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QUENTIN DURWARD.

shelves, some of walnut-tree, curiously carved, and brought to a dark colour by time, nearly resembling that of a ripe chestnut, and partly of common deal, employed to repair and supply the deficiencies occasioned by violence and devastation. On these shelves were deposited the wrecks, or rather the precious relics, of a most splendid library.

The Marquis's father had been a man of information, and his grandfather was famous, even in the Court of Louis XIV., where literature was in some degree considered as the fashion, for the extent of his acquirements. Those two proprietors, opulent in their fortunes, and liberal in the indulgence of their taste, had made such additions to a curious old Gothic library, which had descended from their ancestors, that there were few collections in France which could be compared to that of Hautlieu. It had been completely dispersed, in consequence of an ill-judged attempt of the present Marquis, in 1790, to defend his Chateau against a revolutionary mob. Luckily, the Cure, who, by his charitable and moderate conduct, and his evangelical virtues, possessed much interest among the neighbouring peasantry, prevailed on many of them to buy, for the petty sum of a few sous, and sometimes at the vulgar rate of a glass of brandy, volumes which had cost large sums, but which were carried off in mere spite by the ruffians who pillaged the Castle. He himself also had purchased as many of the books as his funds could possibly reach, and to his care it was owing that they were restored to the turret in which I found them. It was no wonder, therefore, that the good Cure had some pride and pleasure in showing the collection to strangers.

In spite of odd volumes, imperfections, and all the other mortifications which an amateur encounters in looking through an ill-kept library, there were many articles in that of Hautlieu,

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calculated, as Bayes says, "to elevate and surprise" the Bibliomaniac. There were,

"The small rare volume, dark with tarnish'd gold." as Dr. Ferrier feelingly sings-curious and richly painted missals, manuscripts of 1380, 1320, and even earlier, and works in Gothic type, printed in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries.. But of these I intend to give a more detailed account, should the Marquis grant his permission.

In the meantime, it is sufficient to say, that, delighted with the day I had spent at Hautlieu, I frequently repeated my visit, and that the key of the octangular tower was always at my command. In those hours I became deeply enamoured of a part of French history, which, although most important to that of Europe at large, and illustrated by an inimitable old historian, I had never sufficiently studied. At the same time, to gratify the feelings of my excellent host, I occupied myself occasionally with some family memorials, which had fortunately been preserved, and which contained some curious particulars respecting the connexion with Scotland, which first found me favour in the eyes of the Marquis de Hautlieu.

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I pondered on these things, more meo, until my return to Britain, to beef and sea-coal fires, a change of residence which took place since I drew up these Gallic reminiscences. At length, the result of my meditations took the form of which my readers, if not startled by this preface, will presently be enabled to judge. Should the Public receive it with favour, I shall not regret having been for a short time an Absentee.

QUENTIN DURWARD.

CHAPTER I.

THE CONTRAST.

Look here upon this picture, and on this,

and headlong spirit of enterprise, in actions for which his happier native country afforded no free stage.

At this period, and as if to save this fair realm from the various woes with which it was menaced, the tottering throne was ascended by Louis XI., whose character, evil as it was in itself, met, combated, and in a great degree neutralized, the mischiefs of the time as poisons of opposing qualities are said, in ancient books of medicine, to have the power of counteracting each other.

The counterfeit presentment of two brothers.-Hamlet. THE latter part of the fifteenth century prepared a train of future events, that ended by raising France to that state of formidable power, which has ever since been, from time to time, the principal object of jealousy to the other European nations. Before that Brave enough for every useful and political purpose, period, she had to struggle for her very existence with Louis had not a spark of that romantic valour, or of the English, already possessed of her fairest provinces; the pride generally associated with it, which fought while the utmost exertions of her King, and the gal-on for the point of honour, when the point of utility lantry of her people, could scarcely protect the re- had been long gained. Calm, crafty, and profoundly mainder from a foreign yoke. Nor was this her sole attentive to his own interest, he made every sacrifice, danger. The princes who possessed the grand fiefs both of pride and passion, which could interfere with of the crown, and, in particular, the Dukes of Bur- it. He was careful in disguising his real sentimente gundy and Bretagne, had come to wear their feudal and purposes from all who approached him, and frebonds so lightly, that they had no scruple in lifting quently used the expressions, "that the king knew the standard against their liege and sovereign lord, not how to reign, who knew not how to dissemble; the King of France, on the slightest pretence. When and that, for himself, if he thought his very cap knew at peace, they reigned as absolute princes in their own his secrets, he would throw it into the fire." No man provinces; and the House of Burgundy, possessed of of his own, or of any other time, better understood the district so called, together with the fairest and how to avail himself of the frailties of others, and richest part of Flanders, was itself so wealthy, and when to avoid giving any advantage by the untimely so powerful, as to yield nothing to the crown, either indulgence of his own. in splendour or in strength.

