THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES

 
 
 
 i » R K 
 HARPER & BROTHERS 
 
 IS
 
 TIIK 
 
 BEAUTIES 
 
 OF 
 
 FRENCH HISTORY. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OP 
 
 " THE BEAUTIES OF ENGLISH HISTORY," 
 " AMERICAN HISTORY," &c. 
 
 NEW YORK. 
 
 HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, 
 82 CLIFF STREET. 
 
 18 40.
 
 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1846, by 
 
 Harper & Brothers, 
 In the Clerk's Office of the Southern District of New- York.
 
 DC 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Ancient Gaul, ... .9 
 
 Clovis, ..... 13 
 
 Thierry, Clodmir, Childibert, and Clotaire, . 16 
 
 Caribert, Gontran, Sigebert, and Chilperic, 20 
 
 Clotaire the Second, . . . .22 
 
 Diagobert 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, . . . .36 
 Louis the Second, Louis the Third, Carloman, 
 
 and Charles the Third, . . .36 
 Eudes or Odo, Charles the Simple, Raoul, Louis 
 the Fourth, Lothaire the Second, and Louis 
 
 the Fifth, .... 38 
 
 Hugh Capet, . . . . .39 
 
 Robert, . . . . . 40 
 
 Henry the First, . . , .41 
 
 Philip the First, .... 43 
 
 868946 (3)
 
 IV 
 
 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, 
 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 
 
 His return from Egypt, . . 252 
 
 *1
 
 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. 
 
 u History is philosophy teaching by example ;" and 
 the following pages may supply many an excellent 
 
 (7)
 
 Vlll PREFACE. 
 
 lesson to those who desire that, while amused, they 
 should also be improved ; that Pleasure should be at 
 all times the handmaid of Knowledge, and onlj wel- 
 come when she visits in company with her more 
 valuable associate.
 
 BEAUTIES 
 
 OF 
 
 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 
 jt 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 hos- 
 
 9
 
 10 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 tilities at home now took the place of conquests 
 abroad ; until, divided against themselves, the con- 
 querors were, in their turn, the conquered, and yield- 
 ed to victorious Rome. Vanquished by the legions 
 of Julius Caesar, Gaul sunk into a tributary province 
 of the imperial city. 
 
 But when the Roman empire, which had stretched 
 its enormous arms over the three quarters of the 
 globe, fell under the weight of its eagerly gathered 
 burdens, and from being the mistress of the world, 
 became the despised prey of successive hordes of 
 northern barbarians, Gaul — sluggish and paralyzed- 
 afforded an easy conquest to the Visigoths, who sub- 
 sequently gave way before the braver and more hardy 
 Franks. 
 
 The native Gauls are represented as tall and fair; 
 their hair inclining to red; their eyes blue, sharp, and 
 fierce ; and their temper irritable and haughty. They 
 are said to have been so grave at an early period of 
 their history, that when a Grecian dancer appeared 
 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 backwards 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. 
 
 11 
 
 Men of superior rank shaved their cheeks only, leav- 
 ing large whiskers or moustaches. 
 
 The religion of the Gauls was that of the darkest 
 and grossest idolatry. Their priests, the druids, 
 were considered the only depositaries of knowledge ; 
 and they guided and ruled the people with almost 
 absolute power. Their persons were held sacred; 
 they were universally and implicitly obeyed ; it was 
 their exclusive privilege to reward or punish, and 
 from their sentence there was no appeal. The arch- 
 druid, their head, was chosen by the priesthood; but 
 the election to this office was not unfrequently de- 
 cided by arms. The druidesses, of whom there were 
 many, rivalled the priests in influence, and surpassed 
 them in crime. The chief doctrines of druidism 
 were, the 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 human 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 unhappy victims. After the Ro- 
 man conquest, the power of the druids considerably 
 decreased; their rites and ceremonies were abolished 
 bjr law, and the deities and worship of Rome intro- 
 duced into Gaul. 
 
 Christianity, however, made its way among them 
 at a very early period, since it is more than probable
 
 12 BEAUTIES OP 
 
 that the Gospel was preached in Gaul by some of 
 the apostles themselves; though the first Christian 
 teacher upon record appeared there about the end of 
 the second century. Christianity, from this time, 
 spread with astonishing rapidity; but the change was 
 one of profession merely, not of heart and life ; for the 
 priests were so openly profligate, as in the year 314 
 to call forth a decree from the council of Aries, for- 
 bidding the clergy to perform in the theatres, to ap- 
 pear as charioteers in the race, or to bear arms as sol- 
 diers. Little could be expected from the people, when 
 their Christian pastors were in such a degraded state 
 as is demonstrated by these facts. 
 
 The Franks invaded Gaul from the trackless wilds 
 and deep forests of Germany, allured thither by the 
 prospect of obtaining a more fertile and productive 
 land on easy terms. Under their successive kings, 
 Pharamond, Clodio, Merovee, and Childeric, they had 
 gradually increased in power, until, in the reign of 
 Clovis, the grandson of Merovee, and the son of Chil- 
 deric, they found themselves strong enough to make 
 a successful attempt on their now passive and pros- 
 perous neighbours. At this period of its history, the 
 Romans possessed but nominal jurisdiction in Gaul; 
 Syagrius, the governor of the province, having as- 
 sumed the style and exercised the prerogatives of an 
 independent sovereign.
 
 FRENCH HISTORY. 13 
 
 CLOVIS, 
 
 THE FIRST KING OF FRANCE. 
 
 Clovis, to whom belongs the honour of founding 
 the French monarchy, became king of the Franks in 
 481, when his age was but fifteen. In the year 486, 
 he crossed the Rhine, at the head of an army, esti- 
 mated by some historians at 3000, and by others at 
 30,000, fighting men-, whose habits were warlike, 
 whose business was war, and whose only property 
 was spoil. A battle took place near Soissons, the re- 
 sidence of the Roman governor, in which he was 
 completely routed. The whole country between the 
 Rhine and the Loire speedily submitted to the con- 
 queror, who relinquished all thought of returning to 
 the woods and marshes of Germany, and bestowed 
 upon his new kingdom the name of France. It may 
 be necessary to observe, that several large districts of 
 the country, which are now only French provinces, 
 were then separate realms, and had each their own 
 monarchs; as, Tourraine, Anjou, Brittany, Thou- 
 louse, &c. 
 
 Clovis made the best use of his victory, by gain- 
 ing the goodwill of his future subjects, and endea- 
 vouring to conciliate the Christian clergy. An anec- 
 dote is related of him, which at once exhibits a 
 striking feature in his character, and shows the course 
 
 2
 
 14 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 of policy he deemed it prudent to adopt. Among the 
 plunder he had collected was a sacred vessel of great 
 worth and beauty, which had been taken from the 
 church at Rheims. The bishop, Remigius, express- 
 ing great concern at its loss, the king requested it to 
 be included in his share of the booty, which, accord- 
 ing to custom, was about to be divided among the 
 army by lots. The soldiers cheerfully consented ; 
 but one fellow raised his battle-axe and struck the 
 vessel, telling his leader, that he should have no more 
 than his just proportion. Clovis checked his wrath 
 at the time ; but a year afterwards, when his autho- 
 rity had become less precarious, at a review of the 
 troops, he designedly remarked, that the arms of this 
 soldier were in bad order, and taking his battle-axe, 
 threw it on the ground. As the man was stooping 
 to pick it up, the king hit him mortally on the head, 
 saying, " Thus you struck the vessel at Soissons." 
 
 At Soissons, Clovis established the seat of his go- 
 vernment ; and in the year 493 married Clotilda, the 
 niece of Gondebaud, king of Burgundy, by whom 
 both her parents had been treacherously murdered. 
 She was a Christian, and was, consequently, highly 
 acceptable to the great body of the people, by whom 
 the Christian religion was professed. Under her in- 
 fluence, the king gradually imbibed the doctrines in 
 which she believed ; and an opportunity was not long 
 wanting to carry this predisposition of the monarch 
 into effect. During a battle fought at Tolbiac, be-
 
 FRENCH HISTORY. 15 
 
 tween the Franks and some of their German neigh- 
 bours, the former were giving way and in confusion, 
 when the king was heard to exclaim, " O God of 
 Clotilda, if thou wilt grant me this victory, I will 
 have no God but thee !" Immediately his army ral- 
 lied, and he gained a signal triumph. Clovis kept 
 his vow, and was shortly afterwards, with 3000 of 
 his followers, baptized by the bishop of Rheims with 
 great pomp and ceremony. His conversion, however, 
 was one of form, rather than spirit, the neophite ap- 
 pearing but little acquainted with the nature of Chris- 
 tianity ; for soon after his baptism, when the prelate 
 was detailing to him the sufferings of the Saviour 
 at Jerusalem, with characteristic eagerness, he ex- 
 claimed, " Oh ! why was I not there, with my Franks, 
 to fight for him ?" 
 
 Clovis was brave in action, and skilfnl in govern- 
 ing ; but he was cruel and treacherous, seldom stay- 
 ing even his own hand, when he considered it expe- 
 dient to remove an adversary out of the way; and 
 invariably acting upon the principle, 
 
 That they should take who have the power, 
 And they should keep who can. 
 
 There was, nevertheless, a kind of rude justice blend- 
 ed even with his worst acts. Having engaged the 
 son of the king of Cologne to murder his aged and 
 infirm father, he soon after caused the son himself to 
 be put to death ; and upon another occasion, when
 
 16 BEAUTIES OP 
 
 he had procured the assassination of a dangerous 
 rival, by the promise of a large bribe, he gave the 
 assassins gilded money instead of gold, observing, it 
 was the only recompense murderers deserved. 
 
 The bitterness of religious parties, even at this 
 early period, was the cause of much strife and blood- 
 shed. Arianism and Catholicism divided the French 
 people; and Clovis, under pretence of eradicating the 
 former from his own dominions, as well as those of 
 his neighbours, waged a destructive and protracted 
 war; the only effect of which was, making the op- 
 pressed cling more firmly to their faith, and giving 
 them more deadly cause of hatred towards their op- 
 pressors. 
 
 Still, the first king of France enjoyed what is 
 termed a prosperous reign; overcame every difficulty 
 that encompassed him ; was invested with the dignity 
 of a patrician robe and diadem by the Emperor of 
 the East (Anastasius, who continued to assume an 
 imaginary right over the regions of the West) ; and 
 died a.d. 511, in the forty-fifth year of his age and 
 the thirtieth of his reign, leaving his dominions, ac- 
 cording to the practice of the time, equally divided 
 among his four sons, 
 
 THIERRY, CLODOMIR, CHILDEBERT, AND CLOTAIRE; 
 
 The first of whom inherited the kingdom of Metz, or 
 Austrasia ; the second that of Orleans ; the third that 
 of Paris; and the fourth that of Soissons — the eldest
 
 FRENCH HISTORY. 17 
 
 beino- twenty-eight, and the youngest twelve years 
 of age. The three younger brothers joined their arms, 
 and made an attack on Sigismond, duke of Burgundy, 
 whose forces were routed, and himself, after a variety 
 of wanderings and much suffering, betrayed to bis 
 enemies, who cruelly put him to death, together with 
 his queen and two sons. From this period, the 
 duchy of Burgundy was subject to the power of 
 France, and ceased to be an independent sovereignty. 
 During the war between the Burgundians and the 
 three brothers, one of them, Clodomir, was slain. 
 He had three sons who ought to have inherited his 
 kingdom of Orleans ; but, unhappily, a different fate 
 awaited them. They were left under the care of 
 their grandmother, the Queen Clotilda, who honoured 
 them as their father's representatives, and exerted her- 
 self to secure for them his dominions. Her affec- 
 tionate attention to their interests served only to ex- 
 cite the jealousy and ambition of their uncles, Chil- 
 debert and Clotaire, who had formed the design of 
 seizing, and dividing between themselves, the king- 
 dom of their nephews; only hesitating as to whether 
 they should put them to death, or, by ordering their 
 hair to be cropped, disqualify them, according to an 
 established custom, from ever being eligible to reign. 
 The former course was resolved upon. The kings 
 met at Paris, and immediately sent for the children, 
 under pretence of arranging about their respective 
 realms ; the two elder of whom set out on their fatal 
 
 2*
 
 18 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 journey. On arriving in the presence of their un- 
 cles, their attendants were dismissed, and a messenger 
 despatched to the queen-dowager, to whom he pre- 
 sented a naked sword and a pair of scissors, asking 
 her which she preferred, -the degradation or death of 
 her grandsons. In the agitation of her mind, and 
 the bitterness of her grief, she answered, " better let 
 them die than live unfit to reign." Her words were 
 faithfully reported to the kings ; and the barbarous 
 Clotaire no sooner heard them, than he seized the 
 eldest boy, threw him on the ground, and plunged a 
 dagger in his breast. The younger child screamed 
 fearfully, and flew for protection to the arms of his 
 other uncle, Childebert, who, more merciful, fell at 
 his brother's feet, and with tears besought him to save 
 their nephew's life. " Throw him from you," was 
 the reply, " or perish with him. Did not the pro- 
 posal come from you, and will you now oppose it?" 
 The cowardly Childebert flung the boy from him, and 
 he was caught by the reeking knife of the brutal Clo- 
 taire. The third nephew had his hair shorn, and was 
 placed in a monastery ; and the murderers divided be- 
 tween them the kingdom of Orleans. 
 
 Although Thierry, the elder brother, did not stain 
 his hands with the blood of his nephews, he sanc- 
 tioned their murder by sharing in the spoil ; and, by 
 an act of the deepest treachery, proved that he was 
 also capable of any crime. He was at war with a 
 chieftain named Munderic, who held possession of a
 
 FRENCH HISTORY. 19 
 
 fortilied town of considerable strength ; but the dread 
 of famine induced the besieged to surrender, under 
 a solemn pledge from Thierry, that his life, and the 
 lives of his followers, should be preserved. Munde- 
 ric passed without the walls, and mingled among the 
 soldiers of the king, whose artful emissary addressed 
 them, saying, " Why do you so gaze on Munderic ?" 
 This was the signal for his destruction ; but Munde- 
 ric perceived the treachery in time to strike the trai- 
 tor mortally with his lance, exclaiming, "I die; but 
 you shall die before me." Then rushing upon the 
 soldiers, he slew several ; till, at last overcome by 
 numbers, he fell, covered with wounds. 
 
 By the deaths of his brothers and their children, 
 or the operation of the Salic law, which prevents the 
 accession of females to the throne, Clotaire became, 
 like his father Clovis, sole king of France. But the 
 poisoned chalice was returned to his own lips. 
 Chramnes, his favourite son, rebelled against him, 
 was defeated, and taken prisoner, with his wife and 
 two daughters. They were shut up in the cottage in 
 which they had taken refuge, and, by the command 
 of his own father, were consumed by fire. The 
 wretched king, shocked at the too prompt obe- 
 dience of his order, became a prey to the deepest 
 grief; and sought, in vain, relief from the weight of 
 a guilty conscience, by rich presents to the clergy 
 and offerings to the saints. He lived merciless and 
 depraved, and died hated and despised ; affording an
 
 20 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 awful lesson to his successors and to mankind, that 
 sated ambition and unlimited power, Avhen ill-ob- 
 tained, are the certain paths to that most fearful of all 
 miseries, remorse. 
 
