verely had he not respected the feelings of Madame de Choiseul, and that he was not at all offended with her haughty letter, in which she rejected the pension of fifty thousand francs that the King had offered her. After she had sacrificed the whole of her transferable property to her husband, even including her diamonds, she devoted also to his memory all the rents of which she was the usufructuary, confined herself to a tenth of her income in order to pay his debts, and actually paid off more than three hundred thousand dollars before the Revolution. She was also spared by the monsters of the Reign of Terror, whereas her sister-in-law was sent by them to the scaffold, where she did not belie her proud and high-spirited character, treating her executioners as her servants."

Gleichen came from Calais to Compiegne in 1768, in the suite of the King of Denmark, who visited London in that year. He happened to be playing chess with the Duchess of Choiseul. The company had left the room, and Madame de Choiseul thinking that they were alone, said to him, On dit que votre roi est une tête-." At this moment Gleichen perceived that some person was standing behind her, and added, casting down his eyes, "couronnée." The Duchess saw immediately that she had been overheard, and continued, "Pardon, vous ne m'avez pas laissée achever; je voulais dire que votre roi est une tête, qui annonce les plus belles espé

Gleichen adds some particulars respecting the fall of Choiseul, from which we shall glean what appears to us most interesting. At the period of his disgrace the Duke was no longer attached to his office, and his health was ailing. Like a spoiled child of fortune, he could no longer bear any opposition. Having used up the pleasures of the court, he sought for recreation elsewhere, and built villas at Chanteloup. His fall was effected by Madame Dubarri,* with whom he might

Marie Johanne, Vicomtesse Dubarri, was born in 1744, and was the daughter of a commissioner of taxes named Gomart de Vaubernier. Subsequently to her father's death she became a milliner, a fille. de joie, a pimp of the gambler Vicomte Dubarri, afterwards an attendant of Madame de Pompadour in the household of Louis XV., and was finally married to a brother of Dubarri. After the death of Louis she lived, first, in a convent near Meaux, then at her château at Marly, but was at length guillotined, on the 5th of December, 1798, on account of her supporting the emigrants and of her connection with the Brissotists. When she was desired to lay her head on the block she called out piteously to the

executioner: "Monsieur le bourreau, encore un moment !"

easily have been reconciled. This lady only wished to escape from his sister-in-law, her protectors, and all the roues who made her their tool; she was in other respects a good creature, who disliked to be an instrument of evil, and who would have been enchanted with Choiseul's merry mood. The King would have done the utmost to effect a junction between his favorite and his minister. One of the last times that Louis ever wrote to Choiseul he said, "Vous ne connoissez pas Madame Dubarri, toute la France serait à ses pieds si-" The King confessed in this passage that the voice of the minister alone was of more avail than all the power of the sovereign. Still it is astonishing that Choiseul did not either yield or resign of his own accord; he evidently did not imagine that he would be treated so harshly, deprived of his appointment as Colonel-General of the Swiss, or blackened so maliciously in the eyes of the King as to expose him to personal violence. On the occasion of a difference between the parliament and the court, some time previously, Choiseul had written notes without any date, containing advice, encouragement, and promises of support to the parliamentary opposition. These notes were shown to the King, referred to the existing president, and construed into an evidence of guilt. Choiseul was represented as detected in criminal correspondence with a subservient parliament against the crown. Notwithstanding all this, his life at Chanteloup was more brilliant than it had been in the days of his brightest fortune. Half the court left Versailles to go to Chanteloup, and the roads from his hotel to the Barrière d'Enfer were crowded with the Parisian populace, which received him with loud cheers, a circumstance that made such an impression on this minister, who had never been popular, that he exclaimed with tears in his eyes: "Voilà ce que je n'ai pas mérité."

With regard to the report that the Dauphin and the Dauphiness were poisoned by Choiseul, Gleichen maintains that it was without any foundation whatever, and that it was probably occasioned by a thoughtless expression of the Duke's during the last illness of the Dauphiness. The celebrated Tronchin had been called in, had quarrelled with the court-physicians, and had even written a note to the King, in which he said that the state of the Dauphiness presented such unusual symptoms, that he did not venture to trust them to paper, and that he deferred describing particulars till he could inform his majesty verbally respecting them.

When Choiseul related this, with a rather excited countenance, in Gleichen's presence, he added: Que veut dire ce coquin de charlatan? Prétend-il_insinuer que j'ai empoisonne Madame la Dauphine? Si ce n'était le respect que j'ai pour M. le Duc d'Orléans, je le ferais mourir sous le bâton." Gleichen detects the first trace of that unfounded report in this expression, which Choiseul would scarcely have employed had he been guilty.

It has been said, that no man is a hero to his valet-de-chambre. We have now presented the character and habits of these two contemporary statesmen, without a veil; and though some defects may be detected in them, as in all members of the great human family, we apprehend that they will be found as free from deformity as other public men of equal distinction, subject to similar disclosures.