He was by nature vindictive and cruel, even to the In imitation of the grand feudatories, each inferior extent of finding pleasure in the frequent executions vassal of the crown assumed as much independence which he commanded. But, as no touch of mercy as his distance from the sovereign power, the extent ever induced him to spare, when he could with safety of his fief, or the strength of his chateau, enabled him condemn, so no sentiment of vengeance ever stimuto maintain; and these petty tyrants, no longer ame-lated him to a premature violence. He seldom sprung nable to the exercise of the law, perpetrated with im- on his prey till it was fairly within his grasp, and tiff punity the wildest excesses of fantastic oppression all hope of rescue was vain; and his movements were and cruelty. In Auvergne alone, a report was made so studiously disguised, that his success was generally of more than three hundred of these independent what first announced to the world the object he had nobles, to whom incest, murder, and rapine, were been manoeuvring to attain. the most ordinary and familiar actions.

Besides these evils, another, springing out of the long-continued wars betwixt the French and English, added no small misery to this distracted kingdom. Numerous bodies of soldiers, collected into bands, under officers chosen by themselves, from among the bravest and most successful adventurers, had been formed in various parts of France out of the refuse of all other countries. These hireling combatants sold their swords for a time to the best bidder; and, when such service was not to be had, they made war on their own account, seizing castles and towers, which they used as the places of their retreat,-making prisoners, and ransoming them,-exacting tribute from the open villages, and the country around them, and acquiring, by every species of rapine, the appropriate epithets of Tondeurs and Ecorcheurs, that is, Clippers and Flayers.

In the midst of the horrors and miseries arising from so distracted a state of public affairs, reckless and profuse expense distinguished the courts of the lesser nobles, as well as of the superior princes; and their dependants, in imitation, expended in rude, but magnificent display, the wealth which they extorted from the people. A tone of romantic and chivalrous gallantry (which, however, was often disgraced by unbounded license) characterised the intercourse between the sexes; and the language of knight-errantry was yet used, and its observances followed, though the pure spirit of honourable love, and benevolent enterprise, which it inculcates, had ceased to qualify and atone for its extravagances. The jousts and tournaments, the entertainments and revels, which each petty court displayed, invited to France every wandering adventurer; and it was seldom that, when arrived there, he failed to employ his rash courage.

In like manner, the avarice of Louis gave way to apparent profusion, when it was necessary to bribe the favourite or minister of a rival prince for averting any impending attack, or to break up any alliance confederated against him. He was fond of license and pleasure; but neither beauty nor the chase, though both were ruling passions, ever withdrew him from the most regular attendance to public business and the affairs of his kingdom. His knowledge of mankind was profound, and he had sought it in the private walks of life, in which he often personally mingled; and, though naturally proud and haughty, he hesitated not, with an inattention to the arbitrary divisions of society which was then thought something portentously unnatural, to raise from the lowest rank men whom he employed on the most important duties, and knew so well how to choose them, that he was rarely disappointed in their qualities.

Yet there were contradictions in the character of this artful and able monarch; for human nature is rarely uniform. Himself the most false and insincere of mankind, some of the greatest errors of his life arose from too rash a confidence in the honour and integrity of others. When these errors took place, they seem to have arisen from an over-refined system of policy, which induced Louis to assume the appearance of undoubting confidence in those whom it was his object to overreach; for, in his general conduct. he was as jealous and suspicious as any tyrant who ever breathed.

