The Sun.
London, England, 1847-09-04 00:00:00

come odious. With all that, he has not returned me
the china he took from me ; what has he done with
it ? Has he them still ? At the bottom I believe it ;
will he return them to me? there is a world of ifs
on that subject. He has not expressed regret as to
what he has broken for me; he s:niles when I speak
to him of it. lam inclined to believe that he felt
slight degree of anger on that point. It is very
evident that he had a mind to our being recon-
ciled. Never' have I so strongly believed in his
inclination in this respect. Will they let him do
it ? I much fear that he may be yet impelled to
do many things, against which I shall not know
how to confine myself to a quiet regret. I strongly
feel, that in spite of my affection for him, I cannot
be happy if I do not occupy in a complete and irre-
vocable manner the same apartment with him, so as
to return to that intimacy which naturally and. alone
brings about that pouring of the soul, that unlimited
confidence, that double existence which is the happi-
ness of marriage ; neither can I be sio unless I
i para-
cipate in all his cares for my children and ther
soo;ety. But, my God! snatch from me, if it be
nrJeessary, every -ha.ppihess, the affection of all those
that I love, and re-unite us one day in your bosom.
Save us, my God! Give us eternal happiness, and
do with us what seemeth fit to you in this life. My
God! thou knowest that this is from the bottom of
my heart ; I wish for what seemeth fit for you ; but
give me strength and resignation to support it."
PAPER POUND IN THE DUCHESS DE PRXSLIN'S

then, will conduct and direct them in society ? Cer-
tainly, you will not think me worthy, and if you did
trom respect, could I, who do not know them, and
they who have no confidence for her whom they do
not esteem—could I direct them ? Accustomed to
the impudent, free, and familiar conduct of Mdlle.
De Limy towards you, and accustomed to consider
her perfection on earth, they will laugh at my advice,
or take it for the advice of hypocrisy. On the other
hand, if you take them into society without me, that
would be dishonouring me • and to cause them to
be accompanied by her would be to parade her in
the eyes of all. Mon Dieu! do not believe me so
absurd as to think that you have a grand passion for
Mdlle. De Luzy. I know that would appear to
you a very immoral idea, but if it be her object is
she a fit person to educate the children ? Even if
she do not trouble herself about that, and she
only puts herself prominently forward in order the
better to secure her absolute empire, is it becoming
that your daughters should be in the hands of a per-
son who has no regard for her reputation, who
tramples under foot all the received ideas of decency ?
Appearances make reputations; we can only judge
after what we see in this world. You will admit that
I lead a shocking life, that you yourself would not
support it. You say that it only depends on me to
change it. .Eh mon Dieu! I know very well that
if I would consent to find everything that Mdlle. D.
does charming, to close my eyes on what I find
wrong, to appear not to perceive all that there is sus-
picious in the mysteries which surround you, to re-
nounce the right of having a fixed opinion on certain
principles, and on what is proper ; I doubt not that if
I would say amen!' to all that I blame, my life
would be quite different in appearance, that is to say
that you would consent to speak to me more gra-
ciously, as would also Mdlle. D. ; that I should be
sometimes admitted to promenades and parties of
pleasure; that you would consent to talk to me from
time to time as you talk to anybody else ; that you
would come to see me some moments if I should be
unwell ; that you would appear to take some
interest in my health or my pleasures; that you
would perhaps have some attentions for me, some
presents to offer me. Yes, I believe all that, and I
know that by fifteen days of falsity I should obtain
that change. But if I were cowardly enough to
purchase Oat calm and consolation (for it would not
be happiness) at the price of sacrificing ali my prin-
ciples, I should deserve to be despised. lam mo-
rally and physically exhausted by this long and cruel
struggle ; but even you yourself could not advise me
to purchase repose by the sacrifice of my conscience.
Should I die without having obtained a moment of
relief, I will never cease to tell you the truth. You
are in a fatal path; you are ruining our children by
giving them false principles, by teaching them to
despise their mother, by giving them the example of
a disunited family, in which a person occupies the
place of their mother, of your wife. You feel that
the state of my health would not be a plausible pre-
text to any one, owing to the manner in which I am
rejected from the family; for it is evident that if you
believed me ill, and we were not separated by your
aversion, and especially by fatal influences, you
would tend me, and the children also, instead of
abandoning me. Assuredly you would not render a
woman who was indifferent to you so cruelly un-
happy. It is therefore hate which you feel towards
me, and that is the fruit of my love so constant and
so devoted!"

