of the child changed not as years went on, but waxed larger as the heart that held it."

Finally she clasped her hands together, and in a mournful manner exclaimed,

Marguerite, this is the first time one has sued to thee in deep anguish. Peradventure thou wilt thyself one day kneel and sue for like mercy at the feet of one who shall hold thy weal and woe in his hands. O, be merciful now, as thou wouldst then have mercy shown to thee. If now thou breakest my heart, a dark shadow shall fall on thy bridal."

These words pierced my heart, but shook not my resolve. Never could I brook, not if she was to have died at my feet, that aught of shame or disgrace should rest on my father's house; so I left her and sought the King, and there fought a battle which hath left me weary, but exulting. This is the second great triumph I have obtained since my fourteenth birthday. O, with what impassioned vehemence I urged on my father that, as his parting benison on a child most loved, his favourite since her natal hour, he should yield his consent to Yolande's marriage with Ferry de Vaudémont! Refusal on refusal he uttered; and still I pleaded, urged; and at last, when imperious prayers, tender reproaches, and bursting tears, which most did move, but not yet conquered him, had been exhausted, I broke forth:

"Sire, I have in my keeping a secret which closely touches your honour, if unrevealed; and yet here I do swear that naught shall rend it from me if you grant not my suit."

At first he was angered at this threat; but methinks something in my eyes, which I ween flashed with no common fire, bewitched him, for he cried, half in passion, half in jest,

Avaunt, thou resistless witch; avaunt!"

And then I threw my arms round his neck, and would not take off my eyes from his struggling face till he had smiled and consented.

Ah! who shall resist Marguerite d'Anjou?

'Tis a marvel to me that the victory of this day should have cost so much labour; for no sooner was it achieved than, with the pliable spirit and natural contentment which belongeth to my father's temper, he surrendered in one short hour the hatred which had seemed so fierce. Like a weed which hath no root, it was loosed from the soil of his heart. And, moreover, his fondness for romance changed as by a magic wand the whole colour of his thoughts. When he heard that Ferry de Lorraine was the unknown knight

which had gained so great repute in the lists, he commended the bold lover; and, methinks, would not then have exchanged this son-in-law for any sovereign in Europe. I admire that what seemed like an oak of firm resolve should prove a mere sapling. Ah me! what a change hath twelve hours wrought! There is Yolande, the most happy person in the whole world, beaming with smiles which sometimes turn to laughter, sometimes from very excess of joy to tears; and I see my father from this window leaning on the arm of the hated Ferry, in as kinsman-like, yea and paternal a fashion, as could be thought of. And she who hath procured this happiness for others, what aileth her to-day? Is she not so contented with her fate as some days ago? Hath the sight of Yolande's contentment made her misdoubt if to be a queen should be the greatest joy on earth? No; I love my kindred; I love France; I love youth's memories, but far more greatness.

English Premiers.

V.-CHATHAM, GRENVILLE, AND ROCKINGHAM.

LORD BUTE felt secure in the possession of power after Mr. Pitt's retirement. The great man who stood in his way had been removed in spite of his popularity; the powerful man also the head of the Whig aristocracy-had, contrary to Lord Mansfield's advice, been driven to his country seat. Surely Bute was now monarch of all he surveyed. Who would question the rectitude of measures which were all taken in the King's name and by the King's command? Bute's colleagues-men of slender parts, and formerly of suspected loyalty—were now the King's servants, and the mere mention of his prerogative was to bear down all opposition. A sovereign who abjured corruption was sure to be supported by his subjects, and permitted to retain and to choose the ministers that pleased him best. His first desire was for peace; he would break with all alliances damaging to England's interest, and put an end to a sanguinary and expensive war with France and Spain. He would desert Frederick of Prussia, as Frederick of Prussia had deserted his allies, and would leave him, if need be, a prey to the Russian, French, and Austrian armies, against which he had now to make head, like a scorpion girt with fire. What were his uncultured plains, his burning villages, his plundered cities to us? The royal robber should be left to defend or restore his ill-gotten territory with his own resources. His dominions "were to be scrambled for"-they were the premier's own words. England's strength lay in peace, her glory in commerce, her wisdom in submission to the king. Such was Bute's programme. The masters and fellows of Oxford hailed it with loud applause; and Oxford rather than Cambridge came into favour at court. Many a Tory who had been wont to drink to "the king over the water," now gave his toast loyally without passing the wine over the finger-glass. Peace was concluded with foreign powers; but Bute's pacific schemes for the interior entirely failed. The long-slumbering animosity of Whigs and Tories was awakened; the roused feelings of the country reacted on the cabinet; and ministers of opposite parties, who had sat together in peace, now found out their essential differences. The North Briton, con

ducted by Wilkes, assailed the Prime Minister with that mixture of libel and pleasantry which at a later period, and in another land, made the popularity of Hébert and his Père Duchesne. The Premier, indeed, found little grace in the eyes of the public. Enough that he was a Scotchman. The English have never been very prone to love their neighbours as themselves; and they continued, long after the '45, to have a peculiar aversion for the Scotch. They believed every Highlander to be a savage; they hated favourites, and particularly one who had been promoted to the highest station, for some reasonsperhaps, but certainly not for superior ability.

