i.. *gx-.| M9B51 Cl.iU, t> BkMl.b . TRINITY COLLEGE LIBRARY DURHAM, NORTH CAROLINA Rec’d , i.1903 Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2018 with funding from Duke University Libraries https://archive.org/details/historicaltales01morr COLUMN OF JULY, PLACE DE LA BASTILLE. mib l Iistorical Tales The Romance of Reality BY CHARLES MORRIS AUTHOR OF ‘'HALF-HOURS WITH THE BEST AMERICAN AUTHORS,” “TALES FROM THE DRAMATISTS,” “ KINO ARTHUR AND THE KNIGHTS OF THE ROUND-TABLE,” ETC. FRENCH \°n ! G PHILADELPHIA J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY 1902 Copyright, 1893, BY j. B. Lippincott Company. Printed by J. B. Lippincott Company, Philadelphia, 3 cm M ponents of the Catholic party. On the 22d of August the work of treachery began. On that day a murderous shot was fired at Coligny as he stood by the window of his room engaged in reading a letter. It smashed two fingers of his right hand, and lodged a ball in his left arm. The would- be murderer escaped. “ Here is a fine proof of the fidelity to his agree¬ ment of the Duke of Guise,” said Coligny, reproach¬ fully, to the king. “My dear father,” returned the king, “the hurt is yours, the grief and the outrage mine; but I will take such vengeance that it shall never be forgotten.” He meant it for the moment; but his mind was feeble, his will weak, himself a mere puppet in the hands of his imperious mother and the implacable Guises. Between them they had determined on the death of the admiral and the other Protestant leaders. Sure of their power over the king, the orders for the massacre were already given when, near midnight of August 24, St. Bartholomew’s day, the queen, with some of her leading councillors, sought the king’s room and made a determined assault upon the feeble defences of his intellect. “The slaughter of many thousands of men may be prevented by a single sword-thrust,” they argued. “ Only kill the admiral, the head and front of the civil wars, and the strength of the Huguenots will die with him. The sacrifice of two or three men will satisfy the Catholics, who will remain forever youi 184 HISTORICAL TALES. faithful and obedient subjects. War is Inevitable. The Guises on one side, and the Huguenots on the other, cannot be controlled. Better to win a battle in Paris, where we hold all the chiefs in our clutches, than to put it to hazard in the field. In this rase pity would be cruelty, and cruelty would be pity.’’ For an hour and a half the struggle with the weak will of the king continued. He was violently agi¬ tated, but could not bring himself to order the mur¬ der of the guest to whom he had promised his royal faith and protection. The queen grew alarmed. Delay might ruin all, by the discovery of her plans. At length, with a show of indignation, she said,— “Then, if you will not do this, permit me and your brother to retire to some other part of the kingdom.” This threat to leave him alone to grapple with the difficulties that surrounded him frightened the feeble king. He rose hastily from his seat. “By God’s death!” he cried, passionately, “since you think proper to kill the admiral, I consent; but kill all the Huguenots in Paris as well, in order that there remain not one to reproach me afterwards. Give the orders at once.” With these words he left the room. The beginning of the work of bloodshed had been fixed for an hour before daybreak. But the king had spoken in a moment of passion and agitation. An hour’s reflection might change his mind. There was no time to be lost. The queen gave the signal at once, and out on the air of that dreadful night rang the terrible tocsin peal from the tower of the st. Bartholomew’s day. 185 church of St. Germain l’Auxerrois, the alarm call for which the white-crossed murderers waited. Quickly the silence of the night was broken by loud cries, shouts of vengeance, the tramp of many feet, the sharp reports of musketry. The work was begun. Every man not marked by a cross was to be slaughtered. The voice of murder broke fearfully upon the peacefulness of the recently quiet midnight hour. The noise roused Coligny. He rose hastily and threw on his dressing-gown. The cries and shots told him what was going on. He had trusted the faithless Guises and the soulless De’ Medici, and this was what came of it. “ M. Merlin,” he said to a clergyman who was with him, “say me a prayer; I commit my soul to my Saviour.” Some of his gentlemen entered the room. “ What is the meaning of this riot ?” asked Ambrose Pare. “My lord, it is God calling us,” said Cornaton. “I have long been ready to die,” said the admiral; “but you, my friends, save yourselves, if it is still possible.” They left him, and escaped, the most of them by the roof. Only one man stayed with him, Nicholas Muss, a German servant, “ as little concerned,” says Cornaton, “as if there was nothing going on around him.” The flight had been made barely in time. Hasty footsteps were heard below. The assassins were in the house. In a moment more the chamber door 16 * 186 HISTORICAL TALES was flung open and two servants of the Duke of Guise entered. “Art not thou the admiral?” asked one of them, Behme by name. “Young man,” answered Coligny, “thou comest against a wounded and aged man. Thou’lt not shorten my life by much.” Behme’s answer was to plunge a heavy boar-spear which he held into the body of the defenceless veteran. Withdrawing it, he struck him on the head with it. Coligny fell, saying,— “ If it were but a man ! But it is a horse-boy.” Others rushed into the room and thrust their weapons into the dying man. “ Behme,” cried the duke of Guise from the court¬ yard, “hast thou done?” “ It is all over, my lord,” answered the assassin. The murderers flung the body from the window. It fell with a crash at the feet of Guise and his com¬ panions. They turned it over, wiped the blood from the face, and said,— “ Faith, it is he, sure enough!” Some say that Guise kicked the bleeding corpse in the face. Meanwhile, murder was everywhere. The savago lower orders of Paris, the bigoted Catholics of the court, all, high and low, as it seemed, were infected with the thirst for blood, and the streets of the city became a horrible whirlpool of slaughter, all who did not wear the saving cross being shot down with¬ out mercy or discrimination. The anecdotes of that fatal night and the succeed st. Bartholomew’s day. 187 ing day are numerous, some of them pathetic, most of them ferocious, all tending to show how brutal man may become under the inspiration of religious prejudice and the example of slaughter,—the blood fury, as it has been fitly termed. Teligny, the son-in-law of Coligny, took refuge on a roof. The guards of the Duke of Anjou fired at him as at a target. La Rochefoucauld, with whom the king had been in merry chat until eleven o’clock of the preceding evening, was aroused by a loud knocking upon his door. He opened it; six masked men rushed in, and instantly buried their poniards in his body. The new queen of Navarre had just gone to bed, under peremptory orders from her mother, Catherine de’ Medici. She was wakened from her first slumber by a man knocking and kick¬ ing at her door, with wild shouts of “ Navarre! Navarre!” Her nurse ran to open the door, think¬ ing that it was the king, her lady’s husband. A wounded and bleeding gentleman rushed in, blood flowing from both arms, four archers pursuing him into the queen’s bedchamber. The fugitive flung himself on the queen’s couch, seizing her in his alarm. She leaped out of bed to¬ wards the wall, he following her, and still clasping her round the body. What it meant she knew not, but screamed in fright, her assailant screaming as loudly. Their cries had the effect of bringing into the room M. de Namjay, captain of the guards, who could not help laughing on seeing the plight of the queen. But in an instant more he tinned in a rage upoD the archers, cursed them for their daring, and 188 HISTORICAL TALES. Harshly bade them begone. As for the fugitive, M. de Leran by name, he granted him his life at the queen’s prayer. She put him to bed, in her closet, and attended him until he was well of his wounds. Such are a few of the anecdotes told of that night of terror. They might be extended indefinitely, but anecdotes of murder are not of the most attractive character, and may profitably be passed over. The king saved some, including his nurse and Ambrose Pare his surgeon, both Huguenots. Two others, des¬ tined in the future to play the highest parts in the kingdom, were saved by his orders. These were the two Huguenot princes, Henry of Navarre, and Henry de Conde. The king sent for them during the height of the massacre, and bade them recant or die. “ I mean, fbr the future,” he said, “ to have but one religion in my kingdom ; the mass or death; make your choice.” The king of Navarre asked for time to consider the subject, reminding Charles of his promised pro¬ tection. Conde was defiant. “ I will remain firm in what I believe to be the true religion,” he said, “ though I have to give up my life for it.” “ Seditious madman, rebel, and son of a rebel,” cried the king, furiously, “ if within three days you do not change your language, I will have you stran¬ gled.” In three days Charles himself changed his language. Remorse succeeded his insensate rage. “Ambrose,” he said to his surgeon, “ I do not know what has come over me for the last two or st. Bartholomew’s bat. 189 three days, but I feel my mind and body greatly ex¬ cited ; in fact, just as if I had a fever. It seems to me every moment, whether I wake or sleep, that these murdered corpses appear to me with hideous and blood-covered faces. I wish the helpless and in¬ nocent had not been included.” On the next day he issued orders, prohibiting, on pain of death, any slaying or plundering. But he had raised a fury not easily to be allayed. The tocsin of death still rang; to it the great bell of the palace added at intervals its clanging peal; shouts, yells, the sharp reports of pistols and arquebuses, the shrieks of victims, filled the air; sixty thousand murderers thronged the streets, slaying all who wore not the white cross, breaking into and plundering houses, and slaughtering all within them. All through that dreadful Sunday the crimson carnival went on, death everywhere, wagons loaded with bleeding bodies traversing the streets, to cast their gory bur¬ dens into the Seine, a scene of frightful massacre prevailing such as city streets have seldom witnessed. The king judged feebly if he deemed that with a word he could quell the storm his voice had raised. It is not known how many were slain during that outbreak of slaughter. It was not confined to Paris, but spread through France. Thousands were killed in the city. In the kingdom the number slain has been variously estimated at from thirty to one hun¬ dred thousand. Such was the frightful result of that effort to prevent freedom of thought by the sword. It proved a useless infamy. Charles IX. died two 190 HISTORICAL TALES. years afterwards, after having suffered agonies of remorse. Despite the massacre, the Huguenots were not all slain. Nor had the murder of Coligny robbed them of a leader. Henry of Navarre, who had narrowly escaped death on that fearful night, was in the coming years to lead the Protestants to many a victory, and in the end to become king of Prance, as Henry IY. By his coronation, Coligny was re¬ venged; the Huguenots, instead of being extermi¬ nated by the hand of massacre, had defeated their foes and raised their leader to the throne, and the Edict of Nantes, which was soon afterwards an¬ nounced, gave liberty of conscience to France for many years thereafter. EQUESTRIAN STATUE OF HENRY IV. KING HENRY OF NAVARRE. Fok the first time in its history France had a Protestant king. Henry III. had died by the knife of an assassin. Henry of Navarro was named by him as his successor. But the Catholic chiefs of France, in particular the leaders of the League which had been banded against Henry III., were bitterly opposed to a Huguenot reign, and it was evident that only by the sword could the throne be secured. The