and harshness make me suffer ! Givenindeyr pmlayce
vneerayr I
you, near our children, to another, u
eyes, whilst
f:oni you! What !do you not see the
tuoffrkoenetps
youme
put upon me, the humiliatio?nslleuonodfeesrsgoth
at beforethis life my
children and your servants
is unbearable ; if you persist in it, allow me to go, to
retire ; I cannot endure it any longer. If we con-
tinue to live so we shall only become more embit-
tered, and what good will that do ? Our daughters
will perhaps acquire talents, but they will receive a
sad education. Thank God, their natural characters
are good, but they are not brought up as they ought
to be. I see that, and I can say nothing : and yet I
am their mother, and .my life has been pure. I re-
peat to you, mon ami, if you will continue this con-
duct, I cannot, I ought not to remain. My presence
is of no use, since I cannot prevent what I blame,
and I suffer in vain."
LETTER, WITHOUT DATE, FOUND AT PRASLIN.
" When I arrived here I hoped to have some mo-
ments of amusement and of truce ; but the illusion
has not lasted long; the steps of the carriage had not
been put down, before I read in your icy, disdainful,
and discontented air, in the constrained expression of
he looks of my children, in the little green eyes
which appeared behind your shoulder, that I was
about to be subjected to the most humiliating treat-
ment, to the most painful life, to support the spectacle
of the most improper things, not to make use of a more
appropriate phrase. Believe it, Theobald, if I still
struggle, it is because I am firmly conscientious—
because it is my duty not to renounce the struggle to
obtain a factitious peace and tranquillity, not to give
by my silence an appearance of tacit consent to a
state of things which concerns my children, and which
I strongly disapprove, and because I firmly believe it
to be detestable, grievous for the present, pernicious,
dangerous in the future. You may do all that you
will, detest me as you will, I am still the mother of
those children, whom you give to the first comer. I
know very well that you are the master, that you can
do all you will with me • but there is one thing in
which the rights of a wife are almost equal to those
of a husband—you entirely forget that. Do you not
know, then, that the laws, if I were to invoke them,
would decide in my favour ? You know that I shall
never do that; but is that a reason for making a bad
us.e of it? You believe yourself obliged to cede in
all things in order to preserve Mademoiselle D—
at every cost. Yot believe that it would not be pos-
sible to replace her near you, near my dear children.
But why do you, who believe it so simple, so easy to
replace a mother, think it so prodigiously impossible
to replace a governess ? If you had desired it she
might have been a good governess, but you have
changed her functions, her position, and those who
shine in the second rank are cast into the shade in
the first. How is it possible that her head should
not be turned when your conduct says to her every
day still more clearly than your words, ' I have a
wife, but I prefer your society, your attentions. My
children have a mother, but though I scarcely know
you, and you are younger, I have more confidence in
your principles, your experience, your attentions,
your devotedness, your manners, your judgment, your
tenderness, to be everything to them. Take, then,
the place—command, ordain ; she who must be the
mother of my children must be sovereign in my
hsuse ?' Theobald, that is logical, but you start from
a false and dangerous point. You yourself have not
the right to condemn me to this ignominious civil
death, and you can only do that in leaving me to be
suspected of infamous conduct and vices, and by my
children, too ! Oh !I am richly punished to have
loved you so much—to have preferred you even to
them ; but was I not already sufficiently punished to
have lost, without return, without hope, the only true
happiness for me—your affection ? But to see my
children conducted in the path of false and frivolous
principles, accustomed to blind, inconsiderate con-
duct, and false and unbecoming positions, unnatural
and improper ! If you would reflect yourself, you
would feel that, in setting aside all my personal
sentiments of joy and happiness destroyed, I must
cruelly suffer to see my numerous children under a
direction so pernicious to their future conduct. Ask
yourself frankly, what you would feel, what you
would do towards any one who should deprive you
at once of a woman you loved with ardour, and of
your children, to give them false and dangerous im-
pressions ? When I had the weakness, by excess of
love for you, to make you an immense sacrifice in
abandoning my children to you, picturing to myself
in a guilty blindness that this sacrifice, on account
of its greatness, would most certainly restore me
your affection ; persuaded by your promises in this
respect, I committed, I admit, a great fault; I ought
to have died sooner than have made this sacrifice.
And I made a very false calculation, for this
sacrifice made to my love gave you a bad opinion of
my principles, my judgment, my heart ; I conceive
that ; yet I ought to add for my justification that
my tenderness confounded all our rights in me only.
I believed myself a portion of you ; it seemed to me
that all ought to be common between us and sup-
ported mutually. At present you have established a
complete separation between us ; we are nothing more
than strangers one to another. I for a long time
flattered myself with illusions of a return of affection,
of trials, of all the possibilities of this world, to
picture to myself that it was a time to be passed, that
you loved me, and that you would return to me, that
all mysteries would be cleared up by you in a natural
and satisfactory manner ; in short, I long made every
dream of happiness to come with confidence, and still
more with hope. At present —nut let us talk no
longer of it, happiness is no longer in question ; but
since I must abandon the hope of your return and
that of my children, I must at least know what I
have to trust to. My life is not supportable; it is
painful, disgraceful to me, and, do not deceive your-
self, very dangerous to the future prospects of the
children. Things cannot endure in their present
state. Therefore, reflect; remember that I supplicate
you to give me at last a becoming position, and an
interest in life. Oh l but you are weak I You have
arrived at such a point that you dare no longer go
out with your wife and your children, without being
accompanied by that person for whom you have taken
from me what you gave me in the first days of
marriage. You are so much under her yoke that you
dare undertake nothing without her. You would
consider it wrong to leave her for a moment, and your
wife, the mother of nine children, must live and die
alone."

SECRETARY.
" Praslin, Sept. 15, 1842.
" You are, Theobald, I am convinced, far from sus•
pecting your harshness towards me, and how much
it makes me suffer. It is a very slow but very pain-
ful death, I assure you, to die of grief ! Oh, Theo-
bald, how much I loved you! how much I loved our
children ! I have no longer anything in this world !
Of our union nothing remains for me hut your name.
I live alone forsaken, despised, and I have a husband
and nine children ; another, before my eyes, enjoys
all these blessings ! and you would have me think
that natural ? Well, Ido say, and truly, that of all
tortures the most cruel that could be imposed on me
is the life I lead. My God ! what crime would not
be expiated by such anguish ! You no longer love
me ! you abandon me ! though of all pains this is the
most acute for me, who have never ceased to love you
with so much ardour. I understand it; but, to de •
prive me of my children, and to give my place about
you and them to another ! Oh ! no, you have no
right to do that, Theobald. Can you be so weak and
so blind as to abandon my children to a brainless
woman—a woman without shame, without principles,

without tact ?"