On the 30th of August, 1838, the princely city of Oodypore was the scene of a terrible solemnity. About mid-day a prolonged discharge of artillery from the fort announced the unexpected decease of Maharána Juwán Singh; and, as is usual in tropical climates, preparations for his obsequies immediately commenced. The palace-gate was thronged with the expectant populace. Something, however, in the excitement of their voices and gestures, boded the approach of a spectacle more thrilling than mere pomp could render even a royal funeral. It was not the dead alone whom the eager crowd were waiting to see pass from among them. Sculptured in startling abundance on the tombs of their rulers, the well-known effigies of women's feett gave ghastly assurance that a prince of Oodypore would not that day be gathered to his fathers without a wife or a concubine sharing his pyre. The only question washow many? It was known that the youngest of the two queens came of a family in which the rite was rarely practised; while the suddenness of the Maharána's death had given but scanty time for any of his inferior women to mature so tremendous a resolution. Great, therefore, was the admiration of the multitude when they learnt that immediately

on the fatal tidings reaching the Zenána, both the queens and six out of seven concubines had determined to burn. The seventh, a favorite, had excused herself on the pleawhich, characteristically enough, was at once admitted-that "she felt none of the inspiration deemed necessary to the sanctity of the sacrifice."

It next became the duty of the chief nobles to address the ladies with the forms of dissuasion. But to these they quickly put an end by an act that rendered retreat impossible: loosening their hair, and unveiling their faces, they went to the gate of the Zenána, and presented themselves before the assembled populace. All opposition to their wishes now ceased. They were regarded as sacred to the departed monarch. Devout ejaculations poured incessantly from their lips. Their movements became invested with a mysterious significance; and their words were treasured up as prophetic.

Meantime the pile had been prepared. The eight victims, dressed in their richest attire, and mounted on horseback, moved with the procession to the cemetery. There they stripped off their ornaments and jewels, distributed gifts to the bystanders, and lastly, mounting the pile, took their places beside the corpse. As the Maharána had left no son, his nephew, the present sovereign, applied the torch. The crash of music, the chanting of the priests, and the cries of the multitude arose simultaneously, and the tragedy was consummated. "The father of

one of the queens" (concludes the native report)" had been present during the whole. He is here immersed in contemplation and grief, and his companions are comforting him."

Perhaps at this point some of our readers may feel puzzled by the recollection that Lord William Bentinck is celebrated in numberless works as having put down all atrocities of this kind some twenty years ago. And true it is that he did so far as his authority extended; but within that limit, as Mr. Wilson's clear narrative shows, the operation was necessarily confined. In other words, out of about 77 millions of souls, this prohibition reached directly only the 37 millions who were British subjects; indirectly, perhaps about nineteen millions more, consisting of the subjects of native princes in whose internal management we had some voice; while there remained not less than 21 millions, the subjects of states which, though our allies, could be in no degree reached by the legislation of 1829. The kingdom of Oodypore, or Mey war, was of the last class. The only notice, therefore, that the Governor-General of 1838 (Lord Auckland) could take of the horrors above detailed was by way of private communication. The Resident at Oodypore was instructed to explain unofficially the horror with which the British Government had heard of the tragedy, and of the prominent part in it played by the new sovereign himself. The Resident's opinion was at the same time asked, as to the most suitable compliment to be paid to those nobles who had sought to dissuade the ladies from their resolution, and the answer was noteworthy. Lord Auckland was informed that the personages in question would simply feel "disgraced" by any tribute which should imply that their dissuasions had been meant for aught but decorous forms!

Such was the veneration in which up to a date so recent the sacrifice of Suttee was held by a vast proportion of our allies, and such the acquiescence with which the British. Government perforce regarded its celebration. Within the last seven years, however, the rite has occasioned one of the most remarkable movements recorded in Eastern annals. Never before, within historical memory, had the Hindoos exhibited the phenomenon of religious change. During that brief period an agitation has sprung up which has led more than half the great independent states to repudiate a sacrifice regarded by their forefathers, not only as sacred, but as a standing miracle in attestation of their faith.

So extraordinary an exception to the inveterate tyranny of tradition would demand investigation, were it only as a psychological problem; but how much more is this the case when the wonder is known to be the work of a single British officer! We owe to the late lamented Chairman of the Court of Directors the means of presenting our readers with the first authentic account of this triumph of skill and energy.

Strange to say, the movement originated in the very stronghold of the rite. Among the states who gloried in the readiness of their women to brave this supreme test of conjugal devotion, none exercise a wider influence over Hindoo opinion than the small knot of powers on the north-west frontier, who occupy the provinces known collectively as Rajpootána. The respect paid throughout India to the blood of the Rajpoots (literally the progeny of princes) is well known. Matrimonial alliances with their chiefs are eagerly sought by princes of thrice their territorial importance. A race of soldiers and hunters, their figures and faces are eminently handsome and martial; their voices loud; and when they laugh, it is with a hearty burst like Europeans-in broad contrast to the stealthy chuckle of the Bengálec, or the silent smile of the reserved Mussulman. Unlike those, too, they scorn the pursuits of the desk; and even agriculture has only become common among them since the tranquillization of the frontier has diminished their opportunities of obtaining military service among their feudal lords. Whatever a Hindoo knows of chivalry or nationality, he deems to be exemplified in this model race. Since, therefore, Rajpoots were renowned for the frequency of their suttees, the great independent states thought it beneath their orthodoxy to return any other answer to the remonstrances of the British Government against the rite, than that "it would be time enough for them to prohibit it, when Rajpootana led the way.'