League held Paris and much of France. Henry’s army was too weak to face them. He fell back on Dieppe, that he might be near the coast, and in position to receive reinforcements and sup¬ plies promised him by Queen Elizabeth. The Duke of Mayenne pursued him with an army of some thirty-five thousand men. Such was the situation at the date of the opening of our story. Henry III. had been killed on the 1st of August, 1589. Henry IV. was proclaimed king on the 2d of August. On the 26th of the same month he reached Dieppe, where he was met by the governor, Aymar de Chastes, and the leading citizens, who brought him the keys of the place. “ I come to salute my lord and hand over to him 191 192 HISTORICAL TALES. the government of this city,” said Aymar, who was a Catholic, but a patriot. “ Ventre-saint-gris !” cried Henry, with his favorite exclamation ; “ I know none more worthy of it than you are.” The citizens crowded round the king, profuse in their expi-essions of loyalty. “ No fuss, my lads,” said Henry, who was the embodiment of plain common sense; “ all I want is your affection, good bread, good wine, and good hospitable faces.” Within the town he was received with loud cheers, and the population seemed enthusiastic in his favor. But the shrewd soldier had no idea of shutting him¬ self up in a walled town, to be besieged there by Mayenne. So, after carefully inspecting its fortifica¬ tions, he left five hundred men within the town, assisted by a garrison of burgesses, and established his camp on a neighboring hill, crowned by the old castle of Arques, where he put all his men and all the peasants that could be found busily to work dig¬ ging like beavers, working night and day to fortify the camp. He set the example himself in the use of the spade. “ It is a wonder I am alive with such work as I have,” he wrote at the time. “ God have pity upon me and show me mercy, blessing my labors, as He does in spite of many folks. I am well, and my affairs are going well. I have taken Eu. The enemy, who are double me just now, thought to catch me there; but I drew off towards Dieppe, and I await them in a camp that I am fortifying. To- KING HENRY OP NAVARRE. 193 morrow will be the day when I shall see them, and I hope, with God’s help, that if they attack me they will find they have made a bad bargain.” The enemy came, as Henry had said, saw his preparations, and by a skilful manoeuvre sought to render them useless. Mayenne had no fancy for at¬ tacking those strong works in front. He managed, by an unlooked-for movement, to push himself be¬ tween the camp and the town, “ hoping to cut off the king’s communications with the sea, divide his forces, deprive him of his reinforcements from England, and, finally, surround him and capture him, as he had promised the Leaguers of Paris, who were already talking of the iron cage in which the Bearnese would be sent to them.” But Henry IV. was not the man to be caught easily in a trap. Much as had been his labor at dig¬ ging, he at once changed liis plans, and decided that it would not pay him to await the foe in his in- trenchinents. If they would not come to him, he must go to them, preserving his communications at any cost. Chance, rather than design, brought the two armies into contact. A body of light-horse approached the king’s intrenchments. A sharp skirmish followed. “ My son,” said Marshal de Biron to the young Count of Auvergne, “charge; now is the time.” The young soldier—a prince by birth—obeyed, and so effectively that he put the Leaguers to rout, killed three hundred of them, and returned to camp unob¬ structed. On the succeeding two days similar en¬ counters took place, with like good fortune for hi.— i n 17 134 HISTORICAL TALES. Henry’s army. Mayenne was annoyed. His prestige was in danger of being lost. He determined to re¬ cover it by attacking the intrenchments of the king with his whole army. The night of the 20th of September came. It was a very dark one. Henry, having reason to expect an attack, kept awake the whole night. In company with a group of his officers, he gazed over the dark valley within which lay Mayenne’s army. The silence was profound. Afar off could be seen a long line of lights, so flickering and inconstant that the observers were puzzled to decide if they were men or glow-worms. At five in the morning, Henry gave orders that every man should be at his post. He had his break¬ fast brought to him on the field, and ate it with a hearty appetite, seated in a fosse with his officers around him. While there a prisoner was brought in who had been taken during a reconnoissance. “ Good-morning, Belin,” said the king, who knew him. “ Embrace me for your welcome appearance.” Belin did so, taking the situation philosophically. “ To give you appetite for dinner,” he said, “ you are about to have work to do with thirty thou¬ sand foot and ten thousand horse. Where are your forces ?” he continued, looking around curiously. “ You don’t see them all, M. de Belin,” answered Henry. “ You don’t reckon the good God and the good right, but they are ever with me.” Belin had told the truth. About ten o’clock Ma¬ yenne made his attack. It was a day ill-suited for battle, for there lay upon the field so thick a fog that KING HENRY OF NAVARRE. 195 the advancing lines could not see each other at ten paces apart. Despite this, the battle proceeded briskly, and for nearly three hours the two armies struggled, now one, now the other, in the ascendant. Henry fought as vigorously as any of his men, all being so confusedly mingled in the fog that there was little distinction between officers and soldiers. At one time he found himself so entangled in a medly of disorganized troopers that he loudly shouted,— “ Courage, gentlemen ; pray, courage! Are there not among you fifty gentlemen willing to die with their king ?” The confusion was somewhat alleviated by the arrival, at this juncture, of five hundred men from Dieppe, whose opportune coming the king gladly greeted. Springing from his horse, he placed himself beside Chatillon, their leader, to fight in the trenches. The battle, which had been hot at this point, now grew furious, and for some fifteen minutes there was a hand-to-hand struggle in the fog, like that of two armies fighting in the dead of night. Then came a welcome change. For what followed we may quote Sully. “ When things were in this desperate state,” he says, “ the fog, which had been very thick all the morning, dropped down suddenly, and the cannon of the castle of Arques, getting sight of the enemy’s army, a volley of four pieces was fired, which made four beautiful lanes in their squad¬ rons and battalions. That pulled them up quite short; and three or four volleys in succession, which produced marvellous effects, made them waver, and, little by little, retire all of them behind the turn of 196 HISTORICAL TALES. the valley, out of cannon-shot, and finally to their quarters.” Mayenne was defeated. The king held the field. He pursued the enemy for some distance, and then returned to Arques to return thanks to God for the victory. Immediately afterwards, Mayenne struck camp and marched away, leaving Henry master of the situation. The king of Navarre had scored a master-point in the contest for the throne of France. During the ensuing year the cause of the king rapidly advanced. More and more of France ac¬ knowledged him as the legitimate heir to the throne. A year after the affair at Dieppe he marched sud¬ denly and rapidly on Paris, and would have taken it had not Mayenne succeeded in throwing his army into the city when it was half captured. In March, 1590, the two armies met again on the plain of Ivry, a village half-way between Mantes and Dreux, and here was fought one of the famous battles of history, a conflict whose final result was to make Henry IV. king of all France. On this notable field the king was greatly outnum¬ bered. Mayenne had under his command about four thousand horse and twenty thousand foot, while Henry’s force consisted of three thousand horse and eight thousand foot. But the king’s men were much better disciplined, and much more largely moved by patriotism, Mayenne’s army being in considerable part made up of German and Swiss auxiliaries. The king’s men, Catholics and Protestants alike, were stirred by a strong religious enthusiasm. In a grave and earnest speech to his men, Henry placed the KINO HENRY OF NAVARRE. 197 issue of the day in the hands of the Almighty. The Catholics of his army crowded to the neighboring churches to hear mass. The Huguenots, much fewer in number, “also made their prayers after their sort.” The day of battle dawned,—March 14, 1590. Henry’s army was drawn up with the infantry to right and left,—partly made up of German and Swiss auxiliaries,—the cavalry, under his own com¬ mand, in the centre. In this arm, in those days of transition between ancient and modern war, the strength of armies lay, and those five lines of horse¬ men were that day to decide the fate of the field. In the early morning Henry displayed a winning instance of that generous good feeling for which he was noted. Count Schomberg, colonel of the Ger¬ man auxiliaries, had, some days before, asked for the pay of his troops, saying that they would not fight if not paid. Henry, indignant at this implied threat, had harshly replied,— “ People do not ask for money on the eve of a battle.” He now, just as the battle was about to begin, ap¬ proached Schomberg with a look of contrition on his face. “ Colonel,” he said, “ I have hurt your feelings. This may be the last day of my life. I cannot bear to take away the honor of a brave and honest gen¬ tleman like you. Pray forgive me and embrace me.” “ Sir,” answered Schomberg, with deep feeling, “ the other day your Majesty wounded me; to-day you kill me.” 17* 198 HISTORICAL TALES. He gave up the command of the German reitera that he might fight in the king’s own squadron, and was killed in the battle. As tbe two armies stood face to face, waiting for the signal of onset, Henry rode along the front of his squadron, and halted opposite their centre. “ Fellow-soldiers,” he said, “ you are Frenchmen; behold the enemy 1 If to-day you run my risks, I also run yours. 1 will conquer or die with you. Keep your ranks well, I pray you. If the heat of battle disperse you for a while, rally as soon as you can under those pear-trees you see up yonder to my right; and if you lose sight of your standards, do not lose sight of my white plume. Make that your rallying point, for you will always find it in the path of honor, and, I hope, of victory also.” And Henry pointed significantly to the snow-white plume that ornamented his helmet, while a shout of enthusiastic applause broke from all those who had heard his stirring appeal. Those words have become famous. The white plume of Henry of Navarre is still one of the rallying points of history. It has also a notable place in poetry, in Macaulay’s stirring ode of “ Ivry,” from which we quote: “ ‘ And if my standard-bearer fall, As fall full well he may ; For never saw I promise yet Of such a bloody fray ; Press where ye see my white plume shine Amidst the ranks of war, And be your oriflamme to-day The helmet of Navarre.’ ” KING HENRY OF NAVARRE. 