LETTER WITHOUT DATE, FOUND IN THE DUKE DE

PiIASLIN'S SECRETARY AT PRASLIN.
" Do not believe, my dear Theobald, that I am no
aware of my error, when I have forgotten myself so
as to tell you, in language too violent, what I have
suffered, and what afflicts me still. However well
grounded aF.d reasonable my grief may be, I ought
either to conceal it or express more calmly the natural
anxiety it causes me for out children. Now things
are come to this point, I assure you it would be better
for us to separate quietly, privately, without speak-
ing to any one. Time brings things about; it will
one day open your eyes to the sad and deplorable in-
fluence which you have suffered to gain such ascen-
dancy over you, such authority over our children and
your house. Let me await that moment in peace and
solitude. For years past I have made vain efforts to
appear calm and resigned to a state of things which I
firmly IK-lieve is as injurious to our eldest daughters as
it is painful to myself. For a long time I believed in
your affection ; and that gave me patience under my
sufferings. Now, all illusion has ceased ; I see that I
never could have occupied the place I coveted in your
heart, as I once supposed. You were for a long time
so very kind to me, that I believed you loved me with
a reciprocal affection, and that you would one day be
mine again. This illusion is destroyed. If I was
not able to win your affections formerly, I cannot
hope to do so now, after so much trouble has soured
my temper, of which I am fully aware. My heart is
still the same, entirely devoted to you and our
children ; but I see tha I am nothing either to you
or the children. You have annulled my life ; you
force me to be only a spectator, whereas I ought to
be the second head of the family. I see a thousand
things arotod me equally obnoxious to my princi-
ples and my affections. I am evidently a burden
to you, and some of my children, in appearance at
least, for you are far from knowing their real feel-
ings. In fine, you have made my life useless here,
and you let me feel that I am in the way, and
only tolerated. I know 1 can do nothing to change
an iota of your determination; I only ask you, there-
fore, to make such arrangements that I may not be
compelled to witness things which I cannot help
blaming from my very heart. You have shown
in every way that you feel neither esteem nor
friendship for me; and that you would have our
children share your sentiments. I wish for nothing
but to let you enjoy in peace the kind of life
you have chosen, without being an unwilling sepcta-
tor of it. I suffer too much here, deprived of every-
thing in the place I loved, in the midst of those I
hold dear, but who are snatched from me by an in-
triguer. I cannot understand why my unhappy life
should give a relish to your pleasures. Do what you
please, but, for mercy's sake, do not force me to wit-
ness it. If Aline should be ordered to take the
waters, allow me to conduct her there. Ah, if you
allowed me to devote my life to those of my children
that please you least, to those whom nature has less
liberally endowed, it would be a great blessing to me.
If you knew how much you make me suffer ! I only
ask you as a favour to allow me to retire to solitude,
and for a year past you have found time to think of
it. You laugh at my sufferings, but I tell you before
God that there is no more cruel torture than the life
I lead meanwhile. You will force me to fly : would
it not be better to make an amicable arrangement ?
Certainly, you cannot propose anything more painful
to me than what I now undergo. Ah! how many
times have I seen you allow yourself to be deceived
and fascinated by intriguing women !"
This letter was enclosed in an envelope, bearing the
address of " Monsieur le Duct'
EZTILACT FROM A LETTER WITHOUT DATE FOUND IN
THE DUCHESS DE PRASLIN S SECRETARY, AT PARIS.
" I go,_ my dear Theobald, for I confess I no longer
know what conduct to adopt ; I thought I yesterday
acted very well in quitting in silence, in order to
avoid the bitterness with which you reproach me
whenever I open my mouth. This new plan has so
badly succeeded with me that I require time to col-
lect my ideas as to what course I shall pursue. You
have frequently repeated that you despised me ; you
have for so long a time proved it to me, that I unfor-
tunately can no longer doubt it; but I admit that I
do not well understand it. Besides, you sadly mis-
understand me ; you always suppose that I fix all my
ideas on the suspicion of one guilty act, and I com-
prehend that that idea revolts you, particularly under
these circumstances. It is not only this which is blame-
able and painful toaffection ; certainly to see you prefer
the society of another, to give her all my rights to
your triendship, to your confidence, to your intimacy,
all those which I bad over my children; these are
real and profound subjects of grief. Add to this the
pain of seeing my children in the hands of a person
who, because she commits no fault, takpeisoy herupon herself
to be inconsistent and familiar ; to. ern
influ-
ence to direct you, and take possession of all the house;
who looks upon the usages of society as absurditnh
iesap
candidly, there is enough in this to Cause unhap
piness, sorrow, and anger. To continue life in this
way is impossible. Call to mind that before all things
I wish for your happiness ; but I cannot secure it at
the price of my conscience. If I remain . . .
I will propose an arrangement to you, reflect. If
you are willing, I will get my physician to order m e
sea-bathing, and will go alone to Carteret. I will
stay three months; if the life you lead with Mdlle.
D— and our children suits you for a permanency,
without having the trouble of a woman who wants to
be the companion of her husband, the mother of her
children—if, in short, you prefer being a widower,
tell me frankly, arid I will stay there ; if, on the con-
trary, after three months, you remember that you
have a loving wife, and if you feel the want of a
friend who will devote her life to you, then you will
tell me so, and I should arrive very happy, very
grateful. Do not accuse me of thoughtlessness in
offering you this ve'
alternat.l I wish you to be happy;
I know that my presence
a isa I •
a
burden, that my ab-
sence will be no privation,am of no use to any-
body for anything, as things have gone on for some
time past."—This letter is addressed, " M. le Due."
SCaE
JETTER WITHOUT DATE, FOUND
INOF THE DUCHESS OF PRASLIN, AT TilE
PRASLIN.SECRETARY
E T
6, I see well, my friend, that you take my grief for
oill-humour—but you are altogether wrong.
should
s
Seri-
ously, Dow, put .yourself in my place, and say,uhad a husband, and that
you be happy if youhe lived
under your eyes, in the same house, with another
woman, in a degree of inti !lacy and familiarity such
as you live in with -NI file. D.? Say, should you
adopt the plan not to king up your daughters, if you
were a mother, to see them in the hands of a person
whose conduct nor principles could inspire any confi-
dence, and who ha; such detestable in inners ? . .
Say, should you ba hsppy to live isolated as I do in
the midit of my on n fa•oily, to be neither wife, nor
mother, nor miitrcs; ofjthe house ? YOH deprive the
of the occupations that the duti-s of legitimate affec-
tion always bring. You con e .
.old maid, and tc.d r-rm ''to live like an
seelttleanother take my place. Oh !
Illy God ! how you know what I suffer.
You do not know that this life is a dreadful
torture, that without a vague hope of your eyes
being one day open to the. injurysuch you are doing- our
them daughters, by giving
hadin opinion
wth sucohf
their mother, and so improper an education t
dangerous examples, such false principles—vvithout
momenta
this vague hope I could not stay
childrenhome
under your roof. At my age, not to have
like other women, w ith a husband and
allepbald, you cannot imagine what your contempt