 Clotaire, whose death by fever took place in 562, 
 also left four sons, 
 
 CARIBERT, GONTRAN, SIGEBERT, AND CHILPERIC ; 
 
 And among these four monarchs the kingdom of 
 France was divided ; that of Paris falling to the eld- 
 est by lot. Caribert died after a brief reign. Sige- 
 bert married Brunechild, the daughter of the king of 
 the Visigoths ; and Chilperic had taken a wife, named 
 Fredegonde, from the lowest class of his subjects — 
 a beautiful, but exceedingly artful and wicked wo- 
 man. By the advice of his brother he agreed to put 
 her away, and solicited and received the hand of Gal- 
 swinda, the sister of Brunechild ; the unhappy lady 
 was, however, treacherously murdered ; and Chilpe- 
 ric took back Fredegonde as his queen, although the 
 charge of having strangled Galsvvinda was clearly 
 proved against her. This gave rise to a bloody and 
 long-protracted war between the brothers ; and the 
 machinations of the infamous Fredegonde procured 
 the murder of Sigebert. She engaged two assassins 
 to commit the deed. " Here," said she (giving them 
 two poisoned arrows) " are the only means of deli- 
 vering your king and country. If you succeed, no 
 reward can be too great for you ; if you die, it will
 
 FRENCH HISTORY. 21 
 
 be in a patriotic and good cause; and the reward 
 shall be given to your families." They accordingly 
 went to Sigebert's camp, demanded an audience on 
 pretence of business, and plunged the arrows in his 
 breast. The villains met with the summary punish- 
 ment their bloody deed deserved, and were torn to 
 pieces by his guards. She also caused the assassina- 
 tion of one of her husband's sons, after having vainly 
 attempted to place him in a situation where a fatal 
 epidemic was raging. Her husband himself, the dupe 
 of her schemes, was destined to be another victim to 
 her remorseless cruelty. Chilperic having returned 
 from hunting, as he alighted from his horse, was 
 stabbed twice in the breast by some unseen hand, 
 and died unlamented, leaving scarcely a single sub- 
 ject willing to give his corpse decent burial. The 
 prime mover in all these atrocities, Fredegonde, had 
 sought and obtained shelter from Gontran, the sur- 
 viving brother of her husband. At his death, a. d. 
 593, the power of this wicked woman was augment- 
 ed by her influence over her son, who succeeded his 
 uncle. Her own life terminated peaceably, except 
 for those workings of a guilty conscience which no 
 power or greatness can stifle. The fate of her rival 
 in ambition and in crime was more awful. Brune- 
 child, the wife of Sigebert, was arrested and tried for 
 the murder of ten kings, including her own sons ! 
 She was first exhibited as a spectacle over all the 
 camp, and exposed to the insults of the soldiers;
 
 22 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 then, fastened to the tail of a wild horse, she was 
 dragged and torn to pieces, and, at last, thrown into 
 a fire. The lives of two more utterly cruel and de- 
 praved women, perhaps, never sullied the records of 
 a kingdom. 
 
 By the death of his father, Chilperic, Clotaire in 
 herited the throne of Soissons ; and, on the demise 
 of his uncle, Gontran, he ascended the throne of 
 France. 
 
 CLOTAIRE THE SECOND 
 
 Was a milder and more peaceable sovereign than 
 either of his predecessors. He sought to improve 
 his kingdom ; and bestowed much care and attention 
 in framing wiser laws than those by which France 
 had heretofore been governed. Under his reign, how- 
 ever, the mayors of the palace — a title given to the 
 oldest and most confidential servant of the crown, 
 who took the lead in the administration of civil and 
 military affairs — gradually obtained almost absolute 
 power, and ceased to acknowledge the king's prero- 
 gative either to appoint or dismiss them. The ruin 
 of the race of Merovingian monarchs was the result. 
 Clotaire died in 628, leaving two sons, 
 
 DAGOBERT AND ARIBERT. 
 
 The death of Aribert, which took place about two 
 years after his father, left Dagobert in peaceable and 
 undisputed possession of the crown of France. The
 
 FRENCH HIST0R7. 23 
 
 king having no domestic enemies to contend with, 
 turned his attention towards the good government of 
 nis kingdom, which, under his comparatively wise 
 and gentle rule, made much progress in the arts that 
 create and distinguish civilized life. At his court, 
 Eloy, who had been a goldsmith, rendered himself 
 famous by his wealth and ingenuity. He formed a 
 chair of solid gold, and a throne of the same metal, 
 and wore a belt set with diamonds when he visited 
 the palace. He afterwards became a minister of state, 
 a bishop, and finally a saint. 
 
 The dignity and power of the Merovingian race 
 of kings — so called from Merovee, the grandfather 
 of Clovis, the first king of France — were now at 
 their height; and as the early history of this iamily 
 is filled with those crimes that characterize the dark- 
 est age, so that of its decline and fall is of such a na- 
 ture as to justify us in dismissing the subject, after a 
 bare enumeration of their respective names. Dago- 
 bert died in 644, and was succeeded by his sons, 
 
 SIGEBERT THE SECOND AND CLOVIS THE SECOND. 
 
 After them the kingdom was divided among the 
 children of the latter ; the former having left one son, 
 who was dispossessed of his throne, and confined in 
 a monastery in Ireland. Clotaire the Third, Childe- 
 ric the Second, Thierry the Third, Clovis the Third, 
 Childebert the Second, Dagobert the Second, Chilpe- 
 ric the Second, Thierry the Fourth, and Childeric th<5
 
 24 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 Third, were the remaining kings of the race of Mero- 
 vee; — but the history of their several reigns is rather 
 that of the mayors of the palace than of independent 
 monarchs. The epithet of Rots Faineans (sluggards) 
 was universally bestowed upon them; and by this 
 unenviable distinction they are known to posterity. 
 One of the mayors, Pepin, obtained so much influ- 
 ence that he enjoyed every thing belonging to the 
 monarchs of France, except the name; the legitimate 
 kings being only brought forward on state occasions, 
 as puppets in a pageant. Pepin himself was satisfied 
 with the title of subregulus, or viceroy, given to him 
 by the pope ; but he projected a higher for his fami- 
 ly. Charles, surnamed Martel, or the Hammer, suc- 
 ceeded to his office, and surpassed him in courage, 
 energy, and power. His name is too prominent and 
 important at this period of French history to be 
 brieflly dismissed. Although he had many victories 
 to gain and enemies to subdue before his influence as 
 mayor of the palace was established, yet it is to his 
 wars with the Saracens that he is indebted for the re- 
 putation he has obtained, and the rank he holds as 
 one of the most eminent men of his age and coun- 
 try. In the year 721, the Saracens, under the tri- 
 umphant banner of Mahomet, had extended their 
 conquests from the Indus to the Mediterranean, and 
 over a considerable portion of Africa. Having been 
 invited into Spain by Count Julian to assist him in 
 avenging a family quarrel with Roderic the king, they
 
 FRENCH HISTORY. 25 
 
 subdued that country with ease, and thence passed 
 over the Pyrenees, and threatened to bring France 
 under their yoke. Charles met them near Poitiers : 
 their army, including its followers, consisted of 
 400,000 persons ; his being far inferior in numbers. 
 The combatants lay a week in sight of each other. 
 At last both resolved to fight. The battle commenced 
 with fury, and continued during the greater part of 
 the day. With axe and sabre the French hewed 
 down the enemy ; but new fronts were continually 
 opposed to them, until at length victory crowned their 
 persevering efforts. In this action nearly 375,000 of 
 the Saracens, together with their general, are said to 
 have been slain ; and, if we may credit the historian, 
 only 1500 of the French. It was from his acts of 
 prowess on this occasion, that Charles derived the 
 surname of Martel, his strokes falling numberless 
 and effectual on the heads of his enemies. To the 
 memory of Charles Martel, Christianity owes a large 
 debt for this service. If France had been left to the 
 charge of les Rois Faineans, Mahometanism would 
 undoubtedly have spread over the fairest portions of 
 Europe. He died in October, 741. Every thing in 
 his character and conduct is great; and his reputation 
 is unsullied by a single act of wilful oppression or 
 capricious bloodshed. In establishing his own power 
 he aggrandized the state ; giving stability to the go- 
 vernment, and glory to the arms of France. 
 
 Charles had adopted the same policy as his father: 
 
 3
 
 26 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 satisfied with the substance, without the name of roy- 
 alty, he nevertheless laboured to diminish the dis- 
 tance and surmount the difficulties that lay between 
 his family and the crown. He obtained the consent 
 of the assembled states to the succession of his sons, 
 Carloman to the dukedom of Austrasia, and Pepin to 
 that of Burgundy and Neustria ; and for Griffon, he 
 procured a grant of some territory. At this period, 
 Childeric the Third was the nominal king of France; 
 he was the last of the Merovingian race, which, be- 
 ginning with Clovis, had, to the number of thirty-two 
 kings, filled the throne for two hundred and seventy 
 years. Pepin, in consequence of the unfitness of his 
 brother Griffon to reign, and the voluntary retirement 
 of Carloman to a monastery, found himself in a situ- 
 ation that placed the crown of France within his 
 reach. The general incapacity of Childeric was ac- 
 knowledged 5 but Pepin was desirous that the sanc- 
 tion of the pope should diminish the scruples of the 
 people in deposing their legitimate sovereign. A case 
 of conscience was therefore submitted to his holi- 
 ness ; " whether it were expedient that the nominal 
 and real source of power should be divided ; and whe- 
 ther he who possessed all kingly power ought not to 
 assume the rank and title of king ?" The pope de- 
 cided in favour of the real governor, in preference to 
 the incapable but legitimate monarch. Childeric and 
 his son, therefore, were shaved, dethroned, and placed 
 la a monastery ; and Pepm was solemnly crowned
 
 FRENCH HISTORY. 27 
 
 by the archbishop of May ence and the pope's legate; 
 the ceremony of coronation being thus, for the first 
 time, substituted for the ancient one of elevating a 
 new monarch upon the bucklers of his soldiery. By 
 this event, the family of Merovee became extinct; and 
 the second race of French monarchs, the Carlovin- 
 gian, was founded in 751. 
 
 THE CARLOVINGIAN RACE. 
 
 PEPIN THE SHORT. 
 
 The usurpation of Pepin, sanctioned as it was by 
 the pope and the people of France, compelled him 
 to adopt a course of policy, palatable to the one and 
 salutary to the other. The only wars in which he 
 engaged were foreign ones ; and lie gained the love 
 and esteem of his subjects to such a degree, that 11 
 est prudent comme Pepin, became an adage. He was 
 surnamed the Short, on account of his extremely di- 
 minutive stature ; but his frame was stout and vigor- 
 ous. At a public exhibition, while a strong lion held 
 by the throat and almost strangled a furious bull, he 
 proposed that some of the company should step for- 
 ward and rescue him. The appeal to their courage
 
 28 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 was, however, unanswered. The king lose from his 
 seat, leaped into the arena, cut the throat of the lion, 
 and with one stroke of his sword severed the head 
 of the bull. Then, turning to the assembly, he said, 
 " David was a little man, yet he slew Goliath; Alex- 
 ander was of small size, yet had he greater strength 
 and courage than many of his officers who were 
 taller and handsomer than he." One historian states 
 this circumstance to have taken place before Pepin 
 ascended the throne, and adds, that he addressed the 
 surrounding courtiers, saying, "Am I now worthy to 
 be your king ?" It is certain that a better plan could 
 scarcely have been devised for gaining the hearts of 
 a fierce and warlike people - , and the contrast between 
 the vigour and spirit of Pepin, and the weakness and 
 incompetency of Childeric, was a forcible appeal to 
 the good opinion of his future subjects. 
 
 Pepin died of a fever in 768 ; and on his tomb at 
 St. Denis is inscribed this brief but striking epitaph: 
 " Pepin, father of Charlemagne." He deserved a bet- 
 ter, however; for he governed with prudence and 
 energy, and left an unsullied reputation (if we except 
 the act of usurpation, which cannot b e palliated). He 
 had two sons, 
 
 CHARLES AND CAULOMAN. 
 
 The death of Carloman, three years after his father, 
 left Charles master of the whole French monarchy. 
 His conquests were great and numerous. He sub-
 
 FRENCH HISTORY. 29 
 
 dued Spain; but as he was returning to his own 
 country, laden with spoil, he was attacked at the me- 
 morable pass of Rancevaux by a large band of Gas- 
 con mountaineers. They saw the fancied security 
 of the French army, coveted the riches they were 
 bearing with them, and embraced the precious oppor- 
 tunity of vengeance and plunder. Concealing them- 
 selves in the woods, at the entrance of the narrow 
 defile, they allowed the king and a great part of his 
 force to pass unmolested, and then falling on the bag- 
 gage, killed the guards, and bore it away to inacces- 
 sible places, before the main body of the army was 
 aware of the struggle. In this skirmish Charles lost 
 his nephew, " the brave Roland," of whose prowess 
 and chivalry frequent mention is made in ancient lays 
 and romances. 
 
 The constant success and extensive dominions of 
 Charles spread his fame to every quarter of the globe. 
 The Moors and Saracens respected and feared him ; 
 the Patriarch of Jerusalem honoured him with many 
 sacred gifts ; and the king of Persia, Aaron Raschid, 
 the great monarch and conqueror of the East, knowing 
 how acceptable Jerusalem and some other parts of 
 his empire would be to the acknowledged protector 
 of the Catholic church, presented them to him, as a 
 pledge of his friendship.* No honour or title seemed 
 
 * Among the presents sent to him by Aaron Raschid, was a 
 very curious clock, worked by water. The dial was composed 
 of twelve small doors ; out of which little balls fell on a brass 
 
 3*
 
 30 BEAUTIES OP 
 
 too great for a sovereign so powerful and respected. 
 At length Pope Leo the Third resolved to confer 
 upon him the highest possible dignity, and gave him 
 the rank and title of Emperor of the West. On 
 Christmas-day, a. d. 800, while Charles was attend- 
 ing high mass at the church of St. Peter, in Rome, 
 the pope approached him, and solemnly placing the 
 imperial crown upon his head, proclaimed, " Long 
 live Charles Augustus ! crowned by the hand of God. 
 Life and victory to the great and pacific emperor of 
 the Romans !" — the clergy and the people shouting, 
 " Long live Charles Augustus, emperor of the Ro- 
 mans !" 
 
 The brave and energetic king, who obtained and 
 justly merited the title of Charlemagne — Charles the 
 Great — died in January, 814, in the seventy-first 
 year of his age, and the forty-seventh of his glorious 
 and prosperous reign. He was of a robust constitu- 
 tion, rather above the ordinary height, possessing a 
 handsome and manly person, and an open and agree- 
 able countenance. His understanding was clear and 
 vigorous, his judgment decisive, and his resolution 
 firm. His plans were formed with sagacity and pru- 
 dence, and carried into effect with energy and deter- 
 mination. As a sovereign he was great, as a man 
 good ; and upon few of those who either went be- 
 
 drum to mark the hours. When it was twelve o'clock, as 
 many horsemen in miniature issued forth, and marching round 
 closed all the doors.
 
 FRENCH HISTORY. 31 
 
 fore or came after him, could a better epitaph be in- 
 scribed. It was his custom to seal all his treaties 
 with the hilt of his sword : " I have sealed it," he 
 would say, " with my sword-hilt, and 1 will maintain 
 it with the point." 
 
 Notwithstanding the multitude of his occupations, 
 he gave much of his time and attention to study, and 
 laboured continually to spread a desire for know- 
 ledge throughout his dominions. On one occasion 
 we find him inspecting the school of a learned monk, 
 named Clement, whom he had invited over from Ire- 
 land ; and observing the youth of the humbler class 
 to have made greater progress than those of the higher 
 orders, he placed the former on the right hand, and 
 thus addressed them : " Continue, my children, to 
 improve ; you shall be rewarded ; I will raise you 
 to stations of rank and power. But as for you," 
 turning to the idle scholars, " you delicate sons of 
 noble birth, and heirs to property in which you too 
 much confide — you have spent your days in indo- 
 lence or vain amusement. Know that your birth 
 shall avail you naught unless you speedily redeem 
 the time you have lost." 
 