199 The words we have quoted spoken, Henry gal¬ loped along the whole line of his army; then halted again, threw his bridle over his arm, and said, with clasped hands and deep feeling,— “ O God, Thou knowest my thoughts, and dost see to the very bottom of my heart; if it be for my people’s good that I keep the crown, favor Thou my cause and uphold my arms. But if Thy holy will have otherwise ordained, at least let me die, O God, in the midst of these brave soldiers who give their lives for me I” The infantry began the battle. Egmont, in com¬ mand of Mayenne’s right wing, attacked sharply, but after a brief success was killed and his men re¬ pulsed. On the king’s right, Aumont, Biron, and Montpensier drove their opponents before them. At this stage of the affray Mayenne, in command of the powerful body of cavalry in the centre, fell upon the king’s horse with a furious charge, which for the time threatened to carry all before it. The lines wavered and broke; knights and nobles fell back ; confusion began and was increasing; the odds ap¬ peared too great; for a brief and perilous period the battle seemed lost. At this critical moment Henry came to the res¬ cue. Victory or death had been his word to his men. His promise was now to be kept in deeds. Pointing with his sword to the enemy, and calling in a loud voice upon all who heard him to follow, he spurred fiercely forward, and in a moment his white plume was seen waving in the thickest ranks of the foe. 200 HISTORICAL TALES. His cry had touched the right place in the hearts of his followers. Forgetting every thought but that of victory and the rescue of their beloved leader, they pushed after him in a gallant and irresistible charge, which resembled in its impetuosity that of the Black Prince at Poitiers. Mayenne’s thronging horsemen wavered and broke before this impetuous rush. Into the heart of the opposing army rode Henry and his ardent followers, cutting, slashing, shouting in victorious enthusiasm. In a few minutes the forward movement of Mayenne’s cavalry was checked. His troops halted, wavered, broke, and fled, hotly pursued by their foes. The battle was won. That rush of the white plume had carried all before it, and swept the serried ranks of the Leaguers to the winds. Let us quote the poetic rendition of this scene from Macaulay’s ode. “ Hurrah I the foes are moving I Hark to the mingled din Of fife, and steed, and trump, and drum And roaring culverin I The fiery duke is pricking fast Across St. Andre’s plain. With all the hireling cavalry Of Gueldres and Almayne. 1 Now by the lips of those ye love, Pair gentlemen of Prance, Charge for the golden lilies, Upon them with the lance !’ A thousand spurs are striking deep, A thousand spears in rest, A thousand knights are pressing clo09 Behind the snow-white crest. KINU HENRY OF NAVARRE. 201 And in they hurst, and on they rushed, While, like a guiding star, Amidst the thickest carnage blazed The helmet of Navarre.” The enemy’s cavalry being in flight and hotly pursued, Henry with a handful of horsemen (he had but thirty at his back when he came out of the melee) charged upon the Walloons and Swiss, who instantly broke and fled, with such impetuous haste that they left their standards behind them. “ Slay the strangers, but spare the French,” was the king’s order, as a hot pursuit of the flying infan¬ try began, in which the German auxiliaries in par¬ ticular were cut down mercilessly. “ And then we thought on vengeance, And all along our van, ‘ Remember St. Bartholomew 1’ Was passed from man to man. But out spake gentle Henry, 1 No Frenchman is my foe ; Down, down with every foreigner, But let your brethren go.’ ” The Swiss, however, ancient friends and allies of France, begged the king’s compassion and were ad¬ mitted to mercy, being drafted into his service. The flying Germans and French were severely punished, great numbers of them falling, many more being taken, the list of prisoners including a large number of lords and leaders of the foe. The battle had been remarkably short. It was won by the cavalry, the infantry having scarcely come into action. As to its effect, we may quote again from the poem. 202 HISTORICAL TALES. “ Now glory to the Lord of Hosts, From whom all glories are, And glory to our sovereign liege, King Henry of Navarre. Now let there he the merry sound Of music and of dance, Through thy corn-fields green and sunny vines, Oh, pleasant land of France. Hurrah 1 hurrah ! a single field Hath turned the chance of war I Hurrah I hurrah ! for Ivry, And Henry of Navarre 1” It “ turned the chance of war” in truth, in a great measure. Paris was in consternation, the very priests and monks taking arms and forming into a regiment, in their hitter opposition to a Huguenot king. Every where was a great change in public opinion. Men ceased to look on Henry as an adventurous soldier, and came to regard him as a great prince, fighting for his own. Beyond this, however, the effect was not immediate. The Catholic opposition was bitter. Paris remained in the hands of the League. A Spanish League was formed. The difficulties seemed to grow deeper. The only easy solution to them was an abjuration of the Protestant faith, and to this view Henry in the end came. He professed conver¬ sion to Catholicism,—doubtless with a decided mental reservation,—and all opposition ceased. Henry IV. became the fully acknowledged king of France, and for the time being all persecution of the Huguenots was at an end. THE MURDER OF A KING. History is foil of stories of presentiments, of ‘‘ visions of sudden death,” made notable by their real¬ ization, of strange disasters predicted in advance. Doubtless there have been very many presentiments that failed to come true, enough, possibly, to make those that have been realized mere coincidences. However that be, these agreements of prediction and event are, to say the least, curious. The case of Caesar is well known. We have now to relate that of Henry IV. Sully has told the story. Henry had married, as a second wife, Mary de’ Medici, daughter of the Grand Duke of Tuscany, and a woman whose head¬ strong temper and cantankerous disposition were by no means calculated to make his life with her an agreeable one. In the end she strongly insisted on being crowned queen, a desire on her part which was very unpleasant to her royal husband, who seemed to feel that some disaster impended over the event. “ Hey! my friend,” he said to Sully, his intimate, “ I know not what is the meaning of it, but my heart tells me that some misfortune will happen to me.” He was seated on a low chair, his face disturbed 203 204 HISTORICAL TALES. by uneasy thought, his fingers drumming on his spectacle-case. Of a sudden he sprang up, and struck his hand sharply on his thigh. “ By God 1” he said ; “ I shall die in this city, and shall never go out of it. They will kill me. I see quite well that they have no other remedy in their dangers but my death. Ah! accursed coronation; thou wilt bo the cause of my death.” “ What fancy is this of yours ?” asked Sully. “ If it continue, I am of opinion that you should break off this anointment and coronation. If you please to give me orders, it shall be done.” “ Yes, break off the coronation,” said the king. “ Let me hear no more about it. I shall have my mind at rest from divers fancies which certain warn¬ ings have put into it. To hide nothing from you, I have been told that I was to be killed at the first grand ceremony I should undertake, and that 1 should die in a carriage.” “You never told me that, sir,” answered Sully. “ I have often been astounded to hear you cry out when in a carriage, as if you had dreaded this petty peril, after having so many times seen you amidst cannon-balls, musketry, lance-thrusts, pike-thrusts, and sword-thrusts, without being a bit afraid. Since your mind is so exercised thereby, if I were you, I would go away to-morrow, let the coronation take place without you, or put it off to another time, and not enter Paris for a long time, or in a carriage. If you please, I will send word to Notre Dame and St. Denys to stop everything and to withdraw the workmen.” CHAMBER OF MARY DE’ MEDIC* THE MURDER OF A KING 205 “I am very much inclined,” said the king; “hut what will my wife say ? She has gotten this coro¬ nation marvellously into her head.” “ She may say what she likes,” rejoined Sully. “But I cannot think that, when she knows your opinion about it, she will persist any longer.” He did not know Mary de’ Medici. She did per¬ sist strongly and offensively. For three days the matter was disputed, with high words on both sides. In the end, Henry, weary of the contention, and finding it impossible to convince or silence his obsti¬ nate wife, gave way, and the laborers were again set to work to prepare for the coronation. Despite his presentiments Henry remained in Paris, and gave orders for the immediate perform¬ ance of the ceremony, as if he were anxious to have done with it, and to pass the crisis in his life which he feared. The coronation was proclaimed on the 12th of May, 1610. It took place on the 13th, at St. Denys. The tragical event which he had dreaded did not take place. He breathed easier. On the next day, the 14th, he took it in mind to go to the arsenal to see Sully, who was ill. Yet the same indecision and fear seemed to possess him. He stirred about in an unquiet and irresolute mood, saying several times to the queen, “ My dear, shall 1 go or not ?” He went so far as to leave the room two or three times, but each time returned, in the same doubt. “ My dear, shall I really go ?” he said to the queen ; and then, making up his mind, he kissed her several times and bade her adieu. 18 206 HISTORICAL TALES. “I shall only go there and back,” he said; “I shall be here again almost directly.” On reaching his carriage, M. de Praslin, the captain of his guard, proposed to attend him, but he would not permit it, saying,— “ Get you gone; I want nobody; go about your business.” Yet that morning, in a conversation with Guise and Bassompierre, he had spoken as if he dreaded quickly coming death. “ You will live, please God, long years yet,” said Bassompierre. “You are only in the flower of your age, in perfect bodily health and strength, full of honor more than any mortal man, in the most flourishing kingdom in the world, loved and adored by your subjects, with fine houses, fine women, fine children who are growing up.” Henry sighed, as if still oppressed by his presents ments, and sadly answered,— “ My friend, all that must be left.” Those were his last words of which any record remains, save the few he spoke in the carriage. A few hours afterwards all the earthly blessings of which Bassompierre spoke were naught to him. The king was dead. To return to our subject; in the carriage with the king were several gentlemen of the court. Henry occupied the rear seat at the left, with M. d’Epernon seated at his right, and M. de Montbazon between him and the door, while several other gentlemen occupied the remaining seats. When the carriage reached the Croix du Tirior, the coachman asked THE MURDER OP A KING. 207 whither he should drive, and was bidden to go towards St. Innocent. On the way thither, while in the Rue de la Ferronnerie, a cart obstructed the way, so that the carriage had to turn towards the sidewalk and to proceed more slowly. Here were some iron¬ mongers’ shops, beside one of which lurked a man, his eyes keenly fixed on the approaching carriage, his hand nervously clutching some object in hia pocket. As the carriage moved slowly by, this man sprang from his covert and rushed towards it, a knife in his hand. In an instant he had dealt the king two blows, in rapid succession, in the left side. The first struck him below the armpit and went upward, merely grazing the flesh. The other proved more dangerous. It entered his side between the fifth and sixth ribs, and, taking a downward direction, cut a large blood vessel. The king, by chance, had his left hand on the shoulder of M. de Montbazon, and was leaning towards M. d’Epernon, to whom he was speaking. He thus laid himself more fully open to the assassin’s knife. All had passed so quickly that no movement of defence was possible. Henry gave a low cry and made a few movements. “ What is the matter, sir?” asked M. de Montbazon, who had not seen the affair. It is nothing,” answered the king. “ It is noth¬ ing,” he repeated, his voice now so low that they could barely hear him. Those were the last words he spoke. The assassin had been seized. He was a fanatic, 203 HISTORICAL TALES. named Francois Ravaillac, who had been roused to his mad act by rumors that Henry intended to make war upon the pope, and other baseless fancies of the king’s opponents. With him we are not further con¬ cerned, other than to say that he was made to suffer the most barbarous tortures for his deed. The carriage was turned and driven back to the Louvre. On reaching the entrance steps some wine was