LETTER WITHOUT DATE FOUND IN THE SECRETARY OF
THE DUCHESS DE PRASLIN, AT PRASLIN.
" On quitting the spot where I have been so happy,
and where I have suffered so much—where I thought
of always living, where I leave all that is dearest in
the world to me—all the objects on whose tenderness
I had founded all my hopes of happiness, my heart,
Theobald,. is breaking; but it must be so; a mother
owes to her children not to allow herself to be treated
as a guilty person, particularly when nothing in her
conduct has ever justified the estrangement which
has taken place between them. When I shall be no
more, perhaps your eyes will be opened and you will'
comprehend that she who has founded her domina-
tion by embroiling you with the mother of your
children, in accustoming them to avoid that mother,
is not worthy of bringing them up. You have feared
the influence of your wife, who has always loved
you above all, and you are the puppet of all the
caprices of that woman, who is void of principle and
of delicacy. All I ask of you is, to remain what I
should naturally be, your wife, your companion, the
mother of our children ; she has excited you to
separate yourself from me, to give her my place near
you, near my children, and in the house ; and you
have yielded it to her. I asked you only to accord her
the consideration due in every house to a governess; you
did not consider that sufficient. She had incited you to
ill-treat me, to drive me from your house, to break
everything in my apartment, to deprive me of my chil-
dren, to take from me all authority over them and in
the house, and you have yielded to her in everything;
with a look, with a sign, she makes you act and obey
her. You are afraid that in seeing my children I
should influence them against her, that I should un-
mask her, and the idea has never occurred to you
that it was much more distressing for the children to
be continually with a person who speaks ill to them
of their mother; who incites them to doubt her affec-
tion, her intelligence, and her reputation. Oh ! when
I had so much confidence in you, so much tenderness
that I gave up all my rights to you, to rely on you
for everything, even for the tenderness of my chil-
dren, I was tar from imagining you to be so weak, so
readily blinded. This weakness, which causes my
misfortunes, forms your excuse in my eyes ; but for
this incredible blindness you could not have been so
cruel towards me. Adieu, Theobald ; it a feeling of
false shame prevents you from ever repairing the
wrongs you have inflicted on me, God is my witness
that I leave with a broken heart, but in offering up
prayers for your happiness. I know that, whatever
may be one day your feelings towards me, your ideas
of dignity will never permit you to be well with me;
it is therefore only for the interest of my children that
I beseech you to open your eyes; they are in bad
hands. Farewell, farewell. Have pity on my poor
children, who are so badly trained.!"
ANOTHER LETTER FOUND IN THE SECRETARY OF
THE DUKE DE rRASLIN, AT PRASLIN.
" Paris, June 15, 1847.
" My dear Theobald,—l have waited until this
moment for the result of the promises that you re-
newed to me, on my return from Italy, to change the
organization of our home. You appear to have for-
gotten them, and I find myself obliged to tell you
that I do not think I ought to return to Praslin
without it be to re-enter on the exercise of my rights
and to fulfil my.duties of mother and of mistress of
the household in their fullest extent. The system of
governesses has always succeeded badly with us, and
it is time, for the welfare of our children and the dig-
nity of our home, to abandon it. So long as my
daughters shall not be married, I will reside every-
where among them, I will be present at all their oc-
cupations. I will accompany them everywhere. All
my plans are formed, and when you shall have re-
flected you will certainly find as many motives for
confidence in the educatiou of our daughters under
the care of a mother as under that of a governess.
Masters will supply as easily at Praslin as at Paris
the lessons of a governess, who has always stood in
need of their assistance. I have foreseen every-
thing, and all will be easily arranged. My
father, I know, has offered to Mdlle. D-
an honourable pension for life. In going with
it to England, her talents and her patrons
will procure her a more becoming position more easily
than at Paris. You would be wrong to be disquieted
with the grief that our daughters would feel ; it would
be much shorter and much less profound than you
imagine ; I have certain reasons for not doubting
that. For a long time back you have expressed
yourself with respect to the conduct of Mdlle. D-
in a manner to leave no doubt that you have opened
your eyes, to a great part at least, of its grave im-
propriety. What Would secure her retiremement in
an honourable manner would be a pension from my
father,spiitdretdn
reer guaranteed by me, and her journey to Eng-
land, which would explain away favourably a
havingdeparture.io
oorwaited
f a
mßifloyyr
indelicacythe
orderres uI
t firsto i
nopen:ai
y
n soughtofourr
eye a
years,
es
au rps
I must at length submit to the legitimate desire
of my father to speak to you in the name of the
veritable interests of our children. When you,
my natural supporter, fail
my father.
n ui
crisisshall
which av e
wrisns
re-establish
mdoe, I must let myself be
rejoice
ehujeiodi :fide r s
atb
ty e
na doubt that when
away you will
iot
youro natural
order in our home. If it enters
arrangements that Mdlle. D --shall return to
Praslin to seek her things, I will wait until she
shall return before going there ; if they must simply
be sent to her at Paris, I will start as soon as you
please for Praslin. After all the rumours which have
been current, I have shown her sufficient kindness to
restore her character, as you pointed out to me, in
so far as it depended on me, in order to make her to
leave with honour. I have fulfilled my task; the
welfare of my children, that of their establishment,
will not permit me to prolong by resignation a state
of things pernicious to all. Let not the fear of re-
crimination on these painful matters torment you.
It enters into my views as much as it does into yours
not to return to them. My silence on previous cir-
cumstancesialmost the same is a sure guarantee of
this to you. The first condition of family life is
peace and a good understanding. That is my object,
and it will be easily obtained when no attempts shall
any longer be made to separate children from their
mother, and to reign by division. It is not without
serious reflection, nor without the assurance that I
y ,who is to me the representative of my
follow the opinion of my father, that I have deter-
mined to adopt such a serious resolution. It wouldi
have obtained, I am sure, the approval of my uncle
De Coignmother, if I had not avoided till now to speak to him
of then sad details. DZy mhos are that everything