Though reputed to be a man of cultivated mind, Lord Bute did not bestow his patronage on men of letters with that impartiality which would have done him credit. No mark of King George's favour conferred on the author of Rasselas could be misplaced, for he was a good man, and (but for his big words) a great writer; yet it may well be doubted whether Bute singled him out for his services to literature, or for his staunch Toryism. Home wrote a tolerable tragedy, but would Douglas have earned any reward at the Premier's hand if Home had not been his fellow-countryman? Gray solicited a professorship; and the request, though reasonable, was denied. He was a Whig; perhaps more. He had applauded Hampden, he admired Milton and Cromwell, and had alluded to them as typical beings in his pathetic Elegy in a Country Churchyard. So Gray was passed over by the courtly Earl of Bute, and Jacobite scribblers of shallow wit were exalted to honour.

The treaty of peace which the Government had negotiated was thought dishonourable by the nation at large, the terms being too favourable to France and Spain, and bearing no proportion to the immense successes of the English arms by sea and land. The Duke of Bedford and the Premier could not walk the streets of London in peace; nor could the latter be saved on one occasion from the rough handling of the mob by less than a troop of guards. If he walked about in disguise, with a slouched hat and coat buttoned up to his eyes, he encountered his own burning in effigy, or saw the symbolic jack-boot dangling in a petticoat from a gibbet. His Christian name was John, so that the pun was just bad enough to raise a laugh. His bribes were lavished more freely every day; yet, in spite of his tempting arts, bonfires blazed higher and libellers grew bolder. Secret agents were at work on both sides, and Pitt's brother-in-law, Lord Temple-though not Pitt himself was believed to practise the art of corruption as unscrupulously as Bute. Gold and silver were the ammunition with which both armies stored their magazines. Pitt really stood aloof from such warfare, and

Bute had professed to do so. Pitt trusted to other weapons, which he well knew how to wield; Bute mistrusted his own abilities, and had great faith in bank-notes. Pitt was against him in the matter of the treaty, the powerful Whigs were against him, so was the rabble. If gold was to gain the day, he would certainly win, for the treasures of the nation were at his disposal. Votes in the Commons must be bought at any price. Of votes he dreamed at night, for votes he schemed by day. Never before was bribery so unblushing. Pensions were thrown about; Lords and Grooms of the Bedchamber were doubled; 25,000l. was disposed of in one morning in gratuities of a hundred or two hundred pounds. The lead of the House of Commons was intrusted to Fox in the place of Grenville. Fox had no scruple about public vices, though very estimable in his private life. He longed to abase his rival Pitt; and though a Whig, whom the princess mother detested, he consented to be made chief dispenser of bribes, and chief tool of the princess mother's reputed favourite. In these transactions he expected the support of the Dukes of Cumberland and Devonshire; but he was miserably disappointed. While members of Parliament were closeted with him for the sale of their votes and consciences, intimidation was practised to a frightful extent abroad. The servants of the Crown in every department, from the lordlieutenants of counties down to clerks, porters, pensioners of the humblest degree, were given to understand that they must support the Government, and cry "Bute for ever!" or be dismissed. The Prince of the Whigs, as the Duke of Devonshire was called, was insulted at the royal palace: the King refused to see him; and the duke, in a paroxysm of anger, tore off his gold key and drove away, vowing never to return. No mercy was shown to the employés who had the misfortune to be patronised by noblemen opposed to Bute and his treaty of peace. Reduced in a moment to beggary by arbitrary dismissal, they watered their crusts with tears, and sighed for the dawn of the day of account. Even the Duke of Cumberland, whom the people used to call the butcher, was quite confounded by Fox's inhumanity. If the law had permitted, Fox would have withdrawn the very patents granted by George II. from those who, holding them, dared also to hold their own opinions.

One of the most memorable events in Pitt's life was his appearance in the House on the day when the treaty of peace was discussed. The ministry had believed him to be safe in his chamber, enduring the torments of that disease which figures so constantly in his memoirs. But his own honour and the interests of his country determined him, as he said, at the hazard of his life, to be present