given to the wounded monarch. An officer of the guard raised his head, his only sign of intelligence being some movements of the eyes. In a moment more they were closed, never to be opened again. He was carried up-stairs and laid on the couch in his closet, and from there taken to the bed in his chamber. As he lay there some one gave him hcly water, and M. de Yic, a councillor of state, put to his mouth the cross of his order, and directed his thoughts to God. All this was lost on the king. He lay motionless and insensible. All around him were in tears. The grief of the queen was unconsolablo. All Paris was weeping. The monarch against whom the Parisians had so bitterly fought they now mourned as they would have done for their dearest friend. The surgeons wanted to dress the king’s wounds. Milon, the chief physician, who sat weeping at the bedside, waved them aside. A faint sigh died away on the king’s lips. “ It is all over,” said Milon, sadly. “ He is gone.” What followed may be told in a few words. The old adage, “The king is dead; long live the king!” was the thought of practical men of affairs. Sully, whom the news of the assassination had raised in THE MURDER OF A KINO. 209 haste from his sick-bed, put himself quickly at the head of some forty horse and rode towards the palace. Guise and Bassompierre had come to the door, to see what was passing outside, as he rode up. “ Gentlemen,” he said to them, with tearful eyes, “ if the service you vowed to the kiug be impressed upon your souls as deeply as it ought to be with all good Frenchmen, swear this moment to keep towards the king’s son and heir the same allegiance that you showed him, and to spend your lives and your blood in avenging his death.” “ Sir,” answered Bassompierre, “ it is for us to cause this oath to be taken by others; wo have no need to be exhorted thereto.” Leaving them, Sully rode to the Bastille, which he took possession of, and sent out soldiers to seize and carry off all the bread that could be found in the market and at the shops of the bakers. He de¬ spatched a messenger also, in the greatest haste, to his son-in-law, M. de Bohan, then in command of a force of six thousand Swiss, bidding him to march with all speed upon Paris. Henry IV. was dead. His son was his legitimate successor. But the murder of Henry III. had been followed by a contest for the throne. That of Henry IV. might be. Sully felt it necessary to take precautions, although the king was hardly cold in death. The king dies; the kingship survives; prudent men, on whom the peace of a people depend, prepare without delay; the Duke de Sully was such a man. His precautions, however, were not needed. No one thought of opposing the heirship of the king’s eon. m .—o 18* RICHELIEU AND THE CONSPIR¬ ATORS. In a richly-furnished state apartment of the royal palace of the Luxembourg, on a day in November, 1630, stood Louis XIII., king of France, tapping ner¬ vously with his fingers on the window-pane, and with a disturbed and irresolute look upon his face. Beside him was his favorite, St. Simon, a showily-dressed and handsome gentleman of the court. “ What do you think of all this ?” asked the king, his fingers keeping up their idle drumming on the glass. “ Sir, I seem to be in another world,” was the politic reply. “ But at any rate you are master.” “ I am,” said the king, proudly, “ and I will make it felt, too.” The royal prisoner was stirring uneasily in the bonds which hard necessity had cast round his will. It was against Cardinal Bichelieu that his testy re¬ mark was made, yet in the very speaking he could not but feel that to lose Richelieu was to lose the bulwark of his throne; that this imperious master, against whose rule he chafed, was the glory and the support of his reign. Just now, however, the relations between king and 210 RICHELIEU AND THE CONSPIRATORS. 211 cardinal were sadly strained. Mary de’ Medici, the king’s mother, once Richelieu’s ardent friend, was now his active foe. The queen, Anne of Austria, was equally hostile. Their influence had been used to its utmost to poison the mind of the monarch against his minister, and seemingly with success. To all appearance it looked as if the great cardinal was near his fall. Rumor of what was afloat had invaded the court. Everywhere were secret whisperings, knowing looks, expectant movements. The courtiers were flocking to the Luxembourg, in hopes of some advantage to themselves. Marill'ae, the keeper of the seals, was at his country house at Grlatigny, very near Versailles, where the king was expected. He remained there in hopes that Louis would send for him and put tho power of the disgraced cardinal into his hands. Tho colossus seemed about to fall. All waited expec¬ tantly. The conspiracy of the queen-mother had gone farther than to use her personal influence with her son against the cardinal. There were others in league with her, particularly Marillac, the keeper of the seals, and Marshal Marillac, his brother, then in command of a large force in Piedmont. All had been carefully prepared against the fall of the minis¬ ter. The astute conspirators had fully laid their plans as to what was to follow. Unfortunately for them, they did not reckon with the two principal parties concerned, Louis XIII. and Cardinal Richelieu. With all his weaknesses of tem¬ per and mind, the king had intellect enough to know 212 HISTORICAL TALES. what were the great interests of his kingdom and power, and on whose shoulders they rested. Above all the littleness of a court cabal he could not but discern the great questions which impended, and with which he felt quite incompetent to deal. And he could perceive but one man in his kingdom able to handle these great problems of state. As for Eichelieu, he was by no means blind to what was going on around him. He was the last man in the world to be a dupe. Delaying until the time seemed ripe to move, he requested and obtained an interview with the king. They were a long time closeted, while all the courtier-world of Paris waited in expectation and suspense. What passed in that private cabinet of the palace no one knew, but when the interview was over it quickly became evident that the queen-mother and her associates had lost, the cardinal had won. Michael de Marillac had hopeful dreams that night, as he slept in his house at Glatigny; but when he awoke in the morning it was to receive the disturbing news that the king and the cardinal were at Versailles together, the minister being lodged in a room under that of the monarch. Quickly came still more disturbing news. The king demanded a return of the seals. Before this tidings could bo well digested, the fright¬ ened plotter learned that his own arrest had been ordered, and that the exons were already at his door to secure his person. While the courtier conspirator was being thus attended to, the soldier, his brother, was not for¬ gotten. A courier had been despatched to the head- RICHELIEU AND THE CONSPIRATORS. 213 quarters of the array in Piedmont, bearing a letter to Marshal Schomberg, who, with Marshals La Force and Marillac, had formed there a junction of the forces under their control. Marillac was in com¬ mand on the day of the courier’s arrival, and was impatiently awaiting the news, for which he had been prepared by his brother, of the cardinal’s disgrace. Schomberg opened his despatches. The first words he saw, in the king’s own handwriting, were these: “ My dear cousin, you will not fail to arrest Marshal Marillac; it is for the good of my service and for your own exculpation.” Schomberg looked at the document with startled eyes. What could this mean ? And was it safe to attempt an arrest? A large section of the troops were devoted to Marillac. He consulted with La Force, who advised him to obey orders, whatever the consequences. Schomberg thereupon showed Marillac the despatch. He beheld it with surprise and alarm, but without thought of resistance. “ I can protest that I have done nothing contrary to the king’s service,” he said. “ The truth is, that my brother, the keeper of the seals, and I have always been the servants of the queen-mother. She must have had the worst of it, and Cardinal Richelieu has won the day against her and her servants.” So it proved, indeed, and he was to suffer for it. He was tried,—not on any political charge, however, the crimes alleged against him were peculation and extortion, common practices with many of his fellow-generals. “ It is a very strange thing,” said he, bitterly, “ to 214 HISTORICAL TALES. prosecute me as they do; my trial is a mere question of hay, straw, wood, stones, and lime; there is not case enough for whipping a lackey.” He was mistaken; there was case enough for be¬ heading a marshal. It was not a question of pecula¬ tion, but of offending the great cardinal, for which he was really put on trial, and the case ended in his being found guilty of malfeasance in office and exe¬ cuted. His brother died in prison three mouths afterwards,—of decline, so the records say. “ Dupes’ Day,” as the day we have described came to be called, was over. The queen-mother had lost. Her dupes had suffered. Eichelieu was more power¬ ful than ever. She had but strengthened his ascend¬ ancy over the king. But Mary de’ Medici was not the woman to acknowledge defeat easily. Ho sooner had her first effort failed than her enmity against the too-powerful minister showed itself in a new direction, the principal agent of her purposes being now her son, the Duke of Orleans, brother to the king. The duke, after an angry interview with the cardinal, left Paris in haste for Orleans, his mother declaring to the king that the occasion of his sudden departure was that he could no longer tolerate by his presence Eichelieu’s violent proceedings against herself. She professed to have been taken by sur¬ prise by his departure, which Louis doubting, “ she took occasion to belch forth fire and flames against the cardinal, and made a fresh attempt to ruin him in the king’s estimation, though she had previously bound herself by oath to take no more steps against him.” RICHELIEU AND THE CONSPIRATORS. 215 Her malignity defeated itself. Richelieu was too skilful an adept in the game of politics to be so easily beaten. He brought the affair before tho council, seemingly utterly indifferent what might be done; the trouble might be ended, he suggested, by his own retirement or that of the queen-mother, whichever in their wisdom they might deem best. The implied threat settled the matter. The king, alarmed at the idea of having the government of Trance left on his weak hands, at once gave the offending lady to understand that she had better retire for a time to one of his provincial palaces, recommending Moulins. Mary de’ Medici heard this order with fiery indignation. She shut herself up in the castle of Compiegne, where she then was, and declared that she would not leave unless dragged out by main force. In the end, however, she changed her mind, fled by night from the castle, and made her way to Brussels, where she took refuge from her powerful foe. Richelieu’s game was won. Mary de’ Medici had lost all influence with her son. She was never to see him again. A number of years passed before a new plot was hatched against the cardinal. Then a conspiracy was organized which threatened not only his power but his life. It was in 1636. The king’s head, quarters were then at the castle of Demuin. The Duke of Orleans, who had been recently in armed rebellion against the king, and had been pardoned for his treason, determined, in common with the Count of Soissons, that their enemy, the cardinal, should die. There were others in this plot of assassi* 216 HISTORICAL TALES. nation, two of tlio duke’s gentlemen, Montresor and Saint Ibal, being chosen to deal the fatal blow. They were to station themselves at the foot of the grand stairway, meet Richelieu at his exit from the council, and strike him dead. The duke was to give the signal for the murderous assault. The door of the council chamber opened. The king and the cardinal came out together and de¬ scended the stairs in company, Richelieu attending Louis until he had reached the foot of the stairway, and gone into an adjoining room. The cardinal turned to ascend again, without a moment’s suspicion that the two gentlemen at the stair-foot clutched hidden daggers in their hands, ready, at a signal from the duke, who stood near by, to plunge them in his breast. The signal did not come. At the last moment the courage of Gaston of Orleans failed him. Whether from something in Richelieu’s earnest and dignified aspect, or some sudden fear of serious consequences to himself, the chief conspirator turned hastily away, without speaking the fatal word agreed upon. What the duke feared to do, the count dared not do. The two chosen assassins stood expectant, greeting the cardinal as he passed, and waiting in nervous im¬ patience for the promised signal. It failed to come. Their daggers remained undrawn. Richelieu calmly ascended the stairs to his rooms, without a dream of the deadly peril he had run. The conspiracy against the cardinal which has attained the greatest historical notoriety is that associated with the name of Cinq-Mars, the famous RICHELIEU AND THE CONSPIRATORS. 