LETTER, WITHOUT DATE, FOUND IN THE SECRETARY
OT THE DUCHESS DE PRASLIN.
" I cannot understand what are your views as to
the future of our children, nor by what principles you
direct your conduct, nor what is the nature of your
sentiments with respect to me. You will not under
any pretext read my letters, nor accord me a serious
conversation, tior any explanation of any kind. If it
he the dread of an explanation on your private con-
duct, you are wrong to fear that I will enter on that
subject. I for a lm; while expected, hoped for, that
moment almost as much as I desired it, but it is now
an allusion completely destroyed. You have too
dearly proved that you no longer love me, and that
ail relations must cease between us, for me to be ab-
surd enough to expect from you any mark of affec-
tion. I therefore only demand of you, I swear it,
that which is not refused to any woman, unless she
be a monster of corruption ; and that is, the permis-
sion to do my duty towards my children, and to enjoy
the consolation that I can find in the midst of them
alone, in the services that I might render them, and
in their tenderness to soften the bitter regrets which
wring my heart at having lost your affection. I
would have given all my blood to regain your ten-
derness,to dieto; enjoybut I hiatve
againen
cowardly,for a
e selfish,moments,
guilty,
nd
then
I admit it,
it it, in abandoning to you all my share of
rights over our children, h • aving pictured to myself
that this sacrifice, greater a hundred times than
that of my life, would touch you,l that you
would would return to me, and that you wo give yourself'
to me a second time. But I take ne aven to
I would never have made a similar concession
witness,for
any
motive, if I had not been convinced that you would
put
them in respectable hands, and that
only for their
instruction. Never, never would I have willingly
consented to be deprived of all relations with my
children, to no longer occupy myself with their health,
with their comfort. But that was not the case.
Never have I been sufficiently unnatural, sufficiently
infamous to renounce the care of my children, not to
live with them, and to exercise no moral influence
over them. You must be very blind not to see that
you are in the hands of an intriyante. Yes, the per-
son who is capable of profiting by the dissensions
which she remarked between us on her arrival, in
order to increase her authority, which has completely
separated us, which has totally separated a mother
from her children, is profoundly immoral, and un-
worthy of the confidence which you place in her. A
woman who accepts such a false position is the most
authority
mgerous example for young girls ; she purchases
at the price of her reputation. Women
who make such bargains have only another step to
take to lose themselves• in fact as they have already
lost themselves in appearance. Having had the mis-
fortune to thrust herself into
11,111 e. D. ought, if she a very false position,
had the sentiment of modesty
or the least tact, to have reserved manners, to act
becomingly towards youteNav; insteadrd of which, by her
conduct, shameless
house, scandalous to me,
she s you, arrogant in the
puts.o herself forward
in a scandalous manner.
me sufficiently good company for ni childrendo not
; but
not find
in seeing the bold, unbecoming, and my
often
scandalous
conduct of their governess, what will my children
soon think of the conduct of the mother roth whom
they are separated ? Do you not feel, then, to
what
an extent you brand me in their eyes ? Ah you i
have not the right. If I had been guilty, you would
have believed it your duty to secure me the Conside-
ration
of my children; and you sacrifice me. You
abandon them to a person who knows not, or who
laughs at modesty and decency, for she observes
neither. What a Mentor for young girls! Who,

Titti SUN, LONDON, Shi.TUR,DA.Y nvigkiNG, SEPT :EMBER 4,114 L
B&W

shall be arranged between my father, you, and my-
self, without the intervention of other advisers. You
have often expressed to me, my dear Theobald, the
desire to see things take another face, because you
really feel the discomfort of our home ; but you
always draw back. I now count on your co-opera-
tion, as in everything which concerns the happiness
of our children.
" FANNT SEBASTIAN' FRASLIN."
UTTER. OF THE DUCHESS DE PRASLIR TO MDLLE. DE
LUZY A COPY OF WHICH WAS FOUND ON AUG. 20,
IN THE DUKE'S SECRETARY, AT PARIS.
" June 19, 1847.
" Mdlle.,—l regret exceedingly that you are un-
well, and that in such a state you have taken the
trouble to write to me (*) for a matter which your
attention to my children rendered so natural. It
circumstances important for their interests have pre-
cipitated an event which I regarded only a few days
back as being still distant, do not doubt that I shalt
in consequence seek out with greater zeal all occa-
sions to be useful to you, and that I shall be well
pleased if you point me out the way. I have heard
it said that you wish to go and see Lady Hislop;
is
that be the case, I can offer you a letter to Lady
Tankerville, who, I am certain, will earnestly second
Lady Hislop in all her endeavours to forward your
plans. If you thought fit to have letters also for Mde.
de Flahaut and Miss Elphinstone, dispose of me most
freely. I remember you asked me to lend you a
book on arriving at Praslin ; I hope that you will
not refuse to accept that little souvenir, which I have
great pleasure in offering you. lam anxious to re-
peat to yoa, Mademoiselle, that I shall seize with
eagerness on all the occasions that occur, and such as
you may be pleased to afford me to be of use to you.
" S. PR ASLIN."

*LETTER FROM DIDLLE. DE LUZY TO THE DUCHESS DE
PRASLIN ON '1•11E 17TH OR 18TH OF JUNE, 1847.
" Madame la Duchesse,—l should have wished to ex
press to you in person the sentiments which auima:e m ,
but I feel that under present circumstances it would hr
a task above my strength. Permit me to postpone to a
more calm and more happy period the thanks which I
desire to express to you with my own lips for the gene-
rosity with which you_ remunerate my feeble services.
At the moment of quitting children to whom I have
devoted the Most lively tenderness, I find in the testi
mony of your satisfaction a powerful consolation. I
accept with gratitude the offers of recommendatiiir
which you have the goodness to make, and I shall has-
ten, Madame, to avail myself of them as soon as circum
stances will render it advisable for me to do so. The ill
health of my grandfather, exceedingly precarious fo•
several months past, imposes on me the duty of bein4
with him at present. I shall demand permission to in-
form you at a later period of the steps which I shall
think it advisable to take, and I pray you, Madame, to
accept the assurance of lay profound respect.
" 11. DE LUZY."

