^Civ)t-«^ >-^s&i*iS£.^m.i m UNITED STATES OF AMEEMA. T«« "31-^ :>1\ ■■' o;* 4 AllJi' -my. mm. THE BEAUTIES /// ' FRENCH HISTORY. BY THE AUTH(m i# THE BEAUTIES OF ENGLISH HISTORT i/AMERICAN HISTORY, &c ^ - /^ I u -^ NEW YORK: ALEXAKi)ER V. BLAKE. 1845. Entered, according to Act of Coni76&&, tn ihe j(Ai 1&&C« ij ALEXANDER V. BI.AKE, 1^ the Clerk's Office of the District Court nfitiK I'liited States Cm itiis Eastern District of New York. •TEllKUTVrED ttV C. W. MCRRAV AND CO., CONTEiNTS, Pag« Ancient Gaul, « • • ,9 C'lovis, ..... 13 Thierry, Cloilmir, Childibert, and Clotaire, . l^ Cariherl, Gontraii, Sigeberl, and Chilperic, 20 Clotaire the Second, . . . .22 J)iagoberl and Aribert, ... 22 Sigebert the Second and Clovis the Second, . 23 Pepin the Short, .... 27 Charles and Carloman, • . .28 Louis the First, .... 34 Charles the Second, . . . .33 Louis the Second, Louis the Third, Carloman, and Charles the 'I'hird, . . .36 'Eudes or Odo, Charles the Simple, Raoul, Louis the Fourth, Lothaire tlie Second, and Louis the Fifth, .... 38 iTngh Capet, . . . . , 39 l^obert, . . ... . 49 Henry the First, • . . ,41 iPhitip the First, .... 43 (3) s? CONTENTS. Louis the Sixth, Louis the Seventh, Philip the Second, Louis the Eighth, Louis the Ninth Philip the Third, Philip the Fourth, Philip the Fifth, Charles the Fourth, Philip the Sixth, John the Second, Charles the Fifth, i Charles the Sixth, Charles the Seventh, Louis the eleventh,. Charles the Eighth, Louis the Twelfth, Francis the First, Henry the Second, Francis the Second, Charles the Ninth, Henry the Third,. Henry the Fourth, Louis the Thirteenth, Louis the Fourteenth, Louis the Fifteenth, Louis the Sixteenth^ CONTENTS. ANECDOTES OF NAPOLEON. Page The Battle of Lodi, . . . 230 Napoleons presence of mind at the Bridge of Lodi, ... .231 The Bridge of Areola, . . .232 The Pioneer, . . 233 Milan, ..... 234 The sleeping Sentinel, . . . 235 Le Petit Corporal, .... 237 The Restorer of the city of Lyons, . 237 The Battle of Marengo, . . . 239 Napoleon wounded in Italy and other places, 240 His generosity to the veteran general Wurmser, 242 Mount St. Bernard, . . . 244 His employment of time, . . . 245 His proclamation before landing in Egypt, 245 Disembarkation of the French troops in Egypt, 247 Napoleons alarm on his arrival in Alexandria, 248 Gaiety of the French soldiery, . . 249 Turkish humanity towards the French army in Egypt, .... 250 Mia return from Elgypt, . ,> . 252 PREFACE, The Beauties of History consist, of course, in a display of its most illustrious characters and its most instructive events. The object of the present volume is to afford, ac- companied by historical data, as correct an idea as could be preserved within a space necessarily limited, of the most remarkable circumstances that have taken place, and the most extraordinary men who have flourished in the kingdom of France, from the earliest period of its history to the times in which we live, And, it is presumed, that, while contributing to their amusement, especial care has been taken to add to the information of the young. " History is philosophy teaching by example ;" and the following pages may supply many an excellent (7) ^111 PREFACE. lesson to those who desire that, while amused, they should also be improved; thai Pleasure should be at all times the handmaid of Knowledge, and oid; wel- <;ome when she visits in company wiih her more valuable associate. vs>.. BEAUTIES OP FRENCH HISTORY. ANCIENT GAUL. Of the earliest boundaries of ancient Gaul, and the condition of its inhabitants, we have no satisfac- tory accounts. But it is probable that, from the in- ternal struggles in which the latter were perpetually involved, its limits were continually changing; and ilt is certain that the aborigines were an enterprising and warlike people, frequently emigrating in search of new settlements, which they obtained and defend- ed by their swords ; and that they became at length so formidable, as to turn their arms even against Rome^ which they took, and destroyed by fire. In time, however, their military spirit was subdued ; their neighbours, on all sides, becoming also nume- rous and brave, they were confined to what was more properly their own dominion, and discord and hog- 9 10 BEAUTIES OP tilities at home now took tlie place of conquests abroad ; until, divided against themselves, the con- querors were, in their turn, the conqiie ed, and yield- ed to victorious Rome. Vanquished by the legions of Julius Caesar, Gaul sunk into a tiibulary province of the imperial city. But when the Roman empire, whicli had stretched its enormous arms over tlie three quarters of the globe, fell under the weight of its eagerly gathered burdens, and f om being the mistress o\^ the world, became the despised prey of successive hordes of northern barbarians, Gaul — ."sluggish and paraly/ed — afforded an easy conquest to tlie Visigoths, who sub- sequently gave way before the braver and more hardy Franks. The native GauM are represented as tall and fair; their hair inclining to red; their eyes bhie, sharp, aiul fierce; and their temper irriial>Ie and hauglny. They are said to have been so grave at an early period of their history, that when a Grecian dancer appearetf in the theatre to show his art, they went out, calling it a species of insanity. The women are described as handsome, rather attentive to dress, and remarka- bly neat and clean in their persons. The heads of their slaves were shaved ; and shaven or shorn hair became a mark of servitude and degradation ; but freemen combed their long hair back\t'ards from their brow to the neck, and again raising it upwards and forwards, formed it into a tuft at the top of the head. FRENCH HISTORY. II Men of superior rank shaved their cheeks only, leav- ing large whiskers, or monslaches. Tlie religion of liie Gauls was that of the darkost; and grossest idolatry. Their priests, the drurds, were considered the only depositaries of knowledge; and tht^y guided and ruled the people with almost ahsolnie power. Their persons were held sacred; they were universally and implicitly oheyed ; ii was llieir exclusive privilege to reward or pumsh, and from their sentence there was no appeal. The arch- druid, their head, was chosen by the priesthood; bul the election to this office was not unfrequently de-, cided by arms. The drtiidesses, of whom there were, many, rivalled the priests in influence, and surpassed them in crime. The chief doctrines of djiiidisn> were, tlie immortality and transmigration of souls,, and the existence and power of the gods: their prin- ciples and tenets were preserved in verses, which their disciples committed to memory. They indulged in lumian sacrifices to excess, often confining a great number of living men and women in enormous images formed of woven twigs, which they set on fire, and' thus consumed the imhappy victims. After the Ko* man conquest, the power of the druids cojisiderably decreased; their rites and ceremonies were abolished by law, and the deities and worship of Home intro- duced into Gaul. Christianity, however, made its way among them ai r- \Li\ t.viy jcrj.)-j. .-:r.( e A .i hir.K- tnness atid superstition unfitted him to guide the lielni of a great kingdom ; but he was entitled to the 36 BEAUTIES OF esteem, if not the respect, of his subjects ; and filial ingratitude was what he had never deserved : amiable to a fault, he appears to have retained the sense of injuries only until he found an opportunity to pardon. When on his death-bed, his son Louis sent to en- treat forgiveness :" Tell him," said the dying man, " that I do forgive him, but that he makes my gray hairs descend with sorrow to the grave." CHARLES THE SECOND, surnamed " the Bald," succeeded his father. His bro- ther, Lothaire, however, obtained Italy, and laid claim to the title of emperor. This dispute gave rise to a war between the brothers ; it was decided by the fatal battle of Fontenoy, in which so many thousand brave knights of France and Italy were slain. The carnage on both sides has been estimated at 100,000 men ; and some authors trace to this circumstance the custom in Champagne, by which, to repair the loss of nobility, children became ennobled by the mother, whatever might be the father*'s rank. Charles died in 877, leaving his titles and domi- nions to his only son, Louis the Second, called "le Begue," or the Stammerer. 1 Louis the Third, Carloman, and Charles the Third, surnamed " the Fat," severally succeeded to the crown of France. The Norman invasion forms a striking episode in the otherwise uninteresting reigns of these monarchs. In the year 805, those hardy and FRENCH HIS Tour. 3"? enterprising northern pirates, under the command of Sigefrid, a fierce but skilful soldier, laid siege to the city of Paris, which at this ^tirne must have been of considerable extent and importance. Julius Caesar, about nine centuries before, had described it as a place of some note; and as central and convenient for the holding of assemblies, inasmuch as it afforded accom- modation to the multitude usually expected to attend on such occasions. From his account, however, it appears that the houses were chiefly of wood, and confined to that part of it which was then an island, surrounded by almost impassable marshes. Soon af- ter the reign of Clovis, it became the capital of France. When attacked by the Normans it was well defended ; having been principally intrusted to a general named Eudes, and the Bishop Goselin, who wore the hel- met and bore the axe, in place of the mitre and cro- sier. The siege v/as conducted, and the city con- tested, with obstinate courage on both sides; but the Normans availed themselves of the opportunity to plunder the country in all directions; slaughtering the inhabitants without mercy, and filling the trenches around the town with the bodies of the dead. In a general assault, the enemy scaled the ramparts, but were prevented from entering the city by the intre- pidity of one man, who persuaded five comrades — no others being near him — that they were a match for the assailants, and succeeded in forcing them from the walls. To the eternal disgrace of Charles the 4 38 BEAUTIES OP Third, although he came at length to the relief of the^ gallant citizens with an immense army, he was mean and cowardly enough to bribe off the Normans, whom lie might easily have destroyed to a man. He died A. D. 888, having been dethroned by his subjects a few months before; and Eudes, or Odo, was unani- mously called to the throne of France by the states ^vhich had deposed Charles. Eudes is said to have been a descendant of Charles Martel, and had rendered himself exceedingly popular by his brave- defence of Paris, just mentioned. The son of the legitimate monarch was, however, in course of time, restored. Charles " the Simple," Raoul, Louis the Fourth, Lo- tliaire the Second, and Louis the Fifth, successively- swayed tl\e French sceptre, and by the death of the latter, the mce of the Carlovingian kings became extinct, after having governed France for 237 years; "when a new dynasty was called to reign over the jkingdom. FRENCH HISTORY. 39 THE CAPETIAN RACE. HUGH'CAPET. Hugh Capet ascended the throne of France in 987, in the room of the uncle of Louis the Fifth, who had rendered himself unpopular by becoming a vassal of Germany in Lorraine. He was the spn of Hugh the Great, Count of Paris, and great-grandson to Robert the Strong, who is stated to have been a descendant of Charlemagne. He had, however, to £ght for his crown, although its possession was of little value, since, in exchanging the title of duke for that of king, he obtained no real advantage, or ac- cession of power; for under the government of his imbecile predecessor, he was, in reality, the ruler of France. After two years of doubtful war, the hopes of the few remnants of the Carlovingian race ceased any longer to influence their feeble partisans, and Capet ■was firmly established in the dominions he was so "well fitted to govern. Hugh Capet is, indeed, one of the most prominent persons in the history of France, not only on account of his wisdom and valour, but from being the mitof a long race of kings, who, for several centurieg, sat tipon the French throne. If it be possible to find an excuse for usurpation, it exists in his case : for the 40 BEAUTIES OF greater number of his predecessors were imbecilesy unfit to govern. He held the crown, however, by a precarious tenure; and was frequently reminded of the circumstances under which it was obtained. "Who made you a count?" was a question once put by hira to one of his vassals. Those that made you a king," was the spirited reply. He died a. d. 997, leaving the kingdom to his son A prince described as handsome in person, and of pe- culiarly gentle deportment; and though by no means destitute of military skill, a lover of peace. An anecdote is related of Mm, that strongly shows the extraordinary power possessed by the Papal See, even at that early period, over France and its kings. Robert was distantly related to his wife Bertha, daugh- ter of Conrad, king of Burgundy; and had stood godfather to her son by a former marriage. He was devotedly attached to her, and the idea of their sepa- ration was painful as the pangs of death, when the proud and revengeful Pope Gregory the Fifth issued his mandate for her divorce. The sentence, bein^ disregarded by the king, was followed by one of ex- communication — the consequences of which were, that the kingdom was laid under an interdict, the ad- miRistration of government was suspended ; the courts of justice were shut; religious privileges were with- held, and even the dead remained unburied. The FRENCH HISTORY. 41 king himself was deserted — two domestic servants only being permitted to attend him. Such, however, was the general sympathy of the people towards their unhappy prince, that no advantage was taken of his condition to promote disorder, or to encourage in- surrection. At length Robert was compelled to put away Bertha, after she had borne him a child : and although the business of the historian goes no further than to relate the circumstance as we have done, yet the writer of fic- tion may build a noble structure upon this simple fact, Robert died in 1031, and was succeeded by his eldest son, HENRY THE FIRST. Almost immediately after his accession, his mother Constantia, by whom he was hated to a most unac- countable degree, endeavoured to depose him, and place her favourite son Robert on the throne; but her death, in 1032, left him in peaceable possession of the crown. Jn 1059, kenry, having passed a life of comparative quiet, and free from any extraordinary' incidents, finding the weakness of age coming upon him, appointed his son Philip his associate in the kingdom. Philip was therefore consecrated and crowned king. The following ceremonies of the coronation have been preserved; and are interesting as illustrative of the manners of the times. After the celebration of mass on the day of Pente- 4* 4^ BEAUTIES OF cost, Gervase, the Archbishop of Rheiras, who presi- ded, turned towards the young prince, and after stating and expounding to him the Catholic faith, interrogated liim, whether he believed, and would defend it: hav- ing answered in the affirmative, Philip read and sub- scribed the coronation oath, as follows : " I, Philip, by the grace of G od, king of the French, promise before God and his saints, that I will preserve to every one of you, and to your churches, your ca- nonical privileges, and will duly maintain law and justice ; and that with the help of God I will protect you as far as it shall be in my power, and as it is becoming every king in his own realm to maintain the rights of the church and clergy committed to his protection. In a word, I will take care that the laws shall be duly administered to all the people over whom I am this day placed." Having read this, he returned it into the hands of the Archbishop ; after which, that prelate, taking the pastoral staff of St. Reme, enlarged on the right which the archbishops of Rheims had exclusively enjoyed since the days of Clovis, of con- secrating and crowning the kings of France ; which right was confirmed to them by the deeds of Popes Hermisdas and Victor 5 then having received the con- sent of the prince's father, he declared Philip king of France. The pope's legates were next permitted, not as .a right but as an expression of regard, to repeat the same declaration, the words of which were now proclaimed by the other archbishops, bishops, abbots^^ FRENCH HISTORY. 43 and clergy ; by the nobles according to their rank ; and, lastly, by the soldiers and people present, from circle to circle, all exclaiming three times, " We ap- prove ; we will ; so be it." The ceremony was con- cluded by the king's subscribing the claim of the Archbishops of Rheims always exclusively to preside on such occasions, and by constituting Gervase his chancellor. Gervase entertained the king and the whole assembly, which was V3ry numerous; but under protest, that his successors should not be after- wards held bound to sustain this burden. Henry died shortly after this event ; and PHILIP THE FIRST commenced his reign, a. d. 1060. It is chiefly re- markable on account of foreign events, rather than domestic occurrences ; and by the achievements of others, rather than his own. Although his kingdom was materially affected by the Norman conquest of England, and the spirit of the crusades, which began so much to agitate and change the state of Europe, he was neither personally engaged in the one, nor influenced by the other. An attempt was made in 1076, by Philip the First, to recover Normandy, as a province of France. The effort was unsuccessful, notwithstanding the absence of William of Normandy (the Conqueror), who of necessity sojourned in England. William had com- mitted the care of his duchy to his eldest son Robert j 44 BEAUTIES OF but the young prince, led astray by the flattery of his courtiers, sought to exchange the shadow for the sub- stance of power, and trusting to the support he ex- pected from the French court, summoned his father to grant him formal possession of his Norman do- minions. " It is not my custom to strip myself before I go to bed," was William's reply, the smartness of which — however justly merited' — converted the son into a rebel, and a war was the consequence. It con- tinued for some years ; and towards the conclusion of it, Robert engaged his father in single combat with- out knowing against whom he contended, as his visor was down. The youth struck to the earth the more aged warrior ; but as he fell, recognizing his voice, he cast himself at his feet and implored forgiveness. Tet the British king was not generotis enough to pardon the repentant prince; and left him without any proof of parental forgiveness On one occasion, when William, who was very cor- pulent, was confined to his bed by sickness, Philip remarked, " How long will it be till tliat pregnant man be delivered ?" The jest was reported to Wil- liam, who sent the French king this message : " Tell him," said he, in allusion to the manner of church- ing women, " that I shall attend the church of Saint Genevieve, at Paris, with ten thousand spears instead cif wax candles." He kept his word, in part; set '3^antf"s OR fire ; and would have reached the gates of FRENCH HISTORY. 45 the French capital, but that death overtook him on the way. The fame of the son and successor of Philip, ]Louis, surnamed " the Battler," had spread far and wide even at a very early age. But his popularity excited the envious hatred of his stepmother, the Queen Bertrade ; and LOuis being absent from France on a visit to the English monarch, Henry the First, Bertrade conceived this a favourable opportunity for carrying her plans into execution. She wrote, or caused to be written, a letter to Henry, which she sealed with the seal of Philip, conjuring him, for va- luable consideration, to murder his guest. Henry shuddered at the base proposal, indignantly refused to become the tool of a wicked woman, and commu- nicated the contents of the epistle to Louis. The youth immediately left England ; threw himself at the feet of his father, and demanded justice — but in vain. The queen subsequently attempted to poison him : and he was only saved by timely and suitable medicine. The ceremony of investing a knight seems to have attained all its solemnity during the reigns of Philip the First and his predecessor. Recovering from her depression and disorder, France saw the importance of rousing young men to military fame by all means, sensible, romantic, and religious. Sieges, embarka- tions, victories, festivals, and other such public occa- sions, were the usual seasons for conferring the ho- 46 BEAUTIES OF nonr of knighthood. In the field it was summarily performed, but in ordinary instances it commenced with watching, fasting, and various austerities ; whole nights were spent in prayer, with the assistance of a priest and near relations ; religious discourses, suit- able to the occasion, were delivered ; confession of sins was made; divers washings were employed; white raiment was put on ; and the Eucharist was re- ceived. The candidate having finished all the preliminary ceremonies, which lasted several days, was attended to the church by his friends in solemn procession. He advanced to the altar, with a sword slang in a scarf depending from his neck, and presented the weapon to the priest, who consecrated and restored it. Joining his hands, he then turned to those who were to gird on his armour; and holding out his sword, solemnly declared and swore, that his motive and end in entering into the order was to maintain and promote the honour and interests of religion and chivalry. The assistants, some of whom were ladies, having bound on his armour and suitable ornaments, he knelt before the sovereign, or presiding knight, who, by three strokes with the flat of the naked sword on the neck or shoulders, dubbed him a knight. Sometimes it was done with the palm of the hand on the cheek. In either case the action was accompanied with these words : " In the name of God, of Saint Michael, and FRENCH HISTORY. 47 Saint George, T make thee a knight ; be worthy, brave, and loyal!" Then his buckler and hehnet being also put on, he grasped his spear, and walking forlh, leaped without stirrup on his horse, performing several courses and flourishes to show his dexterity, amidst the acclamations of his friends and of the multitude^ who usually attended to witness the pageant. In the year 1108, FhUip died, and LOUIS THE SIXTH Succeeded to the crown. He had early to contend with and subdue several powerful and daring conspi- rators, who sought to exclude him from the govern- ment. The most distinguished among them, once said to his countess, as he buckled on his armour, " J now put it on with the hands of a count, but will take it off with those, of a king." That very day, however, the knight was slain. It was during the reign of this monarch and of his predecessor, that the far-famed Crusades became the all-engrossing subject of attention throughout Europe. The fre- quent, and sometimes exaggerated accounts, of cruel- ties practised on devout pilgrims to the Holy Sepul- chre at Jerusalem, and the reports of the insults that were offered to the most holy mysteries and monu- ments of Christianity, filled all Christendom with zealous indignation. The increasing flame was efTec- lually fanned by the breath of Peter the Hermit — ta whom imdoubtedly belongs the merit, or, to speak 48 BEAUTIES OP more correctly, the demerit, of originating the Cru- sades to the Holy Land. Peter was a native of Amiens, in France ^ a man of diminutive stature, and mean appearance, but of an ingenious mind, and pos- sessing a rude yet powerful and effective eloquence. Princes, clergy, nobles, and people eagerly listened, were persuaded, and became ready to sacrifice home, fortune, and country, and embark upon the important, and, as it was deemed, sacred enterprise of wresting Palestine from the Infidel. The pope, Urban the Se- cond, assembled a great council at Piacentia, a. d. 1095 — which was attended by 4000 clergy, and 30,000 laymen, from France, Germany, and Italy — and the crusade was resolved upon. To engage in the holy war, monks quitted their cells, husbands forsook their wives, fathers deserted their children ; no tie was considered too close to be broken ; and princes, dukes, barons, bishops, abbots, merchants, tradesmen, mechanics, labourers, women and chil- dren, flocked round the banner his holiness had un- furled ; until the number enrolled in the list of war- riors is said to have amounted to six millions. It seemed as if all Europe was ready to precipitate itself upon Asia. The principal French leader, next to Pe- ter the Hermit, was Walter Senseavir, known as Wal- ter the Pennyless, a poor, but noble and experienced soldier. By disease, desertion, and losses in the various battles fought on the way^ the Christian army was FRENCH HISTORY. 49 reduced to about 20,000 effective men when they en- camped before Jerusalem. After a siege of five weeks they succeeded in taking the city ; when they gave no quarter to the enemy, but coolly butchered every man, v/oman, and child, within its walls ; then, as- suming the habit and manner of pilgrims, they inarched in solemn procession to the Holy Sepul- chre, with blood-stained hands embraced it, offered up thanksgivings amid the groans of tens of thou- sands dying, and, believing they were doing God service, prayed for strength to commit farther mas- sacre ! It is but justice, however, to state, that ridiculous and cruel as were the crusades to the Holy Land, they did more towards promoting literature than merely rouse the mind : they took off the pressure of ecclesiastical despotism, not only by the indul- gence and liberty granted generally on such occa- sions by the church, but by the departure of many spiritual tyrants, whose absence gave a relaxation of spirit before unknown ; fhey produced frequent in- tercourse among men during the preparations which w^ere made for the expedition ; they led to important inquiries into the nature and state of the countries through which they v/ere to march, as w^ell as of those in which they were to engage in warfare ; they were the occaoion of general and sustained corres- pondence betwixt Europe and Asia; and they gave a turn for observation and comparison. These excite- 5 50 BEAUTIES OF ments and communications led to more extensive discussions and investigations : journals, memoirs,, particular and general histories, &.C., were written; and geography, especially, was cultivated. The cler- gy of the Eastern and Western churches, who had only heard of each other by means of controversies^ and through the medium of prejudice, now embraced^ conversed together, and imparted their knowledge,^. their manuscripts, and other modes of learning and improvement. Louis patronized and protected the son of Robert^,,, brother of Henry the First, king of England, by whom Robert himself was detained in prison. He,, therefore, proclaimed William duke of Normandy^ and sought to maintain him in his duchy by force of arms. The French king was, however, unsuccess- ful ; he was beaten by the English at Brenneville, in 1119, and the Normans renewed their oaths of fealty to Henry and his son. But Henry at this time suf- fered a domestic calamity that more than counter- balanced his prosperity in the north of Europe. His only son, William, had embarked at Barfleur, after receiving the homage of the Norman barons ; but, in consequence of the captain of the vessel and his crew being intoxicated, the ship struck on a rock, and im- mediately foundered. W' dliam was put into the long- boat, and had got clear of the vessel ; when, hearing the shrieks of his natural sister, he ordered the sea- men to put back and tave her. But the numbers thai FRENCH HISTORY. 51 crowded in, sunk the boat, and the humane prince perished. A butcher of Rouen, a remarkably strong man, was the only person who escaped. He climbed to the top of the mast, and clung to it, until he was rescued by some fishermen. It is said that the cap- tain, Fitzstephen, had also the same means of preser- vation in his power ; but when informed by the butcher that the prince was drowned, he let g-o his hold, and fell into the sea. Louis VJ. died in 1137, and was succeeded by his son, LOrrS THE SEVENTH, Who, after having- reduced his rebellious vassal, the" count of Champagne, to obedience, exceeded even the usual cruelty of conquerors; and, instead of sheathing his sword Vyhen the inhabitants of Vetri submitted, set fire to a church in which thirteen hun- dred of them had taken refuge, and burnt them alive. In a fit of remorse for this merciless act, he resolved to undertake a pilgrimage to Jerusalem ; and became the first sovereign prince who engaged to fight under the banner of the Cross. The reign of this monarch is distinguished in poe- try and romance by the loves of Abelard and Eloise. Abelard was vain of his personal attractions and in- tellectual attainments, and imagined himself wholly irresistible by the fair sex. Eloise, his pupil, was young, beautiful, learned, and highly accomplished. 52 BEAUTIES OP Abelard grossly abused the trust reposed in him, and married her privately. The wrath of her uncle, a ca- non, and her relatives, compelled the one to take re- fuge in a cloister, and the other to become a nun and seclude herself in the abbey of Argenteuil. Abelard, some years after, built a monastery, which he called Paraclete, or the Comforter, and of which he appoint- ed her abbess, where she ended her days. The let- ters that passed between them after their separation, aie exquisite specimens of composition. Pope's poem on the subject is composed chiefly of passages taken from them, and versified. Towards the end of his days, Louis came over to England, for the purpose of visiting the tomb of Thomas a Becket — famed, in that superstitious age, for its miraculous cures. He died in 1 180, and left the kingdom of France to his son, PHILIP THE SECOND. The reign of this monarch was rendered notorious by a general persecution of the Jews, who had set- tled in considerable numbers in France. Their suc- cess and industry were envied by those who would not imitate their diligence and care. They had be- come so wealthy, as almost to engross the whole- commerce of Paris, and the principal cities of the pro- vinces. The king entered into the spirit of the church and of the people ; passed against them se- veral severe laws ; and, at length, banished them out FRENCH HISTORY. 63 of the kingdom. One of the most prominent charges against them, was, that they had crowned a Christian v/ith thorns, in derision, and afterwards scourged and crucified him. Upon this charge fourscore were ap- prehended and burnt. Philip fought in Palestine, beside his illustrious rival and great competitor in the race of glory, Rich- ard the first of England; but envy prompted the French monarch to adopt the basest means of calum- niating the more frank and unsuspicious sovereign of "the lion's heart." There was in Asia a petty prince, called "the old Man of the Mountain," who had ac- quired such an ascendancy over his fanatical subjects, that they implicitly obeyed his commands, esteemed assassination meritorious when sanctioned by his or- ders, courted danger and death in his service, and be- lieved that the highest joys of paradise would be the infallible reward of their devoted obedience. Against the attempts of his subtle ruffians, no precaution or power was a sufficient guard. This prince of the As- sassins (for Assassins was the name given to his peo- ple ; whence the word has passed into most European languages) procured the murder of Conrad, Marquis of Montferrat, openly, at midday, in the streets of Sidon; and, although the deed was avowed by its author, and confirmed by the confession of the mur- derers, Philip endeavoured to fix the crime upon the English king, and made this shallow artifice the pre- text for attacking his possessions in France, in de- 6* 5^ BEAUTIES OF fence of which, Richard carried on a bloody and suc- cessful war against him; but on the accession of John to the British throne, they were wrested from the feeble hands of that weak and treacherous monarch. Philip had encouraged and supported the rebellion of John against his brother, while the king was a prisoner in Germany; but when ransomed by his subjects from his imprisonment, the French king wrote to his confederate, John, these words: "Take care of yourself; the devil is broken loose." During^ the war, John deserted Philip, threw himself at his brother's feet, and entreated pardon. " I forgive him," said Richard, " and hope I shall as easily forget his injuries as he will my pardon." A remarkable in- cident of the war, was the taking prisoner, in battle, of the Bishop of Beauvais. Richard threw him into prison; and, when the pope demanded his liberty, on the ground of his being a son of the church, he sent to his Holiness the coat of mail which the pre- late had worn, and which was besmeared with blood; replying to the mandate in the words used by Jacob's sons to the patriarch: "This have we found, but know not whether it be thy son's coat or no." After the death of Richard, the French king re- solved to obtain possession of Chateau Gaillard, the key to the British dominions in Normandy; and suc- ceeded in taking the fortress and town by two extra- ordinary stratagems. Gaubert, a native of Mantes, an excellent swimmer and diver, undertook to carry FRENCH HISTORY. 55 fire in pots attached to his naked body, and kindle the palisades by which the town was defended. The plan was successful, and the garrison surrendered. The Chateau Gaillard was gained in a manner equally daring. A French sergeant, named Peter Bogis Camus, or Red-nose, descried a small window in the wall, which was intended to give light and air to a maga- zine. He proposed to enter the apartment by this aperture, assisted by such as were willing to follow him. He accomplished his object, opened the gates to the army ; and Philip took quiet possession of the place, which left the English territory in France an easy conquest. Philip next engaged in war with Otho, Emperor of Germany, hi the first battle fought between the rival monarchs, a German knight, named Eustache, of Magueline, rode forward before his troops, ex- claiming " Death to the French !" thinking to inspire his soldiers with a degree of enthusiasm that would be fatal to his enemies. He was immediately sur- rounded ; but, in consequence of the peculiar strength and closeness of his armour, it was found impossible to inflict a wound. At length one of them, seizing the helmet of Eustache between his arm and breast, pulled it away while another, with a short knife cut off his head. — Philip, every where victorious, died in the 58th year of his age, a. d. 1223.* * During this reign a curious case of restoration to heahh by of relics of the Saints is recorded. " On the 20th July, 56 BEAUTIES OP LOUIS THE EIGHTH, Who succeeded his father, had heen previously pro- claimed King of England, grounding his claim to the crown of that country of the right of his wife, Blanche, granddaughter of Henry the Second. But, in conse- quence of the death of John, which happened at a critical moment, the English barons, by whom the French prince had been invited over, transferred their allegiance to the amiable Henry the Third, the eldest son of the wicked and vacillating John. During the reign of this king, and of his predeces- sor, the rage for tilts and tournaments became exces-r sive. So fond were the French of these spectacles, A. D. 1191," says Rigord, " Louis, son of Philip; was taken iU of a disease, called a dysentery ; they despaired of his recovery; but after due deliberation a solemn fast and procession were resolved on. The whole fraternity of St. Denis marched bare- foot lo the church of St. Lazarus, carrying one of the nails of the crucifixion, the sacred crown of thorns, and an arm of old Simeon; there, having offered the most fervent supplications, they were met by the inmates of all the convents of Paris, tho scholars of the Academy, and citizens, likewise barefoot, carry- ing relics, groaning audibly, and weeping bitterly ; thence they proceeded to the palace in which the young prince lay; ■where a sermon was preached to the multitude. The nail, the crown of thorns, and arm of Simeon, were solemnly applied by touch, and passed along and across the belly of the patient; he kissed them and received the benediction : all this not only cured him, but changed the state of the atmosphere and of the season, which till then had been very wet and unfavourable." TRENCH HISTORY. 