217 favorite of Louis XIII. Brilliant and witty, a true type of the courtiers of the time, this handsome youth so amused and interested the king that, when he was only nineteen years of age, Louis made him master of the wardrobe and grand equerry of France. M. Le Grand he was called, and grand enough he seemed, in his independent and capricious dealings with the king. Louis went so far as to complain to Richelieu of the humors of his youthful favorite. “ I am very sorry,” he wrote, under date of January 4, 1041, “ to trouble you about the ill-tempers of M. Le Grand. I upbraided him with his heedlessness; he answered that for that matter he could not change, and that he should do no better than he had done. I said that, considering his obligations to me, he ought not to address me in that manner. He an¬ swered in his usual way ; that he didn’t want my kindness, that he could do very well without it, and that he would be quite as well content to be Cinq- Mars as M. Le Grand, but as for changing his ways and his life, he couldn’t do it. And so, he continually nagging at me and I at him, we came as far as the court-yard, where I said to him that, being in tho temper he was in, he would do me the pleasure of not coming to see me. I have not seen him since.” This letter yields a curious revelation of the secret history of a royal court. There have been few kings with whom such impudent independence would have served. Louis XIII. was one of them. Cinq-Mars seems to have known his man. The quarrel was not of long continuance. Richelieu, who had first placed the youth near the king, easily reconciled them, a k 19 218 HISTORICAL TALES. service which the foolish boy soon repaid by lend¬ ing an ear to the enemies of the cardinal. For this Eichelieu was in a way responsible. He had begun to find the constant attendance of the favorite upon the king troublesome to himself, and gave him plainly to understand so. “ One day he sent word to him not to be for the future so continually at his heels, and treated him even to his face with as much tart¬ ness and imperiousness as if he had been the lowest of his valets.” Such treatment was not likely to be well received by one of the independent disposition of Cinq-Mars. He joined in a plot against the cardinal. The king was ill; the cardinal more so. Gaston, Duke of Orleans, was again in Paris, and full of his old intriguing spirit. The Duke of Bouillon was there also, having been sent for by the king to take com¬ mand of the army of Italy. He, too, was drawn into the plot which was being woven against Eichelieu. The queen, Anne of Austria, was another of the conspirators. The plot thus organized was the deep¬ est and most far-reaching which had yet been laid against the all-powerful minister. Bouillon was prince-sovereign of the town of Sedan. This place was to serve the conspirators as an asylum in case of reverse. But a town was not enough; an army was needed; whence should it come? Spain might furnish it. The affair was growing to the dimensions of a conspiracy against the crown as well as the minister. Yiscount de Fontrailles, a man who detested the cardinal, and would not have hesitated to murder RICHELIEU AND THE CONSPIRATORS. 219 him as a simpler way of disposing of the difficulty, was named by Cinq-Mars as a proper person to deal with the Spaniards. He set out for Madrid, and soon succeeded in negotiating a secret treaty, in the name of the Duke of Orleans, by whose terms Spain was to furnish the conspirators with twelve thousand foot, five thousand horse, and the necessary funds for the enterprise. The town of Sedan, and the names of Cinq-Mars and Bouillon, were not men¬ tioned in this treaty, but were given in a separate document. While this dangerous work was going on the car¬ dinal was dangerously ill, a prey to violent fever, and with an abscess on his arm which prevented him from writing. The king was with the army, which was besieging Perpignan. With him was Cinq-Mars, who was doing his best to insinuate suspicions of the minister into the mind of the king. All seemed promising for the conspirators, the illness of the cardinal, in their opinion, being likely to carry him off in no long period, and meanwhile preventing him from discovering the plot and setting himself right with the king. Evidently these hopeful people did not know the resources of Cardinal Richelieu. In all his severe illness his eyes had not been blind, his intellect not at rest. Keen as they thought themselves, they had a man with double their resources to deal with. Though Richelieu was by no means surrounded by the intricate web of spies and intrigues with which fiction and the drama have credited him, he was not without his secret agents, and his means of 220 HISTORICAL TALES. tracing the most hidden movements of his enemies. Cinq-Mars lacked the caution necessary for a con¬ spirator. His purposes became evident to the king, who had no thought of exchanging his great minister for a frivolous boy who was only fitted to amuse his hours of relaxation. The outcome of the affair appears in a piece of news published in the Gazette de France on June 21, 1642. “ The cardinal-duke,” it said, “ after remaining two days at Arles, embarked on the 11th of this month for Tarascon, his health becoming better and better. The king has ordered under arrest Marquis de Cinq- Mars, grand equerry of France.” Had a thunderbolt fallen in their midst, the enemies of Richelieu could not have been in greater conster¬ nation than at this simple item of news. How came it about? The fox was not asleep. Nor had his ill¬ ness robbed his hand and his brain of their cunning. The king, overladen with affairs of state from which his minister when well had usually relieved him, sent a message of confidence to Richelieu, indicating that his enemies would seek in vain to separate them. In reply the cardinal sent the king a document which filled the monarch with an astonishment that was only equalled by his wrath. It was a copy of the secret treaty of Orleans with Spain! The king could hardly believe his eyes. So this was what lay behind the insinuations of Cinq-Mars? An insurrection was projected against the state! The cardinal, mayhap the king himself, was to be overthrown by force of arms! Only the sleepless vigilance of Richelieu could have discovered and RICHELIEU AND THE CONSPIRATORS. Ml JL osposed this perilous plot. It remained for the king to second the work of his minister by decisive action. An order was at once issued for the arrest of Cinq- Mars and his intimate friend, M. de Thou; while a messenger was sent off in all haste to the army of Italy, bearing orders for the arrest of the Duke of Bouillon at the head of his troops. Fontrailles, just arrived from his mission to Spain, returned to that kingdom with all haste, having first said to Cinq-Mars, “ Sir, you are a fine figure; if you were shorter by the whole head you would not cease to be very tall. As for mo, who am already very short, nothing could be taken off me without inconveniencing me and making me cut the poorest figure in the world. You will be good enough, it you please, to let me get out of the way of edge tools.” The minor parties to the conspiracy, with the ex¬ ception of the prudent Fontrailles, were in custody. The most guilty of all, the king’s brother, was at large. What part was he to play in the drama of retribution? Flight, or treachery to his accom¬ plices, alone remained to him. lie chose the latter, sending an agent to the king, who had just joined the cardinal at Tarascon, with directions to confess everything and implore for him the pardon of his royal brother. The cardinal questioned this agent, the Abbe de la Riviere, with unrelenting severity, made him write and sign everything, and was in¬ clined to make the prince-duke appear as a witness at the trial, and yield up his accomplices in the face of the world. This final disgrace, however, was 19* 222 HISTORICAL TALES. omitted at the wish of Louis, and an order of exile was sent from the king to his brother, which bore this note in the cardinal’s hand,— “ Monsieur will have in his place of exile twelve thousand crowns a month, the same sum that the king of Spain had promised to give him.” The dying cardinal had triumphed over all his foes. He had, from his bed at Tarascon, dictated to the king the course to be pursued, entailing dishonor to the Duke of Orleans and death to the grand equerry of France. The king then took his way back to Fontainebleau in the litter of the cardinal, which the latter had lent him. Kichelieu did not remain long behind him. He was conveyed to his house in Lyons in a litter shaped like a square chamber, cov¬ ered with red damask, and borne on the shoulders of eighteen guards. Within, beside his couch, was a table covered with papers, at which he worked with his ordinary diligence, chatting pleasantly at inter¬ vals with such of his servants as accompanied him. In the same equipage he left Lyons for the Loire, on his return to Paris. On the way it was necessary to pull down walls and bridge ditches that this great litter, in which the greatest man in France lay in mortal illness, might pass. What followed needs few words. The Duke of Bouillon confessed everything, and was pardoned on condition of his delivering up Sedan to the king. He was kept in prison, however, till after the death of his accomplices, Cinq-Mars and De Thou, who were tried and sentenced to execution. Bouillon had not long to wait. The execution took RICHELIEU AND THE CONSIHRATORS. 223 place on the very day on which sentence had been pronounced. The two culprits met death firmly. Cinq-Mars was but twenty-two years of age. He had rapidly run his course. “ Now that I make not a single step which does not lead me to death, I am more capable than anybody else of estimating the value of the things of the world,” he wrote. “ Enough of this world; away to Paradise I” said De Thou, as he walked to the scaffold. There were no more conspiracies against Richelieu. There was no time for them, for in less than three months afterwards he was dead. The greatest, or at least the most dramatic, minister known to the pages of history had departed from this world. His royal master did not long survive him. In five months afterwards, Louis XIII. had followed his minister to tho grave. THE PARLIAMENT OF PARIS. In the streets of Paris all was tumult and fiery Indignation. Never had there been a more sudden or violent outbreak. The whole city seemed to have turned into the streets. Not until the era of the Revolution, a century and a half later, was the capital of France again to see such an uprising of the peo¬ ple against the court. Broussel had been arrested, Councillor Broussel, a favorite of the populace, an opponent of the court party, and at once the city was ablaze; for the first time in the history of France had the people risen in support of their representatives. It was by no means the first time that royalty had ended its disputes with the Parliament in this sum¬ mary manner. Four years previously, Anne of Austria, the queen-regent, had done the same thing, and scarce a voice had been raised in protest. But in the ensuing four years public opinion had changed. The king, Louis XIY., was but ten years old; his mother, aided by her favorite minister, Cardinal Mazarin, ruled the kingdom,—misruled it, as the people thought; the country was crushed under its weight of taxes; the finances were in utter disorder; France was successful abroad, but her successes had 224 THE PARLIAMENT OF PARIS. 