 During the reign of Charlemagne and of several of 
 his predecessors, trials by battle were very common. 
 In the darker ages it was believed that Providence in- 
 terfered in the cause of justice ; and in ordeals by 
 duel, it was always imagined that right, and not might, 
 was sure to be triumphant. The accuser and the
 
 32 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 accused, or their champions (deputies) engaged to 
 rest the truth of their assertions on the issue of a 
 single combat; and the truth was invariably decided 
 to be with the conqueror.* By the Capitulary of Da- 
 gobert, a.v. 816, ordinary persons wer^ allowed to 
 fight with cudgels ; and the convicted individual was 
 ordered to lose his right hand. Another kind of trial 
 was that of lifting, handling, or touching hot iron. 
 A bar of iron was heated more or less, according to 
 the extent of the crime alleged against the accused. 
 The bar was the property of the clergy, who were 
 paid for its use. The iron was either to be handled 
 or walked upon ; and was sometimes in the form of 
 a glove into which the hand was to be thrust. The 
 part applied to it was instantly wrapped up and sealed 
 by the judge and the prosecutor ; on the third day 
 the bandages were removed, and the guilt or inno- 
 cence of the party determined by the fact, whether he 
 had received any injury from the experiment. The 
 trial by boiling water was of a similar character: 
 sometimes a finger-ring was thrown into a pan or 
 
 * At this period, nearly every crime was punished by a fine. 
 Among the list of offences for which compensation could be thus 
 made, we find the following: 
 
 solidi. 
 For killing a girl free born .... 200 
 
 a slave 35 
 
 ■ a freeman 200 
 
 by thrusting him into a well . . 600 
 
 For hiring a man to steal or kill . . . 100
 
 FRENCH HISTORY. 33 
 
 kettle, and the accused required to grope for and take 
 it out. The following anecdote will illustrate this 
 extraordinary usage. A dispute having occurred be- 
 tween a Catholic and an Arian, the former observed 
 " To what purport do we argue ? let us appeal to 
 fact ; get a boiler, put it on the fire, and cast a ring 
 into it ; and he who takes it out shall convert the 
 rest of the company." The challenge being accept- 
 ed by the Arian, the Catholic politely requested him 
 to beo-in the business, which he as politely declined, 
 alleging that the other had the merit of first pro- 
 posing the mode of deciding their differences. The 
 Catholic bared his arm, and just as he was about to 
 introduce it into the boiler, a monk, accidentally pass- 
 ing by, offered himself in his stead, which was readily 
 ao-reed on. The ring was light and small, and the 
 water much agitated in boiling; nevertheless, after an 
 hour's search, the monk found it. The Arian next 
 made a similar attempt ; but in a few moments the 
 skin and flesh of his arm were destroyed ; and thus 
 the contest ended. This story is, of course, one of 
 the monkish legends invented to deceive the credu- 
 lous. It is related by Gregory, the historian of Tours, 
 in his book De gloria Martyrum. The trial by the 
 cross was rather more rational. Two pieces of wood, 
 one marked with the sign of the cross, having been 
 placed underneath the altar, the person fortunate 
 enough to select the marked piece was declared in- 
 nocent.
 
 34 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 The son and successor of Charlemagne, was 
 
 LOUIS THE FIRST, 
 
 surnamed "le Debonnaire," who had participated in 
 the government of his father during his lifetime ; and 
 who, on ascending the throne, imitated Charlemagne's 
 example by dividing his dominions among his sons, 
 and appointing Lothaire, the eldest, his immediate 
 associate. Louis was a weak king; and he had occa- 
 sion shortly to repent his misplaced confidence ; for 
 his sons entered into a conspiracy to wrest the king- 
 dom from him. They succeeded in taking prisoner 
 Judith, his second queen, their stepmother; but agreed 
 to spare her life on condition that she would persuade 
 the emperor to retire with her to a monastery, and 
 relinquish his throne. To these terms she assented ; 
 and returned to her husband. She stated to him her 
 solemn engagement to go again to the camp of his 
 sons, with whatever message he might authorize her 
 to carry. Louis gave her for answer to the rebel 
 princes, that she was at liberty to place herself in a 
 convent; but that with reference to himself, he con- 
 sidered it necessary to consult his subjects. The un- 
 happy monarch convoked an assembly at Compiegne, 
 and submitted the proposition to them. His manner 
 of doing so, however, was unworthy of his character 
 as a sovereign, and his station as a man. He declined 
 sitting on the throne, but stood near it in an humi- 
 liating posture ; confessed his personal defects and in-
 
 FRENCH HISTORY. 35 
 
 capacity to govern; and concluded by asking the ad- 
 vice of the meeting, which was deeply affected at his 
 words and appearance. Almost immediately after- 
 wards, however, Louis delivered himself up to his 
 worthless and ungrateful sons, who kept him a close 
 prisoner. Subsequently, he was accused of various 
 immoralities and high crimes, and condemned by a 
 kind of mock tribunal to a penance, which was to con- 
 tinue for life, and during which he was held incapable 
 of enjoying any title, or of discharging any public 
 duty. To this humiliating penance he was accordingly 
 subjected, and being led to the church of St. Medard, 
 at Soissons, he prostrated himself on a hair cloth, 
 spread upon the ground, confessed his guilt, and ad- 
 mitted the truth of the accusations against him. The 
 Bishop of Rheims, who presided on the occasion, put 
 a garment of sackcloth on his body, and conducted 
 him to a small cell in the monastery where he was 
 to spend the remainder of his degraded existence. 
 Some remnant of spirit was yet left in the weak- 
 minded old man; for, on being told that he must give 
 up his sword, he ungirded it from his loins and threw 
 it violently down at the bottom of the altar. From 
 this affecting but disgraceful scene, the assembled 
 people retired in sullen silence. Louis was, some 
 time after, restored ; but his mental peace was gone : 
 he died in 840, in the sixtieth year of his age. His 
 feebleness and superstition unfitted him to guide the 
 helm 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, 
 
 sumamed " 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. 
 
 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 HISTORY. 37 
 
 enterprising northern pirates, under the command of 
 Sigefrid, a, fierce but skilfal soldier, laid siege to the 
 city of Paris, which at this time 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 was 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 OF 
 
 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 
 he might easily have destroyed to a man. He died 
 A. r>. 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 
 which 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- 
 thaire the Second, and Louis the Fifth, successively 
 swayed the French sceptre, and by the death of the 
 latter, the race of the Carlovingian kings became 
 extinct, after having governed France for 237 years ; 
 when a new dynasty was called to reign over the 
 kingdom.
 
 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 son 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 
 fight 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 Carlo vingian 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 first of 
 a long race of kings, who, for several centuries, sat 
 upon 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 imbeciles, 
 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 him 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 
 
 ROBERT", 
 
 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 him, 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, being 
 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- 
 ministration 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 
 
 kins - 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. In 1059, Henry, 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*
 
 42 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 
 him, 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 God, 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 ; 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 very 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 ;
 
 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. 
 Yet the British king was not generous 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 that 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 sball attend the church of Saint 
 Genevieve, at Paris, with ten thousand spears instead 
 of wax candles." He kept his word, in part; set 
 Nantes on 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 
 
 nour of knighthood. In the field it waa 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 slung 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, I make thee a knight ; be worthy, brave, 
 and loyal !" Then his buckler and helmet being also 
 put on, he grasped his spear, and walking forth, 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 ] 108, Philip 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, 
 " I 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 effec- 
 tually fanned by the breath of Peter the Hermit — to 
 whom undoubtedly belongs the merit, or, to speak
 
 48 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 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 Placentia, 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 fivje weeks 
 they succeeded in taking the city ; when they gave 
 no quarter to the enemy, but coolly butchered every 
 man, woman, and child, within its walls ; then, as- 
 suming the habit and manner of pilgrims, they 
 marched 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 ; they produced frequent in- 
 tercourse among men during the preparations which 
 were made for the expedition ; they led to important 
 inquiries into the nature and state of the countries 
 through which they were to march, as well as of 
 those in which they were to engage in warfare ; they 
 were the occasion 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, noAV 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. William 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 save her. But the numbers that
 
 X ' 
 
 FRENCH HIS TORT. 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 go his 
 hcAd, and fell into the sea. 
 
 /Louis VI. died in 1137, and was succeeded by his 
 son, 
 
 LOUIS 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 when the inhabitants of Vetri 
 1 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 whollv 
 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, 
 are 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- 
 tied 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. 53 
 
 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- 
 
 5*
 
 54 
 
 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. In 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 dnflict 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 health by 
 means of relics of the Saints is recorded. " On the 20th July,
 
 56 BEAUTIES OP 
 
 LOUIS THE EIGHTH, 
 
 Who succeeded his father, had been 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, wdiich happened ai 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- 
 sive. So fond were the French of these spectacles, 
 
 a. r». 1191," says Rigord, "Louis, son of Philip, was taken ill 
 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 to 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, the 
 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."
 
 FRENCH 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 OP 
 
 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 scaffolds 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 
 him. " Sooner," said he, " shall I eat these stones, 
 than you shall be able to destroy by persecution the 
 religion for which I 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 mentioned, that at Beauvais one was 
 celebrated on the 11th of January, in commemoration of Jo- 
 seph's flight, with Jesus and his mother, into Egypt. A hand- 
 some young woman, with 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 repeated.
 
 FRENCH HISTORY. 59 
 
 LOUIS THE NINTH, 
 
 Named St. Louis, who was but twelve years of age 
 when 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, 1600 
 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 I 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 Saintes ; 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 OP 
 
 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 j" 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 embarking 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 Joinville. The sultan 
 commanded in person, his armour of gold reflecting 
 the sun's rays with exceeding splendour; and the 
 Turkish music Avas 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 that 
 
 n * The oriflamme, or national standard of France, was origin- 
 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 the 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 shower of missile weapons from the enemy. 
 They had scarcely secured a footing, when they pre- 
 sented an impenetrable mass of spears 5 the Egyp- 
 tians fled, and Damietta was taken. Pursuing their 
 victories, however, with more rashness than caution, 
 Louis and his army were forced to surrender at dis- 
 cretion, and were of course treated with great cruel- 
 ty ; 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 that 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, SURNAMED THE HARDT, 
 
 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 disliked by his former favourites. One of 
 
 6
 
 62 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 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. Tet 
 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, 
 
 PHILIP THE FOURTH CtHE 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, with 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 
 
 clow; 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 SIXTH. 
 
 Philip was cousin-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 horn-
 
 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 1346, 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- 
 bone. 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 assistance." 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. 1 ' 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 
 o-overnor 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-
 
 68 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. I am Avilling, 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 was 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 
 thAr 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 righting 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, I 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. 
 
 The title of " Dauphin," which is given to the 
 eldest son of the French king, was first 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, 
 
 JOHN 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 
 (1356); 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 stoqd 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 down 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 fallen 
 king, that upon one occasion John shed tears as he 
 thanked his conqueror. The captive was conducted 
 to England, and landed at South wark ; 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 size 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.
 
 FRENCH 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 were 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 church, and the canons and 
 clergy their several stations within it. After the 
 morning service, the king entered, with the arch- 
 bishops, bishops, barons, &c, who sat down, ac-
 
 72 BEAUTIES OP 
 
 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 ; Avhich 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 judgment, 
 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 on 
 the Bible. 
 
 "Te Deum," was now performed, while the arch- 
 bishops, &c, led the king forward to the altar, at 
 which he kneeled till the hymn was finished, and on 
 which were laid the royal crown, the sword un- 
 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 of 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 high constable, 
 or, in his absence, to any of the barons whom he 
 had appointed for the occasion to 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 
 Rheims with a golden twig, and reverently mixed it 
 with the chrism. The royal robe was loosened and 
 folded down off the shoulders ; the king kneeled ; 
 the litany was read; the bishops offered up three 
 several appropriate prayers ; and the 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
 
 FRENCH HISTORY. 75 
 
 with a clasp, and a ring put on the king's finger by 
 the archbishop, who said, " Receive this ring, the 
 symbol of faith, power, union, and happiness; the 
 pledge of your fidelity in defending the church 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 
 name, 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 repeated, 
 " May God crown you with glory, honour, righteous- 
 ness 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- 
 dom !" This was again followed by three prayers, 
 an address, and a concluding prayer, on the king's 
 being conducted by the peers to a throne prepared 
 for his reception. 
 
 The archbishop then, having laid aside his mitre, 
 saluted him, and proclaimed, " Long live the king !" 
 The peers each did the same, and the words resounded 
 through the assembly. The book of the Gospel 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 
 
 the throne ; a smaller crown was put on his head, 
 and, 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 foresight, 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 after the name of the inventor a la 
 Poulaine. 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 sometimes 
 branched ; and the more ridiculous they appeared, the more 
 stylish were they, as usual, considered. The clergy declaimed 
 against this fashion as unnatural 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 1363, 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, The Norman Captal de Buch, also pos- 
 sessed a high reputation. They met near Cocherel, 
 on the 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 
 a 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 ; 
 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, who was the cause of 
 the failure of his party, 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*
 
 78 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 the midst of the straggle, 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 1380, and left the throne to his son, 
 
 chari.es 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 
 subjection, 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 brooding 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 Norman
 
 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 25th 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. The 
 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 
 Alengon, and a host of nobles and knights. The loss 
 of the English was not great ; and has been variously 
 estimated at from forty persons to one thousand six
 
 80 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 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 Victorious." 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 
 called marvellous ; since, informed as we happily 
 are, we cannot deem it, as in her own time it was 
 universally 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 age, 
 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 
 strongly 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 the 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
 
 82 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 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 almost 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 two 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-a-pee, and mounted on 
 horseback, was triumphantly presented to the people 
 as the messenger of Heaven, and began her martial 
 transactions by escorting a large convoy for the sup- 
 ply of Orleans, as the English were then besieging 
 that city. She 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 with. Jleurs-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 HISTORT. 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, who 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 of the garrison, 
 her 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 from their 
 entrenchments, and was herself foremost in the battle, 
 animating and exhorting her 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 
 the troops and plant her victorious banner on the 
 ramparts of the adversary. The English no longer 
 denied that Joan was inspired, but they declared she 
 was possessed of an evil, not a good spirit. Whether
 
 84 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 " Tlie Maid of Orleans''' (an appellationgiven 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 
 she 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 latter re- 
 mained to be fulfilled. The king joined 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 he 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 else- 
 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 
 are he to whom this kingdom doth indeed belong. 1 ' 
 It is impossible to imagine one more devoid of per- 
 sonal ambition than Joan d'Arc. It is true, that 
 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 army. It is hardly to be credited, 
 that 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 Burgundv purchased, for the 
 
 8
 
 86 
 
 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 summoned 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 months, 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. Her 
 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 part of her ac- 
 cusation was wearing man's apparel : and she was 
 finally sentenced to be. delivered over to the secular 
 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 recant, 
 acknowledged the illusion of those revelations which
 
 FRENCH HISTORY. 87 
 
 the 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 maiden's enemies 
 was not yet appeased. Suspecting that the female 
 dress had been rendered uncomfortable by habit, al- 
 though she had consented to resume it, they pur- 
 posely placed in her chamber a coat of armour, and 
 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 command of Heaven, all her 
 former feelings and passions revived, and she ven- 
 tured in her solitude to clothe herself again in the 
 forbidden steel. Her base and contemptible 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 
 Rouen (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 
 letter from him to his uncle, the duke of Bedford, on
 
 88 BEAUTIES OP 
 
 the death of Joan, which he terms the u extirpation 
 of a pestilential error." 
 
 The effects of her influence, however, was felt 
 long after her death ; and although by a kind ot 
 mock coronation, the young king of England re- 
 ceived the crown of France at Rheims, it was mani 
 lest 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 piisoner 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 well 
 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 measure, 
 the splendour of his reign. His son.
 
 FRENCH HISTORY. 89 
 
 LOUIS THE ELEVENTH, 
 
 Succeeded his father, but he inherited none of his 
 father's virtues. He was thirty-eight years of age 
 when he came to the 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. Confines, 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 
 the Author of " Waverley," in his historical novel of " Quen- 
 tin Durward." 
 
 8*
 
 90 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 potentates, and the subsequent imprisonment of the 
 king. He does not assert, that Charles had it in con- 
 templation to put his royal prisoner to death; but he 
 insinuates, that the king's terror of such an event was 
 not without some foundation. The duke kept him 
 three days in painful suspense ; but at length he was 
 released, under conditions the most ignominious and 
 humiliating. 
 
 Charles was afterwards foully and treacherously 
 murdered by Campo-basso, a Neapolitan, on whom 
 he had conferred many favours. While besieging 
 Nancy, in Lorraine, the Italian deserted, leaving 
 twelve of his soldiers with orders to assassinate the 
 duke. They executed the detestable commission too 
 faithfully. It is said, that Campo-basso had previous- 
 ly offered to deliver up his master, alive or dead, to 
 Louis ; but that even Louis abhorred so black a 
 treachery, and sent intimation of it to Charles ; though 
 the infamous opinion the duke entertained of Louis, 
 induced him to neglect or despise the information. 
 "If," said he, "it were true, the king would never 
 have imparted to me so important a secret;" and he 
 even redoubled his marks of confidence towards the 
 perfidious Neapolitan. 
 
