, arriving in London in June, 1774. The libel he had now time to quell was entitled "Advice to the Spanish Branch as to its Rights to the Crown of France in case of Default of Heirs." Its author was an Italian Jew, Angelucci, but known in England by the name of Atkinson.

This time Beaumarchais insisted upon an order written in the king's hand, and having with great difficulty obtained it, he enclosed it in a gold box, which he kept always suspended to his neck by a chain of the same material. Thus provided with a royal talisman he set to work, and succeeded in obtaining the destruction of the libel, at an expense to the French government of 14007. sterling. He then started for Amsterdam with Angelucci, to superintend the destruction of the Dutch edition; but no sooner was this accomplished, than he found that the astute Jew had absconded to Nuremberg, carrying with him a copy that had escaped his researches, and which was to be printed in French and Italian. Beau. marchais, irritated beyond measure at being thus duped, started in pursuit of his treacherous companion, and actually overtook him at the entrance of the forest of Neustadt, near Nuremberg, trotting along on horseback. Angelucci, seeing the man he had so grossly deceived on his traces, made for the forest. Beaumarchais, on his side, followed him on foot, pistol in hand, and the Jew's horse not being able to make its way among the trees, he soon overtook him, seized him by his boot, tumbled him off, and, exploring his pockets and his bags, found the copy that had escaped his vigilance.

This feat accomplished, he was returning through the forest to his chaise, when he was in his turn attacked by two robbers. The talisman of Louis XVI. proved on this occasion to be really that which its owner had only dreamed of in his imagination. His pistol missing fire, he received a blow from the dagger of one of his assailants in his breast, but it fell on the golden box, which turned it aside. After a severe struggle, Beaumarchais even succeeded in disarming his antagonist, but the other robber, who had fled at first, returning with a reinforcement of bandits, it would have been all up with the secret agent of Louis had not his valet and the postilion come at the same moment to his assistance.

The whole story is so romantic as to be scarcely credible, were it not attested by documents drawn up by the burgomaster of Nuremberg, by order of Maria Theresa, in consequence of what happened to Beaumarchais when, wounded in his struggle with the robbers, and excited almost to temporary alienation of mind by his zeal for his sovereign and his queen, he proceeded to Vienna to obtain from Maria Theresa herself the order for the extradition of the Jew, and for his being conducted for safety's sake into France. The history of this adventure, which we shall give in our next, is derived from an unpublished memoir addressed by Beaumarchais to Louis XVI. on his return to France, and bearing date October 15, 1774.

OUR FIRST LODGERS.

I HAVE always held an opinion that young women in a respectable sphere of life, when left unprovided for by the death of parents, require more sympathy than any other class. It may be they have a little money it is to be hoped that daughters, so left, generally have. This they proceed to embark in various ways, according to their capacities, and the notions they have imbibed in their station of society. Some try to establish a school, some sink their capital in setting-up a business, a Berlin-wool shop, a stationer's and library, or the like, some put their little bit of money out, and rely on the interest for clothes, whilst they seek to go out as nursery-governess or companion. And thus, in various ways, all try to obtain an honest livelihood. But let the reader be very sure that there are few of these unprotected women but have a crushing weight of struggle and sorrow. Anxious perplexity, pinching want, heart-breaking care, these are often theirs and for many there is no turn, no worldly rest, till they find it in the grave.

I can feel for them, for did I not, for several years, I and my sister, struggle on, fighting our way with disappointment and non-success? Yet we never were so badly off as many, and in time God saw fit to crown our efforts with plenty. It was in 1836, and I was about thirtyone, that we had to turn our attention to getting our own living. Part of our mother's income had died with her, and all we had was 500l. each. And that is more than falls to many orphans. One sister, much younger than ourselves, had married a medical gentleman, and gone to settle in a distant part of the kingdom, and I and Lucy cast about in our minds what we should turn to. A ladies' boarding-school appeared to us the most congenial, and we were, I think, though I'm sure I say it in all modesty, more suitable for the charge than are some who undertake it. My learning was but little, and of the plainest sort, but I was (I hope) kind, just, and considerate; of calm, steady character and manners. Lucy was merrier than I, and she excelled in grand learning, such as astronomy, the use of the globes, elegant composition, with music, and other accomplishments, suitable to teach to little gentlewomen. We both felt that we had the qualifications and the will essential to do our full duty to those children who might be confided to our care: so we determined on our plan.

The first step was to find a suitable house and neighbourhood. We had hitherto, at least for the last many years, lived in the country, where there was no scope for such an undertaking, and several friends advised us to turn our thoughts to the vicinity of London, which we did. But the trouble we had! though the metropolis abounds in suburbs. Some we found overstocked with schools, some localities were not deemed highly healthy, and some had no suitable house that we could rent. We did fix ourselves at last, after spending a purse of money over those whirling omnibuses. I will not name the exact situation, for we are in the same house still, and I do not care that all the world should read these struggles, and know that they apply to us. It was a capital house, large and convenient; enclosed from the high road by a wall, with a pretty garden in front and a playground behind. We paid 807. a year for it—a rent that

frightened us; and if it looked formidable in perspective, what was it when it came near? I can safely say that quarter-day for many years never drew near but it brought to us a heart-sickening. And there were the taxes in addition. After taking the house, the next step was to furnish it. We had most of the furniture from our old home, but it was the worse for wear, and the little which had filled a small house was lost in our large one. So we bought new for the drawing-room, and for the children's bedroom that was to be, with desks and forms for the schoolroom, disposing the old about the house as we best could; and occasionally buying, as time went on, some next to indispensable article, as we thought we could spare the money.

Of course we had sent out cards and advertised, and then we sat down in our house and waited for pupils. The first quarter we received some demands for circulars, but nothing came of it: the next we had three day-scholars, two sisters and another. I then took the resolution to call at the principal houses in the neighbourhood, and urge our hope of their patronage. Whether they liked my appearance I do not know, but soon after that we had eleven day-scholars and five boarders, so we thought success was coming all at once, and I believe had certain visions of retiring with a fortune. But the years went on, and we found success was not so certain.

It could not be strictly said we did not succeed; but we did not succeed sufficiently to pay our expenses and live, and our little stock of capital was often drawn upon. And that heavy rent! Our numbers fluctuated much one half year we should have a large school, the next it would be a small one. Many an anxious conversation did I and Lucy have; many an hour of more anxious thought, many a sleepless night. To sink into debt and difficulty; to spend the last shilling of our capital in striving to avert it; to find our efforts fruitless, our money gone, and we turned from our present shelter, from our poor means of living, without any definite prospect of finding another!-these visions disturbed our rest continually. Oh, God pity all who are struggling as we were to keep up appearances and earn a respectable living, and who find their hopes and their means grow less day by day!

"I have a scheme running in my head," Lucy said to me, one evening; suppose we let lodgings?"

"Let lodgings!" I ejaculated.

"Our drawing-room and one or two bedrooms. We can give up our own and go up-stairs, and there's the one we had fitted up for that parlour-boarder. Why not?"

"But it will not do to let lodgings in a ladies' school, one of our class," I returned. "Such a thing was never heard of. All the parents would object to it."

"Most of them would never know it," answered Lucy. "It cannot be any possible detriment to the pupils-make no difference to them whatever. We might easily get thirty shillings a week for the three rooms, be at no outlay, and, if we had the luck of quiet people, very little trouble."

Thirty shillings a week! It would go far towards the rent. sleep upon it," I said to Lucy.

"I will

I did. And the next day we got some cards written in text-hand,