This they doubtless thought was to postpone a change indefinitely. Many, in truth, and pitiful were the instances which seemed to forbid the hope that Rajpoots would ever consent to take the lead in such a course. One of these has already been given. A second-the last with which we shall pain our readers-must be added, because it illustrates the chief difficulty with

which the friends of abolition had to contend. It was the belief of those officers who had acquired the longest experience in Rajpoot affairs, that every attempt on the part of the

dent; but his remonstrances were quickly neutralized by an adroit hint to the prince from a native courtier, "that if the widow's purpose were thwarted, she might utter some imprecations fatal to the state!" On this his Highness declared that he would stand neutral in the matter-" he would neither assent nor dissent-the messenger might do his best." The Brahmins and crowd of course interpreted this as it was meant; they jostled the emissaries of the chargé d'affaires, and even threw out threats against that officer himself, in case of any further interference. Musicians now came out from the palace to assist at the ceremony; a sumptuous dress and ornaments were presented to the woman; and thus decorated and attended, she was conducted to the place of sacrifice. Secret orders to use dispatch had in the mean time been sent by the Prince; and so well were these obeyed, that within three hours of Luchmun Brahmin's death his widow had shared his obsequies.

It is true that cases are on record in which, at the supreme moment, women have lost courage, and, starting from the pile, have torn off their sacrificial garlands, and cried aloud for mercy! Unhappily, too, it is not improbable that on such occasions the fatal belief that a suttee's resolution once voluntarily taken is irrevocable, may have caused the bystanders to thrust the victim remorselessly back into the flames; or if, from British interposition, a rescue has been effected, the woman has, it may be, survived only to curse the pity which, to save her from a few moments of pain, has deprived her, as she deemed, of ages of happiness. These things have been; but, with very rare exceptions, the suttee has been a voluntary victim. Resolute, undismayed, confident in her own inspiration, but betraying by the tone of her prophecies-which are almost always auspi cious-and by the gracious acts with which she takes leave of her household, and by the gifts which she lavishes on the bystanders, that her tender woman's heart is the true source whence that inspiration flows, the child-widow has scarcely time to bewail her husband ere she makes ready to rejoin him. She is dressed like a bride, but it is as a bride who has been received within the zenána of her bridegroom. Her veil is put off, her hair unbound; and so adorned and so exposed, she goes forth to gaze on the strange world for the first time, face to face, ere she leaves it. She does not blush or quail. She scarcely regards the bearded crowd who press so eagerly towards her. Her lips move

in momentary prayer. Paradise is in her view. She sees her husband awaiting with approbation the sacrifice which shall restore her to him dowered with the expiation of their sins, and ennobled with a martyr's crown. What wonder if, dazzled with these visionary glories, she heeds not the shouting throng, the ominous pile? Exultingly she mounts the last earthly couch which she shall share with her lord. His head she places fondly on her lap. The priests set up their chant-it is a strange hymeneal-and her first-born son, walking thrice round the pile, lights the flame. If the impulse which can suffice to steel a woman's nerves to encounter so painful a death, and to overpower the yearnings of her heart towards the children she may leave behind her-if such an impulse is, even to the eye of philosophy, a strange evidence of the power of faith, and of the depth and strength of tendernesssurely we may well conceive how the superstitious Hindoo should trace in it more directly the finger of God himself. They, we are persuaded, will best cope with this superstition-for they alone will comprehend the grounds on which it rests-who, content with the weapons of truth, will own, that love, and beauty, and death-terror, wonder, pity-never conspired to form a rite more solemn and affecting to the untutored heart of man.

*

The confirmation that the Kotah case appeared to give to the current opinions on the danger of interference, had naturally caused an official neutrality on the subject to be prescribed more strictly than ever to our Residents at native courts; and a complete inaction was the order of the day. Not to multiply instances of this policy, we may mention that in 1842 Lord Ellenborough

"I have heard," says Mr. Mountstuart Elphinstone, "that in Guzerat women about to burn are often stupefied with opium. In most other parts this is certainly not the case. Women go through all the ceremonies with astonishing composure and presence of mind, and have been seen seated, unconfined, among the flames, apparently praying, and raising their joined hands to their heads with as little agitation as at their ordinary devotions. The sight of a widow burning is a most painful one; but it is hard to say whether the spectator is most affected by pity or admiration. The more than human serenity of the victim, and the respect which she receives from all around her, are heightened by her gentle demeanor and her care to omit nothing in distributing her last presents, and paying the usual marks of courtesy to the bystanders; while the cruel death that awaits her is doubly felt from her own apparent insensibility to its terrors."―History of India, i. 361.