 When Louis drew near his last moments — hastened 
 by three successive strokes of apoplexy — he present- 
 ed one of the most awful pictures that the imagina- 
 tion can conceive. The cruel are always cowards ; 
 and the king shrunk with the natural terror of a base
 
 FRENCH HISTORT. 91 
 
 and wicked mind from the idea of death. He ex- 
 hausted every power of medicine, devotion, artifice, 
 to prolong his miserable existence. It has even been 
 said, that a bath of infants' blood was prepared for 
 him, in the hope that it would cure the disease under 
 which he laboured. At length, it was considered ne- 
 cessary to inform him that his end was rapidly ap- 
 proaching; but as he had often warned his officers 
 never to pronounce to him the fatal word — death, — 
 there was none willing to communicate the tidings, 
 until his strength had failed him; and the fearful sen- 
 tence was heard only when at his last gasp. 
 
 He had been long separated from his queen, an 
 excellent, though not beautiful woman; but, what 
 was of far higher importance in such a state of so- 
 ciety, she protected and aided the dissemination of 
 literature in France. A characteristic anecdote is re- 
 lated of her : — Passing accidentally through an apart- 
 ment where Alain Chartier, the most brilliant genius, 
 but the ugliest man of his age, lay asleep, she went 
 up to him, and kissed him. Her ladies reproached 
 her by their looks for this seeming violation of female 
 modesty. " It was not the man," said she, " whom 
 I kissed, but the mouth whence have proceeded so 
 many elevated sentiments." 
 
 It is asserted that the physician of Louis, James 
 Coctier, treated his master with great insolence, and 
 extorted from him immense sums of money. But he 
 owed his life to Louis's superstition ; for he informed
 
 92 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 him, that the existence of the king must inevitably 
 terminate within eight days of the death of his phy- 
 sician. 
 
 Louis died a. d. 1483, and the crown descended 
 to his son, 
 
 CHARLES THE EIGHTH. 
 
 The character of this king is given in a few words 
 by the historian Comines : — " He was the most affable 
 and sweetest-natured prince in the world. I verily 
 believe he never said a word to any man that could 
 in reason displease him." He died of apoplexy in 
 1498, and with him ended the direct line of Valois; 
 Louis duke of Orleans, who succeeded him in the 
 throne, being of a collateral branch. 
 
 LOUIS THE TWELFTH, 
 
 Almost immediately after his coronation, gave a proof 
 of temperance and generosity. When advised by 
 his courtiers to punish those who had been his ene- 
 mies during the preceding reign, he made this glo- 
 rious reply, " It becomes not a King of France to 
 revenge the quarrels of a duke of Orleans. 
 
 Louis engaged in a protracted and unprofitable war 
 with Pope Julius the Second. In this contest, a 
 young hero, whose renown has descended to pos- 
 terity, and formed the theme of many a poet's lay 
 and romantic story, first made his appearance. 
 Gaston de Foix was nephew to the king, and was
 
 FRENCH HISTORY. itt 
 
 scarcely in his twenty-third year. The Italians re- 
 garded him as a prodigy, and he was surnamed " the 
 Thunderbolt of Italy," from the intrepidity of his 
 exploits, the rapidity of his progress, and the sudden- 
 ness of his extinction. 
 
 At the battle of Ravenna he exerted all the qualities 
 of an experienced and consummate general ; yet, like 
 a young soldier, threw away his life at the moment 
 of victory. The action had been completely gained, 
 Avhen the celebrated Chevalier Bayard, seeing Gaston 
 de Foix covered with blood, rode up, and asked if 
 he was wounded ?" No," he replied, " but I have 
 wounded many of the enemy." Bayard implored 
 him on no consideration to quit the main body of the 
 army. This wholesome advice was unhappily ne- 
 glected. A Gascon runaway having informed him, 
 that a party of the enemy not only maintained their 
 ground, but were gaining some advantage, he called 
 out, "Who loves me, follows me," and instantly 
 charged them. They were, however, a body of ve- 
 terans, who, lowering their pikes, coolly received the 
 attack. Gaston's horse was first killed, and himself 
 overborne by numbers : he was bravely defended by 
 his relative, Lautrec, who, when no longer able to 
 ward off the blows aimed at him, eagerly exclaimed, 
 " Spare him, spare him, and you shall have immense 
 ransom." The appeal was made in vain; the prince 
 fell, covered with wounds ; and the gallant Bayard 
 was almost driven to madness, when riding up, he
 
 94 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 found the young hero dead upon the field that had 
 been won by his skill and courage. 
 
 In 1514, Louis the Twelfth was married to the 
 Princess Mary, sister to Henry the Eighth of Eng- 
 land, a lady of exceeding beauty. But the marriage 
 was one of mere state policy, for Louis was in the 
 decline of life, and Mary had already bestowed her 
 affections on Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, who 
 had been previously selected by Henry as his sister's 
 husband. After the death of Louis, she became the 
 wife of the duke, and was called the queen-duchess. 
 
 Louis died on the 1st January, 1515. He was the 
 most virtuous prince that had ever governed France. 
 It was proclaimed in the hall of the palace, at his 
 death, " Le bon Roi Louis douze, pere du peuple, est 
 mort." The title was deserved. In him expired the 
 elder branch of the House of Orleans, and that of 
 Angouleme succeeded to the throne. 
 
 FRANCIS THE FIRST 
 
 Was but twenty-one years of age when he became 
 king of France. Nature had endowed him with the 
 rarest and most estimable qualities of mind and per- 
 son ; very handsome, well formed, active and expert 
 in all the military as well as elegant exercises suited
 
 FRENCH HISTORY. 95 
 
 to his age and rank, courteous in his manners, boun- 
 teous even to prodigality, eloquent in the cabinet, 
 brave and skilful in the field — he seemed formed to 
 be the monarch of a great kingdom, and to rule over 
 the hearts as well as the persons of his subjects. 
 
 His first battle was fought against the Milanese. 
 Francis showed the greatest intrepidity : when it was 
 terminated, he laid himself down upon the carriage 
 of a piece of artillery, and, like Darius after the com- 
 bat of Arbela, is said to have drank with avidity a 
 little water mixed with blood and dirt, brought to 
 him in a helmet by one of his soldiers. The day 
 was won by the French, after a tremendous struggle. 
 A mareschal, who had been present at seventeen en- 
 gagements, thus described it — " this is a contest of 
 giants, but all the others were only children's play." 
 When night separated the combatants, the king, sur- 
 rounded by a few of his officers, lay down to sleep: 
 presently he received information that they were only 
 fifty paces from a large body of the enemy ; and that 
 if discovered, they must inevitably be made prisoners. 
 Uncertain in what way to proceed, the solitary torch 
 was instantly extinguished, and Francis remained 
 anxiously watching the first dawn of morn, which 
 brought relief to the party by enabling them to join 
 their companions in arms. 
 
 The year 1520 was distinguished by the meeting 
 of Francis and Henry the Eighth of England, at a 
 point situated between the towns of Guisnes and Ar-
 
 96 
 
 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 dres. « The Field of the Cloth of Gold," (as it was 
 named from the extraordinary splendour by which it 
 was distinguished, even at that period of luxury and 
 display,) has formed a theme not unworthy of the 
 pen of the historian, and a cherished subject for the 
 poet and novelist. Francis, attended by the rank, 
 beauty, and talent, that rendered his court the most 
 refined of all his contemporaries, repaired to the 
 town of Ardres ; while Henry proceeded from Calais, 
 with his queen and splendid retinue, to the frontier 
 town of Guisnes. The field in which the rival but 
 friendly monarchs first met was within the English 
 pale ; Francis, with his usual generosity, having paid 
 this compliment to the British king, in consideration 
 of his having crossed the sea to grace the ceremony 
 by his presence. It has been said by some histori- 
 ans, that the ambitious Cardinal Wolsey, as conduc- 
 tor of these august ceremonies, contrived this matter 
 to do honour to his master. Others affirm, that it 
 was proposed, in the first instance, by the French 
 king himself. i 
 
 The two monarchs received each other with much 
 pomp, and many demonstrations of kindly feeling; 
 and retired into a tent, prepared for their reception in 
 the most costly manner, to a secret conference, where 
 Henry proposed to amend the articles of their former 
 alliance. As a preliminary, he commenced reading 
 the treaty, the first words of which were — "/, Henry, 
 king;'''' he paused a moment, and subjoined only the
 
 FRENCH HISTORY. 97 
 
 words of England, without adding France, the cus- 
 tomary title then adopted by the English monarchs. 
 The propriety, courtesy, and delicacy of Henry was 
 never forgotten by Francis. Nor was this generous 
 king slow in returning the compliment ; full of ho- 
 nour, incapable of jealousy or mistrust, he was natu- 
 rally shocked at the precautions observed whenever 
 a meeting took place between Henry and himself. 
 The reckoning of guards and attendants on either 
 side — the precision with which (in compliance with 
 etiquette) every step was scrupulously measured and 
 adjusted — Francis heartily disdained ; for if the kings 
 only designed to visit the queens, they left their re- 
 spective quarters at the same time, which, we are told, 
 was marked by the firing of a culverin — passed each 
 other in the middle point between the towns, and 
 the moment Henry entered Ardres, Francis placed 
 himself in English hands at Guisnes. But the French 
 monarch resolved to terminate this endless ceremo- 
 nial ; and, accompanied by only two gentlemen and 
 his page, rode gallantly into Guisnes, and cried aloud 
 to the astonished guards, " You are all my prisoners! 
 — carry me to your master." Henry was both sur- 
 prised and charmed at the sudden appearance of his 
 kingly brother, and, according to the fashion of the 
 times, cordially embracing him, unclasped a pearl 
 collar from his throat, and begged him to wear it for 
 his sake. Francis graciously accepted the gift, on 
 condition that Henry should wear a bracelet which 
 
 9
 
 98 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 he fastened upon his arm, and which was of extra- 
 ordinary beauty and value. Confidence was thus 
 fully established between these magnificent kings, 
 and they employed the rest of their time in tourna- 
 ments and festivals. A challenge had been sent out 
 by the two princes to each other's court, and through 
 the chief cities of Europe, importing, " that Francis 
 and Henry, with fourteen aids, would be ready in the 
 plains of Picardy, to answer all comers, that were 
 gentlemen, at tilt, tournament, and barriers." It was 
 a brilliant and a glowing scene — and the historians 
 love to dwell upon it — under the blue skies of France, 
 to behold the tents, glittering in silk and gold, with 
 their floating banners, gleaming in the sunny light — 
 to hear the lone sound of the herald's trumpet — and 
 anon the harmony of many hundred instruments, pro- 
 claim that the kings of France and England had en- 
 tered the field of peaceful combat. Both sovereigns 
 were gorgeously apparelled, and both the most come- 
 ly personages of their age, as well as the most expert 
 in every military exercise. They carried off the prize 
 in all arduous and dangerous pastimes, and several 
 were overthrown by their vigour and dexterity. La- 
 dies of high rank and surpassing beauty were the 
 judges in their feats of chivalry, and put an end to 
 the rencontres whenever they deemed it necessary. 
 During a period of several days, the princes spent 
 their time in these entertainments, until their depar- 
 ture for their respective capitals. The interview.
 
 FRENCH HISTORY. 99 
 
 however, had more of show than of substance, and 
 was productive of no durable or solid friendship be- 
 tween them — gorgeous and chivalric to the extreme, it 
 was nothing more. So profuse was the expenditure, 
 and so costly the preparations that had been made, by 
 the nobles of both England and France, that " many, 
 J doubt not," says Du Belly, the historian, " carried 
 thither on their shoulders their castles, forests, and 
 lands." 
 
 A singular accident befel Francis in January, 1521. 
 The king, to amuse his leisure hours, attacked, in 
 mimic battle, with a few gentlemen, the house of one 
 of his counts — snowballs and similar missiles being 
 used by the assailants. A person on the opposite side 
 unfortunately threw a torch from a balcony, which 
 struck the king on the head, and wounded him so 
 severely that for several days his life was despaired 
 of. It became necessary to cut off his hair, which 
 he would never suffer to grow again, but introduced 
 the fashion of wearing the beard long, and the hair 
 6hort. 
 
 The unhappy differences between Francis and 
 Charles, Duke of Bourbon, the constable of France, 
 produced a destructive war between the French mo- 
 narch and the Emperor Charles the Fifth. The duke 
 had unquestionably been treated with unmerited se- 
 verity by his master — and his treason in joining the 
 emperor admits of some palliation. That monarch 
 confided his troops to the charge of his new ally; those
 
 100 BEAUTIES OP 
 
 of France were commanded by the Admiral Bonnivet; 
 and under him served the brave and distinguished 
 Chevalier Bayard. The two armies met at Romag- 
 nano, and the admiral was beaten ; he placed himself, 
 however, during his retreat, at the head of the rear 
 guard, as being the post of honour and of danger; nor 
 did he quit this station until he received a severe 
 wound from a musket-ball in the anm. He then called 
 to Bayard, and said, "you see that I am in no fit state 
 either to fight or to command. Extricate the army 
 if it be possible ; I commit it to your care." " It is 
 too late," replied Bayard: "but no matter; my soul 
 is my God's, and my life my country's." He executed 
 the charge confided to him with that noble intrepidity 
 which has immortalized his name; but he fell in the 
 performance of his duty. He has been justly de- 
 scribed as one of the most heroic and elevated spirits 
 that ever flourished in the best ages of chivalry. 
 Indeed the records of his exploits, his gallantry, his 
 munificence, and his whole character, have more the 
 air of romance than of sober history. The instances 
 related of his humanity and beneficence, even to his 
 enemies, Avould excite admiration and astonishment 
 in any age, but are almost incredible when we con- 
 sider the barbarous manner in which war was carried 
 on in the beginning of the sixteenth century. In such 
 high esteem was he held by Francis, that the king 
 requested to be made a knight by the hands of his 
 brave subject; and when Bayard would have excused
 
 FRENCH HISTORT. 101 
 
 himself, commanded that it should be done. Bayard 
 drew his sword, dubbed bim after the usual form, and 
 having pronounced the words, " In the name of God, 
 St. Michael, and St. George, I make thee a knight: 
 be worthy, brave, and loyal ; and God grant that you 
 may never flee from your enemies," kissed the wea- 
 pon, and devoted it as a relic to the service of religion. 
 The circumstances of his death have been the subject 
 of historical eulogium, and have been immortalized 
 by poets and painters. He received a mortal wound 
 by a ball from an arquebuse, and immediately cried 
 out, "Jesus, mon Dieu ! je suis mort." He then pre- 
 pared himself for death with that composure and 
 magnanimity which characterized all his actions. He 
 held up his sword before him to supply the want of 
 a crucifix, confessed himself to his steward, as no 
 priest was to be found, and comforted his friends 
 and servants under the loss that they were about to 
 sustain. The Duke of Bourbon wept over him like 
 a child. " Weep not for me," said the dying hero, 
 " weep not for me ; but for yourself. I die in the 
 service of my country ; you triumph in the ruin of 
 yours : and have far greater cause to lament your 
 victory than 1 my defeat." Thus died the Chevalier 
 Bayard — the chevalier sans peur et sans reproche. 
 
 In a subsequent battle between the Constable Bour- 
 bon and Francis, at Pava, in Italy, the king was taken 
 prisoner, and his army almost destroyed. He is said 
 to have slain several of his opponents with his own 
 
 9*
 
 102 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 hands during the engagement; and although covered 
 with wounds, and deserted by his followers, contin- 
 ued to defend himself with heroic valour, until, com- 
 pletely exhausted, two Spanish officers put their 
 swords to his throat and bade him surrender. A 
 follower of Bourbon recognized him, though his face 
 was stained with blood from a deep wound across 
 his forehead, and desired him to yield himself to the 
 constable. Francis refused to deliver up his sword 
 to a traitor, but presented it to the Viceroy of Naples, 
 who arrived on the spot just as his captors had de- 
 spoiled him of his armour, belt, and spurs. 
 