225 been dearly bought, and the people groaned under the burden of their victories. Parliament made itself the mouth-piece of the public discontent. It no longer felt upon it the iron hand of Pichelieu. Mazarin was able, but he was not a master, and the Parliament began once more to claim that authority- in affairs of state from which it had been deposed by the great cardinal. A conflict arose between the members and the court which soon led to acts of open hostility. An edict laying a tax upon all provisions which entered Paris irritated the citizens, and the Parlia¬ ment refused to register it. Other steps towards independence were taken by the members. Grad¬ ually they resumed their old rights, and the court party was forced to yield. But courage returned to the queen-regent with the news that the army of France had gained a great victory. No sooner had the tidings reached Paris than the city was electrified by hearing that President Brancmesnil and Council¬ lor Broussel had been arrested. It was the arrest of Broussel that stirred the pop¬ ular heart. Mazarin and the queen had made the dangerous mistake of not taking into account the state of the public mind. “ There was a blaze at once, a sensation, a rush, an outcry, and a shutting up of shops.” The excitement of the people was in¬ tense. Moment by moment the tumult grew greater. “ Broussel! Broussel!” they shouted. That perilous populace had arisen which was afterwards to show what frightful deeds it could do under the impulse of oppression and misgovernment. hi.- -p 226 HISTORICAL TALES. Paul de Gondi, afterwards known as Cardinal de Ketz, then coadjutor of the Archbishop of Paris, and the leading spirit with the populace, hurried to the palace, accompanied by Marshal de la Meilleraie. “ The city is in a frightful state,” they told the queen. “ The people are furious and may soon grow unmanageable. The air is full of revolt.” Anne of Austria listened to them with set lips and angry eyes. “ There is revolt in imagining there can be revolt,” she sternly replied. “ These are the ridiculous stories of those who favor trouble; the king’s authority will soon restore order.” M. de Guitant, an old courtier, who entered as she was speaking, declared that the coadjutor had barely represented the facts, and said that he did not see how anybody could sleep with things in such a state. “Well, M. de Guitant, and what is your advice?” asked De Ketz. “ My advice is to give up that old rascal of a Brous- sel, dead or alive.” “ To give him up dead,” said the coadjutor, “ would not accord with either the piety or the prudence of the queen; to yield him alive might quiet the people.” The queen turned to him a face hot with anger, and exclaimed,— “ I understand you, Mr. Coadjutor; you would have me set Broussel at liberty. I would strangle him with these hands first!” As she finished these words she put her hands close to the coadjutor’s face, and added, in a threatening tone, “ And those THE PARLIAMENT OF PARIS. 227 who-” Her voice ceased; he was left to infer the rest. Yet, despite this infatuation of the queen, it was evident that something must be done, if Paris was to be saved. The people grew more tumultuous. Fresh tidings continued to come in, each more threatening than the last. The queen at length yielded so far as to promise that Broussel should be set free if the people would first disperse and cease their tumultu¬ ous behavior. The coadjutor was bidden to proclaim this in the streets. He asked for an order to sustain him, but the queen refused to give it, and withdrew “to her little gray room,” angry at herself for yielding so far as she had. De Retz did not find the situation a very pleasant one for himself. Mazarin pushed him gently towards the door, saying, “ Restore the peace of the realm.” Marshal Meilleraie drew him onward. He went into the street, wearing his robe of office, and bestowing benedictions right and left, though while doing so his mind was busy in considering how he was going to get out of the difficulty which lay before him. It grew worse instead of better. Marshal Meille¬ raie, losing his head through excitement, advanced waving his sword in the air, and shouting at the top of his voice,— “ Hurrah for the king! Liberation for Broussel!” This did very well for those within hearing; but his sword provoked far more than his voice quieted ; those at a distance looked on his action as a menace, and their fury was augmented. On all sides there 228 HISTORICAL TALES. was a rush for arms. Stones were flung by the rioters, one of which struck De Retz and felled him to the earth. As he picked himself up an excited youth rushed at him and put a musket to his head. Only the wit and readiness of the coadjutor saved him from imminent peril. “ Though I did not know him a bit,” says De Retz, in his “Memoirs,” “I thought it would not be well to let him suppose so at such a moment; on the con¬ trary, I said to him, 1 Ah, wretch, if thy father saw thee!’ He thought I was the best friend of his father, on whom, however, I had never set eyes.” The fellow withdrew, ashamed of his violence, and before any further attack could be made upon De Retz he was recognized b}’ the people and dragged to the market-place, constantly crying out as he went, “The queen has promised to restore Broussel.” The good news by this time had spread through the multitude, whose cries of anger were giving place to shouts of joy. Their arms were hastily dis¬ posed of, and a great throng, thirty or forty thou¬ sand in number, followed the coadjutor to the Palais- Royal. When he entered, Marshal Meilleraie turned to the queen and said,— “ Madame, here is he to whom I owe my life, and your Majesty the safety of the Palais-Royal.” The queen’s answer was an incredulous smile. On seeing it, the hasty temper of the marshal broke out in an oath. “Madame,” he said, hotly, “no proper man can venture to flatter you in the state in which things are; and if you do not this very day set Broussel at THE PARLIAMENT OF PARIS. 229 liberty, to-morrow there will not be left one stono upon an other in Paris.” Anne of Austria, carried away by her pride and superciliousness, could not be brought to believe that the populace would dare attempt an actual revolt against the king. De Eetz would have spoken in support of the marshal’s words, but she cut him short, saying in a tone of mockery,— “Go and rest yourse’f, sir; you have worked very hard.” He left the palace in a rage. It was increased when word was brought to him that he had been ridiculed at the supper-table of the queen. She had gone so far as to blame him for increasing the tu¬ mult, and threatened to make an example of him and to interdict the Parliament. In short, the exerciso of power had made the woman mad. De Eetz re¬ flected. If the queen designed to punish him, she should have something to punish him for. He was not the man to be made a cat’s-paw of. “We are not in such bad case as you suppose, gentlemen,” he said to his friends. “There is an intention of crushing the public; it is forme to de¬ fend it from oppression; to-morrow before mid-day I shall be master of Paris.” Anne of Austria had made an enemy of one who had been her strong friend, a bold and restless man, capable of great deeds. He had long taken pains to make himself popular in Paris. During that night he and his emissaries worked in secret upon the peo¬ ple. Early the next day the mob was out again, arms in hand, and ripe for mischief. The chancellor, 20 230 HISTORICAL TALES. on his way to the Palace of Justice, suddenly found his carriage surrounded by these rioters. He hastily sought refuge in the Hotel de Luynes. The mob followed him, pillaging as they went, destroying the furniture, seeking the fugitive. He had taken refuge in a small chamber, where, thinking that his last hour had come, he knelt in confession before his brother, the Bishop of Meaux. Fortunately for him the rioters failed to discover him, and were led away by another fancy. “ It was like a sudden and violent conflagration lighted up from the Pont Neuf over the whole city,” says De Retz. “ Everybody without exception took up arms. Children of five and six years of age were seen dagger in hand, and the mothers themselves carried them. In less than two hours there were in Paris more than two hundred barricades, bordered with flags and all the arms that the League had left entire. Everybody cried ‘ Hurrah for the king!’ but echo answered, ‘ None of your Mazarin!’ ” It was an incipient revolution, but it was the min¬ ister and the regent, not the king, against whom the people had risen, its object being the support of the Parliament of Paris, not the States General of the kingdom. France was not yet ready for the radical work reserved for a later day. The turbulent Pari¬ sians were in the street, arms in hand, but they had not yet lost the sentiment of loyalty to the king. A century and a half more of misrule were needed to complete this transformation in the national idea. While all this was going on, the coadjutor, the soul of the outbreak, kept at home, vowing that he was THE PARLIAMENT OF PARIS. 231 powerless to control the people. At an early nour the Parliament assembled at the Palace of Justice, but its deliberations were interrupted by shouts of “ Broussel! Broussel 1” from the immense multitude which filled every adjoining avenue. Only the re¬ lease of the arrested members could appease the mob. The Parliament determined to go in a body and demand this of the queen. Their journey was an eventful one. Paris was in insurrection. Everywhere they found the people in arms, while barricades were thrown up at every hundred paces. Through the shouting and howling mob they made their way to the queen’s palace, the ushers in front, with their square caps, the members following in their robes, at their head M. Mole, their premier president. The conference with the queen was a passionate one. M. Mole spoke for the Parliament, representing to the queen the extreme danger Paris was in, the peril to all France, unless the prisoners were released and the sedition allayed. He spoke to a woman “ who feared nothing because she knew but little,” and who was just then controlled by pride and pas¬ sion instead of reason. “ I am quite aware that there is a disturbance in the city,” she answered, furiously; “ but you shall answer to me for it, gentlemen of the Parliament, you, your wives, and your children.” With further threats that the king would remem¬ ber the cause of these evils, when he reached his majority, the incensed woman flouted from the chamber of audience, slamming the door violently 232 HISTORICAL TALES. behind her. To deal with her, in her present mood, was evidently impracticable. The members left the palace to return. They quickly found themselves surrounded by an angry mob, furious at their non- success, disposed to hold them responsible for the failure. On their arrival at the Eue St. Honore, just as they were about to turn on to the Pont Neuf, a band of about two hundred men advanced threaten¬ ingly upon them, headed by a cook-shop lad, armed with a halberd, which he thrust against M. Mole’s body, crying,— “ Turn, traitor, and if thou wouldst not thyself be slain, give up to us Broussel, or Mazarin and the chancellor as hostages.” Mole quietly put the weapon aside. “ You forget yourself,” he said, with calm dignity, “ and are oblivious of the respect you owe to my office.” The mob, however, was past the point of paying respect to dignitaries. They hustled the members, threatened the president with swords and pistols, and several times tried to drag him into a private house. But he resisted, and was aided by members and friends who surrounded him. Slowly the par¬ liamentary body made its way back to the Palais- Boyal, whither they had resolved to return, M. Mole preserving his dignity of mien and movement, despite the “ running fire of insults, threats, execra¬ tions, and blasphemies,” that arose from every side. They reached the palace, at length, in diminished numbers, many of the members having dropped out of the procession. THE PARLIAMENT OF PARIS. 