57 that they preferred them to every other amusement, indulging in them notwithstanding their ecclesiastical prohibition, and by particular civil laws authorizing and regulating them as matters of the utmost impor- tance. ' The time and place of their exhibition were ex- tensively and solemnly proclaimed by heralds ; and: every man who had any ambition to be distin- guished for nobility, martial prowess, honour, and gallantry, attended and pressed into the lists of com- batants. Veterans were anxious to display at home the feats of strength, expertness, and skill, which had distinguished them abroad; while the young were, desirous to try their martial talents to emulate men of renown, and to learn, on occasions so public and critical, the most dexterous management and use of arms. It was a fatiguing, laborious, and often dan- gerous exercise ; yet, being countenanced by ladies in great numbers, and of the highest rank, it was ani- mated by their presence, and mollified by the respect shown for their feelings and judgment. They did not attend merely as spectators, but bore a consi- derable share in the ceremonies, and were constituted the judges of the combat; by their decision the victors, being declared and crowned. The reign of Louis the Seventh is chiefly remark- able for his unjust and cruel domestic crusades against the Albigenses, whose lands had been be- stowed upon him by the pope. This brave and per- 58 BEAUTIES OF secuted people, miscalled heretics, had even at this early period abjured many of the grosser errors of the church of Rome; but after several hard struggles, and enduring the most dreadful persecution, they were forced to submit, and yield to the terms dic- tated by a bigoted and merciless conqueror. Many thousands were torn from their valleys and driven into exile ; and scaffiilds were erected and fires kin- dled in all the neighbouring cities, on which those who had most fortitude perished. The faith and constancy of these martyrs, however, rose superior to their trials. " Favour me," said Catalan Girard, one of them, as he sat on the funeral pile, " by giving me those two flint-stones." They were handed to liim. " Sooner," said he, " shall [ eat these stones, than you shall be able to destroy by persecution the religion for which 1 die." * Louis died in 1226, and left the crown to his eld- est son, * As an instance of the absurd nature of some of the Romish festivals in this reign, it is meniioned, (hat at Beauvais one was celebrated on the 11th of January, in commemoration of Jo- seph's flight, wiih Jesus and his mother, into Egypt. A hand- some young woman, wiih a good-looking child, having been set on an ass, was followed by the bishop and clergy from the ca- thedral church of St. Stephen ; where mass being performed, the priest concluded it, not in the usual words of the mass ser- vice, "ite missa est," but with an imitation of the braying of an ass, " hin-hau," three times repealed. FRENCH IlISTORy. 59 LOUIS THE NINTH, Named St. Louis, who was but twelve years of age ^vhen he ascended the throne. He united to the mean and abject superstition of a monk, all the cou- rage and magnanimity of a hero, the justice and in- tegrity of a patriot, and the mildness and humanity of a philosopher. In the wars between him and Henry the Third of England, the French king was generally victorious. On one occasion their armies met near Taillebourg, on the river Charente. The English troops consisted of 20,000 infantry, 1800 knights, with their attendants, and 600 cross-bow men : the French force being superior, especially in cavalry. The contest was severe, and the latter were losing ground, when Louis leaped from his horse, called on his men to follow, and, pressing forward, the rout of the English was complete. Henry was overtaken and almost surrounded, when his brother Richard, putting off his helmet and cuirass, advanced with a small cane in his hand and demanded a par- ley. Louis, who esteemed him highly, consented to a truce: ^-Go tell your brother," said he, "that at your desire 1 grant him a suspension of arms till to- morrow, that he may have time to deliberate on his situation." Henry, however, had fled, and was fol- lowed to Sainles; so keen, indeed, was the pursuit^ that some French soldiers entered the gates with him, and were taken prisoners. After this victory, Louis. 60 BEAUTIES OF ordained that such of his vassals as held English titles and estates, should choose which king they preferred; alleging, in the words of the Scripture, that " no man can serve two masters ;" and decreeing that they must thenceforward hold wholly to the one or the other. In the year 1248, Louis, following the example of some of his predecessors, resolved on a crusade to Palestine. Soon after embarkmg at Cyprus, the fleet arrived in sight of Damietta, on the eastern branch of the Nile, then considered the strongest and wealthiest city of Egypt. The scene is eloquently described by an eye-witness, the historian Joinvilie. The sultan commanded in person, his armour of gold reflecting the sun's rays with exceeding splendour; and the Turkish music was heard distinctly as it floated over the waters. Notwithstanding the advice of some of his nobles, the king resolved to land at daybreak, in the face of the sultan and the numerous host he had assembled to oppose the invaders. Flat-bottomed boats were provided for carrying the troops from the ships ^ and, on a signal given, all moved towards the shore, preceded by, a shallop bearing the sacred ori- flamme.* The king's barge was among the first thai f * The oriflamme, or national standard of France, was orrglh- ally a lance or long spear of gilded copper, with a flag of red silk attached to it. During peace it was lodged in the church of St. Dennis, whence, on the march of ihe army on great occa- sions, it was taken by the king with much religious solemnity. FRENCH HISTORY. 61 grounded ; he instantly leaped, neck high, into the water, and was followed by his principal knights, amid a shov/er of missile weapons from the enemy. They had scarcely secured a footing, when they pre- sented an impenetrable mass of spears; the Egyp- tians fled, and Damietta was taken. Pursuing their victories, howevei^ with more rashness than caution, Louis and his array were forced to surrender at dis- cretion, and were of course treated with great cruel- ly ; many thousands of the French being massacred in cold blood. The sultan having agreed to ransom the monarch and his people for 500,000 livres, besides the surren- der of Damietta, the terms were accepted by Louis, and confirmed by the oaths of both parties. The sultan subsequently observed 4,hat the king of France was Frank indeed, and had not higgled for a smaller sum ; adding, " Go tell him that I hereby remit him 100,000 livres of my demand, as a reward for his liberality." Louis the Ninth died a. d. 1270, and was succeed- ed by PHILIP THE THIRD, SURNABIED THE HARDY, Who, soon after he ascended the throne, had to en- counter domestic troubles. Having married a second wife, Mary, sister to the duke of Brabant, she ac- quired considerable influence over him, and was con- sequently dislilied by his former favourites. One of 6 62 BEAUTIES OP them, La Brosse, the king's chief barber and surgeon (two professions then generally united), sought to ef- fect her destruction by insinuating that she had poi- soned a daughter of Philip by his first wife. The unhappy and calumniated lady narrowly escaped being burnt to death. Her brother undertook her defence by duel, but the slanderer absconded. Yet such were the rumours over the kingdom, and such the king^s perplexity, that he employed two prelates to consult a famous Pythoness, or witch, of those times. The report of the oracle was favourable to the queen ; and the barber was shortly afterwards taken and hanged. Philip the Third died in 1285, and the throne was inherited by his son, PHTLir THE FOURTH (tHE FAIR% About four years after he began his reign, a war broke out between England and France, originating, it is said, in a scuffle between two sailors. A Nor- man and an English ship sending their boats at the same time for fresh water to a spring near Bayonne, the men quarrelled about precedency, and in a strug- gle, one of the former nation was slain. The Nor- mans complained to the French king, and demanded redress. In reply, they were told to take it them- selves. The hint was sufficient. They seized the first British ship they met, and hung several of the crew, widi some dogs, at the vard-arm. The English FRENCH HISTORY. 63 retaliated severely ; and the ocean became the daily- scene of violence and barbarity. At length a fleet of 200 Norman vessels were encountered by sixty Bri- tish ships of war, which took or sunk the greater number of them ; and as no quarter was given on either side, 15,000 Frenchmen perished. The war, however, for a time deprived the English of the pro- vince of Guienne! Philip died in 1314: his son, Louis the Tenth, called Hutin, or the Quarrelsome, succeeded ; and by his death, without issue male, in 1316, the crown was inherited by his brother. PHILIP THE FIFTH, OR (tHE TALl). His reign is chiefly remarkable for the severe edicts that were issued against the Jews of the French' do- minions. Laws were passed which declared it cri- minal to favour or protect them ; and they were taken and hanged in companies wherever they could be found. Forty of them being imprisoned at Vitri, and having little hope of escape or liberation, resolved to perish by each other's hands, rather than continue in the power of their common enemies, the Christians. They prevailed on the oldest, with the assistance of the youngest, to be their executioners. These two finally contended which should die first, and the young man was with much difficulty persuaded to be the survivor : he then collected their treasure, and, having made a cord, let himself down from the win- 64 BEAUTIES OF dow; it was too short; he allowed himself to drop, and in the fall his leg was broken : he was taken, and hanged. Philip the Fifth died a. d. 1322, and was succeed- ed by his brother, CHARLES THE FOURTH (tHE HANDSOMe), Who, dying in 1328, without male issue, the direct line from Hugh Capet failed, and the throne descend- ed' to a member of the race of Valois. THE RACE OF VALOIS. PHILIP THE SI:STH. Philip was consin-german to Charles the Fourth, being the son of Charles de Valois, brother to Philip the Fair. The English king, Edward the Third, as he was descended in a more direct line from this latter monarch, although by a female branch, laid claim to the crown of France. His claim was, however, reject- ed by the French Court of Peers, and the coronation of Philip almost immediately followed. The French king, with a view to put an end at once to the hopes of the English monarch, summoned him to do hora- FRENCH HISTORY. 65 age as his vassal for the province of Guienne. The indignant Edward refused an interview to the ambas- sadors, but sent them a sarcastic message, — that it was too much to expect the son of a king to pay ho- mage to the son of a count. Edward, however, upon reflection, was induced to submit ; but the passion that was suppressed, soon afterwards broke forth with double violence ; and in the year 1340, having first gained a decisive victory at sea, he landed in France at the head of a large army ; but, from a variety of causes, the war was postponed until 1 346, a period rendered famous in the annals of Great Britain by the battle of Crecy. Between the years 1340 and 1346, however, the English army and their allies had successively gained and lost many towns and fortresses, Hennebone — one of the strongest in Brittany, was remarkable for the brave and prolonged defence of its garrison, headed by a woman, against the army of Philip's nephew, Charles. Jane, Countess of Montfort, after having seen her husband taken prisoner, had, with her infant son, fixed her residence at Hennebone, and there awaited the interference of Edward, in her behalf. Clad in complete aimour, she appeared among the foremost in every military operation either of attack or defence. Observing on one occasion, the enemy engaged so keenly in one quarter as totally to ne- glect another, she sprung on horseback, and sallying 6* 66 ' BEAUTIES OP out unperceived by the besiegers, with two hundred horsemen, fell like lightning on their camp, and burned their tents and magazines. The conflagration alarming the besiegers, they intercepted her retreat ; but, with great presence of mind, she ordered her men to disperse and every one to consult his own safety. Five days afterwards she met them again at a place of rendezvous, and having received a rein- forcement of 500 horse, returned in triumph through the midst of the enemy, and again entered Henne- bon-^. The garrison, animated by her example, held out to the last extremity, but were at length on the point of surrendering — she alone opposing the reso- lution that famine and danger had induced them to form, and a treaty of surrender being in process of- signature by the chief officers, — when the countess^ ever on the watch, espied the English fleet. " Cou- rage," she cried, " courage yet, my friends ; no capi- tulation ; the English are at hand." The town was relieved. On the 25th August, 1346, was fought the "ever- memorable battle of Crecy — the circumstances con- nected with which must be familiar to every English reader. The Prince of Wales — afterwards Edward the Black Prince — contributed greatly by his valour to secure the victory. Although but fifteen years of age, he gave abundant proof that he merited the honour of knighthood which his father had recently- bestowed upon him. While hotly engaged with FRENCH HISTORY. 67 some French cavalry, a messenger was despatched to the king, by the Earl of Warwick, entreating him to send succour to the prince. Edward, how- ever, who had surveyed from the top of a hill the gallant bearing of his eldest boy, returned this answer : " Go back to my son, and tell him and his fellow-warriors, that I will not interpose to take from them the honour of repelling the enemy ; which they can do without my asf istance." Edward triumphed ; and when the battle was over, was embraced by his father, who proudly said, " My brave son ! persevere in your honourable career •, for valiantly have you borne yourself to day. You have shown yourself worthy of an empire." The blind King of Bohemia was found among the slain : his crest was three ostrich feathers ; and his motto these German words, IcH DiEN, I serve, which the Prince of Wales adopted in memorial of the great victory; and which the eldest sons of the British kings have ever since re- tained. Philip fled from the fatal field, and about midnight reached the castle of Braye. On being asked by the governor before he admitted him, " Who is without?" " Open," he replied ; " it is the fortune of France." Shortly afterwards Calais was invested, but it cost Edward a twelvemonth's siege, being gallantly de- fended by its governor, John of Vienne. At length the knight, compelled by famine to surrender, appeared on the walls, and made a sign to the English senti- 05 BEAUTIES OF nels that he desired a parley. Sir Walter Manny- was sent to him by Edward : " Brave knight," cried the Governor, " I have been intrusted by my sove- reign with the command of this town ; and I have endeavoured to do my^duty. But we are perishing of hunger. 1 am willing, therefore, to yield ; and desire only to ensure the lives of the brave men who have so long shared with me every danger and fa- tigue." Edward, however, who w^as exceedingly dis- pleased at the pertinacious resistance of the people of Calais, would promise no terms ; and insisted that six of the principal inhabitants should come to his camp, bareheaded and barefoot, and with ropes round • their necks, to be dealt with as he should think pro- per — on these conditions he promised to spare the lives of the remainder. While the afflicted citizens deliberated as to what course they should pursue, one of them, Eustache de St. Pierre, stepped forward, and was followed by five others, who volunteered them- selves to save the city. The lives of these heroic men were preserved by the intercession of Edward's Queen and the Prince of Wales. The king intrusted Calais to a traitor of Italian birth — Aimery de Pavie, who agreed to sell his trust for a sum of gold ; but Edward, having discovered his treachery in time to prevent its effects, consented to pardon him on con- dition that he would turn the contrivance to the ruin of the enemy. A day was therefore appointed for thjir admission, and Edward secretly departed from FRENCH HISTORY. 69 London, disguised as a private soldier, under the standard of Sir Walter Manny. The French were received within the walls, and the greater number immediately slain. Among them the king observed a knight fighting gallantly, and challenged him to single combat. They began a sharp and perilous encounter-, but at length the knight seeing himself deserted by his companions, called out to his anta- gonist, "Sir knight, J yield myself your prisoner." After the battle, the king made himself known to his opponent, presented to him a string of pearls, and restored him to freedom, without ransom. v: The title of " Dauphin," which is given to th© eldest son of the French king, was iirst assumed du- ring this reign. Humbert the Second, Dauphin of Vienne, being inconsolable for the loss of his only son, who had fallen from his nurse's arms, out of a window, retired to a monastery and left his estates to Philip's son, on condition that he should take the name of Dauphin, and quarter the arms of Dauphiny with those of France, Philip died a. d. 1350, and was succeeded by his son, JOHxN THE SECOND. The first John, a posthumous son of Louis the Tenth, lived but a few days, and his name is gene- rally omitted by the French historians in the list of their kings. John the Second, surnamed the Good, 70 BEAUTIES OP was upwards of forty years old when he ascended the throne. During his reign the battle of Poitiers was fought (1355); where the Prince of Wales commanded the English forces, and increased the reputation he had gained at Crecy. The French king was vanquished and taken prisoner. His army fell helpless around him; but he stood firm as a rock lashed by the billows, and hewed down his foes, one by one, as they advanced to seize his person. At length, ex- hausted by his exertions, but still unwilling to sur- render to an inferior, he cried out, " Where is my cousin, the Prince of Wales .?" Being assured that he was at a distance, he threw dow'n his gauntlet be- fore a knight of Arras, Denis de Morbec, saying, "then, Sir, I yield myself to you." The young prince afterwards behaved so generously to the lallen king, that upon one occasion John shed tears as he thanked his conqueror. The captive was conducted to England, and landed at Southwark ; where he was met by a great concourse of people, of all ranks and stations. He was clad in royal apparel, and mounted on a white steed of great si2e and beauty. The Prince Edward rode by his side upon a black horse, and in meaner attire. They were received by the English king and his son, with pride, delight, and affection, and the humbled monarch was treated by them in a manner that deprived captivity of more than half the venom of its sting. JS-RENCH HISTORY. 71 John was afterwards ransomed by his subjects, for a sum amounting to about ^1,500,000 of our present money. To facilitate the treaty by which he ob- tained his freedom, he again visited England (in con- sequence of the inability of the French nation to furnish so large a sum,) and lodged in the Savoy Palace : he was received with courtesy and honour by Edward ; but had not been long in England be- fore he was taken ill, and died a. d. 1364. While John was in London the second time, the kings of Scotland and Cyprus w^re also in the city; and it is mentioned as the greatest honour ever en- joyed by a subject, that the Lord Mayor, a wine merchant, gave an elegant entertainment at once to four monarchs. An account of the ceremonies that were observed in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, at the coronation of the kings of France, in the church of Rheims, will, we have no doubt, be highly interesting to our juvenile readers; we therefore give the fol- lowing sketch of them : His majesty spent the night, or a considerable part of it, in devotion, privately, in the church. Early next morning, being Sabbath day, at the ringing of the bell, the king's guards took possession of the principal gate of the cliurch, and the canons and clergy their several stations within it. After the morning service, the king entered, with the arch- bishops, bishops, barons, Stc, who sat down, ac- 72 BEAUTIES OF cording to their rank, on seats prepared for them, around the altar. Meantime, a deputation of the most noble and potent barons, chosen by the king^ was sent by him to the church of St. Remi, for the sacred oil ; which they pledged their word of honour they would carefully and reverently return to the abbot. The sacred phial, encased in gold, was then carried under a rich canopy of silk by the abbot and monks, in solemn procession. On their arrival at the great gate of the .church of St. Denis, they were met by the archbishops, bishops, barons, &c., who again engaged solemnly to restore the bottle, which was now conducted by the abbot and monks to the altar. The archbishop having assumed his appro- priate dress, began high mass, and the king stood up. This being done, the archbishop, in his own name, and in that of all the churches and clergy of France, addressed him, and presented the following claim: '" We beseech and entreat you promise to us, that you will preserve to us, and to the churches com- mitted to our care, our canonical privileges, laws, and constitution, and that you will defend us and our rights, as it becomes every king in this king- dom." To which the king replied, " I do promise and engage, that I will maintain to each of you, and to the churches intrusted to your care, your privileges and laws ; and that as far as may be in my power, I will defend you, as becomes a king within this king- dom." FRENCH HISTORY. 73> The following oath was also administered to him: " I promise, in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, to those subjected to my dominion, that I will cherish and preserve always the whole Christian people, and the true peace of the church; that I will suppress all kinds of injustice, violence, and rapine ; that I will at all times exercise justice and mercy in judgmentj as I hope that God will show mercy to me and my people ; and that I will faithfully and zealously do my endeavour to expel heretics out of the kingdom." Which he confirmed by solemnly laying his hand oa the Bible. "Te Deum," was now performed, while the arch- bishops, &c., led the king forward to the altar, ai which he kneeled till the hymn was finished, and on which were laid the royal crown, the sword uii- sheathed, the golden spurs and sceptre, a rod of about a cubit long with an ivory handle, sandals richly ornamented, blue silk vests, coat, and royal cloak, all of which had been brought from the monastery of St. Denis. The grand chamberlain assisted in putting on the royal habit and sandals ; the Duke of Bur- gundy buckled on the golden spurs, and again im- mediately removed them : the archbishop girt on the sword, and presently ungirding it, drew it from the scabbard, and delivered it into the hand of the king, addressing him in these words : " Take the sword which I now present to you, With the blessing of God, by which, with the grace &f the Holy Ghost, 7 74 BEAUTIES OF may you be able to resist and repel all the enemies and adversaries of the church, defend the kingdom committed to you, and promote the glory of God^ through Jesus Christ, our Redeemer, who reigns with the Father !" &c. This was followed by a suitable hymn and prayer, at the conclusion of which the king took the sword, and delivered it to the custody of the liigh constable, or, in his absence, to any of the barons whom he had appointed for the occaf?ion lo take charge of it, and bear it before him in procession when he retired from the church. The archbishop then proceeded to the ceremony of unction and consecration. The chrism being laid in the sacred patina on the altar, he took a little of the holy oil out of the phial of Bheims with a golden twig, and reverently mixed it "with the chrism. The royal robe was loosened and folded down ofT the shoulders ; the king kneeled 'y the litany was read ; the bishops offered up three several appropriate prayers ; and tlie archbishop then pronounced that of the consecration. The prayer being ended, the archbishop took the chrism mixed with the oil of the sacred phial, and anointed the king on the head, the breast, the back, the shoulders, and arms, saying at each, " I anoint thee with the holy oil, in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost." These actions were followed by a hymn and prayers. The royal robe was now replaced and fastened FREXCH HISTORY. ^ with a clasp, -and a ring put on the king's fingi^r by 4he archbishop, who said, " Receive this ring, the symbol of faith, power, union, and iiappiness; the pledge of your fidelity in defending the churclj and subduing her enemies." The sceptre was next placed in his right hand, and the rod of justice in his left, accompanied by suitable addresses. The high chan- cellor then, or in his absence the archbishop^ called by nam.e, first the lay and next the ecclesiastical peers, who, standing around the royal person, assisted the archbishop in placing the crown on his head, and continued to support it, while the prelate repealed, ** May God crown you with glory, honour, righleous- jiess and constancy, that through our prayers, a sound faith, and its fruits abounding in good works, you may obtain the inheritance of an everlasting king- <]om !" This was again followed by three prayers, an address, and a concluding prayer, on the king's l)eing conducted by the peers to a throne prepared for his reception. The archbishop then, having laid aside his mitre, Fainted iiim, and proclaimed, " Long live the kingP*^ The peers each did the same, and the words resounded through the assembly. The book of theGosp*^! was presented to him, which he kissed; high mass was ■performed, and he received the sacrament; an offer- ing was made by him of a vessel of wine and three pieces of gold ; the Gospel was recited while the crown was laid aside, and the king descended from •76 BEAUTIES OF l6ie throne ; a smaller crown was put on his head, end, the constable bearing the sword before him, the procession returned to the palace. CHARLES THE FIFTH, Succeeded his father John ; he was almost the first king in Europe who did not think it incumbent upon him to appear personally at the head of his armies, or to hazard his person equally with the lowest soldier. He hoped to effect more by foresiglit, policy, and judgment, than his predecessors had done by the strength of their arms, or the force of their valour; and he was in a great measure successful. " No king," said Edward, his great antagonist, " ever less handled his sword ; and none ever occasioned to his adversaries so much embarrassment."* * In this reign the whims of the court became matters of great weight and importance; among others were introduced the fashionable shoes, called alter the name of the inventor a la JPoulaine. They were turned up before with a long point pro- portioned to the person's rank, from half a foot to a foot, and even two feet long, somewhat resembling a cow's horn, and were actually tipped with horn; they were also sometimoa branched ; and the more ridiculous they appeared, the more stylish were they, as usual, considered. The clergy declaimed against this fashion as unnaiural and disgraceful; and it was the subject of a grave discussion before two ecclesiastical councils of Paris, in 1312, and Antwerp, in 1365 ; by both of which it was condemned ; but it was not abolished till the civil government prohibited it, in 1368, by a fine of ten florins for every transgression. FRENCH HISTORY. 77 In a battle between the French and Normans, in 1364, the French army was commanded by Bertrand du Guesclin, one of the best and bravest knights of France. 'J'he Norman Captal de Biich, also pos- sessed a high reputation. They met near Cocherel, on tlie banks of the Eure. The Captal placed his standard on a thorn-bush, in front of his army, as a challenge to provoke his adversary to begin. Neither party, however, was willing to quit the post that each advantageously occupied. At length Du ■Guesclin feigned a retreat; when a valiant Norman officer, John Jouel, impatient for the fight, exclaimed, *^ Quick, quick, let us descend; the French are flying!" The Captal cautioned him, but the impe- tuous soldier called aloud^ " follow me who loves me ; I am determined to fight !" and so ran on with 11 body of troops after him. As soon as they had left their trenches, the French rapidly formed and charged them ; Jouel saw his error, but fought bravely v many fell, and many were disarmed and taken. The standard of De Buch, which had been so vauntingly displayed, became the main object of attack and de- fence. Thirty valiant knights resolved to seize it; and as many on the other side swore it should be preserved. The French, after a bloody and obstinate struggle, succeeded. Jouel, wh<^ was the cause of the failure of his parly, disdained to flee; he was covered with wounds from head to foot ; yet stood and fought till he fell dead. De Buch pausing in 7* fS BEAUTIES OF the midst of the struggle, looked round and beheld all his friends either slaughtered or captured, asked for Du Guesclin, and yielded himself prisoner. Charles the Fifth, whose uniform and systematic conduct as a politician and a sovereign in a ferocious age, procured him the epithet of " the Wise," died in ISiSO, and left the throne to his son, CHARLES THE SIXTH. In the year 1392 this king betrayed symptoms of insanity, and during a march at the head of his army, for the purpose of bringing the duke of Brittany under fiubjection, the dreadful malady broke forth. He was riding through the forest of Mans, when a tall, half- naked man, black and hideous, rushed from among the trees, rudely seized the bridle of his horse, and exclaimed — " King, ride no farther, but return ; you are betrayed!" — then instantly disappeared. The king, in dreadful alarm, passed on. Two pages rode behind him ; the one bore a polished helmet, the other a spear. The latter having become sleepy by the heat of the day, let fall his weapon, which struck against the steel helmet of his comrade. Charles, who was brot)ding over the warning of the strange figure, was totally unhinged by the sudden noise near him, and supposing it to be the attack of his enemy, turned, drew his sword, put spurs to his horse, and furiously assaulted all who came in his way : several were killed and wounded : but at length a Normaa FRENCH HISTORY. 79 knight sprang up behind the king, pinioned him, and kept him thus until he was disarmed. They laid him on the ground, perfectly exhausted and speech- less. In the year 1415, Henry the Fifth of England in- vaded France, at the head of a numerous and brave army, and on the 25lh of October the battle of Agin- court was fought. The French, who were vastly superior in numbers, commenced the attack; their archers on horseback, and their men at arms, advan- ced upon the archers of England, who had fixed pali- sades in their front to break the assault of the enemy, and from behind that defence plied their foes with a shower of arrows which nothing could resist. Tiie whole French army shortly exhibited a scene of con- fusion and dismay, and the English fell upon them with their battle-axes, and hewed them to pieces al- most without resistance. The mass of prisoners was so great as to encumber the victors; and an alarm being spread that they were attacked in the rear, Henry gave orders that all the captives should be put to death. The mistake was soon discovered, and the mandate countermanded ; but unhappily it added many to the number of the slain. The French lost 10,000 killed and 14,000 prisoners ; among the former were their commanders, the Dukes of Brabant and Alen^on, and a host of nobles and knights. The losas of the English was not great ; and has been variously estimated at from forty persons to one thousand six ^80 BEAUTIES or hundred : the Duke of York was the only man of rank who fell. In consequence of this victory the English obtained and held possession of many im- portant towns and fortresses in France. In 1422, Charles the Sixth died, and the kingdom was inherited by his son, CHARLES THE SEVENTH, -Surnamed " the Victorions." During the first six years of his reign the English arms in France were ■almost uniformly successful ; and the young king was .reduced almost to a state of penury. Nor was he previously very fortunate, for shortly before he ob- tained the crown, he had been forced to supply his table even by the sale of his wife's jewels. His little court was torn by intestine factions; the English, under the command of .John, Duke of Bedford, uncle to Henry the Sixth, were proceeding to lay siege to Orleans; and the ruin of Charles appeared inevitable, when an occurrence, the most singular in the records of history, turned the scale in his favour, and restored him in power to the throne of his ancestors. The fortitude, courage, perseverance, and cruel death of the Maid of Orleans form one of the most romantic and interesting portions of French history ;" her spirit and good fortune may with propriety be fCalled marvellous; since, informed as we happily iare, we cannot deem it, as in her own time it was siniversaliy deemed, miraculous. Joan d'Arc a native FRENCH HISTORY. 81 of Droimy, near Vaucouleurs, on the Meuse, was a country-girl somewhat above twenty years of a^e, handsome and lively, and of irreproachable conduct. She had been early accustomed to the management of horses, and rode with grace and ease, having filled the humble situation of maid in the inn of her native village ; where she had frequent opportunities of hear- ing discussed the calamities and misery the lower or- ders were suffering, the deplorable state of the coun- try, and the peculiar character of Charles — one so fitrcngly inclined to friendship and affection — which naturally rendered him the hero of that sex whose generous minds place little bounds to their enthu- siasm. These discussions warmed the maiden's ima- gination, rendered her indignant against the English, and inspired her with the noble resolution of delivering her country from its enemies. She went therefore to Vaucouleurs, obtained ad- mittance to Baudricourt, the governor, and assured him that she had seen visions, and heard voices ex- horting her to re-establish the throne of France. An uncommon intrepidity of soul made her overlook all the dangers which might attend her in such a design; and the village-girl burst forth at once into tlie fear- less heroine. Doubtless her inexperienced mind mis* took the impulses of passion for heavenly inspiration, for no one act of Joan d'Arc leads to the belief that she ever contemplated imposition. The governor of Vaucouleurs treated her at first with neglect; but after S2 BEAUTIES OP a time, wisely considering that in the present state of affairs, advantage might be taken of her enthusiasm, he entered into her views, and sent her, with proper attendants and a recommendation to the king, who was then residing at Chinon. The age was one of ahiiost unbounded credulity, and it was the interest of the king and his friends, when accepting her services, to persuade the people she was sent by God. She resided tv\'o months at Chinon, and the priesthood confirmed the rumor of her being an inspired person. It is but fair to suppose that all were disposed to believe what they so ardent- ly wished. Joan, armed cap-d-pee^ and mounted on horseback, was triumphantly presented to the people as tlie messenger of Heaven, and began her martial Aransactions by escorting a large convoy for the sup- ply of Orleans, as the English were then besieging iiiat city. Slie ordered the soldiers to confess them- selves before they set out on their enterprise; banished from the camp all dissolute characters ; and carried in her own hand a consecrated banner, on which the Supreme Being was represented grasping the globe of earth, and surrounded whhjleiirs-de-lis. The maid wrote to the commanders of the English troops desir- ing them, in the name of the Omnipotent Creator, to raise the siege and evacuate France, and menaced them with divine vengeance in case of their disobedience. The English affected to deride her and her heavenly ^commission, but their imaginations were secretly af- FRENCH HISTORY. 