 The old Mareschal de Chabannes, who had been 
 distinguished in every battle under Charles the Eighth 
 and Louis the Twelfth, was made prisoner by Cas- 
 taldo, a Neapolitan captain. As Castaldo was con- 
 ducting him to a place of safety, he was met by Bu- 
 zarto, a Spanish officer, who judging by the mare- 
 schal's coat of mail that he was a prize of value, 
 wished to be associated with the Neapolitan in the 
 profit of his prisoner's ransom. Castaldo refused; 
 when the brutal Spaniard, with an atrocity un- 
 paralleled, shot the venerable mareschal dead at 
 his feet. 
 
 Richard de la Pole, Duke of Suffolk, also perished 
 on this fatal day. He commanded the corps of five 
 thousand men raised by the Duke of Gueldres in 
 3515, and surnamed " the Black Bands:" he was suf- 
 focated under a heap of dead bodies. Two other
 
 FRENCH HISTORY. 103 
 
 distinguished commanders were slain, Lescun Mare- 
 schal de Foix, and the Admiral Bonnivct; the former 
 Mas the declared and inveterate enemy of the latter, 
 although both fought on the side of France. When 
 conscious that he was mortally wounded, Lescun 
 became furious with rage at the idea that his mortal 
 foe must now escape his wrath ; and, only anxious 
 to punish him before his own death, sought him all 
 over the field with the hope of plunging a dagger 
 into his breast: he at length fell exhausted, and was 
 made prisoner and carried into Pavia, where he died 
 in the arms of a beau/. Jul countess, to whom he had 
 been fondly attached. 
 
 Nothing can be more heroic than the death of 
 Bonnivet, to wLose fatal advice the loss of the battle 
 was mai'ily attributable. Seeing the fortune of the 
 day wa*jf, 'lid the troops disposed to fly, he at- 
 tempted tj ally them; but, not succeeding, he raised 
 his visor, that 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 malheureux ! 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 OF 
 
 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 Roi!" 
 
 In 1 526, 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 Avas fired had proved 
 fatal to the duke of Bourbon, and was commonly at- 
 tributed to a priest ; but Benvenuto Cellini, 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- 
 session 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 "Came, 
 carne! Sangre, sangre! Bourbon, Bourbon!" and 
 every sentiment of mercy was extinguished in their 
 breasts. The pillage lasted without interruption for 
 two months ; during which every crime of whicli 
 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, who 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 contrary, 
 appears to have entered into their views with more 
 than his 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
 
 106 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 ceremonies of the church 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 conclusion 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 would not hesitate about 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 
 fire !" " Why do you not inform your mistress of 
 it ?" replied Bude, calmly ; " you know I 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 Piluseum.
 
 FRENCH HISTORY. 107 
 
 lie was the handsomest prince of the age, and one 
 of the best cavaliers in Europe ; courteous, beneficent, 
 and humane, his intentions were ever honourable, 
 but his judgment 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 Avas 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 off the 
 bandages from his wounds, soon 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 desio-nino- 
 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 the 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 
 reign. To satisfy her extravagance he had to levy
 
 FRENCH HISTORY. 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 
 nattering 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. 
 Thouo-h she was sometimes so devout as to compose 
 hymns, she was unhappily an esprit fort, 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 in- 
 spection, her answer marked a daring and inquisitive 
 mind. She said, " that having often heard the most 
 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
 
 110 BEAUTIES OP 
 
 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 
 lie 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
 
 FRENCH 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 reign of Francis was chiefly remarkable for 
 the commencement of those animosities between the 
 families of Guise and Bourbon, which produced in 
 the time of his successor effects so dreadful as to 
 leave an indelible stain upon the history of France. 
 The bright days of Francis the First, and Henry the 
 Second, the noble and animating contest for glory 
 with Charles the Fifth, and Philip the Second, were 
 succeeded by intestine confusion, rebellion, massacre, 
 and revolt Catherine de Medicis, like an evil genius, 
 mingled and embroiled all 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 OP 
 
 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 a cruel extent 
 Du Bourg, a man of distinguished talents and erudi- 
 tion, was strangled, and his body consumed to ashes. 
 At length the Calvinists began secretly to unite for 
 their common preservation. A large body of them 
 attacked the most malignant of their enemies, the 
 Guises, in the castle of Amboise ; but were discom- 
 fited, and the greater number either killed in the en- 
 counter, or hanged afterwards. Not fewer than 1200 
 suffered under the hands of 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. Villemongey, 
 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 would reply warmly, they meant 
 to take advantage of the circumstance, and despatch 
 him in the confusion, under the pretence that he had 
 threatened the life of the 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 when attacked. " If they kill me," said he to 
 one of his faithful gentlemen, " carry my shirt all 
 bloody to my wife and son ; they will read in my 
 blood what they ought to do to avenge it." Anthony 
 
 10*
 
 114 
 
 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 accordingly obeyed the king 1 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. It 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 quit his prison till he knew 
 who had been his prosecutors and accusers : but no 
 person dared to avow himself as such. The Guises 
 declared, that every step had been taken by the late 
 king's express and particular command. 
 
 Charles was but ten years and a half old when 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 wars, 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 Duke 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 immediately attacked the Huguenots, 
 and killed or wounded above two hundred and fifty. 
 
 The King of Navarre, the Prince of Conde, and the 
 Duke of Guise, fell in the course of the struggles that 
 succeeded ; the duke was assassinated, the others died 
 in battle. The Admiral Coligni was 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, 
 and 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 
 know me ?" said Montmorenci ; " I am the constable 
 of France." "Yes," answered Stuart, "I know thee 
 well, and therefore 1 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 the 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 
 him, "Learn that unruly horses do more injury than 
 service 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 would rather suffer 
 himself to be dragged through the streets of Paris 
 than renew the horrors of civil war. 
 
 Towards the beginning of 1572, the 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 little chamber of 
 the cloister of St. Germain de l'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 
 hand toward the window, said, " Le coup vient de- 
 la." 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 twilight, 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 illuminated.
 
 FRENCH HISTORY. 119 
 
 As the awful moment 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. 
 It tolled from the church of St. Germain de l'Auxer- 
 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 ; after 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 it
 
 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 Count 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 
 he 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 windows, 
 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 OP 
 
 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 to 
 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 : 
 "Sire, I have read the letter to the inhabitants of 
 Bayonne, enjoining a massacre of the Huguenots. 
 Tour 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 effect that may counteract the sickening 
 horror with which it must be read — it will induce us 
 to thank God that we live in an age, in a country,
 
 FRENCH HISTORY. 123 
 
 and under a government, whose motto is " Tole- 
 rance." 
 
 The judgment of Providence overtook the main 
 authors of the massacre of St. Bartholomew. The 
 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, he declared his brother, the Duke of Anjou 
 and king of Poland, his successor. 
 
 The infamous Catherine lived until 15S9, 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 consulted a famous astrologer 
 on the fortunes of all her children, and he showed 
 her 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 
 Charles 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 Avhat 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 waa
 
 FRENCH HISTORY. 125 
 
 so 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 ; I 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 Avhich 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 them, 
 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 the 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 the 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 one 
 more," and instantly drew forth his knife, and stabbed him. '
 
 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. In 1581, he passed over to England for the 
 purpose of offering marriage to Queen Elizabeth, 
 with 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 affection ought to be ex- 
 cluded — between one political plan and another, she 
 decided against his pretensions ; and having sent for 
 him, informed him of her final determination. 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 HISTORT. 129 
 
 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 
 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 
 bold and intrepid, without rashness ; and his imagi- 
 nation and passions were, in the main, restrained by 
 a steady judgment and a sense of duty. 
 
 Such is the fair side of the picture of "Henri 
 Quatre," which the historians of his reign, and the 
 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, 
 describing the state of absolute poverty in which he then was. 
 " I am, says this amiable and worthy prince, in a letter to me" 
 — thus writes Sully — "very near my enemies, and hardly a 
 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- 
 ble."
 
 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 
 greatness 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; and, in short,
 
 132 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 that his implacable 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 very 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 
 condition onty, 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 was 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 OP 
 
 there 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 the 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, he 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 
 his enthusiastic soldiery.* A signal victory was 
 
 * One 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. 
 Its 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 famine ; 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 
 their aid. 
 
 Several battles were subsequently fought, and, on 
 the whole, to the disadvantage of Henry, who 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."
 
 138 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 was 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. This he endeavoured, by the following con- 
 trivance, to perform. He had agreed 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 they climbed. One 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 wound 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 hallway 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 OF 
 
 the boldest amongst them trembled; as in 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 poniard, 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 
 been — however necessary it might have become, cer- 
 tainly detracts from his reputation, and tarnishes his
 
 FRENCH HISTORY. 139 
 
 honour. One tiling 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 todefend 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 insult- 
 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 OF 
 
 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 Catholic 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 kin^
 
 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 
 first 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 witbout 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 OP 
 
 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 now he had proof of it from his own." 
 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 
 Avar : 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,
 
 ' FRE.VCH HISTORY. 143 
 
 were men of wisdom and integrity 5 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 current 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 
 suffered 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 ; so that they seldom met 
 without quarrelling. The queen, having been in- 
 formed that the king had given this lady a promise
 
 144 BEAUTIES OP 
 
 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
 
 FRENCH HIST0RT. 145 
 
 ftian 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 wife disagreeable in 
 person and mind — I shall require in her I marry 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 Infanta of Spain he was 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 Gabrielle D^strees (the 
 
 13
 
 146 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 predecessor of the Marchioness of Vernueil") after- 
 wards created bv him duchess of Beaufort, that she 
 absolutely aspired to share his crown. Fortunately 
 for the glory of his name, and the honour of France, 
 the steadiness of his 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 ambassador suddenly entered 
 the apartment and surprised him in this attitude. The 
 monarch, without moving from it, said to him, " Mon- 
 sieur l'Ambassadeur, have you any children ?" " Yes,
 
 FRENCH HISTORY. j47 
 
 sire," replied he. " Very well ; then I shall finish 
 my race round the chamber." 
 
 lie was ever ready to make reparation, when the 
 impetuosity of his temper had led him for a moment 
 to be unjust. A certain colonel, to whom he was at- 
 tached, came to take orders previous to an engage- 
 ment, and availed himself of the opportunity to re- 
 quest payment of a sum which was due to him. The 
 king hastily told him it was unlike a man of honour 
 to ask for money when he ought to have been attend- 
 ing to the orders for battle. Immediately after, when 
 Henry was ranging his troops, he went up to the of- 
 ficer, and said, " Colonel, we are now in the field — 
 perhaps we shall never meet again — it is not just that 
 1 should deprive a brave gentleman of his honour — I 
 came therefore to declare, that I know you to be an 
 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 me 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; 
 end, 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 the 
 king. "Ventre saint Gris ! Don't you see how many 
 calves are following me ?"
 
 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- 
 cons ; 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 
 sudd-enly 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. It 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 hither 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 every 
 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 or 
 
 obliged to conceal his name. L'Etoile relates, that 
 Henry having read a book called The 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 would 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 dogs 
 at a distance, and expressed much displeasure at the 
 liberty which 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, JWatlendez vous, attend me ; 
 M'cntendezvous, hear me; or, Amendez vous, reform 
 yourself — and vanished, for neither the king nor those 
 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 Thon to publish his history, 
 and took this excellent work under his own protec- 
 tion : silencing the cabals and clamours of the cour- 
 iers and priests against it. " It is I," said this prince, 
 in a letler he wrote on the subject to his ambassador 
 at Rome, " it is I that have given orders for its pub- 
 lication and sale." He regarded the work as a monu- 
 ment of genius raised on the altar of veracity. 
 
 His observation to a Spanish ambassador deserves to 
 be recorded. Being surrounded and pressed upon by 
 his officers at court, the proud Spaniard was shocked 
 at 60 much familiarity. "You see nothing here," 
 said the king ; " they 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 his 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 court 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 anv 
 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 towards 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 army, 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 king than he. Death cannot 
 be bribed by riches nor awed 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 
 this even/, or been satisfied that it was time for him
 
 154 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 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 minute accuracy 
 by several historians, and only differing in some minor 
 points : it took place on the 14th of May, 1610. 
 
 Francis Ravaillac, 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 
 his 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, 
 he returned again to Angouleme. Here, however, he 
 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 Bridge 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 of Epernon, who sat 
 on the same side with him, und the Duke de Montba- 
 zon the Mareschal de Lavardin, Roquelaine la Force, 
 Mirabeau, and Liancour. The carriage passing from 
 the street St. Honore into that of Ferronerie, was pre- 
 vented from proceeding by a cart on the right loaded 
 with 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 hind wheel, 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, u I am wounded ! " At 
 the same 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 those 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 with such precipitation, that they hindered 
 each other from seizing the regicide; who, however,
 
 156 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 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 his people, who were led to 
 believe that he was only wounded. But when it was 
 known throughout Paris that he was certainly dead, 
 the whole city presented a scene of which it is im- 
 possible for language to give an adequate description; 
 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 
 times denominated the Great — in the fifty-eighth year 
 of his age, the thirty-eighth of his reign as King of 
 Navarre, and the twenty-first as King of France. 
 By his first wife, Margaret of Valois, he had no chil- 
 dren ; by 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 
 punishment that was ever inflicted by a judicial court 
 upon any human being — however heinous his guilt. 
 
 On the 17th of May, the trial of Francis Ravaillac 
 commenced : the great object of his judges was to in- 
 duce him to confess who were his accomplices — as
 
 FRENCH HISTORY. 157 
 
 it was generally believed, that there were many impli- 
 cated in 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 kino- intended to ens-age 
 in a war against the. Pope, and because he conceived 
 himself called by Omnipotence to remove him out 
 of the way of the Catholics. 
 
 On the 27th of May, the court met and issued the 
 following order : 
 
 "We, the presidents and several of the councillors 
 being present, the prisoner Francis Ravaillac 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 that 
 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 those 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 brodequin. On 
 
 14
 
 158 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 t 
 
 the first wedge being driven, he cried out, " God have 
 mercy upon my soul, and pardon the crime I have 
 committed ! 1 never disclosed my 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, " 1 am a 
 sinner ; I know no more than I have declared by the 
 oath I have taken, and by the truth which I owe to 
 God and to the court. I beseech the court not to 
 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 I owe to God, I 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 
 
 i 
 
 it; and being quite speechless, he was released from 
 the torture, and water thrown upon his face and hands. 
 
 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 scaffold the tor- 
 tures again commenced. 
 
 On the fire being put to his right hand, holding 
 the knife with which he had stabbed the king, he
 
 FRENCH HISTORY 159 
 
 cried 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 which, 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 he ought not 
 to have a moment's respite : afterwards, melted lead 
 and scalding oil were, in turn, poured upon his 
 wounds, which made him shriek aloud, and pour 
 forth doleful cries and exclamations. 
 
 He 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 their 
 exclamations, in token of their grief for the loss of 
 the king. Several persons set themselves to pull the 
 ropes with the utmost eagerness ; and one of the no- 
 blesse, who was near the criminal, alighted from his 
 horse, 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, rushing on in crowds, threw 
 themselves upon him, and with swords, knives, sticks, 
 and other weapons, they struck, tore, and mangled 
 his limbs, and violently forcing them from the exe- 
 cutioner, dragged them through the streets with the
 
 160 BEAUTIES OP 
 
 greatest rage, and burnt them in different 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 tome," 
 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 
 
 what 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 
 my curiosity to gain a thorough knowledge of young 
 Servin, I found him to be at once both a Avonder and 
 t monster; for J 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 thing that 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 
 taken 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 written 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 glutton ; 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. 1 ' 
 
 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 saluted 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 was in his own 
 apartment, and that he was thinking of his affairs, as 
 1 might do of mine. Although I was a little sur- 
 prised at his impertinence, I, 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 
 some 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 OP 
 
 ' has the king sent for you ? Pray tell me on what 
 day and hour you received his letters, and also at 
 Avhat 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 our author heard, 
 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 must seek 
 for another door, if you please ; for I do not imagine 
 that 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, I am persuaded you 
 will not refuse to let me sit among those fair ladies ;
 
 FRENCH HISTORY. 165 
 
 since, swarthy as I am, my name is Pimcntel ; I 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 
 kinsf. ' How ! ventre de ma vie ! said I to him, 1 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 ; I am not to be prevailed upon by your gibber- 
 ish.' The kins: 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 1 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 1601. 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, that 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 tilings happened, he 
 dedicated the book to the best bidder, but the worst 
 man. Another, who now rests from his labours, had 
 prepared a dedication, or rather 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, commending 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 his 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 
 find his own first, and taking precedence of all others; 
 which could not but be bountifully rewarded, as being
 
 FRENCH HISTORY. 167 
 
 a very flattering distinction. These letters v.'ere justly- 
 termed golden letters ; 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 
 title of the Sappho of her age. 
 