233 The whole court was assembled in the gallery. Mole spoke first. He was a man of great natural eloquence, who was at his best as an orator when surrounded by peril, and he depicted the situation so graphically that all present, except the queen, were in terror. “ Monsieur made as if he would throw himself upon his knees before the queen, who re¬ mained inflexible,” says De Ketz ; “ four or five prin¬ cesses, who were trembling with fear, did throw themselves at her feet; the queen of England, who had come that day from St. Germain, represented that the troubles had never been so serious at their commencement in England, nor the feelings so heated or united.” Paris, in short, was on the eve of a revolution, and the queen could not be made to see it. Cardinal Mazarin, who was present, and who had been severely dealt with in the speeches, some of the orators telling him, in mockery, that if he would only go as far as the Pont Neuf he would learn for himself how things were, now joined the others in entreating Anne of Austria to give way. She did so at length, consenting to the release of Broussel, though “ not without a deep sigh, which showed what violence she did her feelings in the struggle.” If is an interesting spectacle to see this woman, moved by sheer pride and obstinacy, conjoined with ignorance of the actual situation, seeking to set her single will against that of a city in revolt, and en¬ dangering the very existence of the monarchy by her sheer lack of reason. Her consent, for the timo being, settled the difficult}*, though the passiona ‘ 20 * 234 HISTORICAL TALES. which had been aroused were not easily to be set at rest. Broussel was released and took his seat again in the Parliament, and the people returned to their homes, satisfied, for the time, with their victory over the queen and the cardinal. In truth, a contest had arisen which was yet to yield important cousequences. The Prince of Conde had arrived in Paris during these events. He had the prestige of a successful general; he did not like the cardinal, but he looked on the Parliament as im¬ prudent and insolent. “ If I should join hands with them,” he said to De Eetz, “ it might be best for my interests, but my name is Louis de Boui’bon, and I do not wish to shake the throne. These devils of square-caps, are they mad about bringing me either to commence a civil war, or to put a rope round their own necks ? I will let them see that they are not the potentates they think themselves, and that they may easily be brought to reason.” “The cardinal may possibly be mistaken in his measures,” answered De Betz. “ He will find Paris a hard nut to crack.” “ It will not be taken, like Dunkerque, by mining and assaults,” retorted the prince, angrily; “ but if the bread of Gonesse were to fail them for a week-” He left the coadjutor to imagine the consequences. The contest continued. In January, 1649, the queen, the boy king, and the whole court set out by night for the castle of St. Germain. It was un- lurnished, with scarcely a bundle of straw to lie THE PARLIAMENT OF PARIS. 235 upon, but the queen could not have been more gay “ had she won a battle, taken Paris, and had all wbo had displeased her hanged, and nevertheless she was very far from all that.” Far enough, indeed. Paris was in the hands of her enemies, who were as gay as the queen. On the 8th of January the Parliament of Paris decreed Cardinal Mazarin an enemy to the king and the state, and bade all subjects of the king to hunt him down. War was declared against the queen regent and her favorite, the cardinal. Had it been the States-General in place of the Parliament, the French Revolution might have then and there begun. Many of the greatest lords joined the side of the people. Troops were levied in the city, their com¬ mand being offered to the Prince of Conti. The Parliaments of Aix and Rouen voted to support that of Paris. It was decreed lhat all the royal funds, in the exchequers of the kingdom, should be seized and used for the defence of the people. All was festivity in the city. The versatile people seemed to imagine that to declare war was to decree victory. There was dancing everywhere within the walls. There was the rumble of war without. The Prince of Conde, at the head of the king’s troops, had taken the post of Charentin from the Frondeurs, as the malcontents called themselves, and had carried out his threat of checking the flow of bread to the city. The gay Parisians were beginning to feel the incon¬ venience of hunger. What followed is too long a story to be told here, except in bare epitome. A truce was patched up 236 HISTORICAL TALES. between the contending parties. Bread flowed again into Paris. The scared and hungry people grew courageous and violent again when their appetites were satisfied. When M. Mole and his fellows re¬ turned to Paris with a treaty of peace which they had signed, the populace gathered round them in fury. “ None of your peace! None of your Mazarin !” they angrily shouted. “We must go to St. Germain to seek our good king ! We must fling into the river all the Mazarins.” One of them laid his hand threateningly on Presi¬ dent Mole’s arm. The latter looked him in the face calmly. “ When you have killed me,” he said, quietly, “ I shall only need six feet of earth.” “ You can get hack to your house secretly by way of the record offices,” whispered one of his com¬ panions. “ The court never hides itself,” he composedly re¬ plied. “ If I were certain to perish, I would not commit this poltroonery, which, moreover, would but give courage to the rioters. They would seek me in my house if they thought I shrank from them here.” M. Mole was a man of courage. To face a mob is at times more dangerous than to face an army. Paris was in disorder. The agitation was spread¬ ing all over France. But the army was faithful to the king, and without it the Fronde was powerless. The outbreak had ended in a treaty of peace and amnesty in which the Parliament had in a measure won, as it had preserved all its rights and privileges. THE PARLIAMENT OF PARIS. 237 It was to be a short peace. Conde, elated by having beaten the Fronde, claimed a lion’s share in the government. His brother, the Prince of Conti, and his sister, the Duchess of Longueville, joined him in these pretensions. The affair ended in a bold step on the part of Mazarin and the queen. The two princes and M. de Longueville were arrested and conveyed to the castle of Vincennes, while the prin¬ cesses were ordered to retire to their estates, and the Duchess of Longueville, fearing arrest, fled in haste to Normandy. For the present the star of the cardinal was in the ascendant. But his master-stroke set war on foot again. The Parliament of Paris supported the princes. Their partisans rallied. Bordeaux broke into insurrection. Elsewhere hot blood declared itself. The Duke of Orleans joined the party of the prisoners. The Parliament enjoined all the officers of the crown to obey none but the duke, the lieutenant-general of the kingdom. On the night of February 6, 1651, Mazarin set out again for St. Germain. Paris had become far too hot to hold him. The tidings of his flight brought the people into the streets again. The Duke of Orleans informed Cardinal de Betz that the queen proposed to follow her flying minister, with the boy king. “ What is to be done ?” he asked, somewhat help¬ lessly. “ It is a bad business; but how are we to stop it ?” “ How ?” cried the more practical De Retz; “ why, by shutting the gates of Paris, to begin with. The king must not go.” 238 HISTORICAL TALES. Witliin an hour the emissaries of the ready coad jutor were rousing up the people right and left with the tidings of the projected flight of the queen with her son. Soon the city swarmed again with armed and angry men, the gates were seized, mounted guards patrolled the streets, the crowd surged towards the Palais-Royal. Within the palace all was alarm and confusion. Anne of Austria had indeed been on the point of flight. Her son was in his travelling-dress. But the people were at the door, clamoring to see the king, threatening dire consequences if the doors were not opened to them. They could not long be kept out; some immediate action must be taken. The boy’s travelling-attire was quickly replaced by his night dress, and he was laid in bed, his mother cautioning him to lie quiet and feign sleep. “The king! we must see the king!” came the vociferous cry from the street. “ Open ! the people demand to see their king.” The doors were forced ; the mob was in the palace; clamor and tumult reigned below the royal chambers. The queen sent word to the people that the king was asleep in his bed. They might enter and see him if they would promise to tread softly and keep strict silence. This message at once stopped the tumult; the noise subsided ; the people began to file into the room, stepping as noiselessly as though shod with down, gazing with awed eyes on the seemingly sleeping face of the boy king. The queen stood at the pillow of her son, a grace ful and beautiful woman, her outstretched arm hold- THE PARLIAMENT OP PARIS. 239 ing back the heavy folds of the drapery, her face schooled to quiet repose. Louis lay with closed eyes and regular breathing, playing his part well. For hours a stream of the men and women of Paris flowed through the chamber, moving in reverential silence, gazing on the boy’s face as on a sacred treas¬ ure of their own. Till three o’clock in the morning the movement continued, the queen standing all this time like a beautiful statue, her son still feigning slumber. It was a scene of remarkable and pic¬ turesque character. That night of strain and excitement passed. The king was with them still, of that the people were assured; ho must remain with them, there must be an end of midnight flights. The patrol was kept up, the gates watched, the king was a prisoner in the hands of the Parisians. “ The king, our master, is a captive,” said M. Mole, voicing to the Parliament the queen’s complaint. “ He was a captive, in the hands of Mazarin,” replied the Duke of Orleans; “ but, thank God, he is so no longer.” The people had won. Mazarin was beaten. He hastened to La Havre, where the princes were then confined, and set them at liberty himself. His power in France, for the time, was at an end. He made his way to the frontier, which he crossed on the 12th of March. lie was just in time: the Parliament of Paris had issued orders for his arrest, wherever found in France. "We must end here, with this closing of the contest between Mazarin and the Fronde. History goes oa 240 HISTORICAL TALES. to tell that the contest was reopened, Mazarin re- turned, there was battle in Paris, the Fronde failed, and Mazarin died in office. The popular outbreak here briefly chronicled is of interest from the fact that it immediately followed the success of the insurrection in England and the execution of Charles I. The provocation was the same in the two nations; the result highly different. In both cases it was a revolt against the tyranny of the court and the attempt to establish absolutism. But the difference in results lay in the fact that England had a single parliament, composed of poli¬ ticians, while France had ten parliaments, composed of magistrates, and unaccustomed to handle great questions of public policy. Richelieu had taken from the civic parliaments of France what little power they possessed, and they were but shadowy proto¬ types of the