83 fected by the strong feeling that prevailed in all around them; and they waited with anxious expectation for the issue of these extraordinary proceedings. Strange it was, but no less true, that provisions were safely and peaceably permitted to enter the city; and Joan •was received as a celestial deliverer by all the inha- bitants, v/ho now believed themselves invincible under her influence. An alteration of affairs was visible to the whole civilized world, whose attention was fixed upon the war between two such nations; and the sudden change had a proportionate effect on the minds of both parties. The spirit resulting from a long course of uninterrupted good fortune, was rapidly transferred from the victors to the vanquished. The Maid cried aloud for an immediate sally cf the garrison, lier ardour roused to exertion — she attacked and con- quered. Nothing, after this success, seemed impos- sible to her votaries ; she declared that within a little time the English would be entirely driven fi'om their entrenchments, and was herself foremost in the battle, animating and exhorting hej||^ troops. Nor was her bravery more singular than her presence of mind : in one attack she was wounded by an arrow in the neck; she pulled the weapon out with her own hands, had the wound quickly dressed, and hastened back to head tlie troops and plant her victorious banner on the ramparts of the adversary. The English no hunger denied that Joan was inspired, but they declared she M'as possessed of an evil, not a good spirit. Whether 84 BEAUTIES OF ^' The Maid of Orleans''^ (an appellation given to her when she had finally succeeded in obliging the Eng- lish to raise a siege upon which so much money and so many valuable lives had been expended) really acted upon her own council or upon that of the French general, Dunois (as it was said), she is alike entitled to our praise and admiration ; for there is often as much wisdom shown in following, as in giving advice. And it must never be forgotten that, when necessary, she curbed her visionary temper and zeal by prudence and discretion. The Maid gave two promises to Charles ; one that sh.e would force the invaders to raise the siege of Or- leans ; the other, that she would see him crowned at Rheims. The former having been kept, the latte?. re- mained to be fulfdled. The king joine^ his victo- rious people, and, accompanied by her who might be truly termed his guardian angel, set out for that ancient city. Such was the universal panic, that he hardly perceived he was marching through an ene- my's country. When h#arrived at Rheims, he was there joined by the dukes of Lorraine and Bar; and next day, the 17th of July, 1429, his coronation was performed with the holy oil, to which we have els&- where referred, and which, it was said, a pigeon had brought to king Clovis from heaven, on the first esta- blishment of the French monarchy. The Maid of Orleans stood by his side in complete armour, dis- playing that sacred banner with which she had so FRENCH HISTORY. 85 often animated his troops and dismayed his enemies. When the impressive ceremony was concluded, she threw herself at the monarch's feet, and shed a flood of exulting and tender tears. " At last," she ex- claimed, " my dear sovereign, the will of God is ful- filled ; in this happy event he hath shown that you me he to whom this kingdom doth indeed belong.** It is impossible to imagine one more devoid of per- sonal ambition than Joan d'Arc. It is true, thai Charles ennobled her family, and exempted her na- tive village from taxation ; but, having fulfilled the professed end of her mission, she earnestly solicited the favour of being permitted to return to her home and tranquillity. When the indelible stain made by her death on the page of English history is remembered, it will be deeply regretted that Charles refused her request Finding that her services were again required, she threw herself into Compiegne, then besieged by the English, and made many successful sallies against the assailants ; but being deserted by her party on one occasion, she was pulled from her horse and taken prisoner by one Lionel de Vendome, an officer of the Burgundian array. It is hardly to be credited, lliat a king whom she had crowned, a people whom she had saved, should have made no effort to recover their preserver from her bitter enemies. Yet they left the intrepid girl to the cruel vengeance of her foes ; and the duke of Burgundy purchased, for the 8 S6 BEAUTIES OP sum of ten thousand pounds sterling, the casket that contained the soul of Joan of Arc. She was carried to Rouen, loaded with irons, and sumnrioned to ap- pear before a tribunal formed of persons interested in her destruction. Nothing could exceed the intrepidi- ty of her conduct, or the coolness of her replies: they could not try her as a prisoner of war ; and so, for a period of four montlis, they harassed her with religious interrogatories. During the whole time, she never betrayed any weakness or womanish submis- sion, and no advantage was gained over her. Fler answers to the various questions proposed to her are too long for insertion here, but they must ever prove highly interesting to the lovers of true heroism. In the issue she was found guilty of all the crimes im- puted to her — of being a sorceress, an idolater, a witch, and a heretic. But the chief pan of her ac^ cusation was wearing man's apparel : and she waa finally sentenced to be delivered over to the secula? arm. it was hardly to be expected but that, sooner or later, the weakness of the woman would triumph over the fortitude of the heroine. Brow-beaten by men invested with the appearance of holiness, her spirit was subdued ; the visionary dream of inspira- tion with which she had been buoyed up by the ap- plause of her party, as well as by continual success, faded before the punishment to which she was con- demned. She confessed her willingness to recantj acknowledged the illusion of those revelations whichc FRENCH HISTORY. 87 tlie church had rejected, and promised nevermore to mention them: her sentence was then, as they termed it, " mitigated." She was doomed to perpetual im- prisonment, and to be fed during life upon bread and water. But the vengeance of the mai(!en''s enemies M'as not yet appeased. Suspecting that the female dress had been rendered uncomfortable by liabit, al- though she had consented to resume it, tliey pur- posely placed in her chamber a coat of armour, a4id meanly watched for the effects of the temptation. At the sight of a dress in which she had acquired so much renown, and which she had once believed she wore by the direct comm.and of Heaven, all lier former feelings and passions revived, and she ven- tured in her solitude to clothe herself again in the forbidden steel. Her base and contempiible foes sur- prised her in that condition ; the slight offence was interpreted into an heretical relapse, and she was doomed to be publicly burned in the market-place of Fouen (.June the 14th, 1431). "This admirable he- roine," says Hume, "to whom the more generous superstition of the ancients would have erected al- tars, was, on pretence of heresy and magic, delivered over alive to the flames, and expiated by that dread- ful punishment the signal services she had rendered to her prince and her native country." The English king, Henry, was at Rouen at the time of this autho- rized murder; and there is still extant a very curious le^r from him to his uncle, the duke of Bedford, oii 88 BEAUTIES OF the death of Joan, which he terms the " extirpation of a pestilential error." The effects of her influence, however, was felt long after her death ; and although by a kind of mock coronation, the young king of England re- ceived the crown of France at Rheims, it was mani- fest that the English power was rapidly declining in that country. After the siege of Orleans had been abandoned, the earl of Suffolk, who was taken prisoner fighting va- liantly, displayed, even during a moment of immi- nent peril, the chivalrous spirit of the times. He was about to surrender himself to William Renaud, but first asked him, " Are you a gentleman ?" " Yes." « But are you a knight ?" " No." " Then," said the earl, " I make you one ;" and having dubbed him on the field, retired in his custody. In consequence of the several victories that fol- lowed, nearly all the provinces and fortresses gar- risoned by England, yielded to the French; and the latter days of Charles the Seventh were passed in prosperity and popularity. He died in 1461, leaving behind him the highest reputation as a prince of ac- knowledged courage, justice, and discretion, and v/ell deserving the success that had attended his arms ; though it must be admitted, that the manner in which he left his deliverer, Joan d'Arc, to her fate, without attempting to save her, tarnishes, in some measme^ the splendour of his reign. His son, FBENCH HISTORY. 89 LOUIS THE ELEVENTH, Succeeded his father, but he inherited none of his father's virtue?. He was thirty-eight years of age when he came to tiie throne : mean, selfish, regard- less of truth, and fawning to those who were neces- sary to him ; but negligent of those of whom he considered himself independent; yet possessing an insinuating address and great perseverance in attain- ing his object. When he gave offence by his words in conversation, he was ever ready to apologise. '' I am sensible," he would say, "' that my tongue is of- ten prejudicial to my interests." Still, no man ever had his speech or his temper more completely under control.* He is described by the historian as " uni- formly flagitious, and systematically bad." One of the most remarkable events of the early years of his reign, was his voluntarily placing him- self in the hands of his mortal enemy, Charles, duke of Burgundy, thinking to overreach that prince by his powers of persuasion ; but he suffered as the dupe of his vanity, and was confined a prisoner in the castle of Peronne, in Picardy. Comines, the historian of his time, describes minutely every circumstance con- nected with the extraordinary meeting of the rival * The character of this king, and portions of the history of his reign, have been made familiar to the English reader, by tlie Auihor of " Waverley," in his historical novel of *' Quen- »^ nd the troops disposed to fly, he at- tempted i J ally them •, but, not succeeding, he raised his viso/*, chat he might be universally known, and rushing into the thickest of the fight, fell covered with wounds. The resentment of the constable subsided at the sight of his bloody and disfigured remains; he gazed upon them for some time in silence, and then solemnly said, "Ah raalheureux! Tu es cause de la ruine de la France ; — et de la mienne," he added, after a lengthened pause. The king communicated the result of this struggle to the queen-mother in these words, "Madam., all is lost but our honour " 104 BEAUTIES Ol" The French king was kept in captivity during a period of thirteen months, the greater portion of which was spent in prison in Madrid. At the end of this time he was released by treaty, his two sons being left as hostages for the due performance of the con- ditions. No sooner had he reached his own domi- nions, than he mounted a Turkish horse that waited for him, and galloped, without stopping or looking behind, to St. Jean de Luz, often waving his bonnet in the air, and exclaiming, " Je suis encore Koi !" hi 1526, the war between the two great monarchs, Charles the Fifth, Emperor of Germany, and Francis, was renewed in Italy. The command of the forces of the former was again given to the Duke of Bour- bon, who formed the daring and desperate resolution of marching to Rome, the Roman pontiff having sided with the French king. This design was car- ried into effect ; and although the duke was killed by a musket-ball under the walls, his victorious army (the command of which devolved on the Prince of Orange) entered and pillaged that celebrated city. Pope Clement the Second was forced to capitulate, and remained a prisoner in the hands of the victors ; and Rome, abandoned to the rapacity and violence of the conquerors, became a scene of carnage and desolation. The first shot that was fired had proved fatal to the duke of Bourbon, and was commonly at- tributed to a priest ; but Benvenuto Cellmi, known by his extraordinary writings and adventures, lays FRENCH HISTORY. 105 claim to the merit of the deed. The duke's death was not known until his troops had obtained pos- gession of the city. No language can express the fury of the soldiers when they received the intelli- gence. They rent the air with cries of " Carne, came! Sangre, sangre! Bourbon, Bourbon!" and every sentiment of mercy was extinguished in their breasts. Tlie pillage lasted without interruption for two months; during which every crime of which man is capable was committed. The details are too horrible for insertion. Francis the First died of a slow fever, on the 31st of March, 1547, in the fifty-third year of his age, and the thirty-third of his reign. The proclamation in the hall of the palace, which announced his death, was in these words : " Prince, clement en paix, vic- torieux en guerre, pere et restaurateur des bonnes lettres et des arts liberaux." His devotion to gal- lantry is well known. "A court without ladies," he would frequently say, " is a year without spring; a spring without roses." Francis, however, urged by the clergy, wlio were apprehensive lest he should absolutely join the Pro- testants, and being desirous, on this account, to sig- nalize his zeal, and to assure them of the contrar}-, appears to have entered into their views with more tlian liis usual ardour, for some years before his death. In order to excite general attention, and to revive the veneration accustomed to be paid to the 108 BEAUTIES OP ceremonies of the cliurcli generally, and to the mass and the host particularly, which was evidently de- clining, he ordained a solemn procession in Paris, January, 1535; in which he walked barefooted and with uncovered head, carrying a torch in his hand, and followed by his children, the princes of the blood, and all his courtiers. At the cojirlusion he delivered a discourse to as many as could hear him, against the reformed doctrines, exhorted all to be- ware of them, and held out encouragement to such as would give information against Reformers, de- claring that if one of his children, or his own right hand, were infected, he w-ould not hesitate aboul its destruction. Bude was the chief cause of the revival of litera- ture under Francis the First; this must be considered as no slight honour : his wife was of great use to him in his literary pursuits, and used to find out and mark down the various passages suitable to his pur- pose. One day his servant came running to him in a great fright, crying out — "Sir, Sir, the house is on lire !" " Why do you not inform your mistress of it ?" replied Bude, calmly ; " you know 1 never trouble myself about the house."* HENRY THE SECOND, Son of Francis, succeeded to the throne of France. * As this anecdote is related of several other persons, it may be well to state that it is extracted from a rare book in the king's library, at the British Museum. FRENCH HISTORY. 1Q7 He was the handsomest prince of the ag-e, and one of the best cavaliers in Europe; courteous, beneficent, and humane, his intentions were ever honourable, but his judj»ment was not always right. He pos- sessed neither the capacity nor discernment of his father, and was in great measure under the influence and guidance of unworthy favourites. The treasures amassed during the latter years of the reign of Fran- cis, were dissipated in wanton extravagance by his successor. Henry, on his return from a visit he made, soon after his accession, to the frontier of Picardy, not only permitted, but was present with all his court, at the celebrated duel between Guy de Chabat-Jarnac and Francis de Vivonne la Chataignerie, which was fought with all the forms of chivalry, at St. Germain- en-Laye. Jarnac had cast some foul imputations on Chataignerie, who was one of the most skilful and accomplished cavaliers of France, and who so com- pletely despised his antagonist, that he fought care- lessly, and was vanquished. By a thrust totally un- expected, Jarnac wounded him in the thigh and brought him to the ground. Henry instantly flung down his baton, to put an end to the encounter, and Jarnac, as the law of arms required, desisted ; but his competitor, stung with disappointment and covered with shame, would not accept the life of which the honour and glory was gone; and having torn offlhei bandages from h.is v/ounds, Foon after expired. 108 BEAUTIES OP Henry was remarkably fond of tournaments and entertainments, and indulged in them to excess; but these innocent exhibitions were soon followed by others of a very different character. The reforma- tion had broken out in Germany, and had spread in France, where a number of proselytes to the doctrines of Calvin and Luther were publicly and solemnly burnt, as examples to their companions; the king and his whole court being present at these inhuman sacrifices, which were performed with a refinement of cruelty, worthier of a race of savages than of civilized men, professing the faith of Him who went about doing good. Henry had married Catherine de Medicis ; but his favours were shared by a beautiful though designing "woman, Diana of Poitiers, created Duchess of Valen- tinois. She was near twenty years older than the king; and an attachment so unusual, between per- sons of such unequal ages was, by his subjects, attri- buted to sorcery. It was affirmed that tlie duchess wore magical rings to prevent the decay of her beauty, which she retained in a remarkable degree even till the autumn of her days. A writer who saw her when nearly seventy years old, speaks of her as being "so lovely, that the most insensible person could not have looked upon her without emotion." This guilty attachment of the king produced much of the misery which embittered the latter years of his ?eign. To satisfy her extravagance he had to levy FRENCH HISTORV. 109 taxes of an odious and unbearable nature. Thus is it always with impure affection; it bears, like a scorpion, a sting that destroys others, and in the end itself. In 1549, Margaret, the king's aunt, and sister of Francis, died. She was indisputably the most ac- complished princess of the age : devoted to the love of letters, she encouraged and patronized men of genius and learning, from whom she received the flattering epithets of " the Tenth Muse" and " the Fourth Grace." She was herself an authoress, and her tales are much in the style of those of Boccaccio. Though she was sometimes so devout as to compose hymns, she was unhappily an esprit fori., and had even doubts concerning the immortality of the soul. Brantome, the historian, has preserved a curious story relative to the death of one of her maids of ho- nour. She remained by the bedside of the dying lady, on whom she continued to fix her eyes with intense eagerness. When asked what satisfaction she could possibly derive from such a painful iu« spection, her answer marked a daring and inquisitive mind. She said, " that having often heard the mosfc learned doctors and ecclesiastics assert, that on the extinction of the body, the immortal part was un- loosed and set at liberty, she could not restrain her anxious curiosity to observe if any indications of such a separation were discernible, but could per- ceive none." 10 JIO BEAUTIES OF In 1558, Francis, the Dauphin, afterwards Francis' the Second, was married in the church of Notre Dame^ at Paris, to Mary, the young Queen of Scotland, the melancholy story of whose after life is so familiar to the English reader. Henry ■'s eldest daughter, Mary, was married A. D. 1559, to Philip of Spain; on which occasion, tournaments and carousals added a martial magnifi- cence to amusements of a gentler nature: an en- counter, however, in one of these, proved fatal to the king. The lists extended from the palace of the Tournelles to the Bastile •, and Henry himself had broken many lances, with more than his usual vigour and address. On the third day of the tournament, as he was retiring amid the applauses of his subjects, he observed two lances lying at the entrance to the theatre. — Seizing one of them, he ordered the other to be given to Montgomery, the commander of the Royal Scotch Guards, who thrice declined the ho- nour, but at length accepted the challenge with ex- treme reluctance. The king became the more eager and obstinate, and, almost without giving his anta- gonist time to put himself on his defence sprung for- ward at him. The shock was so violent as to raise the king's helmet, and to break the lance of Montgomery ; a splinter of which entered the left temple of the king, who died a few days after from the effects of the " wound, on the 10th of July, 1559. Amongst the remarkable men who flourished in FRSNCH HISTORY. Ill the reign of Henry the Second, Stephen Jodelle de- serves particular notice, from being the first who undertook to write such dramatic pieces as have been imitated ever since, in opposition to the profaneness of the representations then in vogue, of which reli- gious mysteries were always the subjects. FRANCIS THE SECOND, Ascended the throne at the age of sixteen, the queen- mother, Catherine de Medicis, being regent and go- verning in his name. He lived only two years ; and -after his death, his young and lovely queen, Mary, returned to her dominions in Scotland. The reigrro& Francis was chiefly remarkable for the commencer^ent of those animosities between the families of Guise\§;nd Bourbon, which produced in the time of his successor effects so dreadful as to leave an indelible stain upon the history of France. 1'he bright days of Francflg the First, and Henry the Second, the noble and animating contest for glory with Charles the Fifth, and Pliilip the Second, were succeeded by intestine confusion, rebellion, massacre, and revolt. Catherine de Medicis, like an evil genius, mingled and embroiled ail ranks and parties ; and the spirit of civil discord and religious frenzy seemed almost to extinguish every sentiment of humanity, patriotism, and virtue throughout the once honour- able and chivalrous realm of France. Francis, Duke of Guise, and his brother the Car- 112 BEAUTIES OF dinal of Lorraine, had the confidence of the king and the interest of the queen-mother : Anthony of Bour- bon, King of Navarre, and Louis, Prince of Conde, his brother, were opposed to these noblemen; and thus two rival and powerful factions were formed, which, for several years, kept the kingdom almost in a state of civil war. The Bourbons patronized the then increasing but unpopular Huguenots. Coligni, Admiral of France, and D'Andelot, his brother, both of them proselytes to Calvinism, embraced the Bour- bon party, and adhered to it to the end. Severities against the professors of the reformed religion were carried on at Paris to^ cruel extent. Du Bourg, a man of distinguished wp^ts and erudi- tion, was strangled, and his body co^^umed to ashes. At length the Calvinists began gjpcretly to unite for their common preservation. iC-lkrge body of them attacked the most malignant' of their enemies, the Guises, in the castle of jlftnboise ; but were discom- fited, and the greater number either killed in the en- counter, or hanged afterwards. Not fewer than 1200 suffered under the handsrof the executioner. The streets of Amboise ran with blood •, the Loire was covered with floating carcasses ; and all the open places were crowded with gibbets. Villemongeyy one of the principal conspirators, being led to the scaffold (already covered with the bodies of his friends,) imbrued his hands in their blood, and hold- ing them up, exclaimed, "Behold, righteous judge .'' FRENCH HISTORY. 113 the innocent blood of those who have fought for thy cause. Thou wilt not leave it unavenged." Cathe- rine, her three sons, and the chief ladies of the court, beheld from their castle windows, as a diversion, the horrid and sickening spectacle presented by the town, and were present at many of the executions. Through the overwhelming influence of the Guises, the Prince of Conde was imprisoned and sentenced to lose his head. Apprehensive that his brother, Anthony of Bourbon, would revenge his death, they determined upon his assassination. The weak and misguided king was to be made the instrument of one of the basest and foulest murders that had ever been devised. It was agreed that he should command the attendance of Anthony in his own cabinet, the Guises being present; when, feigning to have discovered new proofs of his treasonable practices, he should reproach him in the severest manner. As they na- turally expected he wouldreply warmly, they meant to iaili^ advantage of the circumstance, and despatch him in the confusion, under the pretence that he had threatened the life of th§ king. Anthony was in- formed of the plot; but finding himself completely in the power of the Guises, resolved to prepare him- self for the worst, and to dispute his life with his sword whe# attacked. " If they kill me," said he to one of his faithful gentlemen, " carry my shirt all 't)loody to my wife and son ; they will read in my 'blood what they ought to do to avenge it." Anthony 10* 314 BEAUTIES OF accordingly obeyed the king's order, and entering the apartment where he was seated, approached him, and kissed his hand with profound submission. Sof- tened by this behaviour, and affected by his presence, the king changed his resolution, and omitting to give the sign previously agreed on, at which the sur- rounding attendants were to fall upon him, permitted him to withdraw. Jt is added, that the Duke of Guise, finding his project abortive, exclaimed, in a voice full of indignation, "Oh, le timide et lache enfant!" Amid these intrigues and cabals, Francis the Se- cond died, A. D. 1560. His character has been given by Voltaire in two lines : Foible enfant, qui de Guise adorait les caprices, Et dont on ignorait les vertus et les vices. The crown descended to his brother CHARLES THE NINTH. The death of Francis set at liberty the Prince of Conde ; who, with a courage and magnanimity be- coming himself, refused to nuit his prison till he knew who had been his prosecufbrs and accusers: but no person dared to avow himself as such. The Guises declared, that every step had "been take^ by the late king's express and particular command.|Hk Charles was but ten years and a half old j\vhen he ascended the throne ; and the annals of nations do not present to us a reign that produced events of a FRENCH HISTORY. 115 more calamitous nature. The kingdom, from one end to the other, became involved in all the worst hor- rors of civil war ; until the dreadful night of St. Bartho- lomew, stained with blood and veiled in darkness, completed one of the most frightful pictures that the imagination can conceive. This bloody tragedy stands unparalleled in the history of mankind ; its atrocity- has never been equalled ; and, even after a lapse of three centuries, it is impossible to recur to it without shuddering. The civil wai*s, of which religion (a religion far different from that of its patient and long suffering Founder) formed the leading pretext, were commen- ced by the massacre at Vassey, in Champagne. ^A dispute arose between the Huguenots and some do- mestics of the Buke of Guise, which the duke him- self endeavoured to check ; but in the attempt he was severely wounded by a blow on the cheek from a stone. His attendants imiioediately attacked the Huguenots, and killed or wounWed above two hundred and fifty. The King of Navarre, the Prince of Conde, and the Duke of Guise, fell in the^^ourse of the struggles that succeeded ; the duke was assassinated, the others died in battle. The Admiral Coligniwas accused of being a party to the murder; and his protestations of in- nocence failed to satisfy the family of the Guises. The duke's eldest son, then a boy, vowed eternal hatred towards the admiral ; and his revenge was '^satiated on the fatal night of St. Bartholomew. ,116 BEAUTIES OF In one of the subsequent battles between the Ca- tholics and the Huguenots, fought on the plains of St. Denis, the general of the Catholics, Montmorenci, was slain. He had received four wounds in the face, ^nd a severe one from a battle-axe, but was still en- deavouring to rally his troops, when Robert Stuart, a Scotchman, said to be of the blood-royal, rode up to him and levelled a pistol at his head. "Dost thou linow me .^" said Montmorenci ; " I am the constable of France." "Yes," answered Stuart, " I know thee •well, and therefore I present thee this." So saying, he discharged a ball into the constable's shoulder, who fell ; but, while falling, he dashed the hilt of his broken sword into his enemy's mouth, which fractured his jaw, and laid him senseless on the ground. Stuart was afterwards taken prisoner, and executed. The end of the Prince of Conde had more the character of assassination, than of the death of a war- rior in the field. He went into"%ie action of Jarnac with his arm in a sling, and almost immediately had his leg broken by the rearing of his brother-in-law's horse. Unmoved by so painful an accident, or at least disdaining to betray any unbecoming emotion at such a crisis, he coolly observed to those around jhim, "Learn that unruly horses do more injury than :fiervice in an army." And then continued, " Know ^that the Prince of Conde disdains not to give battle with an arm in a scarf and a leg broken, since you FRENCH HISTORY. 117 attend him.^' The fortune of the day was against the Huguenots, and the prince was surrounded and taken prisoner. He was placed at the foot of a tree, co- vered with wounds : when a ruffian, named Montes- quieu, a captain in the Swiss guards, galloped to the spot. Having been informed who the captive was ; " Tuez, tuez, mordieu !" he exclaimed, and instantly- discharged his pistol at the prince, who fell dead on the spot. The actual command of the Huguenot forces de- volved upon Coligni, after the death of Conde. Having achieved several victories, a peace highly to the advantage of his friends was obtained; and he was induced to dismiss his army, and assist in the government of Charles the Ninth. He received, how- ever, repeated warnings that the seeming quiet was but a hollow truce for the purpose of gaining time to effect his destruction and that of the Huguenots, and to abolish the reformation in France, by the total ex- tinction of the reformers. Though conscious of danger, Coligni replied, that he v/ould rather suffer himself to be dragged through the streets of Paris than renew the horrors of civil war. Towards the beginning of 1572, tlie plot of Ca- therine de Medicis, and her party, began to ripen. The entire destruction of the Huguenots was resolved upon; and the assassination of Coligni was deter- mined, as a prelude to the general massacre. On the 22d of August, a man named Mourevel, selected for 118 BEAUTIES OF that purpose, posted himself in a lillle chamber of the cloister of St. Germain de I'Auxerrois, near which Coligni usually passed on his way from the Louvre to his own house. As the admiral walked slowly on, perusing some papers, Mourevel, from a window, levelled at him an arquebuse, loaded with two balls, one of which broke the forefinger of his right hand, and the other lodged in his left arm, near the elbow. The assassin instantly fled, and, mounting a swift horse provided for him by the duke of Guise, es- caped. Coligni, without betraying the least emotion, turned calmly round, and pointing with his bleeding band toward the window, said, " Le coup vient de- ia." He was taken home and his wounds dressed. The king, when informed of the affair, affected the greatest anger, and carried his hypocrisy so far as to -visit Coligni in person. The Calvinist nobles called for instant justice ; and one of them, at the head of four hundred gentlemen, entered the palace of the Louvre, demanding to be revenged on the assassin. This rash step accelerated the massacre. On the evening of the 24th of August, 1572, being Sunday, and the day of the feast of St. Bartholomew, the duke of Guise went, about twnlight, with orders from the . court, to Charron, provost of Paris, to provide two thousand armed men ; each to have a white sleeve on his left arm, and a white cross on his hat; and to di- rect that on ringing the bell of the palace clock, the whole city should be illummated. FRENCH HISTORY. US' As the awful moirient approached, some principles of remaining honour, some sentiments of humanity, commiseration, and virtue, which all the pernicious counsels of his mother had not been able effectually to destroy, maintained a conflict in Charles's bosom. Cold sweats bedewed his forehead, and his whole frame trembled, as if under an attack of ague. With the greatest difficulty, Catherine forced from him a precise command to begin the massacre ; and, fearing he might retract his consent, she hastened the signal bell more than an hour before the concerted time,. !t tolled from the church of St. Germain de PAuxer- rois. The admiral had long retired to rest, when the^ noise made by the assassins in forcing the gates of his house, gave him warning that his end was near.. His confidential servant entered his apartment, ex- claiming, "Arise, my lord, God calls us to himself!" The good and gallant Coligni sprang from his bed,, and prepared himself for death. A German, named Besme, burst open the door, and stood before him with a drawn rapier in his hand. "Young man," said he, " respect my gray hairs, and do not stain them with blood." Besme hesitated a moment, and then plunged his weapon into the bosom of the un- armed and aged man ; ufter which, his followers threw the body from the window into the court-yard^ where it was anxiously expected by the duke of Guise, who contemplated it in silence, and offered il 120 BEAUTIES OF no insult. But Henry of Angouleme, Grand Prior of France, having wiped the face with a handkerchief.^ and recognizing it as Coligni's, kicked the corpse, and exclaimed with brutal exultation, " Courage ! my friends ! we have begun well, let us finish in the same manner !" Teligni, the son-in-law of Coligni, a youth of most beautiful person and engaging manners, was butchered in attempting to escape over the roof of the house. The fate of the Ceunt de la Rochefoucault, too, was attended with circumstances that excited peculiar pity and indignation. He had passed the evening with the king at play ; and Charles, touched with some feeling of human nature towards a nobleman whom he personally loved, ordered him to remain in his privy chamber during the night. The count, how- ever, conceiving that it was a plan to furnish amuse- ment at his expense, refused, and departed. "I see," said Charles, " it is the will of God that he should perish." When the officer who was sent to destroy him, knocked at his door, he opened it himself, and seeing several persons in masks, imagined that the king had come to play some youthful frolic ; and as lie uttered a piece of badinage, was stabbed to the heart The house of every Huguenot in the city was broken open, and the wretched inhabitants murdered, without distinction to age or sex. Their slaughtered and mangled bodies were thrown in heaps before FRENCH HISTORY. 121 the gates of the Louvre, to satiate at once the cu- riosity and vengeance of the fiend Catherine and her brutal court. Even Charles gave his personal aid in the massacre ; and, it is said, fired on his wretched subjects with a long arquebuse from his window^s, endeavouring to kill the fugitives who sought to escape from the Fauxbourg St. Germain. The corpse of the Admiral Coligni was treated with indignities, the bare mention of which is a disgrace to human nature. An Italian cut off the head, and carried it to Catherine de Medicis, who received it with undisguised joy. It was afterwards sent to Rome as an acceptable present to the sovereign pon- tiff! The mutilated trunk was thrown upon a dung- hill, and subsequently hung upon a gibbet, by an iron chain attached to the feet, under which a fire was lighted, and it was scorched without being consumed. While in this condition the king went, with several of his courtiers, to gaze at it ; and as the corpse smelt disagreeably, some of them turned away their heads. "The body of a dead enemy," said Charles, "always smells well." During a whole week the system of extermination was continued, though its extreme fury lasted only two days. More than five thousand persons of all ranks, perished by various kinds of deaths, and the Seine was loaded with floating carcasses. A butcher, who entered the palace of the Louvre while the mas- sacre was at its height, is said to have bared his 11 122 BEAUTIES OF bloody arm before the sovereign, and to have boasted that he had himself despatched a hundred and fifty Huguenots. Margaret, queen of Navarre, in her Memoirs, re- lates, that after she had retired to bed on the fatal night a person Came to her door, and knocked violently with his hands and feet, crying out, '^ Navarre ! Navarre !'^ It was opened; when a gentleman named Gersan rushed in, pursued by four archers, threw himself on- her bed, and besought her to save him. With much difficulty she succeeded in preserving his life. Orders were speedily despatched to different quar- ters of the kingdom, for the continuation of the in- human butchery ; and the number of slain is said tc^- have amounted to forty thousand. Some few noble spirits refused to obey the king's mandate. One of them deserves especial mention. The Viscount d'Ortez, governor of Bayonne, though a Catholic, had the courage to send this answer to Charles r "Sire, I have read the letter to the inhabitants of Bayonne, enjoining a massacre of the Huguenots* Your majesty has many faithfully devoted subjects- in this city, but not one executioner." It is time to close the record of this diabolical act,. which forms so prominent a part of the history of France, that it was impossible to omit it ; yet it will have one eflect that may counteract the sickening horror with which it must be read — it will induce uh to thank God that we live in an age, in a country^ FRENCH HISTORY. 