 Lewis Birto 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- 
 lon'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 Cril Ion'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; however, without being at
 
 168 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 all disconcerted 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 that had been played upon him ; he there- 
 upon assumed a look much sterner than when he only 
 thought of going to light, and squeezing the Duke of 
 Guise's hand, said to him, swearing at the same time, 
 K 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 saying 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, Mary 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 1611, 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 OF 
 
 master, now her betrothed husband. " Tell him," 
 paid she, " that I am impatient to see him." This an- 
 swer appearing indelicate to the Countess of Altamira, 
 her governess ; " what," said she, " will the king of 
 France think of a princess so ardent for marriage ?" 
 w Have you not taught me," replied the 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 wealth 
 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, he 
 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 the city in his 
 carriage, was stopped by force. " Villain," said he 
 to Picard, a shoemaker, then officer of the guard, 
 "do yon not know me ?" " That I do," replied Pi- 
 card, firmly, and with 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 and 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 few days hanged 
 at the very gate where the affair took place The 
 Mareschal, finding he had not power enough to save 
 the lives of his servants, made another effort 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 
 mareschal's entering the Louvre in the morning, as 
 usual, Vitri seized him by the arm, saying he was his 
 prisoner. The mareschal was surprised, and strug- 
 gled ; other attendants of the guard instantly advanced, 
 and shot him dead with their pistols, then stabbed the 
 corpse with their swords, and kicked it with their 
 feet. His 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 was 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 go- 
 vernment, it is stated that two soldiers of the guards 
 fought 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 court-martial ; and, on 
 being refused, broke open the prison and took him 
 away by force. A complaint having been laid before 
 parliament, the colonel-general was cited to appear, 
 and answer for his conduct. He obeyed, but came 
 attended 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 w-ar with Spain ; a severe 
 persecution of the Huguenots ; domestic differences 
 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 1621, 
 they appeared in open arms against 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 Dn Plessis Mornay. When this 
 excellent and accomplished man was offered a sum 
 of 100,000 crowns to surrender Saumur, of which 
 place he was 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 I 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 
 heart of him who shall first propose to surrender the 
 city, — not excepting myself from this doom ; for 
 
 15*
 
 174 
 
 BEAUTIES 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. 175 
 
 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 was permitted to cabal in the very 
 cabinet; they therefore resolved to place her, at least 
 for a time, at a distance from the seat of government. 
 On the 23d of February, Louis went away early 
 to bunt, 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, on 
 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 Capelle, of which he is 
 governor, and where your power is absolute. I 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 could not enter the city, as 
 he had no longer the charge of it, having committed 
 it to his father. I leave you to judge of my distress,
 
 17G BEAUTIES OF 
 
 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 comparative 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 
 affairs, 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 
 would 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 wrote 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 show 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 majesty, in order to have a money 
 edict registered ; when the time came, the court was 
 deserted by the whole of its members, and no person 
 was left either to receive the count or to register the 
 edict. Richelieu was offended, the 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, who was charged with high 
 crimes and misdemeanors in the conduct of the 
 army, and who had certainly been guilty of some 
 peculations usually connived at in other officers. His 
 real offence, however, was, that during Louis's illness 
 at Lyons, he had advised the queen-mother, if the 
 king died, to apprehend Richelieu and his friends, 
 and to deal with them as circumstances might direct. 
 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 certain. They 
 proved the charge, and, after diligent search, found 
 an old law, which declared peculators liable to pu- 
 nishment in body and goods (confiscation de corps ct 
 de liens). This 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 foregoins; 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 uncompromising love of 
 freedom which had been so general during the reicm 
 of the great and good Henry IV. The Duke of Or- 
 leans, brother 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 
 with the king, and so to ruin him publicly, or to re- 
 move 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 
 jrone. 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 fata] 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 hours 
 he must die. In the fifty-eighth year of his age, and 
 the eighteenth of his ministry, he departed this life, 
 having declared, during his last moments, that "he 
 forgave his enemies," of whom he had many, " as 
 freely as he hoped for the Divine forgiveness." 
 
 Richelieu was one of the most remarkable men of 
 the age in which he lived. Ambitious, proud, irrita-
 
 180 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 Slavonic 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 the 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 XIII. 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 - . 18] 
 
 became absolutely necessary to him — one to govern 
 the country, another to amuse him; 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 threatening 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 
 his 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 affairs 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 
 6end 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 time alone with Ai- 
 de Sully. 
 
 Of the literary men who flourished during the 
 reign of Louis the Thirteenth, the most distinguished 
 after Richelieu 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 inatiere d'amour je suis fort inegal ; 
 Pen ecris assez bien, et le fais assez mal, 
 J' ai la plume feconde, el !a bouche sterile ; 
 Bon galant an theatre, et fort mauvaise en ville, 
 Et 1'on peut rarement m'ecouter sans ennui 
 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 his honesty than for the singularity of his reli-
 
 FRENCH HISTORY. ]83 
 
 gious opinions. A print of him was published without 
 hands ; the oddity was explained by an epigram, the 
 substance of which is, "How! Pasquier without 
 hands ?" " 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 the most modest diffidence of him- 
 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 edition 
 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, u which I made 
 into Languedoc, I 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 fowl wanted either a leg, a wing, or 
 some other part. ' Why,' said the prelate, merrily, 
 4 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.' Upon 
 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 — u How!" said he; 
 " do philosophers meddle with dainties ?" u 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 Conde, Cardinal Ma- 
 zarin, Pierre Seguier, chancellor, Bouthillier superin- 
 tendent of finance, and Chavigne his son. The king- 
 dom, although in a state of internal peace, still con- 
 tinued to be oppressed with a foreign war. Spain 
 and Austria were at this time her enemies. In 1648, 
 however, chiefly by the exertions and valour of the 
 celebrated Mareschal de Turenne, a treaty was con- 
 cluded at Munster in Westphalia, between France and 
 Austria, which left her Spain only to contend with. 
 The peace was a seasonable relief to France, for she 
 was then>egitated and distracted by internal factions, 
 and the commencement of actual hostilities at home, 
 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 time when the state 
 necessities required a decrease rather than an increase 
 of the public burdens. Parliament had again and 
 again protested against the impolitic course pursued ; 
 but it was always compelled, either by persuasion or 
 threats, to register the money edicts and give them 
 the authority of law. At length the chambers united 
 in a powerful combination against the government ; 
 and the spirit by which they were animated naturally 
 spread itself among the people, who assembled tu- 
 multuously in various parts of the city, and ultimately 
 prepared themselves for a well-arranged and vigorous 
 plan of insurrection. 
 
 16*
 
 185 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. Jn 
 the end, however, the king and his ministers found 
 themselves under the necessity of making some con- 
 cessions ; but they availed themselves of the very 
 earliest opportunity to intimidate the opposition, 
 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 Broussel 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 they 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 the 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 1 do. 
 I deplore the dangerous state of the public, who are
 
 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 determined 
 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 him 
 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 : the coadjutor then issued his orders, the alarm- 
 drum was beat, every agent was at his post; and one 
 of them, named Argenteuil (a gentleman of rank, dis- 
 guised as a mason), at the head of a large body of 
 citizens, attacked the soldiery, killed several, took 
 from them their standard, and put them to flight; and 
 within 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 will protect you." 
 They were received by the king, the queen, the duke 
 of Orleans, the cardinal, Etc. 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. w 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 
 
 members 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 
 resolved 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 terreur), 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 which he went 
 back to the palace. Having again obtained an au- 
 dience, he represented with 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 was unmoved ; but the Duke of Or- 
 leans, and even the cardinal, with the other courtiers 
 present, becoming alarmed, intreated 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, 1 must consent. Go, and take 
 such steps as the crisis requires." The le tires de cachet 
 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 following 
 day. Then, by order of parliament, the barricadoes 
 instantly fell; the shops were opened ; and the whole 
 city became orderly and quiet. 
 
 But although the 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 was con- 
 demned to perpetual banishment, 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 state, 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 sum 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 had 
 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. In the year 16G0, this ambitious and 
 extraordinary man died. 
 
 Soon after the death of the Cardinal Mazarin, an 
 event of a very inexplicable nature occasioned much 
 conversation and conjecture throughout France : — 
 A person, evidently of distinction, was conveyed to
 
 192 BEAUTIES OP 
 
 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 
 when 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- 
 nor 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 his
 
 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 was 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 OP 
 
 narch underwent a sudden, but total change : day after 
 dav his people beheld vigour and perseverance in the 
 cabinet, a condescending attention to the petitions of 
 his 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 
 the various departments of tbe state, the army, and 
 the 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 se\ r eral other 
 most powerful states of Europe, he continued to aug- 
 ment his territory and increase his power. . The cam- 
 paign of 1675 was rendered, unhappily, memorable by 
 the death of Tnrenne, 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 the enemy. While breakfasting under 
 a tree, he was informed that their troops were in 
 motion : he instantly mounted his horse, and while 
 reconnoitering, a ball struck him on the stomach, and
 
 FRENCH HISTORY. 195 
 
 killed him. It was impossible to conceal his death, 
 which spread universal consternation over the camp, 
 and rendered the officers and soldiers equally inca- 
 pable of action. Every one seemed as if he had lost 
 a friend and a father. 
 
 The enemy, who had begun their retreat, now re- 
 turned to their 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 ought to 
 pursue, and resolved at last to abandon their stores 
 at Wilstat. and to retreat across the Rhine. They 
 were pursued by the foe, who fell upon their rear. 
 The eno-affement 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. They continued their retreat, however, 
 and were followed by the imperialists into Alsace. 
 
 The death of Turenne at so critical a moment sud- 
 denly changed the state and spirit of the French ar- 
 mies, and was severely felt all over the kingdom. 
 Louis was greatly afflicted, 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 chestnut colour ; his 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 was 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- 
 sentment, 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 so 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 was the character of the 
 Mareschal de Turenne, 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. 
 
 The war continued until the year 1678, and was 
 then 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 the whole 
 population of France ; but it is calculated that the 
 persecutions they suffered in his time reduced them 
 to one half that number ! Many thousands of them 
 were massacred ; six thousand were driven out of the 
 kingdom ; they emigrated in immense parties ; and the 
 rovocation of the edict of Nantes — which took place 
 in 1685, completed their destruction. In 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 from 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 
 honourable, 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 theirparents to be educated as 
 Catholics; and 300 churches were shut 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 affairs to courts in 
 which their enemies were the only judges. The 
 consequence was, that in almost 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 autho- 
 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 remined in Vivares and Dauphine, ex- 
 asperated by the various hardships to which they 
 were exposed, became impatient and reckless of 
 life, and rose in arms against their immediate oppres- 
 sors. But, without 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 tjpe court to believe that an 
 armed force was necessary, and dragoons were ac- 
 cordingly quartered on the reformed families over all 
 the provinces. The king fancied that the mere ap- 
 pearance of soldiers would subdue the spirit of the 
 people, and terminate all opposition to the authority
 
 200 BEAUTIES OP 
 
 and prevalence of the Catholic church. He was not 
 aware that persecution 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 both 
 church and state. 
 
 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 sufferings ; many also attempted to es- 
 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 A antes; 
 after this event, the sole object of their oppressors 
 was to root them altogether out of the land. It is 
 only wonderful that they did not succeed to the full- 
 est extent; for, although above a million of the per- 
 secuted Protestants sought refuge in other countries, 
 a considerable number remained, notwithstanding 
 their dreadful situation. 
 
 1 It is said, that the revocaiionof the edict of Nantes 
 was chiefly owing to the influence possessed by 
 Madame de Maintenon over the mind of the king; 
 and the suspicion that such was the case has thiown 
 a slur over the memory of this excellent woman. 
 It is, however, very unlikely that the charge has any
 
 FRENCH 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 
 unquestionably indebted for much of the greatness 
 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 shut 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.
 
 202 BEAUTIES OP 
 
 For some time they lived prosperously in Martinique; 
 but on the death of Theodore, his wife and children 
 were left totally destitute. The mother returned to 
 France, and, after some tiirn, her daughter, now about 
 seven years of age, was sent to her, and was received 
 by Madame de Vilette, her father's sister, and brought 
 up by her in the Protestant religion ; but was after- 
 wards, by the influence of her mother and another 
 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 the 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 time for the interview ; a 
 second 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 afterwards without an imprecation. 
 
 When he was dying, his friends shed many tears, 
 and uttered great lamentation. Scarron beheld the 
 scene unmoved, only observing, "You will never cry 
 for me so much as 1 have made you laugh." 
 
 Meantime, his wife, 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, bv 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- 
 iine 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 
 offered 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 to 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 HISTORY. 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 
 supped 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, in 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 Maintenon, 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 becamf 
 very embarrassing. The king required her constant 
 attendance: she saw the strength of his at'achment 
 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 deChanvalon, 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, lhat 
 in those times there were no registers kept of such 
 transactions. She herself left no trace of it ; hut de- 
 stroyed all letters and papers whatsoever that had the 
 least reference to it; and is said only once to have 
 betrayed the secret. w 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, 1 said she, k my good mother; 
 
 * Voltaire says that Louis was induced to many her by the 
 advice of this Pere.
 
 FRENCH HISTORY. 207 
 
 ) iu may always admit me.'" The circumstances of 
 e idence are, her great circumspection and prudence 
 ir 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 his 
 knees, and presenting a hilt of a dagger to the king, 
 said, " Kill me, that f may never see you dishonour 
 yourself in the eyes of all Europe." Harlay Bossuet,
 
 208 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 and Fenelon, those dignitaries of the church whom 
 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 were 
 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 years 
 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 throne 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 with 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. He 
 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 5th 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. 
 Next day he went to visit her, and was conversing 
 
 18*
 
 210 
 
 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 with her, when the arrival of her royal husband was 
 announced. 
 
 Louis went immediately out and received him at the 
 gate. James 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 to see." After introducing to him the princes 
 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 to 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 was equally 
 becoming a good man and a great king. 
 
 In 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, with 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 was 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
 
 FRE.VCH 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, notwith- 
 standing the inclemency of the season, leave their 
 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 the 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. 1702, 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 OF 
 
 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 bad 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 
 dauphiness (the Duke and Duchess of Burgundy), 
 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, in 
 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 muies 
 belonging to Louis, carried three boxes of presents 
 from the King of Persia. He was introduced on the 
 19th, when the French monarch, notwithstanding his 
 age and infirmities, appeared to great advantage. 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 Vive le Roi ! 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 I thank
 
 FRENCH HISTORY. 215 
 
 you for the affection and fidelity with which you 
 have always served me. I wish I 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 he was attached to Mademoiselle 
 Mancine (an Italian) ; and the facility with which he
 
 216 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 
 to 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- 
 quieu, Rollin, Scarron, Boileau, and Madame de
 
 FRENCH HISTORY!". 217 
 
 Seviffne. 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 Dacier. 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 Homer. 
 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 ornamenlP — The harmony and 
 
 19
 
 218 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 happiness by which the lives of these celebrated per« 
 sons were distinguished is even a more delightful 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 inlo 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 mind equally so, the passions which 
 such an assemblage must excite would be too vehe- 
 ment; but when the graces of youth begin to wither, 
 the. i 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 Moliere. 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, 
 who, as usual, was present at the 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 or 
 
 a week after, however, the play was again perfoiTned. 
 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 ! 
 
 t 
 
 LOUIS THE FIFTEENTH 
 
 The great-grandson of Louis the Fourteenth, at the 
 age of five years was called to the throne of France, 
 on the 1st of September, 1715 — the Duke of Orleans, 
 having been appointed by the 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 dauphiness, 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 addressing the parliament ; " but in 
 doing good I 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 ; iho 
 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 o{ 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 conn- 
 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 winch 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 but a few 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 preceptor, 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 afterwards 
 she gave birth to a son, an event which caused the 
 most lively joy to the whole court and kingdom. 
 The queen was beautiful, amiable, and accomplished; 
 and 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 Madame de Mailly; and became addicted 
 to wine and private gossiping, unworthy, not merely 
 of a monarch, but of a man. In the year 1743, he 
 sustained a severe loss in the death of Cardinal Fleury, 
 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, the 
 Almighty is forbidden to work any mere miracles 
 here." 
 