Two other points may be noticed to complete the sketch of this formidable character, by which he rose among the rude chivalrous sovereigns of the period to the rank of a keeper among wild beasts, who, by superior wisdom and policy, by distribution of food, and some discipline by blows, comes finally to pre

lessen, since he could not actually stop them; and by dint of unrelaxed attention, he gradually gained some addition to his own regal authority, or effected some diminution of those by whom it was counterbalanced.

dominate over those, who, if unsubjected by his arts, | punished oppressions of the nobility, he laboured to would by main strength have torn him to pieces. The first of these attributes was Louis's excessive superstition, a plague with which Heaven often afflicts those who refuse to listen to the dictates of religion. The remorse arising from his evil actions, Louis never endeavoured to appease by any relaxa- Still the King of France was surrounded by doubt tion in his Machiavellian stratagems, but laboured, in and danger. The members of the league "for the vain, to soothe and silence that painful feeling by su-public weal," though not in unison, were in existence, perstitious observances, severe penance, and profuse and, like a scotched snake, might re-unite and begifts to the ecclesiastics. The second property, with come dangerous again. But a worse danger was which the first is sometimes found strangely united, the increasing power of the Duke of Burgundy, then was a disposition to low pleasures and obscure de- one of the greatest Princes of Europe, and little dibauchery. The wisest, or at least the most crafty minished in rank by the very slight dependence of his sovereign of his time, he was fond of low life, and, duchy upon the crown of France. being himself a man of wit, enjoyed the jests and repartees of social conversation more than could have been expected from other points of his character. He even mingled in the comic adventures of obscure intrigue, with a freedom little consistent with the habitual and guarded jealousy of his character; and he was so fond of this species of humble gallantry, that he caused a number of its gay and licentious anec-prosecuting a desperate enterprise, and never abandotes to be enrolled in a collection well known to book-collectors, in whose eyes (and the work is unfit for any other) the right edition is very precious.* By means of this monarch's powerful and prudent, though most unamiable character, it pleased Heaven, who works by the tempest as well as by the soft small rain, to restore to the great French nation the benefits of civil government, which, at the time of his accession, they had nearly lost.

Ere he succeeded to the crown, Louis had given evidence of his vices rather than of his talents. His first wife, Margaret of Scotland, was done to death by slanderous tongues" in her husband's Court, where, but for the encouragement of Louis himself, not a word would have been breathed agaist that amiable and injured princess. He had been an ungrateful and a rebellious son, at one time conspiring to seize his father's person, and at another, levying open war against him. For the first offence, he was banished to his appanage of Dauphine, which he governed with much sagacity-for the second, he was driven into absolute exile, and forced to throw himself on the mercy, and almost on the charity, of the Duke of Burgundy and his son, where he enjoyed hospitality, afterwards indifferently requited, until the death of his father in 1461.

As

Charles, surnamed the Bold, or rather the Audacious, for his courage was allied to rashness and frenzy, then wore the ducal coronet of Burgundy, which he burned to convert into a royal and independent regal crown. The character of this Duke was in every respect the direct contrast to that of Louis XI. The latter was calm, deliberate, and crafty, never doning one likely to be successful, however distant the prospect. The genius of the Duke was entirely different. He rushed on danger because he loved it, and on difficulties because he despised them. Louis never sacrificed his interest to his passion, so Charles, on the other hand, never sacrificed his pas sion, or even his humour, to any other consideration. Notwithstanding the near relationship that existed between them, and the support which the Duke and his father had afforded to Louis in his exile when Dauphin, there was mutual contempt and hatred betwixt them. The Duke of Burgundy despised the cautious policy of the King, and imputed to the faintness of his courage, that he sought by leagues, purchases, and other indirect means, those advantages, which, in his place, the Duke would have snatched with an armed hand. He likewise hated the King, not only for the ingratitude he had manifested for former kindnesses, and for personal injuries and imputations which the ambassadors of Louis had cast upon him, when his father was yet alive, but also, and especially, because of the support which he afforded in secret to the discontented citizens of Ghent, Liege, and other great towns in Flanders. These turbulent cities, jealous of their privileges, and proud of their wealth, were frequently in a state of insurrection against their liege lords, the Dukes of Burgundy, and never failed to find underhand countenance at the Court of Louis, who embraced every opportunity of fomenting disturbance within the dominions of his overgrown vassal.