123 Bnd under a government, whose motto is " Tole- rance." The judgment of Providence overtook the main authors of the massacre of St. Barlhoh)mevv. Tiie king became a prey to disease of body and mind, and died miserably, in 1574, when only twenty-five years of age ; and as he left no issue male to inherit the throne, lie declared his brother, the Duke of Anjou and king of Poland, his successor. The infamous Catherine lived until 1589, but af- flicted with gout and other disorders. Various stories illustrative of her superstition are recorded. She al- ways carried about her person cabalistical characters, written on the skin of a stillborn infant; and several talismans and amulets were found in her cabinet after her death. She once considted a famous astrologer on the fortunes of all her children, and he showed lier in a mirror the number of years that each would reign, by the number of turns they made. Francis the Second, Charles the Ninth, and Henry the Third, passed successively in review before her. She even saw Henry Duke of Guise, who disappeared on a sudden ; and Henry the Fourth, who made twenty- four turns. This last circumstance increased the aversion she had always entertained towards that (subsequently) great monarch. As an instance of the arrogant power assumed by <]5harles the Ninth, he is stated, when almost a child, !to have thus addressed the Parliament of Paris : 124 BEAUTIES OF " Your duty is to obey my orders ; presume not to examine what they are, but obey them. I know better than you what the state and expediency re- quire." This is indeed, a rare specimen of the " right divine ;" nor was it the mere effect of boyish petu- lance ; it was the spirit that uniformly animated the kings of the House of Valois. Times have changed in France. HENRY THE THIRD Succeeded to the crown at the age of twenty-four. He was then in Poland, having been elected king of that country about a year previously. The King of Navarre (afterwards Henry the Fourth) deserted Henry's interest soon after his accession, joined the Huguenot party, abjured the Catholic faith, and commanded a large and powerful party against him. The king was glad to make peace on terms highly advantageous to the Protestants, who obtained the free exercise of their religion, shared the courts of justice, and several towns ceded to them as security for their rights. In consequence of the Huguenots having gained so many advantages, the Catholics became alarmed, and formed the celebrated "League," at the head of which was the Duke of Guise. But to counteract its effects, the king of Na- varre succeeded in inducing the confederate princes of Germany to send an army of aid to the Huguenots. The influence of the duke of Guise in Paris was FRENCH HISTORY. 195 «o great as to render the king a mere puppet, to take from him all power, and, indeed, to place him in a situation little better than that of a state prisoner. Henry attempted the destruction of the duke; and proposed to Grillon, the colonel of his guards, to rid him of the man who rendered even his life un- safe. " Sire," replied Grillon, " I am your majesty's faithful servant ; but my profession is that of a sol- dier : I am ready, this instant, to lay down my life in your service ; 1 will challenge the duke of Guise if you command me ; but while I live I will not be an executioner." Others, however, less scrupulous were found ; and it was resolved that the deed should be perpetrated on the 23d of December, 1588. On the morning of that day, the king directed the cap- tain of his guard to double the number of soldiers ; and having detained with him, in his closet, several gentlemen of tried courage, sent for the duke of Guise. The duke obeyed, rose from the fire, near which he was seated, and passed into the ante-cham- ber, the door of which was immediately locked after him. Seeing only eight gentlemen of the king's guard who were known to him, he proceeded to the door of the closet; and as he stretched forth his hand to open it, St. Malin, one of the eight, stabbed him with a dagger in the neck; on which the other seven crowded around him, each gave him a blow, and killed him. The brothers of the duke were in- stantly made prisoners, the doors opened, and all 11* 126 BEAUTIES OF ■who wished admitted. Henry, addressing theniy said, " he hoped his subjects would learn to know and obey him ; that having conquered the head, he should have less difficulty in subduing the members; and that he was resolved to be not nominally, but really a monarch." The cardinal of Guise was also put to death, and the bodies of the brothers buried secretly with quicklime, that no use might be made of them in inflaming the people. Such was the end of one of tlie most daring and ambitious men of the age in which he lived. When the report of his death reached Paris, on Christmas eve, it flew like lightning over the city; and nothing was thought of but ven- geance for the murder of the favourite of the people. The college of Sorbonne voted that the sovereign had forfeited his right to the crown, and that his subjects ought no longer to acknowledge his authority. While the capital was in this state of insurrection, the king agreed to unite his forces and interests with those of the king of Navarre ; and their joint armies were every where successful. With a force of 42,000 men, the kings laid siege to Paris. At this time Jacques Clement, a Domini- can friar, whether from enthusiasm or by persuasion of " the league" is uncertain, resolved upon the as- sassination of Henry. The Count de Brienne, who was then a prisoner in Paris, having been made to believe that Clement might be instrumental in intro- ducing the king into the city, and entertaining no sus« FRENCH HISTORY. 127 picion of his intentions, gave him letters of introduc- tion to his majesty. On the morning of the 1st of August, 1589, the friar was conducted to his dress- ing-room, and having delivered the count's letters into the king's own hand, stabbed him with a knife^ deep in the belly. Henry, drawing out the knife him- self, struck it into tlie assassin's forehead.* The gentlemen of his chamber also seized him, pierced him with their swords, and threw him, still alive, over the window to the soldiers, who burnt him and scattered his ashes in the river. Henry died of this wound two days after its infliction, in the thirty-sixth year of his age, and the sixteenth of his reign, leav- ing no issue. When he found his strength decaying, and that he had not many hours to live, he sent for the king of Navarre and the principal nobility ; ex- horted the latter to acknowledge the former as their lawful sovereign ; and, at the same time embracing^ him, said, " Brother, you will never be king of France, unless you become a Catholic." He is de- scribed as fickle, unstable, imprudent, and mean ; — his name was almost universally detested ; and it is added, that " no man loved him." Some historians have affirmed that he was assassinated in the very * Sully, in relating the circumstance, says, that when Henry had received the letters from Clement, he asked him if he had given him all. " No, sire," said the assassin, " I have still on© more," and instantly drew forth his knifcj and stabbed him. J 128 BEAUTIES OF chamber in which was formed the resolution to exe- cute the massacre of St. Bartholomew. His successor, the king of Navarre, treated him with pity and generosity ; and he had his reward ; but if he had been absent at a distance from Paris, and not at the head of a large and victorious army under its walls, he would never have succeeded to the crown; and France would have been deprived of the boast, that at least one of her monarchs deserved the immortality he obtained. A curious, but well-authenticated anecdote is re- lated of the duke of Anjou, the brother of Henry the Third. Jn 1581, he passed over to England for the purpose of offering marriage to Queen Elizabeth, wdth whom he had previously corresponded, and from whom he had received money in aid of the Protestant cause in France. On his arrival in Lon- don, Elizabeth encouraged his addresses so far, that on the anniversary of her coronation, she publicly took a ring from her own finger and placed it upon his. Yet ambition and prudence triumphed over love ; for after a painful struggle between inclination and duty, or — if female afl^ection ought to be ex- cluded — between one political plan and another, she decided against his pretensions ; and having sent for Jiim, informed him of her final determinaiion. In- dignation, disgust, and resentment agitated the disap- pointed duke ; he threw away her ring with many Imprecations, returned to the Netherlands, of which FRENCH HISTORY. 329 he was governor, was subsequently expelled that country, and died in 1584. This projected marriage was very unpalatable to her English subjects; and would have been most pre- judicial to the interests of her country. A puritan, of Lincoln's Inn, wrote and published a work, enti- tled " The Gulph in which England will be swal- lowed by the French Marriage." He was apprehend- ed, prosecuted, and condemned to lose his right hand as a libeller. Such, however, was his firmness and loyalty, that immediately after the sentence was exe- cuted, he took off his hat with his other hand, and waving it over his head, cried " God save the Queen !" THE RACE OF BOURBON. HENRY THE FOURTH. With Henry the Third the race of Valois became extinct; and with Henry the Fourth that of Bourbon commenced. It is curious that the families of Capet and Valois both ended by the succession to the throne of three brothers, who all died without leaving heirs male. Henry the Fourth was descended, through nine removes, from St. Louis ; and ascended the 130 BEAUTIES OF throne in the year 1589, at the age of thirty-six. He j possessed nearly all the attributes necessary to make \ a great and good king — a warm and generous heart, an enlarged and sound understanding, great prompti- tude, and unwearied activity, and a prudence and moderation which he had cultivated in the school of adversity, both in the court and camp* He was . feold and intrepid, without rashness ; and his imagi- ; nation and passions were, in the main, restrained by i a steady judgment and a sense of duty. j Such is the fair side of the picture of "Henri ; Quatre," which the historians of his reign, and the 1 immortal Sully in particular, have painted, and ! handed down to posterity : and so far it is just and true. But unhappily he had failings where female ; virtue and domestic relations were concerned, which ' it would be desirable, were it possible, to bury in ob- livion. They not only injured his moral character \ and disturbed his domestic peace, but frequently ' marred his public and political prosperity. Alas! | * When king of Navarre, Sully received a letter from him, i .describing the state of absolute poverty in which he then was. i ** I am, says this amiable and worihy prince, in a letter to me" j —thus writes Sully — "very near my enemies, and hardly a I horse to carry me into the battle, nor a complete suit of armour \ to put on : my shirts are all ragged, my doublets out at elbow, my kettle is seldom on the fire, and these two last days I have been obliged to dine where I could, for my purveyors have in- ^ formed me that they have not wherewithal to furnish my ta- ] 3)16." i FRENCH HISTORY. 131 for human nature ! how imperfect is it even in the best of men ! At a very early age he gave signs of the future gi-eatness of his character. The value of the fruit was betokened by the excellence of the flower. An incident, which happened in his youth, points out the spirit with which he perused Plutarch, and the conclusions he drew from this author. Henry was about eleven years old ; and the lives of Camillus and Coriolanus had just been read to him. La Gauch- erie (his tutor) asked him which of the two heroes he wished most to resemble. The young prince, charmed with the virtues of Camillus, who forgot his revenge to save his country, not only gave him the preference, without a moment's hesitation, but blamed the wrath of Coriolanus, who, deaf to the entreaties^ of his countrymen, carried fire and sword into his^ native land, to satisfy his vengeance. Repeating the the exploits of both the Romans, Henry extolled the generosity of Camillus, as much as he execrated the crime of Coriolanus. La Gaucherie seeing him thus inflamed, said to him, " You also have a Coriolanus in your family ;" and related to him the history of the Constable Bourbon, telling him that this great, though persecuted man, made use of his talents to serve the cause of Charles the Fifth, the most bitter enemy of his king; that he returned to his own country at the head of a formidable army, carrying every where terror and desolation j and, m shorty t 132 BEAUTIES OF that his hnplacable hatred and fatal success were al- most the destruction of France. During this recital the young prince was much agitated, rose and sat down again, walked about the chamber, stamped with his feet, and even shed tears of rage, which he vainly endeavoured to conceal ; at length, unable to contain himself any longer, he seized a pen, and running to a genealogical table of the house of Bourbon, that hung up in the room, erased the name of the con- stable, and wrote in its place that of Chevalier Bayard. The chief and almost the only objection to Henry, on the part of the great majority of the people over whom he was called to reign was, that he had been educated a Protestant. This was aggravated by what the Catholics called a relapse. For, being on a visit to the court of France, at the time of the massacre of St. Bartholomew, he was compelled by Charles the Ninth, as the only chance of preserving his life, to declare himself a Catholic; but on recovering his liberty, two years afterwards, he resumed his former religion, and became, as has been stated, one of the leaders of the reformed armies. The Huguenots, on whom the king had hitherto chiefly depended, were now comparatively few, and possessed of little power. He was therefore under the necessity of receiving the crown at the hands of his Catholic subjects, and compelled to consider his Protestant advisers more in the light of personal FRENCH HISTORY. 133 friends, than as acknowledged ministers ; from whom, although he honoured and loved them in private, he was forced in public to withhold that appearance of confidence and esteem which would have created dangerous jealousy on the part of their rivals. Among the most affectionate of his friends, the most faithful of his servants, and the most able of his Protestant counsellors, was Rosny, Duke of Sully, to whom posterity is indebted for the principal re- cords of his reign, and the most interesting anecdotes of his private character and court. The leading nobility of France were, like the mass of the people, attached to the Catholic religion ; and almost immediately after his accession the king found it would be veiy difficult, if not totally impossible, to retain his throne, should circumstances oppose them to his government. After several meetings had been held, they determined to support him on one condifcn only, viz., that he should renounce Cal- vinism, and embrace the Romish faith. The pro- position was declined by Henry; and, by the con- nivance of the pope, the old Cardinal of Bourbon, his uncle, was proclaimed under the title of Charles the Tenth. The Duke of Mayenne w^as appointed his lieutenant-general, and, at the head of a very supe- rior force, proceeded to attack Henry, against whom several battles were fought. In one of them the king was in imminent danger, and rallied his flying troops by lamenting, with a loud voice, " that in all France 12. 134 BEAUTIES OF tliere were not fifty gentlemen bold enough to die with their sovereign." This exclamation brought him immediate relief; and in the evening after the contest had ended, Henry gave it as his opinion, ^'that either the Duke of Mayenne was not so great a soldier as had been supposed, or that he had re- spectfully favoured him that day, and reserved him for a better occasion." But a more important battle — the battle of Ivry — was fought on the 14th March, 1590; and decided the destiny of Henry llie Fourth. Having minutely inspected all the preparations for the encounter, the king, mounted on a noble bay courser, took his station in the centre of his army ; and with an undaunted countenance, yet with tears in his eyes, reminded all those who could hear him, that not merely his crown, but their own safety, de- pended on the issue of that day. Then, joining his hands, and lifting up his eyes to heaven, m said aloud, " O Lord, thou knowest all things ; if it be best for this people that I should reign over them, favour my cause, and give success to my arms ; but if this be not thy will, let me now die with those who endanger themselves for my sake." A solemn silence and profound awe was in an instant succeeded by universal shouts of " Vive le Roi !" throughout bis enthusiastic soldiery.* A signal victory was * Om account states, that Henry gave notice to begin the FRENCH HISTORY. 135 gained by Henry, and he immediately marched to Paris, with a view to reduce that city to obedience. Jts inhabitants, at that time, amounted to 2,300,000? besides the garrison, about 4000 ; and when the siege commenced, they had not provisions to last them a month. Scarcity, and then famine, were soon felt; every species of animal that could be obtained was devoured ; nay, it is said, the very bones of the dead were dug from their graves, ground into a sort of flour, and formed into paste for bread ! Pestilence, as usual, trod in the steps of femine ; and in three months 12,000 persons perished. The generous king, ima- gining he might gain the affections of the besieged, sometimes permitted, and sometimes connived at the introduction of provisions ; but such supplies pro- duced a contrary effect to what he had hoped, and induced the citizens still to hold out, until the siege was raised by the arrival of the duke of Parma to Iheir xiid. Several battles w^re subsequently fought, and, on the whole, to the disadvantage of Henry^vho carried on the war under the ban of excommunication, and with the greater proportion of the influential nobles of the kingdom opposed to him. The following account given by Sully of the cap- ture of a fort during the war, is of a character more than commonly romantic : battle, in these characteristic words: " You are Frenchmen—* am your king — there is the enemy." 136 BEAUTIES OF " The manner in which Feschamp was surprised is so remarkable, that it well deserves a particular re- cital. When this fort was taken by Biron from the league, there Avas in the garrison that was turned out of it, a gentleman called Bois-rose, a man of sense and courage, who, taking exact observation of the place he left, and having concerted his scheme, contrived to get two soldiers, whom he had bound to his in- terest, to be received into the new garrison which was put into Feschamp by the royalists. The side of the fort next the sea is a perpendicular rock, 600 feet high ; the bottom of which, for about the height of twelve feet, is continually washed by it, except dur- ing four or five days in the year, when for the space of three or four hours, it leaves fifteen or twenty fathom of dry sand at the foot of the rock. Bois-rose^ finding it impossible to surprise, in any other way, a garrison who guarded with great care a place lately taken, did not doubt of accomplishing his design, if he could enter by that side which was thought inac- cessible, idls he endeavoured, by the following con- trivance, to perform. He had agTeed upon a signal with the two soldiers he had corrupted, one of whom waited for it continually upon the top of the rock, where he posted himself during the whole time of low water. Bois-rose, taking the opportunity of a very dark night, brought to the foot of the rock, in two large boats, fifty resolute men, chosen from among the sailors ; and having provided himself with a thick FRENCH HISTORY. 137 rope, equal in length to the height of the rock, he tied knots at equal distances, and run short sticks through, to support the men as tliey climbed. Ojie of the two soldiers having waited six months for the signal, no sooner perceived it, than he let down a cord from the top of the precipice, to which those below fasten- ed the cable, and by this means it was v/ound up to the top, and fastened to an opening in the battlement, with a strong crow run through an iron staple made for that purpose. Bois-rose, intrusting the lead to two sergeants of whose courage he was well convinced, ordered the fifty men to mount the ladder, one after another, with their weapons tied round their bodies; himself bringing up the rear, to prevent all hope of re- turning, which indeed soon became impracticable; for before they had ascended halfway the sea rising more than six feet, carried off their boats, and set their cable floating. The impossibility of withdrawing from a difficult enterprise, is not always a security against fear, when the danger appears almost inevitable ; and if the mind represents to itself these fifty men, sus- pended between heaven and earth, in the midst of darkness ; trusting their safety to a machine so inse- cure, that the least want of caution, the treachery of a mercenary associate, or the slightest fear, might precipitate them into the abyss of the sea, or dash them against the rocks ; add to this the noise of the waves, the height of the rock, their weariness and exhausted spirits — it will not appear surprising, that 12* 138 BEAUTIES OP ^ the boldest amongst them trembled; as m effect he who was foremost did ; this sergeant telling the next man that he could mount no higher, and that his heart failed him. Bois-rose, to whom this discourse pass- ed from mouth to mouth, and who perceived the truth of it by their advancing no farther, crept over the bo- dies of those that were before him, advising each to keep firm, and got up to the foremost, whose spirits he at first endeavoured to animate; but finding gen- tleness unavailing, he obliged him to mount by prick- ing his back with a poniaid, and doubtless, if he had not obeyed him, would have precipitated him into the sea. At length, with incredible labour and fatigue,^ the whole troop got to the top of the rock a little before the break of day, and was introduced by the two soldiers into the castle, where they slaughtered without mercy the sentinels and the whole guard. Sleep delivered them up an easy prey to the assail- ants, who killed all that resisted, and possessed them- selves of the fort." But to return to Henry the Fourth : under cir- cumstances of more than ordinary difficulty — circum- stances, indeed, that rendered his life unsafe from day to day, either from open war, or the dagger of the assassin, and influenced by the representations of his most tried and assured friends, the king resolved to pursue a course which, however politic it may have "keen — however necessary it might have become, cer- tainly detracts from his reputation, and tarnishes his FRENCH HISTORY. 139 honour. One thing is certain — he was left to make his election ; to decide whether he would change his religion, or relinquish his crown.* He chose the former, and the 25th of July, 1593, was the day ap- pointed for receiving him openly into the bosom of the church. Early in the morning, he proceeded, accompanied by a large concourse of noblemen and knights, and a vast host of people, to the church of St. Denis, where he knocked at the gate. The bishop of Bourges, in his pontificial robes, asked who he was, and what he wanted .'' He answered, Henry, king of France and Navarre; and added, that he wished to be admitted into the Catholic church. "Do you desire this from the bottom of your heart, and have you truly repented of all your errors ?" demanded the bishop. Henry fell on his knees, professed his penitence, abjured Protestantism, and swore to jRend the Apostolic Catholic Church, at the * So implacable was the hatred of the Catholics against this monarch, whom they accused of favouring the Huguenots, that the preachers were encouraged to go to any length in insull- ing him. One of them, Father Gonthieri, indulged in such abusive language against the king, even in his presence, that the Marechal d'Ornano said to him, if he had been in Henry's place, he would have ordered him to be thrown into the river^ A capuchin, preaching at Saumur, and explaining the passage in which it is said the bystanders spat in our Saviour's face, exclaimed, " Who think you these were? they were such as those who maintain the heretics, who pay their ministers wages» &c. Yet you are for peace with them !— for my part I fear no one: I am for war." 140 BEAUTIES OP hazard of his life. He was then seated on a tempo rary throne, repeated the confession of faith, high mass was celebrated ; and amid the roar of cannon the " converted" king withdrew. The Papal abso- lution of course followed. It is certain that this change was merely nominal — a stroke of policy by which he obtained, or at least secured, the kingdom of France. The articles which the pope required him to accept and swear to observe, in order to his absolution, on becoming a Catholic, furnish us with a general out- line of the spirit of popery at this time in France. They were as follows : That he should be subject to the authority and mandates of the holy see and the Catholic church; that he should abjure Calvinism and all other here- sies, and solemnly profess the true faith; that he should restore the exercise of the Cathalp religion in Beam, and nominate bishops with suitable livings therein without delay; that he should endeavour to rescue the Prince of Conde from the influence of heretics, and place him so as that he might be in- structed and edified in the Catholic religion ; that the concordats should be henceforth duly observed ; that no heretic should be nominated to any Catholic be- nefice ; that the decrees of the council of Trent should be published and observed ; that ecclesiastics should be relieved from all oppression, and defended against all iniquitous and violent usurpations ; that the king FRENCH HISTORY. 141 should so conduct himself, and especially in confer- ring offices and honours, as to show that he uniformly esteemed Catholics, and confided in them in prefer- ence to others-, that he should say the chaplet of Notre Dame every day, the litanies on Wednesday, the rosary of Notre Dame on Saturday; should ob- serve the fasts and other institutions of the church, hear mass every day, and high mass on festival days ; and, finally, that he should make confession and com- municate in public four times at least every year. On the 26th of December, 1594, an attempt was made to assassinate the king. Being at Paris, in his apartments in the Louvre, where he gave audience to Messieurs de Ragny and de Montigny, who entered, with a great number of other persons, to do homage after their election as Knights de St. Esprit, Henry was in the act of stooping to embrace one of them, when he received a blow in the face from a knife, which the murderer let fall as he was endeavouring to escape through the crowd. The wound was at jSrst supposed to be mortal ; but the king speedily removed the apprehensions of his friends, it being immediately perceived that his lip only was wounded; for the stroke having been aimed too high, the force of it was stopped by a tooth which it broke. The traitor was discovered without difficulty, though he dexterously dropped the knife and mingled among the confused attendants. He was a scholar, named John Chatel, and on being interrogated, readily an- 142 BEAUTIES OF swered, that he came from the college of Jesuits, con- fessing that those fathers were the instigators of the crime. The king having heard him, said, with a degree of gaiety which few persons could have as- sumed on such an occasion, " he had heard from the mouths of many persons that the Society never loved him, but nov/ he had proof of it from his ownP Chatel was delivered up to justice ; and the prosecu- tions against the Jesuits which had been suspended, were renewed with greater rigour than before, and terminated in the banishment of the whole order from the kingdom. Father John Guignard was about this time hanged for his pernicious doctrines against the authority and life of kings. Chatel was put to death by the most excruciating tortures, his father was also banished, and his house razed to the ground. By the treaty of Vervins, in 1598, and the edict of Nantes, which granted to the Huguenots the right of public worship and other advantages, the realm of France was alike freed from external and internal war : and the king had leisure to supply the wants and remedy many of the evils that oppressed his king- dom, so long the prey of domestic discord and fo- reign invasion. His discernment in the choice of ministers was peculiarly happy. His chancellors, Chivergny and Bellievre ; his secretaries of state, Jeannin and Villeroi, and the Baron de Rosny, to whom was confided the management of the finances. inE.VCII HISTORY. 143 were men of wisdom and integrity ; and under their direction his people began to flourish, and continued to increase in happiness and prosperity. But the king's excessive devotion to female society was certainly prejudicial to his interests, and contri- buted materially to ruffle the even ciarrent of his life by throwing many an obstacle in its way. Sully lays before us various pictures of the troubles in which this dangerous passion involved his royal master : one may perhaps suffice to show, that true virtue is always true wisdom, and that unlicensed pleasure is as far from real happiness, as the smooth countenance of the hypocrite or the flatterer is from honest integrity and genuine worth. Henry's love for Mademoiselle D'Entragues, Mar- chioness of Vernueil, was one of those unhappy dis- eases of the mind, which, like a slow poison, preys upon the principles of life ; for the heart, attacked in its most sensitive part, feels indeed the whole weight of its misfortune, but by a cruel fatality has neither the power nor the inclination to free itself from the thraldom. : and this was the case with Henry, who suflered all the insolence, and caprices, that a proud and ambitious woman is capable of inflicting. The Marchioness of Vernueil had wit enough to discover the power she had over the king, and she never ex- erted it but to torment him 5 so that they seldom met without quarrelling. The queen, having been in- formed that the king had given this lady a promise 144 BEAUTIES OF of marriage (under the expectation of a divorce), ne- ver ceased soliciting him to regain it from her. In consequence of this, Henry demanded it of the mar- chioness, who, upon the first intimation that he ex- pected it to be resigned, threw herself into the most violent transport of rage imaginable, and told the king imperiously that he might seek it elsewhere. Henry, that he might finish at once all the harsh things he had to say to her, began to reproach her with her connexions with the Count d'Auvergne, her brother, and the malecontents of the kingdom. She would not condescend to clear herself of this im- puted crime ; but, assuming in her turn the language of resentment, told him that it was not possible to live any longer with him; that as he grew old he grew jealous and suspicious; and that she would with joy break off a correspondence for which she had been too ill rewarded to find any thing agreeable in it, and which rendered her, she said, the object of public hatred. She carried her impudence so far as to speak of the queen in such contemptuous terms, that, if we may believe Henry, he was upon the^point of striking her ; and, that he might not be forced to commit such an outrage on decency, he was obliged to quit her abruptly, full of rage and vexation, which he was at no pains to conceal, and swearing he would make her restore the promise that had raised this storm. This scene affords a more useful practical lesson TRENCH HISTORY. 145 iffian a thousand pages could possibly give. It speaks for itself, and needs no comment. Henry certainly hoped for more from the fair sex than even we have right to expect in modern times, when so many proofs have been afforded that the " soul is of no sex." " That I may not repent," said he to the admirable Sully, " of taking so dangerous a step, nor draw upon myself a misfortune, which is said with justice to ex- ceed all others — that of having a v/ife disagreeable in person and mind — I shall require in her I maiTy se- ven perfections; beauty — prudence — softness — wit- faithfulness — riches — and royal birth !" No wonder that his minister added, " There was not one in all Europe with whom he appeared satisfied." The hifanta of Spain he w^as disposed to honour, if with her he could have married the Low Coun- tries. With Arabella of England (daughter of Charles, earl of Lennox) he would have been satisfied, had she possessed, as was reported, a right to the crown. To the German princesses he felt a decided objec- tion, comparing them, very ungallantly, to "hogs- heads of wine." Some of the princesses of France were too brown; others not of very high birth; many too young; while others were declared to be too old. In truth, the monarch was very difficult to please. But about this' period he became so infatuated by the arts and beauty of the fair Gabrieile D'Es trees (the 13 146 BEAUTIES OF predecessor of the Marchioness of VernueiO after- •\vards created by hun duchess of Beaufort, that slie absohitely aspired to share his crown. Fortunately for the glory of his name, and the honour of France, the steadiness of Jus faithful Sully counteracted her influence ; although it was not until after her death that Henry married his second wife, Mary of Medi- cis, daughter of the grand duke of Florence, — an ex- traordinary, but ambitious and unamiable woman, and one by no means formed by nature to be his wife. Of the kindness, cheerfulness, benevolence, gene- rosity, warmth and constancy of friendship, integri- ty, and, in short, of nearly all the virtues that render a man immortal even in this world, the historians of Henry the Fourth have preserved a vast number of anecdotes. The following are, perhaps, among the most interesting and characteristic. In the midst of his family he was no longer the king, but the father and the friend. He would have his children call him " Papa," or "Father;" and not " Sire," according to the new fashion introduced by Catherine de Medicis. He used frequently to join in their amusements ; and one day, when the great mo- narch, the restorer of France and the peacemaker of Europe, was playing on all fours, with the Dauphin, his son, on his back, an aml^assador suddenly enlered the apartment and surprised him. in this attitude. The monarch, without moving from it, said to hiir:, *•' Mt.n- sieur PAmbuscadeur, have you any children r" " Y osSj FREXCH HISTORY. j47 sire," repliGcl he. " Very well ; tlie-.i I shall finish my race round the chamber." He was ever ready to make reparation, when the impetuosity of his temper had led him (or a moment to be unjust. A certain colonel, to wiiom he way at- tached, came to take orders previous to an engaga- iTip.nt, and availed himself of the opporLunity to re- quest payment of a sum which was due t;) him. Tho king hastily told him it was ui.like a man of honour to ask for money when he ouglu to have been attend- ing to the orders for battle. Immediately after, whea IJenry was ranging his troops, he went up to the of- ficer, and said, ''• Colonel, we are now in the held — • perhaps we shall never meet again — it is not just that \ should deprive a brave gentleman of his honour — I came tiiersfore to declare, that I know you to be aa honest man, and incapable of committing a base ac- tion." Saying this, he embraced him with great af- fection. The colonel burst into tears, and replied^ "Oh, sire, in restoring to rag my honour, you have deprived me of life — I should be unworthy of your favour did I not this day sacrifice it on this field." He fell in the action. He would frequently say, " I daily pray to God for three things : first, that he would be pleased to par- don my enemies ; secondly, to grant me the victory over my passions, and, especially, over sensuality; and, thirdly, that he would enable me to make a right 148 BEAUTIES OP use of the authority he has given me, that 1 may ne* ver abuse it.^' He had not only a piercing and strong sight, but a very quick sense of hearing. D'Aubigne mentions an example of the latter which shows, at the same time, his pleasant humour, and the familiar manner in which he lived with his friends. " The king," said he, " was once in bed at La Garnache, in a large state chamber, and his bed surrounded with curtains and a thick frieze. Frontenac and I lay in an opposite corner of the same room, in a bed enclosed in the same manner; and speaking jocularly of the king, in' as low a voice as possible, with my mouth close to his ear, Frontenac repeatedly told me he could not hear, and asked what I said. The king heard, and reproached him for his deafness, saying, '• D'Aubigne tells you that I want to make two friends by doing- one good office.' We bade him fall asleep," he adds, " for that we had a great deal more to say of him." His raillery, ever intended in good humour, was like that kind of wit which is generally agreeable, though not always delicate and safe. — Going to the Louvre, attended by a number of noblemen, he asked a poor woman, who was driving her cow, what was the price of it; and on offering her much less than its value, she replied, that she saw he was no dealer in cows. " What makes you think so .?" said th.9 king. " Ventre saint Gris ! Don't you see how many calves are following me r" FRENCH HISTORY. 