FOREIGN PRINTING. An importation recently
took place of a quantity of printed papers, in which the
decision arrived at as to their liability to duty or other-
wise was of much interest and importance. These
printed papers were simply specimens of type connected
with, or rather comprising no particular book, but serv-
ing only to illustrate the form of the types, which had
been fixed in this country, and sent to the printers in
Germany, in order to have the specimens struck oil
there, and sent to this country as samples of printing.
and on their arrival the parties requested their delivery

as such free of duty. It appears that by the Bth and
9th Victoria, cap. 86, sec- 63, paper printed on in the
English language is absolutely prohibited to be im
ported ; but that these printed sheets were merely in-
tended as specimens of type, and unfit for any other
purpose than distribution as patterns, and to show the
effect of the same when put to press ; and it has on a
former occasion been decided, in a communication from
(comprising an order of) the Board of Trade, that the
prohibition with respect to the importation of paper
printed on in the English language, was not intended to
have the effect of preventing the importation of articles
which must be considered as legitimate objects of trade,
but simply to preclude any evasion of the prohibitio❑
with respect to books, .oich might otherwise b© accom-
plished by importing them in detached sheets of printed
'paper ; Red although in the importation under notic..
there were several hundred copies of each sample
or pattern, they were strictly fragments of works,
containing each a single page, and in no instance
being a continuation of the subject, but a repetition of
the same words, and for these several reasons these pat-
terns of printing have been directed to be delivered free
of duty.
FIRE AT KNIGHTSBRIDGE.—Yesterday, about half,
past eleven in the morning. a very alarming fire broke
out in Queen's-gardens, Knightsbridge, near Sloane-
street. The police were soon on the spot, and, before
the flames had extended themselves to any great extent,
messengers were sent in various directions for the en-
gines. The greatest fears were entertained for the safety
of the neighbourhood. from Cuthbert's mahogany factory
and a large tallow welter's being situated near ; but,
very fortunately, the engines of the brigade of the
West-end and Chandos-street stations, as also those of
the parish, were in such quick attendance, that by the
timely exertions of the firemen only one house, that in
which the fire originated, was destroyed, though the two
adjoining ones were slightly damaged. The cause of the
fire, and whether the party was insured or not, could
not be ascertained. _ _ _

WHITBY, SEPT. I.—The price of flour fell this day
ld. per stei., with the prospect of a further speedy de-
cline. Thirty-six years ago a fine new brig, in ballast,
called the Lord Nelson, was driven on shore to the north
of the pier, in a gale of wind. An attempt was made to
float her off, which failed, and exertions were then used
to save the *hole of the wreck above the sands. Shortly
after the kelson with about seven feet of flooring on each
side, disappeared under the sand, and on Saturday last
the ribs became once more visible. Several unemployed
men of the town commenced operations to recover the
wreckage, and this evening by means of digging, much
labour, and the employment of empty casks, the poor
men's services have been rewarded with success. The
brig, when driven on shore, was the property of and
commanded by Master Wilson, an old friend and ship-
mate of the gallant hero of Trafalgar.
FATAL OCCURRENCE AT HER MAJESTY'S THEATRE.
—Yesterday afternoon, between the hours of four
and five o'clock, a horrible accident occurred at her
Majesty's Theatre, the Italian Opera, Haymarket, and
which it is to be regretted was attended with fatal con-
e—t Chapman,
seems
con-
sequences to a workman employed on the building,
n
aged 47, under the circumstances
subjoined
in that at the period alluded to, in
consequence of the close of the theatre, a number of
workmen were employed on the stage in removing the
jedoh :
scenery, stage property, &c., and the deceased was
perched upon the top of the stage, and by some acci •
Idental circumstance slipped on one side, thus losing his
equiiiibriues, he fell from a height upwards of 37 feet,
flat on to the stage. The poor fellow was picked up in
a frigh'fully mutilated condition, the blood streaming
from his head, and was conveyed immediately to the
Charing-cross Hospital, when Mr. G. M. Young, the
resident medical officer, was in prompt attendance ; but
upon the examination of the wounded man it was ascer-
tained that he had fractured his skull extensively, re-
ceived a compound comminattd fracture of the left
clavicle, broken his left lee, and several ribs, with a
fearful contusion on the forehead, besides other exten
sive injuries, so as in fact to defy the most competent
human skill. Everything that could be thought of was
done ; but notwithstanding all efforts, he died at half-
past six o'clock, about two and a half hours after his
admission.
WOOLWICH DOCKYARD, SEPT. 3. Commodore
Sir Gordon Bremer, .K.C.B. and K.C.H., superintendent
of her Majesty's Dockyard here, returned on Wednesday
afternoon from leave of absence, and in the evening,
when the men of the dockyard battalion assembled for
drill, and after going through several of their evolu-
tions, they were formed into square, and addressed by
the Gallant Commodore to the following effect:—" I am
extremely sorry to learn that during my temporary ab-
sence some of the men should have misconducted them-
selves
as they have done, and I have only to look to the
conduct pursued within the dockyard, and have nothing
to do with them when they leave; but I trust their good
sense as men will induce them in future, when they are
dismissed for the day, to go quietly home to their
families." During the time the commodore addressed
the men several expressions of " Hear, hear," were
used, and at the conclusion he was most cordially
cheered. The Commodore shortly after assembled the
other workmen of the yard not belonging to the bat-
talion, and addressed them in a very feeling manner on
the necessity of being careful of their conduct, if they
were desirous of remaining in the employment of her
Majesty as dockyard artisans, or in any other capacity.
FATAL ACCIDENT ON THE BRISTOL AND BIR-
MINGHAM RAILWAY.---GLOUCESTER, FRIDAY.—A fatal
accident occurred this morning on this line of railway,
at an embankment in the parish of Churchdown, or
Chasen, between Cheltenham and Gloucester. The de-
ceased, a labourer named Barnes, was at work as usual,
and, on the approach of the 8-15 A.M. train from Bris-
tol, was cautioned by some of his fellow-workmen, one
of whom called to him, " Halo, do you see the train
coming ?" Instead, however, of getting off the line
altogether, as be should have done (his duty being to re-
move the iron "chairs" on the " batter" by the side of
the rails) he got on the down train line. At this mo-
ment, the Birmingham 8,.A M. down-train was coming
up, and the buffer of the engine struck the deceased, in-
flicting such mortal injuries that resulted in the poor
fellow's death shortly afterwards. He was taken to the
Infirmary in this city, and, on surgical examination, it
was found that the right leg was nearly severed from the
body, near the knee; the left leg was also much crushed,
and the abdominal parts were also greatly pressed and
injured. The body now lies at,the infirmary, awaiting
the coroner's inquest.
FIRE IN BRISTOL.—An alarming fire broke out on
Tuesday night on the premises of Mr. Richards, the
Three Sugar Loaves, Christmas-steps, which threatened
to be productive of very serious consequences. The
alarm was first given about half past ten, and the en-
gines of the police and various fire offices were speedily
on the spot; but the building consisting principally of
old and dry materials, it was found impossible to get the
flames under until near three o'clock, A.M., when the
interior of the house was almost destroyed. The house
and shop of Mr. Merry, baker, which is contiguous, had
a very narrow escape from destruction ; the flames
caught a portion of the root, and a large quantity of flour
lying in a loft was also destroyed. By the strenuou-
exertions of the firemen, &c., the flames were prevented
extending further, and the fears at first entertained for
the safety of much of the property in that thickly pope_ I
lated neighbourhood were fortunately not realised. It
is not known how the fire originated. We understand
that Mr. Richards is insured.--Bristol Gazette.