 Upon the death of his prime minister, Louis, like 
 many of his predecessors, resolved and declared that
 
 224 BEAUTIES OP 
 
 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 5ih 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, employed 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;
 
 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 inherit 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 OF 
 
 Strasburg to Paris. The dresses and entertainments 
 on the road were proportionality sumptuous 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 
 fire-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 which 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, which led to re- 
 bellion, and then to atrocities incredible, but that the 
 living witnesses of them are still among us, were 
 Voltaire and Rousseau. The genius of the former, 
 his extensive erudition, his eloquence, and his wit, all 
 contributed to forward the grand object, for the ac- 
 complishment of which he spoke and wrote ; and uu- 
 happily, the progress of infidelity found at that time
 
 228 BEAUTIES OP 
 
 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 within 
 a short period after the poison had been administered, 
 the whole body became corrupt. The French Revo- 
 lution will be remembered while the Avorld 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. 
 
 229 
 
 LOUIS THE SIXTEENTH, 
 
 Grandson of Louis the Fifteenth, inherited the crown 
 of France on the 10th of May, 1774. 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 was 
 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 OF 
 
 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 Fiance. 
 
 We pass over the period of the French Revolution, 
 which furnishes but few of the Beauties of French 
 History, in order to arrive at the brilliant period when 
 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 Bailie of Lodi. 
 
 The bridge of Lodi gives name to an action that 
 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 where 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 was crowned 
 with complete success. 
 
 Napoleon'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 OP 
 
 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 
 affairs, and although the army has often beei>. tmder 
 the necessity of acting with great audacity, T ,o'.bing 
 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 sucMen 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 such 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 victoiy, 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, perceiving 
 the imminent risk Napoleon ran, thus addressed him 
 in the unsophisticated language of a camp — " Stand 
 aside I 1 ' — 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 length, in order to give animation to the com- 
 pany, requested to know Bonaparte's age, adding 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 I 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 whole 
 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 western 
 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 night, of which they most gladly took the advan- 
 tage. 
 
 Notwithstanding this harrassed state of the army, it
 
 236 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 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 the 
 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 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 his 
 musket, " the battle was obstinate and Ion"- 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 1815. While 
 he was haranguing the first battalion, which he found 
 it necessary to address, a voice from the ranks ex- 
 claimed, ;t Vive notre petit Caporal ! we will never 
 fight against hiin !" 
 
 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- 
 6Jdor, the eighth year of the republic. It was his
 
 238 BEAUTIES OP 
 
 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 
 in 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 : " Jt 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 fifty 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'lierbois. 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 ", 
 
 Verninac Prelect. 
 
 In the name of tlie greatful Lyonese. 
 
 On (he 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- 
 paued to the hotel of the Prefect, where a sumptuous 
 breakfast was prepared. He 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." 
 
 Napoleon wounded in Italy and other places. 
 It has 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 Echmuhl. "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 Vincennes 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 OP 
 
 received 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 
 mi. fortunes never has ihe 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 k Vive 
 l'Empereur ." " 
 
 His Generosity to the Veteran General Wurmser. 
 
 For several days after the decisive actions, which 
 left him without a shadow of hope of relief, VVunuser 
 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 
 v liether 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 distinction was present, 
 mulllcd 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 unconsumed. This 
 trait of generosity towards a gallant but unfortu- 
 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. His 
 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 one, climbed through the cre- 
 vices of the ice-rock, and in rive hours they reached 
 the convent of St. Peter. The descent was yet more 
 perilous. The infantry cut short the difficulty 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 his departure for this campaign, 
 traced a slight 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 
 Austrians from the passage of the Tyrol j" and ho
 
 FKENCH HISTORY. 
 
 245 
 
 finishes the sketch with these words : " It is at the 
 gates of Vienna, that 1 shall give yon 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 
 ecope to his 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 can- 
 quest, the effects of which, upon the civilization and 
 commerce of the world, are incalculable. You will 
 strike a blow, the surest and most vital which England 
 cap receive, until you give her her death-stroke. 
 
 21*
 
 246 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 We shall have to make some fatiguing marches ; to 
 engage in a few combats : but success will crown 
 our exertions. The 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 
 muftis 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 
 synagogues — to the religion of Moses and of Jesus 
 Christ. The Roman legions protect all religions. 
 You will find here usages different from those of 
 Europe : it is proper that you habituate yourselves to 
 them. 
 
 " The inhabitants treat their women differently 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 recollections, worthy of exciting 
 the 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 the 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 effect. 
 
 Disembarkation of the 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 Alexandria in arms, preparing for a 
 defence; and he wished positively to land in spite o 
 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 Alexandria 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 ?" 
 
 Napoleojfs Alarm 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 ju.U cal- 
 culation." 
 
 Turkish Humanity towards the French Jlrmy 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 war. 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, were 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 with 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 the 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 E.\D.
 
 HARPER'S FAMILY LIBRARY. 
 
 Books that you may hold readily in your hand are the most 
 useful, ajtcr all. — Dr. Johnson. 
 
 The above-named series, extending to 173 volumes, 
 comprises a rich and varied collection of works in the 
 several departments of literature, forming a most valuable 
 circle of useful, instructive, and entertaining knowledge, 
 idapted for popular use. The utmost care has been taken, 
 not only to exclude whatever can have an injurious influ- 
 ence on the mind, but to embrace every thing calculated 
 to strengthen the best and most salutary impressions. 
 
 No family ought to be without this library, as it furnishes the readiest 
 resources for that education which ought to accompany or succeed that 
 of the boarding-school or the academy, and is infinitely more conducive 
 than either to the cultivation of the intellect. — Monthly Review. 
 
 CONTENTS OF THE SERIES. 
 
 1,2,3.— MILMAN'S HISTORY OF THE JEWS. $120. 
 4, 5.— HISTORY OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 90cents. 
 6.— SOUTHEYS LIFE OF LORD NELSON. 45 cents. 
 7.— LIFE OF ALEXANDER THE GREAT. 45 cents. 
 8,74.— NATURAL HISTORY OF INSECTS. 90 cents. 
 9-GALT'S LIFE OF LORD BYRON. Portrait, 40 cents. 
 10.— BUSH'S LIFE OF MOHAMMED. Engravings, 45 cents. 
 11.— SCOTT'S LETTERS ON DEMONOLOGY. 40 cents. 
 12, 13.— GLEIGS HISTORY OF THE BIBLE. 80 cents. 
 14.— DISCOVERY IN THE POLAR REGIONS. 45 cents. 
 15.-CROLYS LIFE OF GEORGE IV. 45 cents. 
 16.-DISCOVERY AND ADVENTURE IN AFRICA. 45 cts. 
 
 17, 18, 19, 66, 67.— CUNNINGHAM'S LIVES OF EMINENT 
 
 PAINTERS AND SCULPTORS. Portraits, $2 10. 
 
 20.— JAMES'S CHIVALRY AND THE CRUSADES. 45cts. 
 21,22.— LIFE OF MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS. 85 cents. 
 23.— ANCIENT AND MODERN EGYPT. 45 cents. 
 24.-FLETCHERS HISTORY OF POLAND. 45 cents.
 
 harper's family library. 
 
 25.— smith's festivals, games, and amuse- 
 MENTS, ANCIENT AND MODERN. 45 cents. 
 
 26.— BREWSTER'S LIFE OF SIR ISAAC NEWTON. 45cts. 
 27.— RUSSELL'S PALESTINE. 45 cents. 
 28.— MEMES'S MEMOIRS OF JOSEPHINE. 45 cents. 
 29.— COURT AND CAMP OF BONAPARTE. 45 cents. 
 30.— LIVES AND VOYAGES OF DRAKE, CAVENDISH, 
 AND DAMPIER, Account of the Bucaniers, &c. 45 cents. 
 
 31.— BARROW'S DESCRIPTION OF PITCAIRNS ISL- 
 AND, &c. 45 cents. 
 
 32, 72, 84.— SACRED HISTORY OF THE WORLD. $135 
 
 33, 34.-JAMESONS FEMALE SOVEREIGNS. 80 cents. 
 35, 36.— LANDERS' TRAVELS IN AFRICA. 90 cents. 
 37.— ESSAY ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. 45 cts. 
 38, 39, 40.- LIVES OF CELEBRATED TRAVELLERS. $125. 
 41,42.— LIFE OF FREDERIC THE GREAT. 90 cents. 
 
 43, 44.— SKETCHES FROM VENETIAN HISTORY. 90 cts. 
 45, 46.— THATCH ER'S INDIAN BIOGRAPHY. 90 cents. 
 47,48,49.— MURRAY'S BRITISH INDIA. $135. 
 50.— BREWSTER'S NATURAL MAGIC. 45 cents. 
 51,52.— TAYLOR'S HISTORY OF IRELAND. 90 cents. 
 53.— DISCOVERY IN NORTH AMERICA. 45 cents. 
 54.— HUMBOLDT'S TRAVELS. 45 cents. 
 55, 56.— EULER'S NATURAL PHILOSOPHY. 90 cents. 
 67.— POPULAR GUIDE TO THE OBSERVATION OF 
 
 NATURE. 45 cents. 
 58.— ABERCROMBIE'S MORAL FEELINGS. 40 cents. 
 59.— DICK ON IMPROVEMENT OF SOCIETY. 45 cents. 
 00.— JAMES'S HISTORY OF CHARLEMAGNE. 45 cents. 
 61.— RUSSELL'S NUBIA AND ABYSSINIA. 45 cents. 
 fia,63.-RUSSELL'S OLIVER CROMWELL. 90 cents. 
 64.— MONTGOMERY S LECTURES ON POETRY. 45 cts. 
 65.— BARROW S LIFE OF PETER THE GREAT. 45 cents.
 
 harper's family library. 
 68, 69.-crichtons history of arabia, ancient 
 
 AND MODERN. 90 cents. 
 
 70— FRASER'S HISTORY OF PERSIA. 45 cents. 
 
 71.— COMBE ON PHYSIOLOGY. 45 cents. 
 
 73— RUSSELL'S BARBARY STATES. 45 cents. 
 
 75,76.— PAULDING'S LIFE OF WASHINGTON. Portrait, 
 90 rents. 
 
 77.— TICKNORS PHILOSOPHY OF LIVING. Engravings, 
 45 cents. 
 
 78.— PHYSICAL CONDITION OF THE EARTH. Engra- 
 ving's, 45 cents. 
 
 79.— GREENE'S HISTORY OF ITALY. 45 cents. 
 
 80,61.-THE CHINESE. BY DAVIS. 90 cents. 
 
 82— CIRCUMNAVIGATION OFTHE GLOBE. Engravings, 
 45 cents. 
 
 83.— DICKS CELESTIAL SCENERY. 45 cents. 
 
 85— GRISCOMS ANIMAL MECHANISM. Engravings, 45 
 cents. 
 
 86, 87, 88, 89, 90, 91.-TYTLERS UNIVERSAL HISTORY: 
 continued by Dr. Nares. $2 70. 
 
 92,93.— LIFE OF FRANKLIN, &c. Portrait, 90 cents. 
 
 94, 95.-PURSUIT OF KNOWLEDGE UNDER DIFFICUL- 
 TIES. 90 cents. 
 
 96, 97.— PALEY'S N ATUR AL TH EOLOGY. 90 cents. 
 
 98.— NATURAL HISTORY OF BIRDS. 45 cts. 
 
 99.-DICKS SIDEREAL HEAVENS. 45 cents. 
 
 100.— UPHAM ON IMPERFECT AND DISORDERED 
 MENTAL ACTION. 45 cents. 
 
 101, 102.-MURRAY'S BRITISH AMERICA. 90 cents. 
 
 103— LOSSING ON THE FINE ARTS. 45 cents. 
 
 104.— NATURAL HISTORY OF QUADRUPEDS. Engra- 
 vings, 45 cents. 
 
 105.-MUNGO PARK'S LIFE, TRAVELS, AND DEATH. 
 Engravings. 45 cents. 
 
 106.— TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST. 45 cents.
 
 harper's family library. 
 
 107, 108.— PARRY'S THREE VOYAGES. 90 cents. 
 
 109, 110.— LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 90 cents. 
 
 111.— BRYANT'S AMERICAN POETS. 45 cents. 
 
 112, 113.— HALLECKS BRITISH POETS. 90 cents. 
 
 114, 115, 116, 117, 118.-KEIGHTLEYS HISTORY OF ENG- 
 LAND. $2 25. 
 
 119, 120.— HALE'S UNITED STATES. 90 cents. 
 
 121, 122.— IRVINGS LIFE OF GOLDSMITH. 90 cents. 
 
 123, 124.— DISTINGUISHED MEN OF MOD ERN TIM ES. 
 Portraits, 90 cents. 
 
 125— LIFE OF DE WITT CLINTON. 45 cents. 
 
 126,127.— LIFE OF COMMODORE OLIVER H. PERRY. 
 Portrait, 90 cents. 
 
 128.— LIFE AND TRAVELS OF BRUCE. 45 cents. 
 
 129.— LIVES OF JAY AND HAMILTON. 45 cents. 
 
 130.-BREWSTERS LIVES OF GALILEO, TYCHO 
 BRAHE, AND KEPLER. 45 cents. 
 
 131.-HISTORY OF ICELAND, GREENLAND, AND THE 
 FAROE ISLANDS. 45 cents. 
 
 132.— MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF THE JAPANESE 
 IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 45 cents. 
 
 133.— D WIGHT'S HISTORY OF CONNECTICUT. 45 cents. 
 
 134, 135.-RUINS OF ANCIENT CITIES. 90 cents. 
 136, 137.— HISTORY OF DENMARK. 90 cents. 
 138.— CAMP ON DEMOCRACY. 45 cents. 
 
 » 
 
 139.— LANMANS MICHIGAN. 45 cents. 
 
 140.— FENELON'S ANCIENT PHILOSOPHERS. 45 cents. 
 
 141, 142.-COUNT SEGUR'S EXPEDITION TO RUSSIA. 
 
 Map, 90 cents. 
 143, 144.— HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY. 90 cents. 
 145.— BUCKE'S BEAUTIES OF NATURE. 45 cents. 
 146.— LIEBER'S ESSAYS ON PROPERTY. 45 cents. 
 147.— WHITE'S HISTORY OF SELBORNE. 45 cents. 
 148.-WRANGELLS EXPEDITION TO SIBERIA. 45 cts
 
 harper's family library. 
 
 149, 150.-HAZENS POPULAR TECHNOLOGY. Engrav- 
 ings, 90 cents. 
 151, 152, 153.-SPALDINGS ITALY AND THE ITALIAN 
 
 ISLANDS. Maps, <fcc, $1 35. 
 
 154, 155.— LEWIS AND CLARKE'S EXPEDITION. Map, 
 90 cents. 
 
 156.— SMITH'S HISTORY OF EDUCATION; withaPlanof 
 Culture and Instruction, based on Christian Principles. 45 cents. 
 
 157.— FRASER'S MESOPOTAMIA AND ASSYRIA. Map, 
 &c, 45 cents. 
 
 158.— RUSSELL'S HISTORY OF POLYNESIA Map, &c, 
 45 cents. 
 
 159.— PERILOUS ADVENTURES. 45 cents. 
 
 160.— DUERS CONSTITUTIONAL JURISPRUDENCE 
 
 OF THE UNITED STATES. 45 cents. 
 
 161, 162, 163.— BELKNAP'S AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 $1 35. 
 