149 When his gardener complained that nothing would grow on the soil at Fontainbleau ; " Friend," said he, looking at the duke of Epernon, " sow it with Gas- eons ; they will thrive any where." A prelate once spoke to him about war, and, as it may be imagined, very little to the purpose. Henry suddenly interrupted him, by asking what saint's day that was in his breviary — a stroke which pointed out his bad rhetoric, and loaded him with ridicule for having talked of war before Hannibal. Jl has been said that his tailor, becoming suddenly a lawyer, was advised to present to the king a book of regulations and schemes which he pretended were necessary for the good of the nation : Henry took it, and having perused a few pages, which abundantly proved the folly of its author ; " Friend," said he, to one of his valets, " go, and bring hitlier my chancellor to take measure of me for a suit of clothes, since here is my tailor wanting to make laws." Henry read with pleasure all that was published concerning his operations; for during his reign ew^ry one enjoyed the liberty of speaking, writing, and printing his opinion; and truth, which he sought after continually, came in its turn even to the throne to seek him. One of the greatest compliments that can be paid a king is to believe him willing to listen to the voice of truth. It was a long time ago said, that un- happy must be the reign where the historian of it is 13* 150 BEAUTIES OF obliged to conceal liis name. L'Etoile relates, that Henry having read a book called Tlie Jlnti- Soldier^ asked his secretary of state, Villeroi, if he had seen this work; and upon his replying in the negative, — ■ *' It is right you should see it," continued he, "for it is a book which takes me finely to task, but is still more severe on you." He was once desired to punish an author who had written some free satires on the court. " It Vv'ould be against my conscience," said the good prince, " to trouble an honest man for having told the truth." Henry frequently amused himself with hunting* On one occasion, while he was eager in the chase, he suddenly heard a great noise of sportsmen and i\ogs. at a distance, and expressed much displeasure at the liberty wluch those persons, whoever they might be, were taking in his forest by interfering with his pas- time. Soon the clamour became more distinct, and within a few paces of him and his attendants they saw a black fellow, whose huge appearance and figure astonished and overawed them : with a hoarse and frightful voice he cried, J^PaliencJez vous^ attend me; Mhrntendez voiis^ hear me; or, Ame.ndez vous^ reform yourself — and vanished, for neither the king nor thos3 who were with him were certain of the words. The woodcutters and peasants assured them that this was a frequent visiter, whom they called the "Grand Hunter," and to whom they were accustomed,— though they could account for neither his appearance FRENCH HISTORY. 151 or disappearance, nor for the great noise of men and dogs which invariably accompanied him. Henry pressed De Thou to publish his history, and took this excellent work under his own protec- tion : silencing the cabals and clamours of the cour- t.ers and priests ag-ainst it. " it is J," said this prince, in a letier he wrote on the subject to his ambassador at Rome, "it is I that have given orders for its pub- lication and s^ale." He regarded the work as a monu- ment of genius raised on the altar of veracity. His observation to a Spanish ambassador deserveis to be recorded. Being surrounded and pressed upon by his officers at court, the proud Spaniard was sliocked at so much familiarity. "You see nothing here,", said the king ; " ihey press upon me much more in the day of battle." " If I were desirous," he once remarked on the opening of parliament, " to pass for an elaborate ora- tor, I would have introduced more fine words here than good will : but my ambition aims at something higher than to speak well." It is not to be wondered at, that a king so beloved was frequently wearied by the compliments bestowed on him by liis subjects. Sully mentions that in one of his tours through the provinces, he was tempted to take by-roads to avoid the long speeches of his *< faithful people," one of whom hailing him with a repetition of such titles as " Most great, most benign, most merciful king, &c." "Add, also," said Henry^ 152 BEAUTIES OF impatiently, " most weary." Having twice told an- other provincial orator, that he really must shorten his speech, which the worthy man was not at all in- clined to do ; he hastily rose up, observing, as he quitted the room, " You must say the rest, then, to Mr. William," — the tor.rt jester, who, in conformity with the usage of the times, always accompanied him. The king, while residing at Fontainbleau, was one day, in the ardour of the chase, left at some distance from his courtiers and attendants: a countryman, sitting at the foot of a tree, his chin resting on his stick, accosted the king, who was passing near him, with these words, "Do you think, sir, there is any chance of our good king Henry's passing this way? I have walked twenty miles to see him." " Why, there is some chance," said Henry, "but if you could go to Fontainbleau you would be certain of seeing him there." "Ah," said the old man, " but I am so weary." " Well, then," said his majesty, " get on my horse, behind me, I will take you towai-ds it." The countryman accordingly mounted, and,, after riding some way, asked the king how he should know his majesty from his courtiers } " Easily enough," replied the king, "his majesty will wear his hat, his courtiers will be bare-headed." This sa- tisfied him, and soon after they met the attendants, who, immediately taking off their hats, his majesty jumping off his horse, turns round to the astonished FRENCH HISTORY. 153 countryman. " Truly, sir," said the fellow, " either you or I must be the king !" The duke of Epernon, colonel-general of France, governor of Guicnne, &c., died in 1 644^ aged eighty- eight. He was the oldest duke and peer of France, an officer of the crown of the longest standing, ge- neral of an aimy, governor of a province, knight of every order, and counsellor of state. He was called the king's wardrobe, because of the great number of posts he held in his household. There is recorded a very fine answer of his to Henry the Fourth, who one day in anger reproached him with not loving him. The duke, without being surprised at the king's rage, answered coolly, but with great gravity, "Sire, your Majesty has not a more faithful servant than myself in the kingdom. I would rather die than fail in the least part of my duty to you ; but. Sire, as for friend- ship, your Majesty well knows that is only to be acquired by friendship." The king happily knew how to admire great sentiments, as well as great ac- tions ; and his indignation was converted into esteem. But the best and greatest of monarchs, as well as the meanest of his subjects, must in time submit to the mandate of a greater? j^ing than he. Death cannot be bribed by riches nor av/ed by power; and Henry the Fourth was summoned to follow his predecessors to the grave, long before, according to the ordinary course of nature, his people might have looked for tliis even/, or been satisfied that it was time for him 154 BEAUTIES OP to throw off the cares of government, rid himself of the troubles and anxieties of life, and be at rest. The narrative of his death is a more than usually sad one, and has been detailed with minule accuracy by several historians, and only differing in some minor points: it took place on the 14th of May, 1610. Francis Kavaillac, a native of Angouleme, of low birth, educated a monk, by profession a schoolmaster^ and afterwards a solicitor or inferior law agent, had come to Paris, for what end is not clearly ascertained. Under a religious melancholy zeal for the old or new league, and being without any associates, he might either have devised the plot himself, and come of bis own accord to execute it; or been inveigled into it by wicked and designing men, who had discerned the fitness of his temper for their plan : but being re- pulsed in his first attempt to reach the king's person, be returned again to Angouleme. Here, lioweve;-, ha was unable to rest : and animated by zeal, by frenzy, or by whatever cause, internal or external, he came back to Paris to perpetrate the execrable deed. In the afternoon, about four o'clock, of the 14th, agitated and sleepless, the king, hoping to find more rest for his mind in the activity of his body, pro- posed to visit Sully at the arsenal, and to see, as he passed, the preparations making at the Britlge of Notre Dame and at the Hotel de Ville, for the cere- mony of the queen's entry into the city, which was to take place the next day. In the coach went with FRENCH HISTORY. 155 him from the Louvre, the Duke ol'Epernon, who sat on the same side vvitli lum, and the Duke de Montba- zon the Mareschal de Lavardin, Roquelaine la Forcpj Mirabeau, and Liancour. The carria^^e passing from tlie street St. Honore into that of Ferronerie, was pre- vented from proceeiling by a cart on the right loaded wilii wine, and one on the left loaded with hay. The- attendants on foot went forward by another passage, intending to be ready to join it as soon as the carts had moved. Ravaillac, ever on the watch, seized this moment: he observed the position of the king; and mounting on the liind wlieel, with his knife struck him on the left side, a little below the heart. His majesty had just then turned towards the Duke d'Epernon, and was reading a letter; when, feeling himself struck he exclaimed,'- I am wounded !" At the ?ame instant the assassin, perceiving that the point of his knife had been stopped by a rib, repeated the blow with such quickness, that not one of ihose who were in the coach had time to oppose or even to notice it. After the second stroke, which pierced the heart, the blood gushed from his side and mouth, and the king expired, murmuring, it is said, in a faint and dying voice, "It is nothing." The murderer aimed a third stab, which the Duke d'Epernon re- ceived in his sleeve. The lords who were in the coach got out instant-* ly, but vvitli such precipitation, that they hindered each other from seizing ihe regicide; Vthoj howcverj BEAUTIES OF 156 " glorying in the infernal deed, stood, uncovered, osten- tatiously brandishing the reeking knife in his hand. The death of their beloved monarch was for many ; hours concealed from ills people, who were led to i believe that he was only wounded. But when it was X known throughout Paris that he was certainly dead, :i the wliole city presented a scene of which it is im- "i possible for language to give an adequate description j ' some became insensible through grief; others ran fran- tic about the streets ; and it appeared as if every living , being within its walls had suffered the severest do- ■ mestic calamity — as if some child or parent had been ] torn from the heart of each family — so universal and deep was the mourning for the king, who was, in ' truth, " the father of his people." Such was the fate of Henry the Fourth, in later i times denominated the Great — in the fifty-eighth year > of his age, ihe thirty-eighth of his reign as King of \ Navarre, and the twenty-first as King of France. , By his first wdfe, Margaret of Valois, he had no chil- ■ dren ; Jby his second, Mary de Medicis, he left three ; sons and three daughters. The dreadful scene that followed the murder of the | king, is recorded as one of the most horrible cases of j punishment that was ever inflicted by a judicial court i upon any human being — however heinous his guilt. ^ ► On the 17th of May, the trial of Francis Ravaiilac i commenced : the great object of his judges was to in- j duce him to confess who were his accomplices — ^as FRENCH HISTORr. 157 it was generally believed, that there were many impli- cated ill the murder. Suspicion rested chiefly on the Jesuits. To the very last, however, the assassin per- sisted in declaring that he had neither counsellor nor abettors in the crime — that he committed it without communicating his intention to any one — that he did it because he had heard the king intended to engage in a war against the Pope, and because he conceived himself called by Omnipotence to reraove him out of the way of the Catholics. On the 27th of May, the court met and issued Uie following order : "• We, the presidents and several of the councillor* being present, the prisoner Francis Ravaillae was brought into court, who having been accused and convicted of the murder of the late king, he was or- dered to kneel, and the clerk of the court pronoun- ced the sentence of death upon him, as likewise thai he should be put to the torture, to force him to de- clare his accomplices ; and his oath being taken, he was exhorted to redeem himself from the torments preparing for him, by acknowledging the truth, and declaring who tliose persons were that had persua- ded, prompted, and abetted him in that most wicked action, and to whom he had disclosed his intention of committing it," He said, "By the salvation I hope for, no one but myself was concerned in this action." He was then ordered to be put to the torture of brodequia. Oa 14 15S - BEAUTIES OF the first wedge being driven, he cried out, " God have- mercy upon my soul, and pardon the crime i have committed ! J never disclosed ray intentions to any one." This he repeated as he had done in his inter- rogation. When the second wedge was inserted, he vociferated, with loud cries and shrieks, " I am a sinner; I know no more than 1 have declared by tha oath i have taken, and by the trulh which I owe to. God and to the court. I beseech the court not ta force my soul to despair." The executioner continu- ing to drive the second wedge, he exclaimed, ^''My God, receive this penance as an expiation for the crimes I have committed in the world ! Oh God! ac- cept these torments in satisfaction for my sins ! By the faith \ owe to God, ! know no more than what I have declared. Oh! do not force my soul to despair ! " The third wedge was then driven lower, near his feet, at which a universal sweat covered his body, and he fainted away. The executioner put some wine into his mouth, but he could not swallow it; and being quite speechless, he was released from the torture, and water thrown upon his face and haudso He soon recovered, and was led out to execution, amid the execrations of the enraged populace, who ■would have torn him in pieces, if he had not been protected by a large guard. On the scaflbld the tor- tures again commenced. On the fire being put to his right hand, holding llie knife with which he had stabbed the king, lie FRENCH HISTORY 1.59 eried out, "Oh, God!" and often repeated, "Jesu Marie !" While his breast, Sec, were being* torn with red-hot pincers, he renewed his cries and prayers; during wliich, though often admonished to acknow- ledge the truth, he persisted in denying that he had any accomplices. The furious crowd continued to load him with execrations, saying, that lie ought not to have a moment''s respite: afterwards, melted lead and scalding oil were, in turn, poured upon his wounds, which made liim shriek aloud, and pour forth doleful cries and exclamations. lie was then drawn by four horses for half an hour, at intervals. Being again questioned, and ad- monished, he persisted in denying that he had any accomplices ; while the people of all ranks and de- grees, both near and at a distance, continued tlieir exclamations, in token of their grief for the loss of the king. Several persons set themselves to pull the ropes with die utmost eagerness; and one of the no- blesse, who was near the criminal, alighted from his Iiorse, that it might be put in the place of one that was tired with pulling. At length, when he had been drawn for a full hour by the horses without being dis- membered, the people, rusliing on in crowds, threw themselves upon him, and with swords, knives, sticks, and other weapons, they struck, tore, and mangled ids limbs, and violently forcing them from the exe- tiutioaer, dragged them throug^h the streets with the 160 BEAUTIES OP greatest rage, and burnt them in diiferent parts of the city. From this horrid scene the reader Avill turn with disgust. It is, however, well to preserve it, in order to show how completely justice may sometimes act the part of a butcher, and forget decency, in the de- sire to satiate vengeance. The case is almost with- out parallel, and must be regarded as a blot upon the page of history, which neither provocation nor po- licy could ever justify. By those who knew him best, Henry the Fourth was most beloved. The able and excellent Sully^ who, on account of his religion, could not be admit- ted into any order, instituted one for himself. He wore about his neck, and more especially after the death of Henry the Fourth, a chain of gold or dia- monds, to which was suspended a large gold medal, exhibiting in relievo the figure of that great prince. He used often to take it out of his bosom, stop and contemplate it, and then kiss it with the utmost re- verence, and he always carried it about his person while he lived. Sully records an extraordinary instance of the union of amazing talents with as amazing depravity. " Old Servin (a nobleman of the court) came to me," he writes, "and presented his son, begging that I would use my endeavours to make him a man of some worth and honesty; but he confessed it was FRENCH HISTORY. 161 wliat he dared not hope; not through any want of understanding or capacity in the youth, but from his natural inclination to all kinds of vice. His father was in the right. What he told me, having excited iny curiosity to gain a thorough knowledge of young Servin, I found him to be at once both a wonder and a monster ; for 1 can give no other name to that as- semblage of the most excellent and most pernicious qualities united in him. Let the reader represent to himself a man of a genius so lively, and an under- standing so extensive, as rendered him scarcely igno- rant of any diing tliat could be known ; of so vast and ready a comprehension, that he immediately made himself master of whatever he attempted ; and of so prodigious a memory, that he never forgot what he had once learned. He possessed a knowledge of philosophy and the mathematics, particularly fortifi- cation and drawing. Even in theology, he was so well skilled, that he was an excellent preacher, when- ever he had a mind to exert that talent, and an able disputant either for or against the reformed religion. He not only understood Greek, Hebrew, and all the languages which we call learned, but also all the dif- ferent jargons, or modern dialects ; which latter tongues he accented and pronounced so naturally, and so perfectly imitated the gestures and manners both of the several nations of Europe, and the parti- cular provinces of France, that he might have been laken for a native of all or any of these countries ; 14* 162 BEAUTIES OP and this quality he applied to counterfeit all sorts of persons, wherein he succeeded wonderfully. He was, moreover, the best comedian and greatest droll that perhaps ever appeared ; he had a genius for poetry, and had Avritten many verses; he played upon almost all instruments, was a perfect master of music, and sung most agreeably and justly : he likewise could say mass — for he was of a disposition to do as well as to know all things. His body was perfectly well suited to his mind : he was light, nimble, dexterous, and fit for all exercises ; he could ride well ; and in dancing, wrestling, and leaping, he was admired ; there are not any recreative games that he did not know, and he was skilled in almost all mechanic arts. But now for the reverse of the medal. Here it ap- peared that he was treacherous, cruel, cowardly, de- ceitful ; a liar, a cheat, a drunkard, and a ghitton ; a sharper in play; immersed in every species of crime ^ a blasphemer, an atheist; in a word, in him might be found all the vices contrary to nature, honour, reli- gion, and society; the truth of which he himself evinced with his last breath ; for he died in the flower of his age, wholly corrupted by his debaucheries, and with the glass in his hand, cursing and denying God." Another anecdote, of a very different nature, Sully relates of himself. " Entering one day," he says, *' without any at- tendants, into a very large chamber, I found a man FRENCH HISTORY. 163 walking about it very fast, and so absorbed in thought, that he neither sahited me, nor, as I imagine, per- ceived me. Observing him more attentively, every thing in his person, his manner, his countenance, and his dress, appeared to me to be very uncommon. His body was long and slender- his face thin and with- ered ; his beard white and forked ; he had on a large hat which covered his face *, a cloak buttoned close at the collar; boots of an enormous size; a sword trailing on the ground ; and in his hand he held a large double bag like those that are tied to saddle- bows. I asked him, in a raised tone of voice, if he lodged in that room, and why he seemed in such a profound contemplation. Affronted at the question, without saluting me, or even deigning to look at me, he answered me rudely, that he Vv'as in his own apartment, and that he was thinking of his affairs, as T might do of mine. Although I was a little sur- prised at his impertinence, J, nevertheless, requested him very civilly to permit me to dine in the room ; a proposal which he received with grumbling, and which was followed by a refusal still less polite. That moment, three of my gentlemen pages, and gome footmen, entering the chamber, my brutal com- panion thought fit to soften his looks and words, pulled off his hat, and offered me every thing in his power. Then suddenly eyeing me with a fixed look,. asked me, with a wild air, where I was going ? I told him, to meet the king. ' What, sir ." he replied^ 164 BEAUTIES OF * has the king sent for you ? Pray tell me on what day and hour you received his letters, and also at what hour you set out?' It was not difficult to dis- cover an astrologer by these questions, which he asked me with invincible gravity. I was farther obliged to tell him my age, and to allow him to ex- amine my hands. After all these ceremonies were over; 'Sir,' said he, with an air of surprise and re- spect, ' I will resign my chamber to you very wil- lingly ; and, before long, many others will leave their places to you less cheerfully than I do mine.' The more I pretended to be astonished at his great abili- ties, the more he endeavoured to give me proofs of them — promising me riches, honours, and power." The astrologer then withdrew; and oiiraiiuhor heaixl, or at least says, nothing farther about him. The annexed illustrates Sully's own character. ^' One day," he observes, " when a very fine ballet was representing at the theatre, 1 perceived a man leading in a lady, with whom he was preparing to enter one of the galleries set apart exclusively for females. He was a foreigner; and I easily distin- guished of what country, by the swarthy colour of his skin. ^Monsieur,' said I to him, 'you m.ust seek for another door, if you please; for I do not imagine ihat with such a complexion you can hope to pass for a fair lady.' ' My lord,' answered he, in very bad French, * when you know who I am, 1 am persuaded you will not refuse to let me sit among those fair ladies ; FRENCH HISTORY. 1G5 fiince, swarthy as I am, my name is Pmieiitel; 1 have the honour to be very well acquainted with his ma- jesty, who often plays with me.' This was indeed, too true ', for this man, whom I had already heard often mentioned, had gained immense sums from the king. ' How ! ventre de ma vie ! said 1 to him,^ af- fecting to be extremely angry, ' you are then that fat Portuguese who every day wins the king's money? Pardieu ! you are come to a bad place ; for 1 neither like, nor will suffer such people to be here.' He at- tempted to speak, but I would not listen to him. ' Go, go,' said I, pushing him back, ' you shall not enter here 5 I am not to be prevailed upon by your gibber- ish.' The king afterwards asked him how he liked the ballet, saying, he thought it was very fine, and the dancing exquisite. Pimentel told him he had a great inclination to see it, but that he met his grand finan- cier, with his negative front, at the door, who turned him back. He then related his adventure with me ; at which his majesty was extremely pleased, and laughed at his manner of telling it; nor did he after- wards forget to divert the whole court with it." Mademoiselle de Scudery flourished in the reign of Henry IV., and died in 1801. According to the dictum of phrenologists, she must have had the organ of imagination "strongly developed," for the cele^ brated Monsieur Costar says, " that out of her own head she composed eighty volumes /" In her " Conversations," in which much knowledge 166 BEAUTIES OF of the world is displayed, the following passage occurs concerning dedications, which is so curious, thai we make no apology for transcribing it. "There was a certain writer who had three dedicatory epistles to the one book, for three persons very different in rank and merit, with a view of making use of that which could be turned to the best account, and a third per- son negotiated the matter. As things happened, he dedicated the book to the best bidder, but the worst man. Another, who now rests from Jiis labours, had prepared a dedication, or ratiier a panegyric; but the subject of it losing his places before the book was printed, it was suppressed. — It is well known, that a certain country author came to Paris, with a very elaborate dedication to Cardinal Richelieu ; but, finding him dead on his arrival, he evinced his dex- terity by modelling it into a panegyric on the queen, ^Mary of Austria. There was another, who, after highly, and as justly, commendisig a living person, gave an opposite turn to all he had said, because the individual died before he had rewarded the author in a manner commensurate with liis fancied merit. Yet I think neither of these came up to the artifice of one Rangouza, who, having printed a collection of letters •without paging or order, save the bookbinder's direc- tions, so to arrange them, as that each person to -whom a copy of the volume was presented should lind his own first, and taking precedence of all others; which could not but be bountifully rewarded, as being FRENCH HISTORY. 167 a very fiatlering distinction. These letters were justly termed ^i^olden leUers ; for the author boasted that, one with another, they brought him near thirty pis- toles each." So much for the dedications of those days. Ma- demoiselle de Scudery, we may remark, obtained the tide of the Sappho of her age. Lewis Birlo Crillon, a gentleman of Avignon, as remarkable on account of the peculiarities in his temper as his intrepidity, which had procured him the name of Dreadnought, having been sent to the Duke of Guise after the reduction of Marseilles, the duke resolved to try his courage, and agreed with some gentlemen to give a sudden alarm before Cril- Ion's quarters, as if the enemy had taken the place ; at the same time he ordered two horses to the door, and going up into Crillon's room, told him all was lost ; that the enemy were masters of the post and town ; that they had forced the guards, and broke and put to flight all those that opposed them ; that find- ing it impossible to resist any longer, he thought it was better for them to retreat than, by suffering them- selves to be taken, add to the glories of the victory ; that he had therefore ordered two horses to be brought, which were ready at the door, and desired he would make haste, for fear they should give the enemy time to surprise them. Crillon was asleep when the storm began, and was hardly awake whilst the Duke of Guise was saying all this to him j however, without being al 168 BEAUTIES OP all discoiicerled by so hot an alarm, he called for his clothes and his arms, saying, they ought not, on too slight grounds, to give credit to all that was said of the enemy ; and even if the account should prove true, it was more becoming men of honour to die with swords in their hands, than to survive the loss of the place. The Duke of Guise not being able to prevail on him to change his resolution, followed him out of the room, but when they were got halfway down stairs, not being able to contain himself any longer, he burst out laughing, by which Crillon discovered the trick tliat had been played upon him ; he there- upon assumed a look much sterner than when he only thought of going to fight, and squeezing the Duke of Guise's hand, said to him, swearing at the same time, "Young man, never make a jest to try the courage of a man of honour; for hadst thou made me betray- any weakness, I would have plunged my dagger into thy heart!" and then left him without sayiiig a word more. The reign of Henry the Fourth has occupied many pages; but it is, without doubt, the most remarkable,- interesting, and important, of the History of France, and therefore well merits the space devoted to it. LOUIS THE THIRTEENTH Ascended the throne of France in 1610, at the age of nine years, the queen-mother, iVIary de Medicis, FRENCH HISTORY 169 holding the reins of government as regent of the kingdom during his minority. The duke of Sully, deeply afflicted and distressed by the assassination of his friend and master, and suspecting that he might be equally obnoxious to the contrivers of the murder, immediately shut himself up in the Bastile, of which he was governor. He had not only received many warnings that his life was in danger, but after he had actually set out to wait upon the queen, Vitri, the captain of the guard, met him, and counselled him to return. It had re- quired many messages, by persons of the highest rank, who assured him that his fears were ground- less, to induce him to pay the visit ; and his reluct- ance so to do might, perhaps, have been the chief cause of the neglect with which he was subsequently treated. He solicited and obtained permission to re- tire to his castle of Sully, on the Loire, and died at the advanced age of eighty-two, in December, 1641. The young king, on his bed of justice, according to established custom on such occasions, confirmed the queen-mother in the regency. In the year 1811, negotiations were carried on for the union of Louis with the Infanta of Spain ; and the duke of Mayenne was sent as ambassador to that country. The marriage articles were signed, and the princess addressed as Queen of France. After some days, the duke, being about to return home, asked her if she had any commands for the king, his 15 170 BEAUTIES OP master, now her betrothed husband. "Tell him,'^ Faid she, "that I am impatient to see him." This an- swer appearing indelicate to ihe Countess of Altamira, her governess ; " what," said she, " will the king of France tliink of a princess so ardent for marriage ,''" «•' Have yon not taught me," replied tlie Infanta, "al- ways to speak the truth .^" The two great favourites and advisers of the queen- regent were Leonora Galigai and her husband, Con- chini, who had followed the queen, on her marriage, from Italy into France. The latter became first lord of the bed-chamber, and both amassed great weahh under the protection of their mistress. Conchini was courted by the nobles in the most servile manner, and ■was created Mareschal D'Ancre. At length, becoming every where hated for his arrogance and cupidity, lie determined on quitting France with the money he had collected. The inhabitants of Paris were, at this period, in a state of insurrection, mounted guard on their gates, and allowed no person to pass in or out without a passport; consequently, the Mareschal D'Ancre, when he attempted to leave ihe city in his carriage, was stopped by force. " Villain," said he to Picard, a shoemaker, then ofiicer of the guard, *'do you not know me?" "That I do," replied Pi- card, firmly, and wiih somewhat of contempt; "but you shall not go by without a passport." Subse- quently, however, he obtained an order of egress from the commissary, and sent his groom a:id two FRENCH HISTORY. 171 valets to beat the shoemaker. They executed their commission so unmercifully, that the unfortunate man almost died under their hands: they were, how- ever, immediately arrested, and in a iew days hanged at the very gale where the afiair took place The Mareschal, fuidirig he had not power enough to save tlie lives of his servants, made another efibrt to leave France-, but his wife refusing to accompany him, he remained, and engaging in several cabals to regain the influence he had lost, his death was resolved upon by the nobles, with the consent of the young king, who dreaded and disliked him. Vitri, the captain of the guard, agreed to accept the office of assassin. On the mareschaPs entering the Louvre in the morning, as usual, Vitri seized him hy the arm, saying he was his prisoner. 'I'he mareschal was surprised, and strug- gled ; oilier attendants of the gunrd instantly advanced, and shot him dead wiih their pistols, then stabbed the corpse with their swords, and kicked it with their feet. Mis wife was afterwards charged with having meditated the death of the king, and being subjected to a mock trial, was condemned and executed. The power of the leading nobles became altoge- ther overbearing ; and the king w^as little better than a cipher in the state, his youth and natural imbecility rendering him unable to limit or control their in- fluence. As an evidence of the weakness of the fjo- vernment, it is stated that two soldiers of the guards Cought a duel ; the one killed the other ; and the sur- 172 BEAUTIES OF vivor was apprehended and imprisoned in the abbey of St. Germains. The colonel-general demanded that he should be tried by a conrt-martial ; and, oil being refused, broke open the prison and took him jiway by force. A complaint having been laid before parliament, the colonel-general was ci^d to appear, and answer for his conduct. He obeyed, but came iLttended by six hundred gentlemen, and a large body of his guards. The parliament was intimidated, and instantly adjourned, several of the members being in- sulted by the soldiers as they passed out. ■ A long and unprofitable war with Spain ; a severe persecution of the Huguenots ; domestic difference* between the nobles who sided with the favourites of the queen, and those who took part with the mo- narch — form the leading features of the uninteresting reign of Louis XIII. By the advice of his most influential minister — the celebrated Cardinal Richelieu, who determined on the entire subjugation of the Huguenots in France — in the year 1627 proceedings were taken against them. The Huguenots themselves, often dissatisfied and restless, furnished the king with frequent and plausible reasons for the course which was subse- quently pursued. The people of Rochelle in parti- cular had given much cause of complaint. In I62I5 they appeared in open arms £;gainst his authority; and for some time refused all attempts at accommo- dation, although advised to accept terms by their an- FRENCH HISTORY. 173 cient and tried friend Du Plessis Mornay. When this excellent and accomplished man was offered a sum of ] 00,000 crowns to surrender Saumur, of which place he w^as governor, into the hands of the king, he returned an answer which deserves to be record- ed : — " I might have had millions," said he,^ indig- nantly, " if J had preferred riches to honour and a good conscience." In 1627, the Rochellese were again in arms to maintain their rights and liberties, having received encouragement from England, and been assisted with ammunition and provisions by the celebrated duke of Buckingham, the favourite minis- ter of James I., and afterwards of his son Charles. The French army blockaded the city, and endea- voured to reduce it by famine. The besieged became greatly distressed, but resolved to endure all priva- tions and sufferings rather than surrender. The mayor, Guiton, a man of superior understanding and extraordinary courage, animated his fellow-citizens by his words and conduct to submit to any extremity in preference to abandoning their civil and religious liberties. When he accepted the office of chief ma- gistrate, which he did with reluctance, shortly before the commencement of the siege, holding a poniard in his hand, he said, " I take the office of mayor, since you insist upon it; but I do it on condition that I shall be allowed to plunge this dagger into the lieart of him who shall first propose to surrender the city, — not excepting myself from this doom; for 15* 174 BEAUTJES OF which purpose, the weapon shall lie on the table of this public hall, in which we are now assembled." Some time afterwards, one of his friends pointed out to him a person dying of hunger. " Are you sur- prised at this ?" said Guiton ; " it will be the fate of both you and me, unless our friends are able to suc- cour us." And again, when he was told that all the people were dying, he replied, coolly, " Well, be it so *, it is enough if one shall remain to secure the gates." After having endured almost incredible suf- ferings, Rochelle, however, did surrender on capitu- lation ; but not without its defenders having been guarantied personal security, the protection of pro* perty, and the free exercise of their religion within the#city. When the besiegers entered it, the conta- gion arising from the' number of unburied dead made it unsafe for them to move along the streets; the sur- vivors having been so exhausted, languid, and care- less, that they had neither strength nor spirit to inter those who had perished; in fact, they were them- selves mere walking skeletons. Above 15,000 per- sons died of famine or pestilence during the thirteen months the siege lasted. The submission of all the other Protestant towns and fortresses shortly fol- lowed. Richelieu was himself present before Ro- chelle. The Cardinal possessed the most unlimited con- trol over Louis. He even went so far as to procure the imprisonment of the queen-mother in Compiegne, FRENCH HISTORY. 