In the very outset of his reign, Louis was almost overpowered by a league formed against him by the great vassals of France, with the Duke of Burgundy, or rather his son, the Count de Charalois, at its head. They levied a powerful army, blockaded Paris, fought a battle of doubtful issue under its very The contempt and hatred of the Duke were retaliwalls, and placed the French monarchy on the brink ated by Louis with equal energy, though he used a of actual destruction. It usually happens in such thicker veil to conceal his sentiments. It was imcases, that the more sagacious general of the two possible for a man of his profound sagacity not to gains the real fruit, though perhaps not the martial despise the stubborn obstinacy which never resigned fame of the disputed field. Louis, who had shown its purpose, however fatal perseverance might prove, great personal bravery during the battle of Mont- and the headlong impetuosity, which commenced its l'hery, was able, by his prudence, to avail himself career without allowing a moment's consideration of its undecided character, as if it had been a victory for the obstacles to be encountered. Yet the King on his side. He temporized until the enemy had hated Charles even more than he contemned him, broken up their leaguer, and showed so much dex-and his scorn and hatred were the more intense, that terity in sowing jealousies among those great pow-they were mingled with fear; for he knew that the ers, that their alliance for the public weal," as they termed it, but, in reality, for the overthrow of all but the external appearance of the French monarchy, dissolved itself, and was never again renewed in a manner so formidable. From this period, Louis, relieved of all danger from England, by the Civil Wars of York and Lancaster, was engaged for several years, like an unfeeling but able physician, in curing the wounds of the body politic, or rather in stopping, now by gentle remedies, now by the use of fire and steel, the progress of those mortal gangrenes with which it was then infected. The brigandage of the Free Companies, and the un*This editio princeps, which, when in good preservation, is much sought after by connoisseurs, is entitled, Les Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles, contenant Cent Histoires Nouveaux, qui sont moult plaisans a raconter en toutes bonnes compagnies par mantere de jo yeurete. Paris, Antoine Verard. Sans date d'annee d'impres ston in-folio gotique. See DE BURE.

onset of the mad bull, to whom he likened the Duke of Burgundy, must ever be formidable, though the animal makes it with shut eyes. It was not alone the wealth of the Burgundian provinces, the discipline of the warlike inhabitants, and the mass of their crowded population, which the King dreaded, for the personal qualities of their leader had also much in them that was dangerous. The very soul of bravery, which he pushed to the verge of rashness, and beyond it-profuse in expenditure-splendid in his court, his person, and his retinue, in all which he displayed the hereditary magnificence of the house of Burgundy, Charles the Bold drew into his service almost all the fiery spirits of the age whose tempers were congenial; and Louis saw too clearly what might be attempted and executed by such a train of resolute adventurers, following a leader of a character as ungovernable as

their own.

There was yet another circumstance which increased the animosity of Louis towards his overgrown vassal; he owed him favours which he never meant to repay, and was under the frequent necessity of temporizing with him, and even of enduring bursts of petulant insolence, injurious to the regal dignity, without being able to treat him otherwise than as his "fair cousin of Burgundy."

His features, without being quite regular, were frank, open, and pleasing. A half smile, which seemed to arise from a happy exuberance of animal spirits, showed, now and then, that his teeth were well set, and as pure as ivory; whilst his bright blue eye, with a corresponding gayety, had an appropriate glance for every object which it encountered, expressing good-humour, lightness of heart, and determined resolution.

It was about the year 1468, when their feuds were at the highest, though a dubious and hollow truce, as frequently happened, existed for the time betwixt them, that the present narrative opens. The person first introduced on the stage will be found indeed to be of a rank and condition, the illustration of whose character scarcely called for a dissertation on the re-pect of booty with the chance of desperate resistance; lative position of two great princes; but the passions of the great, their quarrels, and their reconciliations, involve the fortunes of all who approach them; and it will be found, on proceeding farther in our story, that this preliminary Chapter is necessary for comprehending the history of the individual whose adventures we are about to relate.

CHAPTER II.

THE WANDERER.