Carlisle

Average Amouute
Pease's Old Bank, Hull, the Hull Old Bank and
Beverley Bank, Hull—Pease and Co
Penzance Bank, Penzance—Batten and Co 9,682
Peterborough Bank and Oundle Bank, Peter-
borough—AlPt-rs. Yorke
Peterborough Bank, Peterborough—Simpson,
White, and Simpson 10,056
Pembrokeshire Bank, Haverfordwest—.l. and
W. Walters
Penzance Union Bank, Falmouth Bank, and
Truro Bank, Penzance—Rickets, Enthoven.

and Co
Reading Bank, Reading—itanonas and Co 35,497
Reading Bank, Reading—Stephens,Blandy, and
Co 31,624
Richmond Bank, Richmond—Stapleton and Co 5,135
Ringwood and Poole Bank, and Town and
County of Poole Bank, Ringwood—Ledgard
and Sons
Rochdale Bank, Rochdale—Clement, Royds,

and Co 4,216
Rochester, Chatham, and Strood Bank, Roches-

ter—Dav and Nicholson 9.550
Royston Bank, Royston—Fordham and Sons 15,665
Rugby Bank, Rugby—Butlin and Son 12.772
Rye Bank, Rye—Curteis, Pomfret, and Co 17,305
Reigate and Darking Bank, and Reigate, Croy-
don, and Darking Bank, Reigate—Nash and
Co 12,E30
Ross Old Bank, Herefordshire, Ross—Pritchard
and Allaw ay
Saffron Walden and North Essex Bank, Saffron
Walden—Messrs. Gibson
Salop Bank, Shrewsbury—Burton, Lloyd, and
Co 15,005
Scarborough Old Bank, ..icarborough—Woodall
and Co 23 680
Shrewsbury and Market.Drayton Bank, Shrews-
bury—Adams, Adan,s, and Co 6,789
Shrewsbury Old Bank, and Shrewsbury and
Ludlow Bank, Shrewsbury—Roeke, Ey tons, _ .

4,487

and Co . 34,259
Sittingbourne and Milton Bank, Sittingbourne
—Valiance and Son 3,315
Southampton Town and County Bank, South-
ampton—Maddisnn and Son
Southwell Bank, Svuthwell—Wylde and Co.
St. Alban's Bank. St. Alban's—J. S. Story 2,104
Salisbury Bank, Salisbury—Messrs. Brodie 22,800
Shaftesbury Bank, Shaftesbury— Brodie and

King • .
Southampton and Hampshire Bank, Southamp-
ton—Atherly and Fall
Stone Bank, Stone—W. Moore 6,718
Stourbridge Banc, Stourbridge Rufford,
Wragg, and Co
Stafford Old Bank, Stafford—Stevenson and Co 13,660
Stamford and Rutland Bank, Stamford—Eaton,
Cayley, and Co. .
Stourbridge Old Bank, Stourbridge—Bate and
Robins
Shrewsbury and welshpool Bank, Shrewsbury
—Beck, Downward, and Co. 21,920
St. Alban's and Harts Bank, St. Alban's—Gib-
son and Stuart 2,250
Taunton Bank, Taunton—Messrs. Badcock 25,290
Tavistock Bank, Tavistock—Gill, Rundle, and
Co 13,841
Thornbury Bank, Thornbury—Rolph, Yates, and
Parslow
Tiverton and Devonshire Bank, Tiverton—Duns-
ford and Barne
Thrapston and Kettering Bank, Northampton-
shire, Thrapston—Yorke and Eland 10,069
Tring Bank and Chesham Bank, Tring—But-
cher and Son
Towcester Old Bank, Towcester—J. and S
Percival