1^ and surrounded the king with his creatures and his spies. It was artfully and successfully argued by him and his minions, that the kingdom could not be safe while the queen-mother ^vas permitted to cabal in the very Cabinet; they therefore resolved to place lier, at least for a time, at a distance from the seat of government. On the 23d of February, Louis went away early to liunt, and left Mary de Medicis under a guard in Compiegne : even there, Richelieu thought her still too near Paris ; and requests, entreaties, nay threats, were employed to prevail upon her to remove to An- gers or Moulins \ but she positively refused to change her situation, unless she were forced : at last, however, she proposed of her own accord to go to Capelle, oa the frontiers, whence she hoped easily to pass into the Spanish Netherlands. On her arrival there, being refused admittance, she wrote the following letter to the king, her son : " As my health declined daily., and the Cardinal seemed determined that I should die in prison, 1 thought it necessary, to save my life and my dignity, to accept the offer made me by the Marquis de Varde, to take refuge in Capell/C, of which he is governor, and where your power is absolute. 1 re- solved, therefore to go thither; but when within three leagues of that place, two gentlemen, sent by the Mar- quis, informed me that I conld not enter the city, as he had no longer the charge of it, having committed it to his father. 1 leave you to judge of my distress, 176 BEAUTIES OP thus disappointed, guarded by cavalry, destitute of a residence, and forced to retire from your dominions. The whole treatment which I have received, I have now discovered, from the testimony of those employ- ed as subordinate agents, is the device of the Cardinal to urge me to this extremity." She then proceeded to Brussels, where she was most courteously received by the Archduchess Isabella ; and where, at a distance from her personal friends, she could no longer annoy the minister nor distract the councils of the kingdom. She remained in comparailve ease for some years, till the commencement of the calamities in Great Britain, in 1641, when she quitted the Netherlands, hoping to obtain refuge and support, in her destitute state, in England, with her daughter. Queen Henrietta, the wife of Charles the First; but she found both Henrietta and her husband too deeply involved in their own distresses to afford her any relief or assis- tance. They introduced her, however, to the French ambassador, Bellievre, and joined her in entreating him to represent her homeless and dependent state to the king, her son ; and to plead with him to receive her back to his court, or at least to make due provision for her support and protection •, she engaging to reside any where in France that he might be pleased to ap- point, and to live quietly, not intermeddling in public aflairs, or giving occasion of uneasiness or trouble to any of his ministers. Bellievre refused to interpose for he was prohibited from holding intercourse with FRENCH HISTORY. 177 her : but at the same time that he made her believe he woukl do nothing, he sent an account of this inter- view privately to the cardinal and found he was still implacable. The king and queen of England them- selves w-rote in her behalf; and were assured in an- swer, that to receive her into France would be to en- danger the state ; that the malcontents would naturally resort to her ; and that such was her temper, she could not refrain from encouraging them : finally, it was re- Commended to her to retire into Florence, where her son promised to make a suitable provision for her: to this she would not agree, but went to Cologne, where she lived in comparative indigence until she died, an event which took place on the 3d of July, 1642. The next object of the cardinal was to humble so completely the Parliament of France, as to make it the mere machine by which the king's orders were executed. The court of Aides of Paris, however, acted with some shov/ of spirit, in opposing the ab- solute power of Louis and his imperious minister; for the Comte de Soissons having intimated to them that he should attend the court at a certain hour, in the name of his majestj/, in order to have a money edict registered ; when the time came, the court was deserted by the v/hole of its members, and no person was left either to receive the count or to register the edict. Richelieu was offended, tlie court was threat- ened, and purchased pardon at the expense of honour^ 178 BEAUTIES OF A special civil commission, in place of a military order, was, in 1632, granted for the trial of the Mareschal Marignac, wjio was charged with high crimes and misdemeanors in the conduct of the anny, and vvho had certainly been guilty of some peculations usually connived at in other ofFjcers. His real offence, however, was, that during Louis's illness at Lyons, he had advised the queen-mother, if the king died, to appreliend Richelieu and his friemls, and to deal with them as circumstances might diiect. After his trial had begun, the judges were suspected of acting too leniently; the court was therefore dis- solved, and another appointed, of such a nature as to render the conviction of the accused certahi. Tliey proved the cliarge, and, after diligent search, found an old law, which declared peculators liable to pu- nishment in body and goods {coiifiscalion d-z corps ct de bif.ns). 'i'his they interpreted to mean death and confiscation ; and Marignac was condemned by thir- teen judges out of three and twenty. He was be- headed almost immediately after, at the age of sixty years. The foregoing and other anecdotes of a similar na- ture, sufficiently prove that, at this period of French history, liberty and public virtue had fled, and that arbitrary power had fixed its iron throne in the king- dom. It is not to be supposed that the arrogant church- man was without enemies among a people, many of FRENCH HISTORY. 179 whom retained the bold and uncomproinising love of freedom which had been so general during the reign of tlie great and good Henry IV. The Duke of Or- leans, liroiher to the king, and the Comte de Soissons, resolved on the destruction of the cardinal : they only hesitated whether it were better to undermine him ^vith the king, and so to ruin him publicly, or to re- •uove him by private assassination ; and finally de- termined on the latter. They employed four of their own domestics who were to be ready, on a certain signal, to put him to death. On the dismissal of the council, the two princes were to detain him in con- versation, at the foot of the stairs, after Louis was ^one. They did so; the men stood ready, only waiting for the sign. But, instead of giving it, the duke, feeling himself extremely agitated, ran up stairs, and the count, not knowing his motive, al- lowed Richelieu to retire in safety. In 1642, how- ever, a more fatal conspirator against his life made his appearance — one whose arm cannot be stayed either by force or cunning. He was taken suddenly ill of a fever, and was informed that within twenty-four houi*s he must die. In the fifty-eighth year of his age, and the eiglueenth of his ministry, he departed this life, liaving declared, during his last moments, that " he forgave Ivis enemies," of wliom he had many, " as freely as lie hoped for the Divine forgiveness." Richelieu was one of ilie most remarkable men of the age in which he lived. Ambitious, proud, irrila- ISO BEAUTIES OF ble, and domineering, he presents to posterity the true picture of a Romish priest, who considered that every thing should be subservient to the interests of the church, and that the end always sanctified the means. Dissimulation was so much employed by him, that it seemed systematic and natural : yet he was seldom deceived himself, except by those who flattered him ; — and with flattery he was never satis- fied, unless it became hyperbolical. Although not learned, he patronised, or at least affected to patronise, learned men; not, it was asserted, from any real love towards them, but because such patronage added to his reputation, gratified his vanity, and gave him eclat. An anecdote is related of him, which, if true, places his character in a very mean light. When Corneille, the great French dramatist, published "The Cid," it was translated into all the languages of Eu- rope, besides those of Slavonla and Turkey. Riche- lieu sent for the author, and offered him any sum he might demand, if he would permit him to be consi- dered tlie author : Corneille preferred fame to riches, and refused : for which, it is said, the ambitious priest never forgave him. He was, however, subsequently obliged to concur in public opinion, and settled a pension on the poet. Louis Xlll. died a.d. 1643, leaving behind him no very favourable reputation. His great defect was in- decision of character, which rendered him timid, re- served, and unsocial. Two descriptions of persons FRENCH HISTORY. 181 became absolutely necessary to him — one to govern •the country, another to amuse bim; and it is but rea- sonable to suppose, that the latter was invariably sup- •plied by the former. Richelieu treated him, in some respects, like a child ; and terrified him into submis- sion by tlireatening" to leave him, or by depicting to him, in glowing and exaggerated colours, the dangers to which his kingdom was exposed. Louis feared rather than loved the cardinal ; yet sacrificed every thing, even his own mother, to that statesman's will. The weak and childish king was fond of all kinds of show and ceremony; and of surrounding himself with idle and useless, but gaily-dressed youths. It is related in Sully's Memoirs, that he once sent for bis father's excellent minister, from his retirement, to appear at court. The order was obeyed. '• Monsieur de Sully," said Louis to him, " I sent for you, as being one of the chief ministers of the king, my father, and a man in whom he placed great .confidence, to ask your advice, and to confer with you upon some afiairs of importance." The Duke of Sully seeing none but young courtiers about the king, who ridiculed his dress and the gravity of his manners, made this answer : " Sire, I am too old to change my habits but for some good cause. When the late king, your father, of glorious memory, did me the honour to send for me, to confer with me upon matters of importance, the first thing he did was to send away the buffoons." The king seemed not to 16 182 BEAUTIES OP disapprove of this freedom ; he ordered every one to withdraw, and remained for some lime alone with M. de Sully. Of the literary men who flourished during tlie reign of Louis the Thirteenth, the most distinguished after Kichelieu himself — whose fame, however, was owing to his wealth and station— and Corneille, were Malherbe, De Thou (the historian), Pasquier, and the philosopher Descartes. Of these eminent and highly-gifted individuals, a few anecdotes cannot be considered out of place. Corneille gives the following, as a history of him- self, to his friend M. Pellisson : En jnafiere d'amour je suis fort inegal ; J'en eciis assez bien, ct le fais assez mal, J' ai la plume feconde, et la bouche sterile ; Bon galant an theatre, et fort niauvaise en ville, Et Ton pent rarement m'ecouier sans ennni Que quand je me produis par la bouche d'autri. Of Malherbe, who flourished in Henry's reign, it is said, that one day a lawyer of high rank brought him some verses to look at, adding that a particular cir- cumstance had compelled him to write to them. Mal- herbe having looked over them with a very super- cilious air, asked the gentleman whether he had been sentenced to make those damnable verses, or to be hanged ? Steven Pasquier was a lawyer, no less celebrated for ills honesty than for the singularity of his reli- FRENCH HISTORY. 183 gious opinions. A print of him was published without hands; the oddiiy was explained by an epigram, the substance of which is, "lio\v*I Pasquier without hajids ?" " Yes, ye griping lawyers, to indicate how strictly I abstained, as the law enjoins, from fleecing my clients. Would to God you could be shamed out of your rapacity!" M. de Thou had tlie most modest diffidence of hini' self, and the most gentle bearing of any man of his time. The English estimated his history so highly, that by an Act of Parliament, a set of booksellers, who were preparing a very correct and fine editioa of it, were exempted, in that work, from the usual duties on paper and printing. The following me- thod of furnishing a table, related by him, is very- curious : " In a journey," says M. de Thou, " which I made into Languedoc, 1 paid a visit to the bishop of Mende, at his delightful seat in that province, who treated us rather with the splendour of a nobleman than the simplicity of an ecclesiastic. We observed, however, that all the wild fo^d wanted either a leg, a wing, or some other part. ' Why,' said the prelate, merrily, *it does not look very elegant, indeed; but you must excuse the greediness of my caterer, who is always for having the first bit of what he brings.' Upoa being informed that his caterers were no other than eagles, we expressed a desire to be informed of the method of their service ; which our friend 184 BEAUTIES OF accordingly did. The eagles build their nests in the- cavity of some high steep rock, which, when the shepherds discover, they erect a little hut at the foot of the precipice, to secure themselves, and watch when the birds fetch prey to their young ; and as the moment they deposite the game in their nest they fly off in quest of more, the shepherds run up the rocks with astonishing agility, and carry it away, leaving some entrails of animals instead, that the nests may not be forsaken. In general, before the plun- derers reach the nest, the old or young eagles have torn off some part of the bird or animal ; which is the reason why the bishop's luxuries appeared in so mu- tilated a state : the quantity of game, however, amply compensates for the defect, as the lord and lady eagle always choose the best the fen, forest, or hill afford." A nobleman, who was very ignorant, being at the same table with Descartes, and seeing him eat of two or three nice dishes with pleasure — " How!" said he^ "do philosophers meddle with dainties?" "Why not," replied Descartes ; " is it to be imagined that the wise God created good things only for dunces ?" LOUIS THE FOURTEENTH Ascended the throne of France on the 14th of May, 1643, at the age of five years. By the will of his father,. the queen-mother, Anne of Austria, was appointed re- gent during the minority, but under the direction and control of a council of regency, consisting of the: FRENCH HISTORY. 185 Duke of Orleans, the Prince of Cond^, Cardinal Ma- zarin, Pierre Seguier, chancellor, Bouthillier superin- tendent of finance, and Chavigne his son. The king- dom, allhough in a slate of internal peace, still con- tinued to be oppressed with a foreign war. Spain and Austria were at this time lier enemies, hi 1648, however, chiefly by the exertions and valour of the celebrated Mareschal de Turenne, a treaty was con- cluded at Minister in Westplialia, between France and Austria, which left her Spain only lo contend with. The peace was a seasonable relief to Fiance, for she %vas then agitated and distracted by internal factions, and the commencement of actual b.ostilities at lionie, which originated in the metropolis and even in the parliament itself The profusion of the late as well as of the present court had led to the imposition of several new and heavy taxes, at a tin.e w hen the slate necessities required a decrease laiher tl.an an increase cf the public burdens. Parlip.menl had again and again protested against the impolitic course pursued; but it was always compelled, eillier by persuasion or threats, to register the money edicts and give them the authority of law. /\t length the chambers united in a powerful combination against the government; and the spirit by which they were anim.ated naturally spread itself among the people, w ho assembled tu- multuously in various parts of the city, and ultim.ately prepared themselves for a well-arranged and vigorous plan of insurrection. 16* 183 BEAUTIES OF The government and the parliament shortly came': to an open rupture ; the latter proceeded to stop the issues of money, and the former to vent its indigna- tion on the persons most obnoxious to the court. In the end, however, tiie king and his ministers found themselves under the necessity of making some con- cessions ; but tliey availed themselves of the very earliest opportunity to intimidate the opposiiion,. called (it is not clearly ascertained why) Frondeurs,, and to bring them completely under subjection to the authority of the crown. With this view, Cardinal Mazarin, then the most influential minister of the king, seized and imprisoned Pierre Broussei and the Sieur de Blancmesnil, two of the most zealous and turbulent of the party, and the most prominent champions of the people. The consternation of the citizens soon changed to fury. They rushed in thousands to the palace, demanded the liberation of the prisoners, and loudly threatened vengeance upon all by whose au- thority tliey had been confined. The queen^ at first,, regarded these proceedings as of little consequence; but the coadjutor of Paris, Paul de Gondi — afterwards the Cardinal de Retz- — expressed a different opinion, and offered his services to go and pacify the mob. '^The people are only dangerous," said the queen, *'in tlie eyes of such as wish them to be so." " Would to God, Madam," replied the coadjutor, '^ every one- would speak to you with as much sincerity as I i\o. I deplore the dangerous state of the public, who ar^ FRENCH HISTORY. 187 my flock, and I am alarmed for the consequences to your Majesty's authority and government." De Gondi was then requested to endeavour to appease them ; and he partially succeeded : but on his return to court, his reception was so cold, and, as he considered, so ungrateful, that he retired to devise the means of a more serious conspiracy, of which he delermhied himself to be the secret head. He was a man utterly without principle, but bold and eloquent, and looked on the factious as powerful tools in the hands of hitn who could acquire and use them. By the aid of se- veral subordinate agents, such a system was formed and understood that a signal was sufficient to raise, arrange, and arm, the whole population of Paris The queen imprudently resolved to prohibit the parliament from assembling; and for that purpose ordered the commissioners to go in procession through the streets.. The people were thus roused to acts of violence ; and three companies of the guards were sent to disperse them : tlie coadjutor then issued his orders, the alarm- druTn was beat, every agent was at his post; and one of them, named Argenteuil (a gentleman of rank, disr- giiised as a mason), at the head of a large body of ciiizens, attacked the soldiery, killed several, took from them their standard, and put them to flight; and witfiin two hours, the whole city was in open rebel- lion. Under these circumstances, the parliament re- solved to go in a body to the palace to request the 188 BEAUTIES OF liberation of their members, Broussel and Blancmesnil, and to insist on knowing the name of the person who had advised their apprehension and imprisonment. This latter resolution was evidently aimed at Cardinal Mazarin. Accordingly two hundred and fifty of the members set forth from their several chambers, cheered as they passed along by the people, who exclaimed, " Fear not the court ; we w'^ill protect you.'* They were received by the king, the queen, the duke of Orleans, the cardinal, &c. The first president stated their request freely and eloquently, and urged the necessity of yieding to the demands of one hun- dred thousand men in arms, enraged beyond measure, and prepared for the execution of any excess. The queen, naturally proud and intrepid, although she perceived the danger, refused to submit. '* The reme- dy of the evil was," she said, " in the power of those who had created it; for her part she would persevere in maintaining inviolate the authority committed to her on behalf of the king." They then retired : but a part of them, strongly im- pressed with the imminent risk to all parties — them- selves, the city, the court, and the kingdom, returned and renewed their importunities. The cardinal at last promised to liberate the prisoners, Broussel and Blancmesnil, on condition that the parliament would discontinue their political meetings, and confine them- selves entirely to their civil functions. This proposal requiring to be considered, and the greater part of the FRENCH HISTORY. 189 mfimbers being of opinion that their deliberation and judgment would not be held free and valid with- out retiring from the court to their own hall, they revived to go thither. When the people saw them re- turning, and understood that they had not succeeded, they murmured, hardly allowing them to pass the first and second barricadoes ; but when they came to the third (a la croix du ierreur)^ a journeyman cook, named Roguenet, advanced with two hundred men,, and putting his halberd to the first president's breast, *' Return traitor," said he ; " obtain for us the libera- tion of Broussel, or fetch us the chancellor and the cardinal as hostages, until he shall be liberated, or else submit to a violent death." He added, "Go^ assure the queen, that if within two hours she shall not have satisfied the people, two hundred thousand armed men will present themselves before her, tear the cardinal in pieces in her presence, and set her palace on fire." These menaces were accompanied with so many insults and daring outrages, that the greater number of the members threw themselves- among the multitude, and escaped. The first presi- dent stood his ground intrepidly, until he had rallied around him a considerable body, with Mdiich he went back to the palace. Having again obtained an au- dience, he represented witjji earnest eloquence the obstacles they had encountered, which had forced them to return and the necessity imposed on them to- insist on the queen's compliance with the wishes of 190 BEAUTIES OP the people. She ^vas unmoved ; but the Duke of Or- leans, and even the cardinal, with the other courtiers present, becoming- alarmed, inlreated her to yield, and to grant willingly that which it appeared she would soon be obliged to concede. " Then,'^ said she, " if necessity compels me, I must consent. Go, and take such steps as the crisis requires." 'j'he le.Ures de ccicket were immediately written out, and shown to the crowd. But now they refused to move until Broussel was produced before them ; and in this state they re- mained until he arrived, which was on the followino- day. Then, by order of parliament, the barricadoes instantly fell; the shops were opened ; and the whole city became orderly and quist. But although tlie people were satisfied, the princi- ples of discord remained in the breasts of those by whom the opposite parties had been ruled and guided. The cardinal was determined upon vengeance ; and the coadjutor, on consulting his own safety, by pro- curing the death or banishment of his leading and most powerful adversary. After several hostilities, and a variety of proposi- tions and treaties on both sides, however, a peace was concluded between the government and the people; and, in 1650, Cardinal Mazarin W'lS con- demned to perpetual bani^ment, declared an outlaw, and all his property confiscated to the state. There was, however, no sincere reconciliation ; all parties "were equally suspicious and fearful; and disorder FRENCH HISTORY. 191 every where prevailed. Matters were in this unsettled and dangerous stale, when, the king being fourteen years old, was declared of age, and took into his own hands the reins of government. One of his first acts was the recall of the old minister Mazarin, a measure that produced another collision between the monarch and the parliament. The latter was instantly in a blaze; they denounced the cardinal as guilty of high treason ; declared him an outlaw ; and offered a sura of 15,000 livres to any person who would bring him before them alive or dead. Mazarin, how- ever, succeeded in passing the Loire, and joined the court at Poitiers, where a large royalist army held been assembled. The country was now in a state of civil war, and a number of battles were fought; but owing chiefly to the skill and valour of the Mare- schal de Turenne, who commanded the troops of the king, and the indecision and want of unanimity among the rebels, the current of public opinion ra- pidly changed, and Louis was invited to return '' to his good city of Paris." The invitation was ac- cepted ; the coadjutor — now the Cardinal de Retz — was imprisoned, and his successful rival, Mazarin, triumphed, hi the year 1660, this ambitious and extraordinary man died. Soon after the death of the Cardinal Mazarin, an event of a very inexplicable nature occasioned much converfvaiion and conjecture tliroughoul France: — • A person, evidently <^f distinction, was conveyed to 192 BEAUTIES OF a small island {Vile de Sainte Marguerite) where he was confined in the most rigid manner, although treated with the greatest consideration. This prisoner was compelled always to wear an iron mask, so contrived that it was not necessary to displace it %vhen he either ate or drank, and his attendants had strict orders to kill him, if at any time he attempted to remove it. After a period he was taken to the Bastile, where every luxury was provided for him, and every attention paid him consistent with secrecy and security. He was particularly fond of fine linen and splendid lace, and played agreeably on the guitar. He was apparently young, and of a pleasing and noble figure, and his voice sweet and melodious. Such was the respect shown him that even the go- vernor of the Bastile seldom seated himself in his presence. This wonderful unknown died in 1703 ; and was buried at night in the parish of St. Paul's. What renders the circumstance still more incompre- hensible is, that when. he was sent to the Isle. of St, Marguerite, no person of rank was missed throughout Europe. Nevertheless, he was strictly a prisoner of state; and a little incident that occurred while he was on the island clearly shows that he was anxious to communicate the secret of his captivity. The gover- noT of the castle always placed his dinner on the table with his own hands, and having secured the apart- ment, left him to himself. The prisoner scratched some words on one of the silver plates with hia FRENCH HISTORY. 193 knife, and flung it out of the window towards a boat that was moored under the castle. A simple fisher- man picked up the plate, and conveyed it to the go- vernor, who immediately inquired if he had read what was written on it, and whether any one had seen it in his possession. The man replied, that he could not read, and that no one had seen it. The governor having ascertained that he spoke the truth, dismissed him, saying, that his ignorance was his greatest blessing. M. de Chamillart was the last per- son intrusted with the fearful secret, and it is believed that he faithfully carried it to his grave. Of course conjecture was busy on the subject: and many shrewd guesses were given as to who " the man with the iron mask" could be. To the present hour, however, it has never been ascertained. The most plausible opinion is, that he was a twin brother of the king; and that, to prevent domestic strife, he had been kept in secrecy and security from the time he was born. The termination of the life of Mazarin may be ^considered as the commencement of the reign of Louis the Fourteenth. From this period he resolved to be his own mi- nister; and when the Archbishop of Rouen, then president of the French clergy, desired to know to whom he wp.s now to address himself on subjects connected with the church ; " Address yourself to me,'' said the king ; " I will take care you shall soon have an answer." The character of the mo- 17 194 BEAUTIES OF nardi underwent a fiulden, but total change : clay after day his people beheld vigour and perseverance in the cabinet, a condescending attention to tlie petitions of liis subjects, and a general attention to all matters connected with the government. His ministers were men of talent, experience, and integrity ; and improve- ments of every kind were gradually introduced into Ihe various departments of the state, the army, and tlie courts of justice. Louis, however, was not satis- fied with the moderate exercise of power ; he studied to render it absolute, regardless alike of policy and law. Although at war with Germany, and several other most powerful states of Europft, he continued to aug- ment his territory and increase his power. The cam- paign of 1675 was rendered, unhappily, memorable by the death of Turenne, a general of the highest ability and moral worth. Having obtained some advantages over the enemy at Wilstat, cut off their communica- tion with Strasburg, and compelled them to retreat, he immediately prepared to attack them in such a situation as appeared to render their destruction in- evitable. He rose very early the next morning, heard mass and communicated, and continued to observe the movements of tlie enemy. While breakfasting under a tree, he was informed that their troops were in motion: he instantly mounted his horse, and while reconnoitering, a Lall struck liim on the stomach, and FRENCH HISTORY. 195 killed him. It was impossible to conceal his death,, which spread universal conslernation over the camp, and rendered the officers and soldiers equally inca- pable of action. Every one seemed as ilJia had lost a friend and a fadier. 'j'he enemy, who had begun their retreat, now re-» turned to ilieir station without fear; and might, in their turn, have attacked the dispirited French army with great advantage. The generals by whom he was succeeded were divided in opinion as to what course they ougl)t to pursue, and resolved at last to abandon their storea at VVilstat. and to retreat across the Ivhine. They were pursued by the foe, who fell upon their rear. The engagement became general, and the French were finally victorious, with the loss of about 3000 men; but they killed 5000 of the enemy, and made 2500 prisoners.^ 'I'hey continued their retreat, however,, and were followed by the imperialists into Alsace. The death of Turenntfal so critical a moment sud- denly changed the state and spirit of tlie French ar- mies, and was severely felt all over tlie kingdom. Louis was greatly alflicted, not only on account of personal respect and confidence, but because he had no other general competent to supply his place. Tu- renne was about the middle size, and well propor- tioned ; his hair was of a che.rtnut colour ; liis features regular; his eyes prominent; his forehead large; his eyebrows thick and almost joined together. His ge- 196 BEAUTIES OF neral expression was modest, serene, and thoughtful ; having that mixture of kindness and severity which it is difficult to paint. He was considered ambitious in his youth ; but, as he advanced in life, that passion was moderated by prudence and a sense of propriety. He was always generous ; and though he had com- manded armies above thirty years, he might be said to have left no money. Such M^as his integrity, that not only his own countrymen, but foreign states, knew that they could trust in him if he only pledged his word ; for he was cautious in his promises, and strict in performing them. He possessed that sen- sibility which led him promptly to enter into others' feelings, and made him anxious to relieve them. Soldiers and officers equally respected him. He en- deavoured to keep them always moderately employ- ed ; for he said, that unless he occupied them in something good and proper, they would employ themselves in something improper. As far as it was possible, he prevented the injury of his enemies ; and when they fell into his hands, he treated them with consideration and kindness. Amidst the many temptations to provocation and re- eentnieni, incident to the course of a long military life, he maintained such an equanimity and self-govern- ment that he was scarcely ever known to utter an offensive word. His meekness and patience, his justice and temper- ance, were S'O great, as to indicate a spirit and prin- FRENCH HISTORY. 197 ciples far above those of mere reason and nature ; and he is represented as pious towards God, as well as benevolent to men. Such w^as the character of the Mareschal de Tnrenne, alike honourable to his coun- try and to humanity, and the portrait is one that ought to be preserved — well would it be if all great generals resembled it. 'J'he war continued until the year 1678, and was tlien terminated by the treaty of Nimeguen. As soon as Louis was at peace with foreign powers, he com- menced, or rather revived, a bitter persecution of the Calvinists. About the beginning of his reign they are said to have amounted to two millions and a half of souls — being rather above a twelfth of die whole population of P'rance ; but it is calculated that the persecutions they suffered in his lime reduced them to one half that number! IMany diousands of diem were massacred; six thousand were driven out ofihe kingdom ; they emigrated in immense parties ; and the rovocation of die edict of Nantes — which took place in 1685, completed their destruction, hi the days of their prosperity they had 626 churches, and 647 mi- nisters. They had a college at Montauban ; and in consequence of some trifling quarrel between them and a party of .Jesuits, which the latter magnified into an affair of the most alarming importance, the town was severely punished — about 300 families be- ing expelled ft'om their homes in the middle of win- 17* 198 BEAUTIES OP ter, and in a rainy season peculiarly unfavourable for travelling. Milhaud, the chief city of Rouergue, suffered a similar persecution, occasioned by a dispute with the Capuchin missionaries settled there. On the 10th of February, 1663, these missionaries assaulted a funeral procession of the Reformed, endeavouring to prevent it; and they provoked the mourners to force their way by violence. Informations were lodged against the latter, with false and aggravating circumstances ; and orders were immediately issued to punish them and their party with the most unmerited severity. Some were hanged, others subjected to the amende honourahle^ the minister was banished, several women were whipped, and a fine of 14,000 livres imposed on all of the reformed religion in the city. It would be tedious to describe a number of similar cases, which show the increased and determined spirit of persecution that reigned in the courts, and the extent and violence to which it was carried over the country. The sick were vexed with the officious visits of monks and priests, requiring them to acknowledge the Catholic faith, and to die in it; children were en- ticed or stolen from their parents to be educated as Catholics; and 300 churches were sliut up, without either provocation or form of justice. The half-parted chambers, that is, the courts of justice, in which the Reformed sat in equal numbers with the Catholics in judgment, were suppressed ; and the Reformed now FRENCH HISTORY. 