English representative assembly. “ W ith- out any unity of action or aim, and by turns excited and dismayed by the examples that came to them from England, the Frondeurs had to guide them no Hampden or Cromwell; they had at their backs neither people nor army; the English had been able to accomplish a revolution; the Fronde failed before the dexterous prudence of Mazarin and the queen’s fidelity to her minister.” There lay before France a century and a half of autocratic rule and popular suffering; then was to come the convening of the States-General, the rise of the people, and the final downfall of absolute royalty and feudal privileges in the red tide of the Revolution. A MARTYR TO HIS PROFESSION,. The grounds of the Chateau de Chantilly, that charming retreat of the Prince de Conde, shone with all the splendor which artistic adornments, gleaming lanterns of varied form and color, splendidly-cos¬ tumed dames and richly-attired cavaliers could give them, the whole scene having a fairy-like beauty and richness wonderfully pleasing to the eye. For more than a mile from the entrance to the grounds men holding lighted torches bordered the road, while in all the villages leading thither the peasants were out in their gala attire, and triumphal arches of verdure were erected in honor of the king, Louis XIV., who was on his way thither to visit Monsieur le Prince. He was coming, the great Louis, the Grand Monarque of France, and noble and peasant alike were out to bid him welcome, while the artistic skill of the day had exhausted itself in efforts to provide him a splendid reception. And now there could be heard on the road the trampling of horses, the clanking of swords, the voices of approaching men, and a gallant cavalcade wheeled at length into the grounds, announcing that the king was close at hand. A few minutes of anxious expectation passed, and hi.—l q 21 241 242 HISTORICAL TALES. then the king, attended by a large group of courtiers, came sweeping grandly forward, while at the same moment a gleaming display of fireworks, at the end of the avenue, blazed olf in fiery greeting. As the coruscating lights faded out Conde met the king in his coach, which he invited him to enter, and olf they drove to the Chateau, followed by a shining swarm of grand dames and great lords who had gathered to this fete from all parts of France. Within the chateau as much had been done as without to render honor to the occasion. Hundreds of retainers lined chamber and hall in splendid attire, their only duty being to add life and richness to the scene. The rooms were luxuriously furnished, the banqueting hall was a scene for a painter, and the banquet a triumph of the art of the Cuisine, for was it not prepared by the genius of Yatel, the great Yatel, the most famous of cooks ministering to the most showy of monarchs! All went well; the king feasted on delicacies which were a triumph of art; Louis was satisfied; Yatel triumphed; so far the fete was a success. In the evening the king played at piquet, the cavaliers and ladies promenaded through the splendidly-furnished and richly-lighted saloons, some cracked jokes on sofas, some made love in alcoves, still all went well. For the next day the programme included a grand promenade a la mode de Versailles , a collation in the park, under great trees laden with the freshest verdure of spring, a stag-hunt by moonlight, a bril¬ liant display of fireworks, then a supper in the ban¬ queting hall of the chateau. And still all went well. A MARTYR TO HIS PROFESSION. 243 At least all thought so but Yatel; but as for that prince of cooks, he was in despair. A frightful disaster had occurred. After the days and nights of anxiety and care in preparing for this grand occa¬ sion, for a failure now to take place, it was to him unpardonable, unsupportable. Tidings of his distress were brought to Conde. The generous prince sought his room to console him. “ Yatel,” said he, “ what is this I hear ? The king’s supper was superb.” “ Monseigneur,” said Yatel, tears in his eyes, the roti was wanting at two tables.” “Not at all,” replied the prince. “You surpassed yourself; nothing could have been better; every¬ thing was perfect.” Yatel, somewhat relieved by this praise, sought his couch, and a morsel of sleep visited his eyelids. But the shadow of doom still hung over his career. By break of day he was up again. Others might lie late abed, but there could be no such indulgence for him; for was not he the power behind the throne ? What would this grand fete be should his genius fail, his powers prove unequal to the strain ? King and prince, lord and lady might slumber, but Yatel must be up and alert. Fresh fish formed an essential part of the menu which he had laid out for the dining-tables of the third day. He had ordered them from every part of the coast. Would they come? Could the fates fail him now, at this critical moment of his life ? The anxious chief went abroad to view the situation. 244 HISTORICAL TALES. His eyes lighted. A fisher-boy had just arrived with two loads of fish, fresh brought from the coast. Yatel looked at them, and then gazed around with newly disturbed eyes. “Is that all?” he asked, his voice faltering. “That is all, sir,” answered the boy, who knew nothing about the numerous orders. Yatel turned pale. All? These few fish all he had to offer his multitude of guests ? Only a miracle could divide these so as to give a portion to each. He waited, despair slowly descending upon his heart. In vain his anxious wait; no more fish appeared. Yatel’s anxiety was fast becoming despair. The disaster of the night before, to be followed by this terrible stroke—it was more than his artistic soul could bear; disgrace had come upon him in its direst form ; his reputation was at stake. He met Gourville, a wit and factotum of the court, and told him of his misfortune. “ It is disgrace, ruin,” he cried; “ I cannot sur¬ vive it.” Gourville heard him with merry laughter. To his light mind the affair seemed only a good joke. It was not so to Yatel. He sought his room and locked himself in. He was too soon, alas, too soon; for now fish are coming; here, there, everywhere; the orders have been strictly obeyed, there is abundance for all pur¬ poses. The cooks receive them, and look for Yatel to give orders for their disposal. He is not to be seen. “ He went to his room,” says Gourville. They repair thither, knock persistently, but in vain, and A MARTYR TO HIS PROFESSION. 245 finding that no answer can be obtained, they break open the door and enter. A frightful spectacle meets their eyes. On the floor before them lies poor Vatel, in a pool of his own blood, pierced through the heart. In his ec¬ stasy of despair at the non-arrival of the fish, he had fastened his sword in the door, and thrown himself upon its deadly point. Thrice he had done so, twice wounding himself slightly, the third time piercing himself through the heart. Poor fellow! ho was dead, and the fish had arrived. It was a useless sacrifice of his life to his art. The tidings of the tragedy filled the chateau with alarm and dismay. The prince was in despair, the more so as the king blamed him for the fatal occur¬ rence. He had long avoided Chantilly, he said, know¬ ing that his coming would occasion inconvenience, since his host would insist on providing for the whole of his suite. There should have been but two tables, and there were more than twenty-five; the strain on poor Vatel was the cause of his death and the loss of one of the ornaments of the reign. He would never allow such extravagance again. Men like Vatel were not to be so lightly sacrificed. While the king thus petulantly scolded his great subject in the time-honored “ I told you so” fashion, the whole chateau buzzed with opinions about the tragic event. “Vatel has played the hero,” said some; “ He has played the idiot,” said others. Some praised his courage and devotion to his art; others blamed his haste and folly. But praise prevailed over blame, for, as all conceded, “he had died for 21 * 246 HISTORICAL TALES. the honor of his profession,” and no soldier or martyr could do more. But Yatel was gone, and dinner was not served. The dead was dead, but appetite remained. What was to be done ? Gourville sprang into the breach and undertook to replace Yatel. The fish were cooked, the company dined, then they promenaded, then they played piquet, losing and winning largely, then they supped, then they enjoyed a moonlight chase of the deer in the park of Chantilly. Mirth and gayety prevailed, and before bedtime came poor Yatel was forgotten. The cook, who had died for his art was as far from their thoughts as the martyrs of centuries before. Early the next day the king and his train departed, leaving Conde to count the cost of the entertainment, which had been so great as to make him agree with Louis, that hereafter two tables would be better than twenty-five. Doubtless among his chief losses he counted Yatel. Money could be found again, waste repaired, but a genius of the kitchen the equal of Yatel was not to be had to order. Men like him are the growth of centuries. He died that his name might live. THE MAN WITH THE IRON MASK. In the year 1662, the first year of the absolute reign of Louis XIV., there occurred an event without parallel in history, and which still remains shrouded iu the mystery in which it was from the first in¬ volved. There was sent with the utmost secrecy to the Chateau of Pignerol an unknown prisoner, whose identity was kept secret with the most extreme care. All that can be said of him is that he was young, well-formed and attractive in appearance, and above the usual stature. As for his face, whether it were handsome or ill-favored, noble or base, no man could say, for it was concealed by an impenetrable mask, the lower portion of which was made movable by steel springs, so that he could eat with it on, while the upper portion was immovably fixed. This mysterious state prisoner remained for a num¬ ber of years at Pignerol, under charge of its governor, M. de Saint Mars, an officer of the greatest discre¬ tion and trustworthiness. He was afterwards re¬ moved to the castle of the Isle of Sainte Marguerite, on the coast of Provence, where he remained for years in the same mysterious seclusion, an object of the greatest curiosity on the part of all the people of the prison, and of no less interest to the people 247 248 HISTORICAL TALES. of the kingdom, to whose love of the marvellous the secrecy surrounding him appealed. The mask was never removed, day or night, so far as any one could learn, while conjecture sought in vain to discover who this mysterious personage could be. This much was certain, no person of leading im¬ portance had disappeared from Europe in the year 1662. On the other hand, the masked prisoner was treated with a consideration which could be looked for only by persons of the highest birth. The Mar¬ quis of Louvois, minister of war under the “ Grand Monarque,” was said to have visited him at Sainte Marguerite, and to have treated him with the respect due to one of royal birth. He spoke to him stand¬ ing, as to one far his superior in station, and showed him throughout the interview the greatest deference. In 1698, M. de Saint Mars was made governor of the Bastille. He brought with him this mysterious masked prisoner, whose secret it was apparently not deemed advisable to intrust to a new governor of Sainte Marguerite. As to what took place on the journey, we have some interesting details in a letter from M. de Formanoir, grand nephew of Saint Mars. “ In 1698, M. de Saint Mars exchanged the gov¬ ernorship of the islands [Sainte Marguerite and Sainte Honnat] for that of the Bastille. When he set out to enter on his new office he stayed with his prisoner for a short time at Palteau, his estate. The mask arrived in a litter which preceded that of M. de Saint Mars; they were accompanied by several men on horseback. The peasants went out to meet their seigneur. M. de Saint Mars took his meals THE MAN WITH THE IRON MASK. 249 with his prisoner, who sat with his back towards th