Why then the world is my oyster, which I with sword will

He received and returned the salutation of the few travellers who frequented the road in those dangerous times, with the action which suited each. The strolling spearman, half soldier, half brigand, measured the youth with his eye, as if balancing the prosand read such indications of the latter in the fearless glance of the passenger, that he changed his ruffian purpose for a surly "Good morrow, comrade," which the young Scot answered with as martial, though a less sullen tone. The wandering pilgrim, or the begging friar, answered his reverend greeting with a paternal benedicite; and the dark-eyed peasant girl looked after him for many a step after they had passed each other, and interchanged a laughing good-morrow. In short, there was an attraction about his whole appearance not easily escaping attention, and which was derived from the combination of fearless frankness and good-humour, with sprightly looks, and a handsome face and person. It seemed, It was upon a delicious summer morning, before too, as if his whole demeanour bespoke one who was the sun had assumed its scorching power, and while entering on life with no apprehension of the evils the dews yet cooled and perfumed the air, that a with which it is beset, and small means for strugyouth, coming from the north-eastward, approached gling with its hardships, except a lively spirit and a the ford of a small river, or rather a large brook, tri-courageous disposition; and it is with such tempers butary to the Cher, near to the royal Castle of Plessis- that youth most readily sympathizes, and for whom les-Tours, whose dark and multiplied battlements chiefly age and experience feel affectionate and pityrose in the background over the extensive forest with ing interest. which they were surrounded. These woodlands comprised a noble chase, or royal park, fenced by an enclosure, termed, in the Latin of the middle ages, Plexitium, which gives the name of Plessis to so many villages in France. The castle and village of which we particularly speak, was called Plessis-lesTours, to distinguish it from others, and was built about two miles to the southward of the fair town of that name, the capital of ancient Touraine, whose rich plain has been termed the garden of France.

open.-Ancient Pistol.

On the bank of the above-mentioned brook, opposite to that which the traveller was approaching, two men, who appeared in deep conversation, seemed, from time to time, to watch his motions; for as their station was much more elevated, they could remark him at considerable distance.

The youth whom we have described, had been long visible to the two persons who loitered on the opposite side of the small river which divided him from the park and the castle; but as he descended the rugged bank to the water's edge, with the light step of a roe which visits the fountain, the younger of the two said to the other, "It is our man-it is the Bohemian! If he attempts to cross the ford, he is a lost man-the water is up, and the ford impassable."

"Let him make that discovery himself, gossip," said the elder personage; "it may, perchance, save a rope, and break a proverb."

judge him by the blue cap," said the other, for I cannot see his face.-Hark, sir-he hallooes to know whether the water be deep."

"Nothing like experience in this world," answered the other-"let him try."

The young man, in the meanwhile, receiving no hint to the contrary, and taking the silence of those to whom he applied as an encouragement to proceed, entered the stream without farther hesitation than the delay necessary to take off his buskins. The elder person, at the same moment, hallooed to him to beware, adding, in a lower tone, to his companion, "Mortdicu-gossip-you have made another mistake-this is not the Bohemian chatterer."

The age of the young traveller might be about nineteen, or betwixt that and twenty, and his face and person, which were very prepossessing, did not, however, belong to the country in which he was now a sojourner. His short gray cloak and hose were rather of Flemish than of French fashion, while the smart blue bonnet, with a single sprig of holly and an eagle's feather, was already recognised as the Scottish head-gear. His dress was very neat, and arranged with the precision of a youth conscious of possessing a fine person. He had at his back a satchel, which seemed to contain a few necessaries, a hawk- But the intimation to the youth came too late. He ing gauntlet on his left hand, though he carried no either did not hear or could not profit by it, being bird, and in his right a stout hunter's pole. Over his already in the deep stream. To one less alert, and 'eft shoulder hung an embroidered scarf which sus-practised in the exercise of swimming, death had ained a small pouch of scarlet velvet, such as was then used by fowlers of distinction to carry their hawks' food, and other matters belonging to that much admired sport. This was crossed by another shoulder-belt, to which was hung a hunting knife, or couteau de chasse. Instead of the boots of the period, he wore buskins of half-dressed deer's skin.

Although his form had not yet attained its full strength, he was tall and active, and the lightness of the step with which he advanced, showed that his pedestrian mode of travelling was pleasure rather than pain to him. His complexion was fair, in spite of a general shade of darker hue, with which the foreign sun, or perhaps constant exposure to the atmosphere in his own country, had, in some degree, embrowned it. 2 Q

VOL. IV.

been certain, for the brook was both deep and strong, "By Saint Anne! but he is a proper youth," said the elder man--"Run, gossip, and help your blunder, by giving him aid, if thou canst. He belongs to thine own troop-if old saws speak truth, water will not drown him."

Indeed the young traveller swam so strongly, and buffeted the waves so well, that notwithstanding the strength of the current, he was carried but a little way down from the ordinary landing-place.

By this time the younger of the two strangers was hurrying down to the shore to render assistance, while the other followed him at a graver pace, saying to himself as he approached, "I knew water would never drown that young fellow.-By my halidome, he is ashore, and grasps his pole !-If I make

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