199 referred for the decision of their aflkirs to courts in which their enemies were the only judges. The consequence was, that in ahuost every trial, judg- ment was given against them as heretics. They were deprived of all offices, civil and military; their reli- gion excluding them from every situation of audio- rity and emolument. After the year 1680, they were not even allowed to practise any branch of the medi- cal profession, and their traders, artificers, &c., were prohibited from masterships. There was an evident determination to deprive them not only of the ho- nours, offices, and comforts of society, but of the very means of subsistence ; to make life a burden to them ; and so to compel them to become Catholics or quit the country. Those that rsmined in Vivares and Dauphine, ex- asperated by the various hardships to which they w.::re 'exposed, became impatient and reckless of life, and rose in arms against their immediate oppres- sors. But, witliout a leader and without discipline, what availed their temporary resistance ? Some hun- dreds of them were slain, and the sufferings of the survivors rendered the more severe. The insurrec-- tion gave occasion to the court to believe that au armed force wa^ nec?ssary, and dragoons were ac- cordingly quartered on the reformed families over all the provinces. The king fancied that the* mere ap- pearance of sohliers would subdue the spirit of the people, and terminate all opposition to the authority 200 , BEAUTIES OF and prevalence of the Catholic church. He was not aware that persecinion for religious belief confirms, instead of eradicating, the peculiar sentiments of the persecuted ; and this dragoonade, for so it was called, while it miserably oppressed the Protestants, inflamed their resentment, and increased their hatred of boih church and slate. Some of the clergy, usually, either a bishop or a cu- rate, attended the soldiers, with authority to inflict any punishment, short of death, on recusants. Many died of their sufierings ; many also attempted to c-s- cape; but the frontiers were guarded, and they were driven back, cruelly disappointed. These horrid scenes took place before the misery of the Calvinists had been completed, and their hopes extinguished, by the revocation of the edict of > antes ; after this event, the sole object of their oppressors was to root them altogether out of the land, [t i3 only wonderful that they did not succeed to the full- est extent; for, although ab.ove a million of the per- secuted Protestants sought refuge in other countries, a considerable number remained, notwithstanding their dreadful situation. It is said, that the revocationof the edict of Nantes was chiefly owing to the influence possessed by Madame de Maintenon over the mind of the king; and the saspicion that such was the case has thrown a slur over the memory of this excellent woman. It is, however, very unlikely that the charge has any rRENCH HISTORY. 201 foundation in fact. The edict was revoked only two months after her marriage with the king, when it is scarcely probable that she would have displayed so much zeal in political or ecclesiastical affairs. It is certain that she was a rigid Catholic ; but the whole tenour of her life is opposed to the idea that she could carelessly or with satisfaction behold the sacri- fice of so many lives, or listen to the groans of per- secuted and miserable thousands, without taking a course the very opposite to that alleged against her by her adversaries. Indeed, her letters afford abundant evidence that her object was to lessen and not in- crease the wretchedness of those among whom she had once lived, and with whom were many of her earliest and dearest associations. A sketch of the life of this amiable and accomplished lady, to whose advice and assistance Louis was imqneslionably indebted for much of the groaliiess and prosperity by which his reign was distinguished^ may be fitly introduced here. Frances d'Aubigne, daughter of Theodore Agrippa d'Aubigne, was born on the 27th of November, 1635, in the prison of Niort, in which her mother had sliut herself up with her husband. On her father's liberation, he set out with all his family for America, where he had claims to considerable property. During the voyage, Fran- ces became so ill, that she was thought dead, and was about to be lowered into a watery grave, when signs of life were discovered, and she was preserved. ^02 BEAUTIES OP For some time they lived prosperously in Martinique; but on the death of Theodore, his wife and ciiihh'ea were left totally destitute. The mother returned to France, and, after some tim^, her daughter, now about seven years of age, was sei?-: to her, and was received by Madame de V^ilette, her father's sister, and brought up by her in tlie Protestant religion ; but was after- wards, by the influence of her mother and anotlier relation, boarded with the Ursuline nuns at Niort, and became a Catholic. On the decease of her mother, when she was about sixteen, she married. tlie Abbe Scarron, a canon of Mons, who was neither young nor rich, handsome nor healthy, but humpbacked and gouty: he, however, possessed an inexhaustible fund of humour, kept a good table,and saw much company. The deformity of this celebrated wit did not pre- vent him from imagining that he was made for '•'•ladye love ;'■ and fond as he was of laughing at others, he never could bear to be laughed at. The following anecdote illustrates both his foibles : — one morning he received a letter, purporting to come from a fe- male of extraordinary beauty, who was captivated by his wit, and longed to tell him how much she ad- mired him, appointing a spot where she would meet him ; this place was a tremendous distance from Scar- ron's house, but he was too vain of the invitation to decline it, and accordingly he posted thither at the set time. He had no sooner quitted home, than a se- cond note was left at his house, apologizing for the FRENCH HISTORY. 203 delay, and fixing another lime for the interview ; a seconci disappointment succeeded, then a third, and even a fourth ; when at last he discovered the cheat, he was never known to mention the name of the au- thor aftervv-ards wiihout an imprecation. When he was dying, his friends slied many tears*, and uttered great lamentation. Scarron beheld the scene unmoved, only observing, " You will never cry for me so much as I have made you laugh." Meantime, his wnfe, taking advantage of the op- portunities of conversation which she enjoyed with him, had cultivated a knowledge of the ancient, and several of the modern languages; and her conduct during the nine or ten years that she lived with this decrepid and infirm man, was most dutiful and ex- emplary. At his death she was left with very scanty means of subsistence, and repeatedly applied, by pe- tition, to the king for the pension which her husband had received during his life, but without success. The queen-mother gave her an annuity of 2000 livres, which ceased after three years, on her death. Being in great want, she entered a convent of Ursu- Ime nuns ; but this retirement by no means excluded her from the world, and she occasionly mingled in the most respectable and agreeable society. She was ofl^ered an appointment to educate some children of high rank in Portugal, and had agreed to the propo- sal, when she was introduced to Madame de Montes- pan, then in high favour with Louis. In her interview 204 BEAUTIES OF with that lady, she had occasion lo mention the re- peated refusal of her petition by the king, which now rendered it necessary to leave her country for a com- fortable subsistence. Madame, struck with her beauty, and pleased with her animated and interesting conversation, told her she must not form such a resolution ; and added, that if she would draw up a new petition and give it to her, she would present it to his majesty with her own hand. " What," exclaimed Louis, when the pe- tition was presented to him, " the widow Scarron again ?" but he listened to the urgency with which it was supported. " Her ancestors," said the favourite, " ruined themselves in the service of your ances- tors." The pension was granted, which enabled the "widow to live comfortably, and to devote her time to retirement and to religious and mental improvement. But she was not allowed long to enjoy this seclusion and leisure. Madame de Montespan, considering her ability and merit, knew no person so well qualified for the care and education of the royal children ; and after Madame Scarron had repeatedly declined the charge, Louis himself condescended to propose it to her; she consented, and entered on a laborious but important employment, watching with unremitting anxiety, night and day, over his young family. She was one morning surprised by a visit of the king, while with one hand she was supporting the Duke de Maine, with the other holding his younger brother FRENCH HIS TORT. 205 the Count de Thoulouse on her knee, and rocking an infant sister in the cradle with her foot. Delighted -with the sight, Louis ordered her 100,000 francs, and raised her pension from 2000 livres to 2000 crowns. About this time Madame de Sevigne wrote the fol- lowing account of her to her daughter: — "We «upped last night with Madame Scarron : we found it very pleasant to accompany her, about midnight, to the farther end of the Fauxbourg St. Germain, very •near Vaugirard, m the country, into a fine large house, situated by itself. She has extensive gardens, and spa- cious and elegant apartments. She has a carriage, horses, and servants ; and dresses richly but modestly, just as becomes a woman who passes her life with people of quality. She is amiable, good, beautiful, and unaffected. Her conversation is very agreeable." In 1674 she was invited to reside at court, to de- vote herself to the care of the children of Madame de Montespan. She complied with the request, al- though the situation was by no means agreeable to her. It is said that the king at first disliked her, and was in the end won more by her modesty and amia- bility than by her beauty and talent for conversation. As a proof of his esteem, Louis presented to her the estate of Main tenon, which name from that time for- ward she assumed. When calumnies were circulated against her reputation, Louis himself was the first to point out and expose their falsehood. On the death of the queen, which happened in the 18 206 BEAUTIES OF year 1683, Madame de Maintenon's situation becam? very embarrassing. The king required her constanf' attendance : she saw the strength of his atlachment and was not destitute of reciprocal regard and tender- ness ; but she was aware of her critical circumstances and continued steadfast to her principles. This vir tuous firmness as well as her marriage with Louis, have been questioned ; and there is circumstantial evi- dence, only to prove the fact, no public record or pri- vate documents of it existing. The ceremony is said to have taken place in 1685, in presence of the Marquis de Montchevreuil, Louvois and Bontemps, of Harlay de Chanvalon, Archbishop of Paris, of Fa- ther de la Chaise ;* and that one of the last two per- formed the service. As all present appear to have been bound to secrecy, there would of course be no public record of it. Indeed, St. Simon informs us, that in those times there were no registers kept of such transactions. She herself left no trace of it ; but de- stroyed all letters and papers whatsoever that had the least reference to it ; and is said only once to have betrayed the secret. " She went," says Beaumelle, " to visit the convent of the Grand Carmelites, where queens alone have a right to enter. Before admitting her, the superior said, ' You know our rules, madam, and yourself can best decide whether I should open the gate to you.' ' Open,' said she, ^ my good mother; * Voltaire says that Louis was induced to many her by the advice of this Pere. FRENCH HISTORY. 207 } m may always admit me.' " The circumstances of e idence are, her great circumspection and prudence ji^ her conduct toward him during the life of the qneen, and her open familiarity with him afterwards, from the supposed date of her marriage, when she lived with him, not as a mistress, but in all respects as a wife ; add to which, the uniform esteem, intimate friendship, and high respect, which he showed her, in a manner very different from the attentions he ever paid to any mistress, and the continuance of his at- tachment, and confidence in her during the remaining thirty years of his life. Her affection and respect were equally uniform and constant: she watched with solicitude over his health, governed his family, and presided as a queen in his court. She repeatedly attempted to have the marriage declared, and Louis would have yielded to her solicitation, but for his pride. Several of his courtiers knew this to be his weak side, on which they might most successfully attack him; and on the first surmise of his intention, besought and persuaded him to desist. Louvois, espe- cially, put him in mind of a solemn promise which he had made never to publish the marriage, and ex- postulated with him on the indignity which would be done to his own character, and to the honour of his family and kingdom : he even threw himself on hi« knees, and presenting a hilt of a dagger to the king, said, " Kill me, that [ may never see you dishonour yourself in the eyes of all Europe." Harlay Bossuet, 208 BEAUTIES OF and Fenelon, those dignitaries of the church whorrr he most respected, concurred in the same opinion and remonstrance, and he was confirmed by them in his original resolution. But his attentions to her wera unremitting, and rather increased as they both ad- vanced in life. He was almost constantly in her chamber, even during the transaction of state busi- ness: in the public walks their carriages went abreast,. that they might converse together ; and when the king was on foot, he walked by the side of her chair, with his head uncovered, frequently stooping to hear what she said ; for he seemed always in conversation with. her. Such attentions showed a high degree of respect and esteem ; and as it was uninterrupted and unabated to the end of his life, it could not be the love of a mis- tress, but the relation and duties of a husband to an estimable woman and a wife. She died three yeard after him, on the 15th of April, 1718. But previously events had occurred in England, in. which France was, to some extent, involved. The Prince of Orange (William the Third) had been called to the British ihrone by the almost unanimous voice of the people ; and James the Second was obliged to- consult his safety in flight: the queen and her infant the Prince of Wales, having been sent away some time before, arrived at Boulogne ; whence she des- patched the following affecting letter to the King of France. " A fugitive queen, bathed in tears, has exposed FRENCH HISTORY. 209 herself to the dangers of the sea, to obtain consolation, and an asylum from the greatest and most generous monarch of the world. In her destitute state she shall find whh him an enjoyment, which others in the most prosperous circumstances have sought with avidity. The necessity of resorting to it diminishes not its value in her estimation, since she has preferred it to every other expedient and place of refuge. She confides to the protection of his majesty the Prince of Wales, the most precious remnant of her fortune, and most tender object of her affection. Pie is too young to be sensible of the kind and gracious protection afforded to him, or to join her in acknow- ledging it; but the sentiments of gratitude glow warm- ly in a mother's heart, and already alleviate somewhat the bitterness of her sorrows." The Marquis de Beringham was instantly de- spatched with royal carriages to conduct the queen and her son to St. Germain, which was suitably fur- nished for their reception. On the 5ih of January, 1689, the king was informed of the king of England's arrival at Ambleteuse, and immediately sent a suit- able deputation to welcome him. He had received the queen, and embraced her in- fant with the greatest tenderness : he had presented her with the key of a small box, containing 6000 pistoles, and had lodged her, with every comfort in his power to bestow, in the Chateau of St. Germain, ^ext day he went to visit her, and was conversing 18* 210 BEAUTIES OF with her, when the arrival of her royal husband was^ announced. Lonis went immediately out and received him at the* gate, .^ames fell down on his knees before him, but he instantly raised and embraced him most tenderly, led him to the chamber of his queen, and presenting him said, "There is a man whom you will be most happy lo see." After introducing to him the prince* of the blood, he took leave of him for that day, re- questing him to visit him next day at Versailles. There he was received with equal attention and re- spect by all the royal family. Louis resolved t<» give- him 50,000 crowns, to furnish, in the mean time, whatever he might require, and to settle on him 50,000 francs a month. Such conduct w^as equally- becoming a good man and a great king. hi the mean time the war with the Emperor Leo- pold was renewed ; and it gave rise to acts on the part of Louis, that no motive of policy or expediency can ever justify. The king, witli a view to prevent the enemy from attaining the means of subsistence, resolved to ravage and burn the Palatinate, which had not otherwise merited such a calamity, than by joining other states of Germany in their common defence. It \yas said to have been the suggestion of Louvois, his minister, and the order received by the generals was signed by him ; but it was virtually the order and act of the king. It was forwarded to the army in the middle FRENCH HISTORY. 211 of winter, to reduce that populous country to ashes : the officers shuddered at the thought, and yet consi- dered themselves bound to obey. They communi- cated to the people their orders, and signified to them that, to save their lives they must instantly, notvi'ith- standing the inclemency of the season, leave theit castles and cottages, and retire from the country, which was to be immediately converted into a desert. It melted the hearts even of men accustomed to blood- shed, to see men and women, of every rank and age — decrepit old men and tender infants, hastening' to tlie fields, or to the adjacent districts, while they beheld their houses behind them, their towns and vil- lages, their furniture, their stores, and all their pro- perty in flames. The barbarous soldiers, influenced" by the desire of plunder, violated the very sepulchres of the dead, where they hoped to find treasures. Hitherto the ambition of Louis had been condemned ; but now all Europe execrated this unnecessary and monstrous cruelty. The states of Germany declared France their common enemy, and united with the emperor in their defence; a bloody and protracted war followed ; and continued until the peace of Ryswick, in 1697. James II. died in France A.D. 170*2, and on his death-bed entreated Louis to show the same kindness to his son and family, as he had done to him. The Prince of Wales was immediately proclaimed King- 212 BEAUTIES OP of England, under the title of James III., and Louis greeted and acknowledged him as such. A declaration of war, on the part of England against France, was the consequence ; and, although William III. did not live to take any share in the proceedings that followed, his successor. Queen Anne, entered so completely into his views, that hostilities were almost immediately commenced. The command of the British armies was intrusted to the Duke of Marlborough — whose name is so inti- mately blended with the glory of his country— and on the 13th of August, 1704, the first great battle between the rival nations was fought at Hochsted, or Blenheim, the French force being commanded by the Mareschal Tallard. A signal victory was gained by the English general ; Tallard and 13,000 men were taken prisoners, and 12,000 were slain on the field, or drowned in the Danube. Next day, when Marlborough visited Tallard, the latter assured him that " he liad defeated the best troops in the world." " I hope," " replied Marlborough, " you will except those by whom they were beaten." For nearly nine years the war continued ; but at length the peace of Utrecht restored tranquillity to Europe — the treaty being signed between England, Portugal, Savoy, Brandenburgh, the States General, and France, on the 11th of April, 1713. While the negotiations were pending, a series of domestic calamities afflicted the unhappy Louis, now FRENCH HISTORY. 213- at a very advanced period of life. The dauphin and daiiphiness (the Duke and Duchess of Burgundy )5- the Duke of Brittany, and the Duke of Berry, all died within a short time of each other; and it was^ suspected that poison had been administered to them by the Duke of Orleans, nephew to the king : but when the prince threw himself at his uncle's feet, de- clared his innocence, and demanded a public trial, Louis assured him, that the very rumour of guilt, ia. one so near him, had heightened his sorrow ; and- expressed his persuasion of his innocence, only re- commending him to reform his generally unprincipled conduct, which had doubtless given rise to the suspi- cions against him. The death of the dauphin was, not only to the king but to the country, an irreparable loss. Under the education of the good and gifted Fenelon, Archbishop of Cambray, he had imbibed such principles, as had formed him to become one of the best, the wisest, and most upright monarchs that ever guided the helm of a state, or governed the des- tinies of a kingdom. This amiable and excellent prince died on the 18th of February, at thirty years. of age; his wife having just fallen a victim to the same malignant disorder — which appears to have been a putrid fever — for no symptoms of poison were visible to the surgeons by whom the bodies were in- spected. On the 17th of February, 1715, the Persian ambas- sador made his public entry into Paris. His appear- 214 BEAUTIES OF ance and retinue were far from magnificent or splendid. A brancard, or species of litter, supported by mules belonging to Louis, carried three boxes of presents from the King of Persia. He was introduced on the 19lh, when the French monarch, notwithstanding his age and ialirmities, appeared to great advontas^e. He was dressed in a black suit, ornamented with gold, and embroidered with diamonds: it had cost twelve millions five hundred thousand livres. When he appeared at the balcony, the people were delighted to see him look so well, and rent the air with their acclamations of Vloe le Rol ! The streets and the courtyard were crowded, and the hall filled with ladies and persons of quality. The old king ascended the throne with dignity. Every thing was bril- liant and impressive. The ambassador was charmed with the splendour and elegance with which he was received \ but his presents and appearance formed a striking contrast: they were neither worthy of Persia to give nor of France to receive. His stay was long, and very expensive; as he was allowed five hundred livres a-day by the French government. On this occasion, Louis was seen in public for the last time. His age was great, and his health declining. Shortly before his death, he called his ministers and courtiers around him, and addressed them to this effect : — " Gentlemen, I request forgiveness for the bad example which 1 have so often set you ; and 1 thank FRENCH HISTORY. 215 you for the affection and fidelity with which you have always served me. I wish J could have re- warded you more suitably. I entreat you to be equal- ly faithful and affectionate in the service of my grand- son. I feel my heart softened, and I see you in tears. Farewell. Remember me !"^ Louis the Fourteenth died on the 1st of Septem- ber, 1715, in the seventy-seventh year of his age, and the seventy-third of his reign. His last moments were certainly embittered by the recollection of the many evil deeds of which he had been guilty. He exhorted the infant dauphin, his successor, to guard against the unnecessary shed- ding of blood ; and when his confessor inquired if he suffered much, he replied, " No !" but added that he ought to have more to endure for the expiation of his sins. Throughout his long life he spent more of his time with the ladies of the court than with his teachers or ministers ; and oftener read plays and books of amuse- ment, than history or politics. Voltaire has justly observed, that he made greater progress in the cul" tivation of his personal appearance and manners, in riding, dancing, and talking gracefully, than in the study of the sciences, or other branches of useful learning. The success with which he acquired the Italian language, while lie was attached to Mademoiselle Mancine (an Italian) ; and the facility with wlvch lie S16 BEAUTIES OF learned the Spanish tongue, in the prospect of mar- rying the Infanta — showed what he might have done in literature generally, had he possessed an ardent desire of knowledge, and been placed in circumstances more favourable for its acquisition. The defects of his mind were in the eyes of the world, in some measure atoned for by his personal qualities and grace- fulness of conduct. He was handsome, had a fine countenance, a dig- nified and majestic expression and manner, and the tones of his voice were affecting and authoritative; his movements were pleasing, for they became his dignity, but would have appeared affected and ridicu- lous in one of an inferior rank. Conscious of his own superiority, he was flattered by observing its •effect on persons of eminence when in his presence. A venerable officer who once faltered before him in asking a favour, and who could not finish the sentence, but said, " Your Majesty will condescend to believe me, that I would not have trembled thus before your enemies," most readily obtained a favourable answer l0 his request. Among the many distinguished characters who flourished during the reign of Louis the Fourteenth, may be enumerated the following : — Bossuet, Bour- daloue, Fenelon, Massillon, Mezerai, Rochefoucauld, Pascal, Mallebranche, Racine, Moliere, M. and Madame Dacier, Descartes, La Fontaine, Montes- %meu, RoUin, Scarron, Boileau, and Madame de FRENCH HISTORY. 217 Sevfgne. A few anecdotes of some of these cannot fail to interest the reader^ Dacier, at an early age, became attached to Made- moiselle de Ferre, afterwards the celebrated and ac- complished Madame Pacier. Amongst other pro- ductions, they undertook jointly a translation of Plutarch's lives, and were much amused by the various observations made upon their production by the public and private critics of the day ; some of whom declared they could trace the style of Madame in one particular life ; others protesting that such and such passages were indications of Monsieur's pecu- liar manner ; while the fact was, that their styles had so perfectly amalgamated by habit, that no distinction was perceptible. Madame Dacier, however, soon relinquished to her husband the fame arising from this work, and shone forth as the translator of Homen A good deal of controversy was occasioned by this undertaking, and sometimes Madame Dacier was be- trayed into a style of invective by no means feminine. It was, however, far from characteristic of her dis- position. Being once pressed by a foreigner of dis- tinction to inscribe her name in an album that was graced by the signatures of many celebrated persons, she answered she was not worthy to appear in such company. The gentleman, however would take no denial : overcome by his importunities, she wrote her name, and this line from Sophocles, in English — *' Silence is woman's ornament?'' — ^The harmony and 19 218 BEAUTIES OP happiness by which the lives of these celebrated per* sons were distinguished is even a more deligljtful re- collection than that afforded by the knowledge of their splendid acquirements ; the fame and attention that awaited them abroad, never for a moment rendered them insensible to their domestic duties ; and they edu- cated their children themselves with care and attention. They were deprived of their eldest son, just as he had attained his eleventh year : even at that early age, he had acquired a knowledge of the best Greek au- thors, and other information equally extaordinary at his tender years. The eldest daughter entered a nunnery ; and their youngest had not completed her eighteenth year, when she also was taken from her parents, who suffered most bitterly from this second bereavement. The translations of Monsieur Dacier gained him a seat in the French Academy, to which was soon added his election into that of the Inscrip- tions and Belles Lettres. He survived the death of his beloved partner but two years. " One day," says Menage, " on meeting Madame de Sevigne, I took her hand between mine ; and upon her withdrawing it, M. Pelletier, standing by, said, 'Menage, that is the most beautiful work that ever came from you, with all your ability.' " " It raises my spleen," said Madame de Sevigne, " to hear an aged person say I am too old to mend ; this would sound even better from a young one. youth is so lovely, and the body is then so perfect^ FRENCH HISTORY. 219 that were the mhid equally so, the passions which such an assemblage must excite would be too vehe- ment ; but when the graces of youth begin to wither, then surely it is high time to labour after moral and intellectual qualities, and endeavour to compensate for the loss of beauty by the acquirement of merit." An amusing story is told of M.oliere. He was in the habit of reading his plays to an old servant; and once endeavoured to puzzle her by reciting one written by another person, pretending it was his own : in a few minutes, however, she roundly told her master, ^' She was not to be tricked in that way, for she was sure the play was none of his." Moliere commenced a translation of Lucretius, but, unfortunately, his servant took some of the sheets for curling-papers, which threw him into such a pas- sion that he destroyed the remainder. Rapin admired Moliere excessively; so much so, that the king asking him one day, *•' Who was the chief of all the excellent writers of which France could boast in his reign?" he answered, "Moliere." "I did not think so," replied the king; "but you understand these matters better than I." Upon the first acting of the Gentleman Cit^ Louis, %vho, as usual, was present at fhe representation, not having passed any opinion upon it, his courtiers, one and all, talked of it with the utmost contempt; and it was every where decried with such acrimony, that poor Moliere was ashamed to show his face. About 220 BEAUTIES OF a week after, however, the play was again performed. The king sent for the author, and said to him, " If I was silent on the first performance of your piece, it was because I feared it might deceive me •, but indeed, Moliere, you have never better diverted me — the play is admirable !" After this, the courtiers talked as if they could never sufficiently praise what they had been condemning all the week ! LOUIS THE FIFTEENTH The great-grandson of Louis the Fourteenth, at the age of five years was called to the throne of Fiance, on the 1st of September, 1715 — the Duke of Orleans, having been appointed by tlie will of the late king, President of the Council of Regency. The duke was one of the most unprincipled men of the age, and the suspicions that existed against him relative to the death of the dauphin and daupliiness, afford sufficient evidence of the estimation in which his character was held by the people and the court. Yet he had no sooner entered upon office, than he obtained power enough to do away with all the restrictions by which the appointment was accompanied, and to set aside the testament itself. '^ I consent to be restrained from evil," said he, in addnessing the parliament; " but in doing good J desire to be independent and free." For a time, his administration of affairs was mo- dest and promising ; the mornings of the day he devo- ted to business, and the evenings to pleasure. But FRENCH HISTORY. 221 when the necessary labours had terminated, he rush- ed with eagerness to the parties that joined him in the dissipation and debaucheries of the night. The manners of the court underwent a total change ; the rigid attention to religious forms and superstitious rites, the hypocrisy and outward moral decorum, which characterized the court of Louis the Fourteenth in the latter part of his reign, gave way to a contempt of religion, licentiousness, and undisguised vice. Some degree of irregularity, were it only profane swearing, was reckoned a necessary recommendation to royal favour. When the evening parties of the regent were assembled, the doors were closely shut; no intrusion whatsoever was permitted, however urgent the occasion ; and drinking and dissoluteness were carried to excess, until an early hour of the morning. Yet, it is wonderful, that the Duke of Orleans never neglected the business and duties of the day, but, however indisposed and incapable he might be for serious deliberation, he sat in the coun- cils, and went through the ordinary routine of public affairs. Such a man was, indeed, unfit to be intrusted with a charge so important as that of the political and moral education of an infant king. The Duchess de Ven- tadour, however, had been appointed governess to the young prince ; a duty for which she was in every re- spect, well qualified, and which she discharged with a good conscience, and to the satisfaction of all parties» 19* 222 BEAUTIES OF In the year 1723, Louis became of regal age ; as- sumed the reins of government, nominally, into his own hands ; and appointed the Duke of Orleans his prime minister ; who, however, lived buta fev/ months after the (change. His successor to the high office was the Duke of Bourbon, the chief of the house of Conde ; one of the first acts of whose administration was, the issue of an edict against the Huguenots, pro- hibiting them, under the severest penalties, from en- joying the public exercise of their religion, enjoining them to educate their children as Catholics, and brand- ing with infamy the memory of those who had died without the pale of the Catholic faith. But Fleury, the king's precepior, who had gradually insinuated himself into the favour and confidence of his royal pupil, undermined the influence and authority of the Duke of Bourbon, and was in the end made prime minister in his room, at the age of seventy-three. Under his wise and equitable administration, the king- dom of France recovered its prosperity and strength ; domestic and foreign credit was re-established: com- merce and manufactures revived, and agriculture flour- ished throughout the country. In 1723, Louis had married the daughter of Stan- islaus, king of Poland, and about six years afierwards she gave birth to a son, an event which caused the most lively joy to the whole court and king(h>m. The queen was beautiful, amiable, and accomplished; ami the king continued many years a chaste and af- FRENCH HISTORY. 223 fectionate husband ; but an unhappy difference at last took place, which alienated him from the prudent and devout daughter of Stanislaus. He then attached himself to Majdame de Mailly ; and became addicted to wine and private gossiping, unworthy, not merely of a monarch, but of a man. Jn the year 1743, he sustained a severe loss in the death of Cardinal Fleuiy, who had pursued a wise and prosperous course of policy in the conduct of public affairs during a period of seventeen years. The great error in the life of this able minister and excellent man was, that he became the head of a party against, and a zealous persecutor of, the Jansenists, a sect which was very numerous and possessed of considerable power in France. They were favoured, as many of them believed, with the direct interposition and testimony of Heaven, by the miracles which were supposed to have been wrought in their behalf in the burying-ground of St. Medard, at the tomb of a sainted abbot. Even there, however, the influence of the cardinal prevailed ; for by an order from the king, the miraculous place of sepulture was closed, and the performance of wonders consequently stayed. On the next morning the following blasphe- mous inscription was found posted on the gate of the burial-ground: — "By the king's authority, tjie Almighty is forbidden to work any more miracles here." Upon the death of his prime minister, Louis, like many of his predecessors, resolved and declared that S24 BEAUTIES OF he would himself govern his kingdom. At this time, Europe was in a very inflammable state ; France and England were at war, and the French commander, the Duke de Noailles, was preparing to meet the English forces in the neighbourhood of the Mayne. The memorable battle of Dettingen was fought on the 26th of June, 1743. On the 5lh of January, 1757, as Louis was stepping into his coach, about six o'clock in the evening, on his way to sup and sleep at Trianon, he was struck on the right side between the ribs. He immediately recognized the regicide, and said, " There is the man : seize him, but do him no harm." The king was put to bed, and became apprehensive of death ; but the next day, the surgeon found, on dressing the wound, •that it was neither deep, nor attended with danger. The body guards, who first apprehended Damiens, supposing that he must be the agent of some club of conspirators, empfoyed torture to make him confess who had incited him to perpetrate the deed. He was afterwards taken out of their hands, and examined in a more regular and solemn manner, for the space of two hours, in a way the most exquisitely painful ; but it appeared that he had no accomplices, and had been moved by his own imagination to relieve the people from all their troubles, as he supposed by assassin- . ating, or at least terrifying, their oppressor. The punishment inflicted on him at last was of the most dreadful kind. His right hand was consumed j FRENCH HISTORY. 