9,846

9,749

Union Bank, Cornwall, Helston—Vivian and
Co. 14,987
Uxbridge Old Bank, Uxbridge—Hull, Smith,
and Co.
Wallingford Bank, Wallingford—Wells and Co 8,448
Warwick and Warwickshire Bank, Warwick—
Kelynge, Greenway, and Co. 25,960
Wellington Somerset Bank, Wellington—Fox.
Brothers
West Riding Bank, Wakefield, and Pontefract
Bank, Wakefield—Leathatn, Tew, and Co.
Whitby-Old Bank, Whitby—Simpson, Chap-
man, and Co 13,451
Winchester, Alresford, and Alton Bank, Win-
chester— Bulpett and Co.
Winchester and Hampshire Bank, Winchester
—Wickham and Co 6,155
Weymouth Old Bank and Dorchester Bank,
Weymouth—Elliott and Pearse
Wirkesworth and Ashbourne Derbyshire Bank,
Wirkesworth—Arkwright and Co.
Wisbech and Lincolnshire Bank, Wisbech—
Gurney and Co.
Wiveliscombe Bank, Wiveliscombe—P. and W
Hancock
Wolverhampton Bank, Wolverhampton—Good-
ricke and Holyoake.
Worcester Bank, Worcester—Farley, Lavender,
and Co. 11,160
Worcester Old Bank and Tewkesbury Old Bank,
Worcester—Berwick, Lechmere, and Co 75,731
Worcestershire Bank, Kidderminster—Farley
and Turner

Walsall Old Bank, Walsall—Charles Foster and
Sons
Warminster and Wiltshire Bank, Warminster—
Everett and Co.
Wrexham Bank, Wrexham—J. and S. Kenrick
Wolverhampton Bank, Wolverhampton—
Messrs. Fryer
Yarmouth and Suffolk Bank, and Halesworth
and Suffolk Bank, Yarmouth—Gurney,
Birkbe?,k, and Co.
Yarmouth, Norfolk, and Suffolk Bank, Great
Yarmouth—Sir E. K. Lacon, Bart., and Co 10,420
Yeovil Old Bank, Yeovil—E. and J. Batten
York Bank. York—Swann. Clough. and Co 42,197

JOINT-STOCK BANKS.
flank of Westmoreland, Kendal ..
Barnsley Banking Company, Barnsley
Bradford Banking Company, Bradford 46,33S
Bilston District Banking Company, Wolver-
hampton
Bank of Whitehaven, Whitehaven
Bradford Commercial Banking Company, Brad-
ford . 19,301
Burton, Uttoxeter, and Staffordshire Union
Banking Company, Burton-upon-Trent
Checterfiehl and North Derbyshire Banking
Company, Chesterfield
Cumberland Union Banking Company, Work-
ington .
Cheltenham and Gloucestershire Banking Com-
pany, Cheltenham
Coventry and Warwickshire Banking Company,
Coventry
Coventry Union Banking Company, Coventry 12,262
County of Gloucester Banking Company, Chel-
tenham
Carlisle and Cumberland Banking Company
_ _ _

25.800

Carlisle City and District Bank, Carlisle 19,919
Dudley and West Bromwich Banking Company,
Dudley
Derby and Derbyshire Banking Company, Derby 16,361
Darlington District Joint-Stock Banking Com-
pany, Darlington
East of England Bank, Norwich
Gloucestershire Banking Company, Gloucester 145,804
Halifax Joint-Stock Bank, Halifax 17,976
Huddersfield Banking Company, Huddersfield 34,156
Hull Banking Company, Hull 24,056
Halifax and Huddersfield Union Banking Com-
pany, Halifax 37,501
Helston Banking Company, Helston 1,501
Herefordshire Banking Company, Hereford 19,230
Knaresborough and Claro Banking Company,
Knaresborough 23,650
Kingsbridge Joint-Stock Bank, Kingsbridge 3,314
Lancaster Banking Company, Lancaster . . 50,408
Leeds Banking Company, Leeds
Leicestershire Banking Company, Leicester
Lincoln and Lindsey Banking Company, Lincoln 47,020
Leamington Priors and Warwickshire Banking
Company, Leamington Priors
Ludlow and Tenbury Bank, Ludlow 10,940
Moore and Robinson's Nottinghamshire Bank-
Compan• Nottingham.

21,20

ing Company, _
Nottingham and Nottinghamshire Banking
Company, Nottingham
Newcastle. Shields, and Sunderland Union Joint-
Stock Banking Company, Newcastle 70,074
National Provincial Bank of England, Birming-
ham, Head-office, 112, Bishopsgate-street,
London
North Wilt!. Banking Company, Melksham 51,558
Northamptonshire Union Bank, Northampton 72,191
Northamptonshire Banking Company, North-
ampton . . 23,151
North and South Wales Bank, Liverpool 56,841
Pares's Leicestershire Banking Company, Lei-
cester
Saddleworth Banking Company, Saddleworth... 2,914
Sheffield Banking Company, Sheffield 35,358
Stamford, Spalding, and Boston Banking Com-
pany, Stamford
Stuckey's Banking Company, Bristol Somerset-
shire Bank, and Somersetshire Bank, Lang-
port
Shropshire Banking Company, Shiffnall ...
Stourbridge and Kidderminster Banking Com
pany, Stourbridge
Sheffield and H9llumshire Banking Company,
Sheffield
Sheffield and Rotherham Joint-Stock Banking
51,310
Company, Redfield ...................................
m..p..a.n..y.,
Swaledale and Wensleydale
36,525
Richmond .. . .........
Storey and Thomas's Ban king Company,
9,120
Shaftesbury
Sheffield and Retferd Bank, Sheffield ...
Wolverhampton ao.lStaffordshire Banking Com-
pany:Wolverhampton , . 36,407
Wakefield and Bari ley Union Bank, Wakefield 13 469
Whitehaven Joint-Stock Banking Company,
Whitehaven . ..
Warwick and Leo oingtoa Banking Company,
Leamington
West of Englaiee awl South Wales District
Bank_ Bristol . .... 75,400
Wilts and Dorset Banking Company, Salisbury 65,979
West Riding Union Banking Company, Hud-
dersfield
Whitchurch and Ellesmere Banking Company,
Whitchurch . ..
Worcester City and County Banking Company,
Worcester. . .
York Union Banking Company, York 6B 745
York City and County Banking Company, York 82,143
Yorkshire Banking Company, Leeds
P. DEANS, Registrar of Bank Return..
Stimps awl Tow, August 211 1647.