 164.-NATURAL HISTORY OF THE ELEPHANT. En- 
 gravings, 45 cents. 
 
 165— POTTER S HAND-BOOK FOR READERS AND 
 STUDENTS. 45 cents. 
 
 166.— WOMAN IN AMERICA: an Examination into the Moral 
 and Intellectual Condition of American Female Society. 45 cents. 
 
 167, 168.— BORDER WARS OF THE AMERICAN REVO- 
 LUTION. 90 cents. 
 
 169.— VEGETABLE SUBSTANCES USED FOR FOOD. 
 
 Engravings, 45 cents. 
 
 170— MICHELET'S ELEMENTS OF MODERN HISTO- 
 RY ; edited by Rev. Dr. Potter. 45 cents. 
 
 171.— BACON'S ESSAYS, AND LOCKE ON THE UN- 
 DERSTANDING. 45 cents. 
 
 172.— VOYAGES ROUND THE WORLD, SINCE THE 
 
 DEATH OF CAPTAIN COOK. Engraving, 45 cents. 
 
 173— TRAVELS OF MARCO PO LO : with copious and valu 
 able Notes, by Hugh Murray Maps, &c, 45 cents 
 
 *** Any work may be obtained separately.
 
 POPULAR JUVENILE WORKS 
 
 PUBLISHED BY 
 
 HARPER & BROTHERS. 
 
 "^/s/A^^'^^/^v^. 
 
 AMERICAN (the) FOREST. 35 cents. 
 
 CAROLINE WESTERLEY. 35 cents. 
 
 CLERGYMAN'S (the) ORPHAN, and other Tales. 35 cents. 
 
 EVENINGS AT HOME. By Dr. Aikin and Mrs. Barbauld. $120. 
 
 FRANK. By Miss Maria Edgeworth. 90 cents. 
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. By Miss Maria Edgeworth. $175. 
 
 HENRY MILNER. By Mrs. Sherwood. $170. 
 
 INDIAN TRAITS; or, Manners and Customs of the Indians. 70 eta. 
 
 JOHN MARTEN. By Mrs. Sherwood. 75 cents. 
 
 LIFE OF CHRIST, in the Words of the Evangelists. $100. 
 
 LIVES OF THE A POST LES and Early Martyrs. 25 cents. 
 
 LIVES OF DISTINGUISHED FEMALES. 35 cents. 
 
 ORNAMENTS (the) DISCOVERED. ByMrs.Hughs. 35 cents. 
 
 PARENT'S ASSISTANT. By Miss Maria Edgeworth. 90cents. 
 
 PERILS OF THE SEA. 35 cents. 
 
 ROBINSON CRUSOE. Complete, with a Life of Defoe. $125. 
 
 SAND FORD AND MERTON. By Thomas Day. 37£ cents. 
 
 ROXOBEL. By Mrs. Sherwood. $120. 
 
 ROSAMOND. By Miss Edgeworth. 90 cents. 
 
 SEAWARDS NARRATIVE of his Shipwreck. 37£ cents. 
 
 SON OF A GENIUS. By Mrs. Hofland. 31 cents. 
 
 SUNDAY EVENINGS. Comprising Scripture Stories. 94 cents. 
 
 SWISS FAMILY ROBINSON. 63 cents. 
 
 TALES FROM AMERICAN HISTORY. $100. 
 
 TALES OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION. 35 cents. 
 
 UNCLE PHILIP'S STATE OF NEW YORK. 70 cents. 
 
 UNCLE PHILIP'S MASSACHUSETTS. 70 cents. 
 
 UNCLE PHILIP'S NEW HAMPSHIRE. 70 cents. 
 
 UNCLE PHILIP'S LOST COLONY OF GREENLAND. 
 35 cents. 
 
 UNCLE PHILIP'S HISTORY OF VIRGINIA. 35 cents. 
 
 UNCLE PHILIP'S WHALE FISHERY. 70 cents. 
 
 UNCLE PHILIP'S CONVERSATIONS ABOUT THE 
 
 EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 35 cents. 
 UNCLE PHILIP'S TOOLS AND TRADES AMONG IN- 
 FERIOR ANIMALS. 35 cents. 
 
 WHO SHALL BE GREATEST? By Mary Howitt. 37J cents. 
 YOUNG (the) CRUSOE ; or, the Shipwrecked Boy. 31 cents.
 
 POPULAR AMERICAN WORKS 
 
 FOR FAMILY READING, 
 
 RECENTLY PUBLISHED BY 
 
 HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW-YORK. 
 
 "wsA/y^/* ./^ /'./'/'"'- 
 
 FORECASTLE TOM ; OR, THE LANDSMAN TURNED SAILOR. 
 
 BY MRS. MARY S. B. DANA.— 18mo, muslin gilt, 37£ cents. 
 
 A delightful little domestic story, which commends itself strongly to 
 the attention of the reader by its unaffected simplicity. It inculcates 
 morality, religion, and temperance, in a most attractive manner. — Balti- 
 more American. 
 
 This is a very ielightful moral story, portraying the adventures of a 
 sailor's li e, and that change of heart which fits the voyager on the tem- 
 pestuous ocean of this world's hopes to moor his bark finally in the haven 
 of eternal rest. There is much instruction as well as interesting narra- 
 tive to be found in these pages. — North American. 
 
 II. 
 
 THE YOUNG SAILOR, A NARRATIVE FOUNDED ON FACT, 
 
 BY MRS. MARY S. B. DANA.— 18mo, muslin gilt, 37J cents. 
 
 This is a story of no ordinary interest, consisting of a series of perilous 
 adventures, depicting crime and its consequences with a skill at once ar- 
 tistical and powerful, and portraying the sweet influences of Christianity 
 in all their beauty and loveliness. A parent could scarcely find a more 
 instructive tale for his children, and young men might derive influences 
 from its perusal that would save them many a heartache. — Auburn Jour- 
 nal. 
 
 III. 
 
 AYEARWITH THE FRANKLINS; OR, TO SUF- 
 FER AND BE STRONG. 
 
 BY E. JANE OATE.— 18mo, musliu gilt. 
 IV. 
 
 ELIZABETH BENTON; OR, RELIGION IN CONNECTION 
 WITH FASHIONABLE LIFE. 
 
 18ino, muslin gilt.
 
 POPULAR AMERICAN WORKS 
 
 PHILANTHROPY; OR, MY MOTHER'S BIBLE. 
 
 A NARRATIVE FOUNDED ON AN INCIDENT WHICH HAPPENED 
 IN NEW-YORK. 
 
 18mo, muslin gilt, 37| cents. 
 
 Exceedingly well adapted to impress the minds of youth with senti- 
 ments of morality and a love of virtue. The author has most happily 
 hlended simple but thrilling incidents with excellent religious princi- 
 ples and motives, in a manner which can not fail to recommend the work 
 to public favor. — Evening Gazette. 
 
 VI. 
 
 THE BLIND GIRL, AND OTHER TALES. 
 
 BY EMMA C. EMBURY.— 18mo, muslin gilt, 37£ cents. 
 
 A book which will absorb with its touching interest, and the reader 
 will find profit combined with the pleasure, for none can peruse these 
 tales without acknowledging the force of the teachings they inculcate.— 
 Evening Gazette. 
 
 VII. 
 
 ISABEL; OR, TRIALS OF THE HEART. A 
 TALE FOR THE YOUNG. 
 
 18mo, muslin gilt, 374 «ents. 
 VIII. 
 
 THE TWIN BROTHERS; OR, LESSONS OF CHARITY. 
 
 18mo, muslin gilt, 37$ cents. 
 
 The story contained in this book abounds with interesting incidents to 
 keep the attention awake, and suggests many important lessons to reward 
 a diligent perusal. There is a simplicity and truthfulness about the 
 characters which beguiles the reader into an impression that he is occu- 
 pied with a narrative of veritable facts. It teaches the young, in a most 
 persuasive manner, the importance of right principles of action, and 
 shows them the extreme danger of ever beginning to wander from the 
 path of honor and integrity.— Evangelist. 
 
 IX. 
 
 KEEPING HOUSE AND HOUSEKEEPING. A 
 STORY OF DOMESTIC LIFE. 
 
 EDITED BY MRS. S. J. HALE.— 18mo, muslin gilt, 37$ cents.
 
 FOR FAMILY READING. 
 X. 
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF A HOUSEKEEPER. 
 
 BY MRS. O. GILMAN.— ISmo, muslin gilt, 45 cents. 
 XI. 
 
 THE MAYFLOWER; OR, SKETCHES OF SCENES AND IN- 
 CIDENTS AMONG THE DESCENDANTS OF THE PILGRIMS. 
 
 BY MRS. HARRIET B. STOWE.— 18mo, muslin gilt, 45 cents. 
 
 A series of beautiful and deeply interesting tales, remarkable for a 
 vigorous yet disciplined imagination, a lively and pure style, and tbeir 
 high moral tone. They are books which will interest mature readers as 
 well as children and youth. As an author she will take her place among 
 that fine and elevated class to which Miss Sedgwick and Mrs. Child be- 
 long ; authors whose writings unite with the graces of composition a 
 deep sympathy with all that is human, and a noble philanthropy. — Bib- 
 lical Repository. 
 
 XII. 
 
 CONQUEST AND SELF-CONQUEST; OR, WHICH 
 MAKES THE HERO? 
 
 18mo, muslin gilt, 37£ cents. 
 
 An admirable volume ; admirable in style, in sentiment, aBd in ten- 
 dency.— Courier and Enquirer. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 THE COUSINS. A TALE OF EARLY LIFE. 
 
 By the Author of " Conquest and Self-Conquest." — 18mo, 37£ cents. 
 
 We have read this volume with unmingled satisfaction. It is replete 
 with instruction, not only for the young, but for all who are concerned 
 to know and judge their motives of life. We thank the author for her 
 nice and interesting discriminations between the motives of conduct. 
 Indeed, we do not know of any works of this description from the Amer- 
 ican press which are entitled to a more just popularity than those which 
 have proceeded from the pen of this writer. They place her beside the 
 Edgeworths, and the Barbaulds, and the Opies, who have so long delight- 
 ed and instructed our children and us. — New-York Observer. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 PRAISE AND PRINCIPLE; OR, FOR WHAT SHALL I LIVE? 
 
 By the Author of " Conquest and Self-Conquest." — 18mo, 37J cents. 
 
 A book most worthy to be put into the hands of youth engaged in their 
 educational course, and can not but inspire the love of truth and good- 
 ness for their own sakes. — Biblical Repository, 
 
 This little work is designed to inculcate upon the minds of youth the 
 importance of a steadfast adherence to principle in the concerns of life ; 
 and among " children of a larger growth" its perusal may afford both 
 pleasure and improvement. — Bedford Mercury.
 
 POPULAR AMERICAN WORKS 
 XV. 
 
 WOMAN AN ENIGMA; OR, LIFE AND ITS REVEALINGS. 
 
 By the Author of " Conquest and Self-Conquest." — 18mo, 37 J cents. 
 
 For truthfulness of natural delineation and high moral tone, these 
 works are unexcelled. — North American. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 WEALTH AND WORTH; OR, WHICH MAKES THE MAN? 
 
 18mo, muslin gilt, 45 cents. 
 
 Lively in narrative, interesting in incident, and ingenious in construc- 
 tion, the work is at the same time a safe guide to the young in the path 
 to happiness, honor, and usefulness. — New-York Observer. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 WHAT'S TO BE DONE? OR, THE WILL AND THE WAY. 
 
 By the Author of " Wealth and Worth." — 18mo, muslin gilt, 45 cents. 
 
 Well calculated for old or young, but more especially to encourage the 
 young to act from principle and live for usefulness. No one can read 
 these books without feeling encouraged to act honorably and honestly. — 
 Newburg Courier 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 LOVERS AND HUSBANDS. A STORY OF MARRIED LIFE. 
 
 BY T. S. ARTHUR.— 18mo, muslin gilt, 37£ cemts. 
 XIX. 
 
 SWEETHEARTS AND WIVES; OR, BEFORE 
 AND AFTER MARRIAGE. 
 
 BY T. S. ARTHUR.— 18mo, muslin gilt, 37£ cents. 
 XX. 
 
 MARRIED AND SINGLE. 
 
 BY T. S. ARTHUR.— 18mo, muslin gilt, 37J cents. 
 
 These works are well writteu, full of pleasing incident, and abounding 
 with excellent moral lessons, suggestive of many points of importance to 
 those who are about to enter upon the active scenes of life. — Post. 
 
 XXL 
 
 WILTON HARVEY, AND OTHERTALES. 
 
 BY MISS SEDGrWICK.— 18mo, muslin gilt, 45 cents.
 
 FOR FAMILY READING. 
 XXII. 
 
 THE POOR RICH MAN AND THE RICH POOR MAN. 
 
 BY MISS SEDGWICK.— 18mo, muslin gilt, 45 cents. 
 
 We recognize in these books feminine skill and delicacy of delineation, 
 •with unusual discrimination of character and knowledge of the heart. 
 Another high recommendation is their marked religious tone. — Norwich 
 Courier 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 LIVE AND LET LIVE; OR, DOMESTIC SER- 
 VICE ILLUSTRATED. 
 
 BY MISS SEDGWICK.— 18mo, muslin gilt, 45 cents. 
 
 Every person would be benefited mentally and morally by a perusal of 
 this book ; it is full of graphic delineation and touching pathos. — True 
 Sun 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 A LOVE TOKEN FOR CHILDREN. 
 
 BY MISS SEDGWICK.— 18mo, muslin gilt, 45 cents. 
 
 These sketches, from the pen of one of the best writers in the country, 
 commend themselves to the public with no ordinary force. — Evangelist. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 STORIES FOR YOUNG PERSONS. 
 
 BY MISS SEDGWICK.— 18mo, muslin gilt, 45 cents. 
 
 There is a sweetness and sociability in her stories we meet with no- 
 where else — Newburg Courier. 
 
 Her writings are always well worth reading. These stories are .de- 
 signed for the young more particularly, but the quiet good sense and 
 sterling principle they contain will make them acceptable to maturer 
 minds. — Herald. 
 
 These are beautiful stories, full of graphic delineation and touching 
 pathos : extremely well conceived and executed. — True Sun. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 MEANS AND ENDS; OR, S E L F ■ T R A I N I N G. 
 
 BY MISS SEDGWICK 18mo, muslin gilt, 45 cents. 
 
 A very interesting collection, all of which point an excellent moral. 
 We suppose few could read these works without acknowledging they 
 were not only deeply interested, but that they felt the force of the lessons 
 liley inculcate. — Herald.
 
 Harper & Brothers, New- York, have recently issued 
 a new and complete Catalogue of their Publications, which 
 will be forwarded free of charge to any part of the United 
 States, upon application to them personally, or by mail, 
 post paid. The attention of gentlemen forming Libraries, 
 either public or private, is particularly solicited to this 
 Catalogue, which comprises about fifteen hundred volumes, 
 embracing the best works in the several departments of 
 Literature, including History, Philosophy, Science and 
 Art, Biography, Travel, the Classics, Belles-Lettres, Re- 
 ligion, Medicine, Classical and School Books, &c. ; the 
 works being neatly, and in many instances elegantly 
 printed and substantially bound, yet offered at the lowest 
 terms, averaging less than one half the price of the Eng- 
 lish editions. Persons wishing to form libraries or to pur- 
 chase books to sell again, will be supplied on the best 
 terms when the money accompanies the order. 
 
 March, 1846. 82 Cliff-street, New-York.

 
 This book is DUE on the last 
 date stamped below. 
 
 
 Uh 
 
 
 RECEIVED 
 LD-UNL 
 
 AM 
 7-4 
 
 7 965 
 
 PM 
 9- 10 
 
 4-9 
 
 i 
 
 LD- id 
 
 am JUL 30 
 >-4 RECBIVm' 
 
 4 Ltr^UR 9 -*o 
 
 1365 
 VFD 
 
 1 
 
 225 
 
 10M-11-50(2S55 470 
 
 4 196G 
 
 o 
 
 PM 
 .10 
 
 REMINGTON RAND INC. 20
 
 A A 000 194 707