225 he was torn with pincers ; melted lead was poured into his wounds ; then he was drawn and quartered, and finally burnt, and his ashes scattered to the winds. His father, wife, and daughter, were banished from the kingdom. In 1765, France sustained a severe loss by the death of the dauphin ; whose eldest son had died about twelve months previously. This most interesting and promising youth had received a contusion by a fall at play with a boy of his own age ; and generously, but thoughtlessly, concealed that he had been hurt, until a tumour appeared, and an operation became necessary. He then disclosed the cause, but never revealed the name of him by whom he had been un- intentionally injured. He languished in great suffer- ing for above a year, at the end of which time he ex- pired. Immediately on the death of the dauphin, his son, the Duke de Berri — (afterwards Louis the Sixteenth) was declared to inlierit that distinction. He was born at Versailles on the 23d of August, 1744, and was married, in 1770, to the archduchess, Maria Antoin- ette, a daughter of the house of Austria. The nuptials were celebrated with great splendour; but with a lavish and prodigal expenditure, considering the ex- hausted state of the public finances. Thirty thou- sand horses are said to have been employed In Maria Antoinette's journey, and sixty new carriages formed a part of the train which was to conduct her from 226 BEAUTIES OP Strasburg to Paris. The dresses and eritertarnments on the road were proportionably sumptuo^us and costly. At an entertainment given by the king, he shamelessly introduced his mistress to the dauphiness, who was ignorant of her real condition and character; but pleased with the handsome appearance, and mo- dest and elegant manners, which the favourite knew so well how to assume. During the entertainments that took place, a fatal accident occurred ; which, when recollected in after times, was held to have been omin- ous. An immense crowd, supposed to have exceed- ed 600,000, assembled to witness the exhibition of lire-works, in the vast square around the statute of the king, and were proceeding through a wide street, when some obstruction stayed them. The multitude behind pressed against those before, and overwhelmed and trampled on them : one hundred and thirty per- sons perished on the spot. Many more were so bruised that they died shortly afterwards ; and, alto- gether, about J 200 are said to have lost their lives. The dauphin and dauphiness were deeply distressed by this event, of v/hich they were the innocent cause, and did all in their power to alleviate the affliction of the sufferers. The death of the king took place on the 10th of May, 1774, in consequence of an attack of the small- pox, the virulence of which his debilitated constitu- tion was unable to withstand. Louis was almost sixty years of age when he died ; and although he FRENCH HISTORY. 227 had governed France nearly the whole of his life, yet his reputation is one of which his country has no reason to be proud. He was despised, if not de- tested, by his subjects ; his attachment to unprincipled and profligate women stifled all that might have been naturally good in his disposition ; and he left scarcely a single human being to mourn over him. A train had certainly been laid during the mal-ad- ministration of this weak and enervated monarch, which was rapidly spreading, and threatening to des- troy the great principle that binds alike the sovereign to the subject, and the subject to the sovereign. The minds of the people were gradually influenced by the writings and reasonings of men of richly-endowed in- tellects, but without virtue or religion. Glowing pic- tures were exhibited of the evils arising from civil and religious restraint, which was denominated bondage ; and of the inestimable blessings of moral and political liberty — a word that has been so frequently used to. stimulate men to the commission of deeds at which, human nature shudders. At the head of those who pushed on the people to discontent, v/hich led to re- bellion, and then to atrocities incredible, but that the living witnesses of them are still among us, were yoltaire and Rousseau. The genius of the former, his extensive erudition, his eloquence, and tiis wit, all contributed to forward the grand object, for the ac- complishment of which he spoke and Avrole ; and un- happily, the progress of infidelity found at that tim.e 52$ BEAUTIES OF a powerful auxiliary in the abandoned debauchery of the court, and the props of tyranny were impaired by the very efforts employed to render them more fixed and durable. The talents of Rousseau, though very different from those of Voltaire, were of a pernicious nature, and perhaps contributed even more than his to the gene- ral depravity that ensued. He seduced and corrupted, while his literary rival reasoned and convinced. His object was to sap the very foundations of the building, which the other, less insidious, dared to storm and destroy. They succeeded to the utmost extent that malevolence could desire ; and Diderot, D'Alembert, and others, who have rendered their names at once famous and infamous, devoted them- selves to the dissemination of atheistical principles, and taught men to believe that they should obey no will but their own passions, and submit to no con- trol but their own naturally base or shamefully per- verted appetites. It is not therefore matter of astonishment, that withiti a short period after the poison had been administered, the whole body became corrupt. The French Revo- lution will be remembered while the world endures, to show how completely men may become fiends,* and how far reality may exceed all that the imagina- tion can portray of the horrible and the unnatural. FRENCH HISTORY. LOUIS THE SIXTEENTH, 229 Grandson of Louis the Fifteenth, inherited the crown of France on the 10th of May, 1 774. On receiving the unwelcome intelligence that he was a king, he is said to have exclaimed, almost prophetically — '' Oh ! God ? what a misfortune for me !" This kind and benevolent monarch commenced his reign with a firm determination to be not nominally, but in reality, " the father of his people." He im- mediately abolished the corvee^ or compulsatory repa- ration of the highway, a service for which the labour- ers received no pay ; removed the barriers between the different provinces, repealed all the internal taxes on the transit of commodities from one province to another, and issued a decree for the free commerce of grain throughout his dominions. Many of the disabilities under which the Protestants had so long laboured were repealed ; the expenses of the royal household were considerably diminished ; several sinecure places gradually ceased to be public burdens; and provincial assemblies were instituted, composed .of members freely elected from among the nobility, the clergy, and the commons, whose duty it wa3 to communicate to the crown the sentiments and grievances (if any existed) of the people in their re- spective provinces ; to point out such taxes as might be vexatious, and to remedy all abuses in collecting them. Such a course of policy was calculated to restore public credit and confidence, rather than to 20 230 BEAUTIES OP destroy both ; but, in an evil hour for himself and his country, Louis yielded a reluctant consent to the mea- sure for supporting the American colonies, in their contest with the mother-country; and thus became the chief accelerating cause of subsequent calamities, by increasing the derangement of the national finan- ces, and by spreading the spirit of republicanism among his army, and, through it, over all France. We pass over the period of the French Revolution^, which furnishes but few of the Beauties of Frenck History, in order to arrive at the brilliant period whe® Napoleon elevated the martial character of the French, people to a point it had never reached before. Our limits will permit us to give only a few detached an- dotes illustrative of his brilliant career. ANECDOTES OF NAPOLEON. The Battle of LodL The bridge of Lodi gives name to an action thai took place there between the French and the Austri- ans, in 1797, and which decided the fate of the Italian campaign. It was an object with Bonaparte, to force the bridge of Lodi, which crosses the Adda at a place w^here the river is about two hundred yards broad, and the breadth of the bridge is about ten. A battery of can- non commanded the whole length of it by a raking FRENCH HISTORY. 231 fire, while other batteries, above and below, threat- ened destruction to any force that should attempt to cross. Without losing a moment, though it was late in the evening when he arrived at Lodi, Napoleon or- dered the passage to be attempted ; and a column of the French, headed by their principal general officers, persevering under a deadly fire, this most singular in- stance of military enthusiasm and daring v^^as crowned with complete success. JVapoIeoTi^s presence of mind at the Bridge of Lodi. At this memorable passage, it was not less the cele- rity and promptitude of movement, than invincible heroism, that carried the day. The fire of the enemy, who defended the passage with thirty pieces of can- non, was terrible ; the head of the charging column of the French appeared to give way; "a moment of hesitation," says Bonaparte, in his official despatch on the occasion, " would have lost all. Generals Berthier, Massena, Cervoni, D'Allemagne, the chief of brigade, Lannes, and the chief of battalion, Dupat, dashed forwards at its head, and determined the fate of the day, still wavering in the balance." Bonaparte does not include his own name in the list of this heroic band, though well known to have been one of the foremost in the charge ; the modesty which dictated this concealment, even his revilers must ad- 232 BEAUTIES OF mire. "This redoubtable column," he continues, " overturned all opposed to it; Beaulieu's order of battle was broken ; astonishment, flight, and death, were spread on all sides. In the twinkling of an eye, the enemy's army was scattered in confusion." *' Although," he continues, " since the commence- ment of the campaign we have had some very warm aflairs, and although the army has often been under the necessity of acting with great audacity, nothing- has occurred which can be compared to the terrible passage of the Bridge of Lodi. " Our loss has been small : and this we owe to the promptitude of the execution, and to the sudden effect which the charge of this intrepid column produced on the enemy." The Bridge of Areola. The passage of the bridge of Areola may be es- teemed the height of boldness. Thousands of men and musketry served to defend the approach to this particular spot, which was completely fenced by can- non in every direction ; thrice had General Bonaparte commanded the charge in person, and thrice had his followers, disdaining to retreat, fallen sacrifices to their temerity; the death-dealing bullets continued their destructive career, levelling all those who dared to encounter their vengeful flight. Napoleon, at length growing indignant, gave utterance to an exclamation FRENCH HISTORY. 233 of fury, and instantly tearing one of the standards from the grasp of an ensign, sprang upon this bridge, the scene of carnage and slaughter; when, planting the flag in defiance of destiny itself, which seemed to oppose him, he thus addressed his soldiers — " Frenchmen ! Grenadiers ! will you, then, abandon your colours !" This appeal seemed to convey a reproach ill adapt- ed to the spirit of sTich courageous men ; wherefore, before the General was enabled repeat them, all thought of danger had vanished, death was faced in every direction, the bridge of Areola was forced, and victory once more crowned the republican standard. The Pioneer. In delivering his orders, the General, with that presence of mind which is uniformly the precursor of victory, presented himself in person at every point where danger appeared to threaten the most, and thus exposed himself like the common soldier. Upon one of these occasions a pioneer, perceivmg the imminent risk Napoleon ran, thus addressed him in the unsophisticated language of a camp — " Stand aside !" — General Bonaparte, fixing his eyes upon him, hesitated, when the veteran, rudely pushing him, addressed Napoleon in these words, which were ex- pressive of the greatest compliment that could possi- bly be paid to his talents as a military commander : 20* 234 BEAUTIES OP " If thou art killed, who is to rescue us from this jeopardy ?" Bonaparte instantly appreciated the sterling value of this exclamation, and consequently remained si- lent; but, after the termination of the conflict, which proved favourable to the republican flag, he ordered this independant pioneer to be brought into his pre- sence, when, familiarly tapping him upon the shoulder, he thus addressed him : * "Thy noble boldness claims my esteem; thy bravery demands a recompense ; from this hour, in- stead of the hatchet, an epaulette shall grace thy shoulder." He was, of course, immediately raised to the rank of an officer. Milan. On the evening of the day previous to the taking of the city of Milan, General Bonaparte, being then commander-in-chief of the army of Italy, was en- gaged to dine at the mansion of a lady of conse- quence. This personage, considering the distinguish- ed rank, and above all, the illustrious name of her guest, conducted the honours of her table with the greatest attention and politeness. Napoleon, however, being fully occupied with the momentous events that were to characterize the succeeding day, replied with coldness and brevity to the repeated marks of deference FRENCH HISTORY. 235 which the hostess pointedly expressed towards him; who, at lenglh, in order to give animation to the com- pany, requested to know Bonaparte's age, ad(hng by way of palliation of the apparent rudeness of the in- quiry. *' That he appeared by far too young to have al- ready gained so many laurels !" " Truly, madam," answered the General with a smile, " I am not indeed very old at the present moment ; but in less than twenty-four hours i shall count much more, for to-day I have to number twenty- five years, whereas to-morrow 1 shall have attained Milan" (mille-ans), a thousand years. The Sleeping Sentinel. The army of Italy, under General Bonaparte, having been engaged against the Austrians during a wliole day, at length terminated the battle, by gaining a complete victory, at the very moment when the declining sun threw a parting gleam upon the westera horizon. During the period of this conflict, and the two foregoing days, the troops had not tasted repose, and the complete flight of the enemy, at this particular juncture, was therefore the more fortunate, as the French were thus enabled to enjoy that repose during the nigfit, of which they most gladly took the advan- tage. Notwithstanding this harrassed state of the array, it 236 BEAUTIES OP was necessary to establish outposts ; when a grena- dier, stationed upon this service, which precluded the idea of rest, being quite exhausted with fatigue, fell fast asleep at his post. Napoleon, who offered up his own repose as a sacri- fice to the more imperious calls of promptitude and glory, proceeded, alone, to visit the outskirts of tlie camp, and in this survey arrived at the spot where lay extended the sleeping sentinel, who could hardly be deemed guilty of a breach of duty, but the un- willing victim of extreme fatigue, that totally over- powered him. Bonaparte, unmindful of his dignity, and actuated only by noble motives, took up the soldier's musket, which lay beside him ; when, placing it upon his own shoulder, he continued to mount guard for nearly an hour, in order to insure the safety of the camp. The grenadier at length awoke, and sought for his piece in vain, but, by the light of the moon, perceived the general, who had thus paid respect to his repose. " Oh I I am undone !" vociferated the soldier, re- cognising Napoleon, whose lineaments were graven upon the heart of every soldier. " No, my friend," replied the general, with ex- treme affability, at the same time surrendering up hisf musket, " the battle was obstinate and long enough contested to excuse your having thus yielded to the impulse of fatigue ; one moment of inattention, how- ever, might endanger the safety of the camp; I was FRENCH HISTORY. 237 awake, and have only to advise, that you would be more upon your guard for the future !" Le Petit Caporal. A singular custom was established in the army of Italy, in consequence of the youth of the commander, or from some other cause. After each battle, the oldest soldiers used to hold a council, and confer a new rank on their young general, who, when he made his appearance in the camp, was received by the veterans, and saluted with his new title. They made him a corporal at Lodi, and a serjeant at Cas« tiglione; and hence the surname of "Petit Caporal," which was for a long time applied to Napoleon by the soldiers. How subtle is the chain which unites the most trivial circumstances to the most important events ! Perhaps this very nickname contributed to his miraculous success on his return in 181-5. While he was haranguing the first battalion, which he found it necessary to address, a voice from the ranks ex- claimed, •' Vive notre petit Caporal ! we will never fight against him !" The Restorer of the City of Lyons. On Bonaparte's return from the second campaign of Italy, he passed through Lyons, on the ninth Mes- sidor, the eighth year of the republic. It was his S38 BEAUTIES OF wish to continue incognito, in order to escape the honours and the fetes intended for him ; but all his precautions were of no avail ; the report of his being ia the city spread itself in all directions, and the pop- ulace in crowds appeared in the streets, on the quays, in the promenades, and mounted on the house-tops, crying : " It is Bonaparte ! Long live Bonaparte !" these applauses being prolonged until night, with which were mingled the incessant discharges of artil- lery. During the nights of the ninth and tenth, a bronze medal was struck in haste and presented to the con- queror of Italy ; and on the morning of the last men- tioned day, he repaired to the Square of Bellecour, amidst an escort of upwards of iifty thousand Lyon- ese. Upon this occasion he laid the first .stone, and thus commenced the rebuilding of the city, which had been almost entirely demolished, by order of the co- median, Collot D'Herbois. Previous to the deposit- ing of the stone, he took it in his hand, smiling, and assured the inhabitants of Lyons, that this Square should very soon recover all its former splendour, and that the manufactories of Lyons, which were then reduced to four thousand workmen, should speedily be augmented to twenty-five thousand ; after which he deposited the medal, which was enclosed in a leaden case, beneath the foundation of the new structure ; the bronze in question bearing this inscrip- tion : FRENCH HISTORY. 239 To Buonaparte The Restorer of Lyons j Verninac Prefect. In the name of the greatful Lyonese. On the other side appeared, encircled by a coronet of oak, Twice Victor at Marengo, Conqueror of Italy. He deposited this Stone The 10th Messidor, An. VIII. At the conclusion of the ceremony, Napoleon re- paired to the hotel of the Prefect, where a sumptuous breakfast was prepared. Pie proved as amiable at table, as he was terrible in the field ; and it was justly said of this repast : "That here was Alexander feasting with his friends, on the day when he founded Alex- andria." The Battle of Marengo. This conflict was undoubtedly that in which Bo- naparte displayed the most brilliant proofs of mili- tary, capacity; for on that momentous day, he mani- fested the consummate tactics of a great commander ; neither was there any deficiency of those traits of heroism which history always loves to record, and ■which must descend to the remotest posterity. It was during this battle, which might be justly termed the modern Pharsalia, that Napoleon preserved, amidst 240 BEAUTIES OF the tumultuous din of arms, and an army almost com- pletely routed, that coolness and certain dependance upon self, which were the fruit of long military ex- perience, and the characteristic of the truly brave. As soon as the divisions of Lemonier and Desaix had arrived, Bonaparte repaired to range them in order for battle ; but, as the enemy's forces were greatly superior in number to those of the French, the latter began to give way, and retreat, which, being perceived by Napoleon, he gallopped to the front of the ranks, exclaiming: — "Frenchmen! remember my custom is to sleep upon the field of battle." Berthier on arriving to acquaint him that his army began to be put to the rout, he made this answer : " You do not announce that, general, in cold blood !" During the hottest period of the action, news was brought to Bonaparte that Desaix was killed, when he only uttered these words : "Why is it not per- mitted me to weep ?" The deceased was among those generals whom he held in the highest estimation. After the battle, Bonaparte happening to meet a great number of the wounded, made the following remark in tones of the deepest affliction : " We-cannot but regret not being wounded like them, in order to participate in their sufferings." JSTapoJeon wounded in Italy and other places. It ha? been said that Bonaparte has never been FRENCH HISTORY. 241 wounded. This is not the fact, for Mr. O'Meara says : — Napoleon showed me the marks of two wounds; one a very deep cicatrice above the left knee, which he said he had received in his first campaign of Italy, and was of so serious a nature, that the surgeons were in doubt whether it might not be ultimately necessary to amputate. He observed, that when he was wounded, it was always kept a secret, in order not to discourage the soldiers. The other was on the toe, and had been received at Echmiihl. "At the siege of Acre," continued he, " a shell thrown by Sidney Smith, fell at my feet. Two soldiers, who were close by, seized and closely embraced me, one in front, and one on the other side, and made a ram- part of their bodies for me, against the effect of the shell, which exploded, and overwhelmed us with sand. We sunk into the hole formed by its bursting; one of them was wounded. I made them both officers. One has since lost a leg at Moscow, and commanded at Vincehnes when 1 left Paris. When he was sum- moned by the Russians, he replied, that as soon as they sent him back the leg he had lost at Moscow, he would surrender the fortress. Many times in my life," continued he, " have I been saved by soldiers and officers throwing themselves before me when I was in the most iminent danger. At Areola, when I was advancing, Colonel Meuron, my aid-de-camp, threw himself before me, covered me with his body, and 21 242 BEAUTIES OF recfeived the wound which was destined for me. He fell at my feet, and his blood spouted up in my face. He gave his life to preserve mine. Never, yet, I believe, has there been such devotion shown by sol- diers as mine have manifested for me. In all my misfortunes never has the soldier, even when expiring, been wanting to me — never has man been served more faithfully by his troops. With the last drop of blood gushing out of their veins, they exclaimed 'Vive I'Empereur!'" His Generosity io iJie Veteran General Wurmser. For several days after the decisive actions, which left him without a shadow of hope of relief, Wurmser continued the defence of Mantua in a sullen yet hon- ourable despair, natural to the feelings of a gallant veteran, who, to the last, hesitated between the desire to resist, and the sense that resistance was absolutely hopeless. At length he sent his aid-de-camp, Klenau, to the head-quarters of Serrurier, who commanded the blockade, to treat of a surrender. Klenau used the customary language on such occasions. He ex- patiated on the means which Mantua still possessed of holding out, but said, that, as Wurmser doubted whether the place could be relieved in time, he would regulate his conduct as to the immediate submission, or farther defence, according to the conditions of surren- der to which the French general was willing to admit FRENCH HISTORY. 243 him. A French officer of distinclion was present, muffled in his cloak, and remaining apart from the two officers, but within hearing of what had passed. When their discussion was finished, this unknown person stepped forward, and, taking a pen, wrote down the conditions of surrender to which Wurmser was to be admitted — conditions more honourable and favourable by far than what his extremity could have exacted. "These," said the unknown officer to Klenau, "are the terms which Wurmser may accept at present, and which will be equally tendered to him at any period when he finds farther resistance im- possible. We are aware he is too much a man of honour to give up the fortress and city, so long and honourably defended, while the means of resistance remained in his power. If he delay accepting the conditions for a week, or a month, or two months, they shall be equally his when he chooses to accept them. To-morrow I pass the Po, and march upon Rome." Klenau, perceiving that he spoke to the French commander-in-chief, frankly admitted that the garrison could not longer delay surrender, having scarce three day's provisions unconsumedL This trait of generosity towards a gallant but umbcUi- nate enemy, was highly honourable to Napoleon. But the young victor paid a still more delicate and noble minded compliment, in declining to be person- ally present when the veteran Wurmser had the mor- tification to surrender his sword, with his garrison 244 BEAUTIES OF of twenty-thousand men. Such self-denial did Na- poleon as much credit nearly as his victory. Hb conduct towards Wurmser may be justly compared to that of the Black Prince to his royal prisoner, King John of France. Mount St. Bernard. The campaigns of Italy, under the Directory and Consulate, were well worth all the imperial battles fought in the days of France's splendid degradation. The pass of Mount St. Bernard stands unrivalled in modern military history. The cannons were dragged up the heights by sheer strength of arm, by efforts almost superhuman. Pecuniary motives for exertion, proffered by the general, were rejected by the army. The soldiers, one by oii-e, climbed through the cre- vices of the ice-rock, and in live hours they reached the convent of St. Peter. The descent was yet more perilous. The infantry cut short the diffiqulty by sliding on their backs down the ice. "The first consul followed their example, and, in the sight of his army, slided down a height of two hundred feet!" Bonaparte, before liis departure for this campaign, traced a flight sketch of his intended operations at a private house. In this plan, Millissimo is marked, in the confidence of success, as being the first site of the defeat of the enemy. " I shall drive," he says, " the Aiistrians from the passage of the Tyrol ;" and he FRENCH HISTORr. 245 finishes the sketch with these words : " It is at the gates of Vienna, that 1 shall give you peace." Speak- ing afterwards of his treaty of Millissimo, he said, *' this was the strongest sensation of my life." His Employment of Time. During the voyage to Egypt, Bonaparte was con- tinually employed. His remarkable sayings to the pupils of a school which he had one day visited, " Young people, every hour of time lost, is a chance of misfortune for future life," may be considered as, in some measure, forming the rule of his own con- duct. Perhaps no man ever better understood the value of time : his very leisure was business. If the activity of his mind found not wherewithal to exercise itself in reality, he supplied the defect, by giving free scope to ms imagination, or in listening to the con- versation of the learned men attached to the expedi- tion ; for he probably, was the only man in the fleet who never experienced ennui for a single moment. His Proclamation before landing in Egypt. "Soldiers! — You are about to undertake a ccfn- quest, the eifects of which, upon the civilization and commerce of the world, are incalculable. You will strike a blow, the surest and most vital which England can receive, until you give her her death-stroke, 21* "246 BEAUTIES OF We shall have to make some fatiguinor marches ; to en;^a»;e in a few combats ; but success will crown our exertions. Tlie destinies are favourable. The Mamelukes — retainers of England, tyrants of all the unfortunate country — soon after our landing shall have ceased to exist. '^ The people with whom we are about to be con- nected are Mahometans. The first article of their faith is this : — ' There is no other God but God, and Mahomet is his prophet.' Do not gainsay them; live with them as you have done with the Jews — with the Italians; pay the same deference to their mufiis and their imaums, as you have paid to the rab- bins and the bishops ; show to the ceremonies pre- scribed by the Koran, and to the mosques, the same tolerance as you have shown to the convents and the eynagogues — to the religion of Moses and of Jesus Christ. The Roman legions protect 111 religions. You will find here usages diffjrent from those of Europe : it is proper that you habituate yourselves to them. '' The inhabitants treat their womsn diffarently from us; but, in every country, he who violates is a mon- ster. Pillage enriches only a few; it dishonours us, destroys our resources, and renders enemies those whom our interest requires to be friends. The first city we approach was built by Alexander; every step will awaken sublime recolleciions, w^orthy of exciting Ihe emulation of Frenchmen." FRENCH HISTORY. 247 To this proclamation was appended an order of the day, consisting of twelve articles, prohibiting pil- lage, as also every species of violence, and containing directions for collecting imposts and contributions. The punishments denounced upon delinquents were — repairing tl^ damages inflicted, two years in irons, and death. Here I may be permitted a reflection. Passages in this proclamation have been severely animadverted upon as contrary to the doctrines of Christianity. But how absurd, to have entered Egypt with the cross in one hand, and the sword in the other ! Policy and common sense required us to re- spect the religion of the inhabitants. Both this and other proclamations produced an excellent eflfect. Disemharkation of iJie French Troops in Egypt, On the arrival of the French fleet on the Egyptian coasts. Napoleon wished the troops to be landed im- mediately; but admiral Bruyes would not consent, being afraid of the sea, then agitated by a strong west wind; but the general felt the value of the moments which passed. He saw the expedition exposed on the coast, and Alexanthia in arms, preparing for a defence ; and he wished positively to land in spite of the violence of the waves. The fleet accordingly anchored; and during the evening and part of the night, the disembarkation 248 BEAUTIES OF took place, a few leagues from Alexandria, near A place called the tower of Marabout. When Napoleon wished to execute the disembar- kation without loss of time, he said to admiral Bruyes, the moment he quitted the Orient : " We must exert ourselves to open the port of Alex^dria for you, with the least possible delay : and if it be not in a condition to receive the fleet, we must place you in safety elsewhere. You have conducted us success- fully ; your task is over, but ours only commences." " What ! rejoined the brave Bruyes, do you take us for common carriers, and our ships for baggage- wagons ?" JSTapoleoTi^s Jllarm on his arrival at Alexandria. On the arrival of the French expedition in the port of Alexandria, the resident consul was immediately sent for. To the great astonishment of his country- men, he informed them that the English fleet had made its appearance the preceding day before the port, had demanded information with respect to the French fleet, and had then continued its course towards Alex- andretta. At that very moment the signal for vessels of war was made, and the order of battle was given ; a firm belief being entertained that the English fleet was at hand. Napoleon at this instant gave expression to the uneasiness which he felt. " Fortune," he exclaimed, FRENCH HISTORY. 249 " why hast thou favoured us so long to abandon us now, when former success only adds to the poignan- cy of our misfortune ? In a few moments Alexandria would have been ours, and the whole of the trans* ports would have been safe!" Happily for him the signals were false ; the vessels turned out to be the French frigates, which had fallen behind, and not the English fleet. Gaiety of the French Soldiery. Nothing could exceed the gaiety of the French sol- diery : if they saw a young conscript sad and dejected, he would soon be laughed and bantered out of his sadness. Denon relates, that when the French army, under Bonaparte, arrived off the coast of Egypt, and saw it stretching along the horizon, a perfect desert, — not a tree, nor a plant, nor any sign of a human habitation to be discovered as far as the eye could reach either way — far from being dispirited at this dreary prospect, one of the soldiers drew a comrade to the side of the vessel, and pointing to it, said, "Look ye! there are the six acres which have been decreed thee !" alluding to a promise of a grant of land to each soldier, on the expiration of his service in the army. In one of Bonaparte''s despatches, he thus emphat- ically expresses himself upon the subject : '' They play and they laugh with death ; they have now be- come completely accustomed to the enemy's cavalry, 250 BEAUTIES OP which they hold in derision ; nothing can equal their intrepidity, unless it be the gaiety testified during their forced and harassing marches; for they sing by turns in honour of their country and their mistresses. When arrived at the bivouac, you would think, at least, that they would repose. Such, however, is not the case ; each tells his story, or forms his plan of operations for the morrow ; and it is frequently as- certained that many of them have made a just cal- culation." Turkish Humanity towards the French Army in Egypt. When Bonaparte sailed with his army for Egypt, a number of the most eminent of the French literati accompanied him, in order to make research into the antiquities, manners, customs, and literature of that famous country. These labours they executed with the most astonishing assiduity, even amidst all the dangers of vi^ar. But the Institute had remained at Cairo only a month, when their house was pillaged, in a general insurrection of the inhabitants ; firing was heard in different places, and many persons belonging to the Commission of Arts fell a sacrifice to the fury of the populace. After considerable slaughter, how- ever, it was quelled the second day, by means of some heavy artillery. "Through the populace," says Denon, " the devotees, and some of the great people of Cairo showed themselves fanatical and cruel in FRENCH HISTORY. 251 this revolt, the middle class (which is in all countries the most accessible to reason and virtue) was per- fectly humane and generous to us, notwithstanding the wide difference of manners, religion, and language ; — whilst from the galleries of the minarets murder was devoutly preached up — whilst the streets were filled with death and carnage, all those in whose houses any Frenchmen were lodged, Avere eager to save them by concealment, and to supply and antici- pate all their wants. An elderly woman, in the quarter in which we lodged, gave us to understand, that, as our walls was but weak, if we were attacked^ we only had to throw it down, and seek for shelter in her harem : a neighbour, without being asked, sent us provisions at the expense of his own store, when no food was to be purchased in the town, and every thing announced approaching famine; he even re- moved every thing from before our house which could render it conspicuous to the enemy, and went to smoke at our door, as if it were his own in order to deceive any who might attack us. Two young per- sons, who were pursued in the streets, were snatched up by some unknown people, and carried into a house, and whilst they were furiously struggling for deliver- ance, expecting that they were destined for some hor- rible cruelty, the kind ravishers, not being able other- wise to convince them of the hospitable benevolence of their intentions delivered up to them their own children, as pledges of their sincerity. 252 BEAUTIES OF, &C. *' If the grave mussulman represses those tokens of sensibility, which other nations would take a pride in exhibiting-, it is in order to preserve the dignified austerity of his character." His Return from Egypt When the news of his arrival reached Marseilles, the event was celebrated witli a general illumination, bonfires, and other demonstrations of joy. But an impulse of a very different nature seized the minds of the magistracy of Toulon. It was known there that the plague had made considerable ravages among the army in Egypt; and when the news cir- culated that Bonaparte had landed at Frejus, and pro- ceeded immediately to Paris, without the vessel or any of the crew having been subjected to the usual quarantine, couriers were sent after him with orders not to stop on tlie road upon any consideration till they had overtaken him, and to bring him and his companions back, that they might be put into quaran- tine. But Bonaparte had got so much the start of them, and pursued his journey with so much alacrity, that he arrived at Paris long before them ; and the memorable events, which crowded upon each other from the moment of his arrival, soon turned the public attention from all other objects to fix it on them alone. THE END. ^m/t? ■>, 1 ■ m-[ ^ ^li^ierV ^mss -yM ilmt).^^^-