A GREAT STATESMAN AND HIS ROSES.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume VII, Issue 10, 7 March 1891, Page 11

A GREAT STATESMAN AND HIS ROSES.

There is a pretty incident in the private life of Lainoignon de Malesherbes, the French statesman and naturalist, which illustrates better than any noble actions of his public career the love and esteem he inspired. The good old man loved roses above all things, and during the summer which he passed at his Chfiteau de Verneuil, near Versailles, all his leisure moments were spent in caring for these cherished flowers. With his own hand he hail cleared and prepared the ground in a woodland space, and planted it with young bushes, which after a time formed a most beautiful rose grove. He also made a grassy bank and an arbour where he could find shelter from the too ardent rays of the sun, and in this secluded spot he spent whole hours reading and working. It was the frequent boast of M. de Malesherbes that he never lost a rosebud ; they seemed to grow by magic, each variety realising his fondest hopes. ‘ Lamoignon of the Boses ’ was the name given to him by his intimates, and he was never weary of showing his friends his ‘ Solitude,’ as he called his favourite spot. One morning M. de Malesherbes went down to his garden much earlier than was his wont, and seating himself on the turf near his arbour, gave himself up to the delight of the scene, fairer than ever in its dewy freshness. A light sound called him from his reverie, and thinking it might be some timid fawn come to the stream near by to drink, he watched in silence. What he saw was the prettiest milkmaid in the world who, filling her pail at the stream, proceeded to water the roses. The pail was filled and emptied many times, every bush receiving full measure, till finally at the last clump M. de Malesherbes, who had been watching in breathless astonishment, came forward, and in his turn surprised the young girl, who gave a startled little cry. ‘ How came you to be watering my roses, my child ?’ said the kind old man reassuringly. ‘Oh, monseigneur, it is my turn to-day,’ stammered the girl. ‘ How your turn ?’ * Oh, yes, monseigneur ; to-morrow it is Jeannette's turn, and yesterday it was Angble’s 1’ * liut, my dear, I do not understand.’ * It is a secret,’ said the poor girl blushing rosy red, 1 but since monseigneur has seen for himself, I will explain, that he may see no harm was intended.’

And thereupon the little milkmaid, reassured by a kind smile, told her little story. How the villagers from the surrounding hamlets loved monseigneur for his benevolence and ever kind interest in their work, and how they had established a rule by which they could make some return to their patron. ‘ And when we saw monseigneur at work among his roses we thought what to do. And a rule was made that every young gin who had come to her fifteen years should be of age to help, each in her turn on her way back from carrying milk to Veineuil, and it is now four years that I’ve had the honour of watering the roses of our benefactor and father.’ M. de Malesherbes was deeply touched by this little confession. * I no longer wonder, he said, ‘ that my roses bloom as they do, and from this time my Solitude shall be dearer to me than ever before, for it is my children that have made it beautiful !’ Then as the young girl curtsied and turned to go, M. de Malesherbes said : ‘ And your name, ma belle ?’ ‘ Jeannette Dubois, at your service, monseigneur.’ • Thank you, Jeannette : if I can ever serve you, let me know. There may some day be a marriage portion hard to make up ; I will answer for it if I may nave a kiss in exchange.’ And the venerable man stooped and kissed the rosy* upturned cheeks of the proud little maid, who ran home to tell of the honour conferred upon her. Not long after this there was a fete and the young villagers met to have a dance in the immediate neighbourhood of the little arbour. ‘ Farewell to my roses,’ sighed M. de Malesherbes, * for what rustic swain can forgo the pleasure of decking his sweetheart with the freshest buds.’ But the next day when M. de Malesherbes went down to his retreat at early morn bearing a spade and rake to restore order, behold ! all was freshly raked, and not a bush had suffered. And the good man exclaimed, ‘ I would not exchange my grove and arbour for the richest palace of the world.’ One day his valet told him that a young girl in the greatest grief wished to see him, and on her appearing all in tears he inquired into the cause of her trouble. ‘ Ah, monseigneur,’ she cried, ‘ you only can help me.’ ‘ Say on, my child.’ ‘ This morning, monseigneur, it was my turn to water your honour’s roses, and 1 picked one of them and so broke my vow,’ sobbed the poor maiden. ‘ One little rose. That surely is not much,’ smiled M. de Malesherbes. ‘ It is enough to disgrace me in the village,’ said the unhappy girl, ‘ for that malicious Jacques saw me and has spread the report, so that for a year I cannot enter the grove, and the lads passed me by in the dance, even Mathieu, and I must stay single all my life.’ ‘ No, my dear child,’ said M. de Malesherbes, both touched and amused, ‘ that punishment is too great ; come, and I will plead for you ;’ and taking the poor gill by the hand he led the way to the village green where the dance was being held. Here the great statesman pleaded her cause, and so eloquently that the disgraced milkmaid was forgiven and her honours restored. Soon after the now happy girl ami Jeanette too were married, and M. de Malesherbes added to their dots a bouquet of his choicest roses. 'I his was the beginning of a custom, and for many a long year the roses from the ‘ Solitude ’ formed the bridal bouquets of the village brides.