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THE  PUBLIC  LIBRARY 


OF  THE 


CITY  OF  BOSTON 


FORM   NO.    Sti:    4    4.44:   eM 


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NATIONAL  EDITION 


LIMITED  TO  ONE  THOUSAND  COPIES 


THK   LIBRARY 


OP 


HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND  FAMOUS  EVENTS 


OF 


ALI.  NATIONS  AND  ALL  AGES 


Copyright  1594  by  Wm.Finl£yS-Co. 


R.Warthmuller.  Pinx. 


K  '' 


FREDERICK  THE  GREJlT. 


NATIONAL  EDITION 


THE  LIBRARY 


OF 


HISTORIC  CHARACTERS 


AND 


FAMOUS  EVENTS 


OK  ALIv   NATIONS   AND   ALL  AOKS 


» :)      3       1    )  3 )     )  I  -    >  i  ,      ,  »     , 

1)  o        >'.,'>  *    "1     ^        '  J    J       ^    >     )       1  1   J 

EDITED  BY 


A.  R.  SPOFFORD,  tibrariKn  of  Congress,  Washington,  D.  C. 
FRANK  WEITENKAMPF,  Astor  Library,  New  York 
'       '     ;^and.-PP,OFE0SOK  J.  p^LAMBERTON 


"^^^^^ 


Illustrated  with  100  Photogravures  from  Paintings  by  the  World's  Great  Artists 


COMPLETE  IN  TEN  VOLUMES 
VOLUME  IV 


^ 


M 


PHILADELPHIA 

WILLI  AIM  FINLEY  &  CO. 
1894 


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By  WiLUAM  FiNLEY  &  Co. 


Press  of 

Thejas.  B   Rodgers  Printing  Co., 

Philadelphia. 


LIST  OF  CONTENTS 

VOLUME  IV. 

iiiiiiiiiiiimiiiiim 


Page 

Frederic  the  Great 5 

Fredericks  First  Battle — Mollwitz 15 

Frederic  the  Great,  Part  II 27 

The  Four  Battles  of  1757 37 

Frederic's  Last  Battle — Torgau 43 

The  Great  Elector  (Frederic  William) 59 

The  Emergence  of  Brandenburg 62 

The  Battle  of  Fehrbellin 68 

Henry  the  Fowler 71 

The  German  Fatherland 74 

Henry  IV.  of  Germany 76 

Henry  IV.  at  Rome 81 

Gregory  VII 84 

Tribur  and  Caiiossa 89 

St.  Gregory,  Motik  and  Pofe 96 

Urban  II 103 

The  Council  of  Clermont 105 

Peter  the  Hermit 109 

Tha  Crusades iii 

Godfrey  of  Bouillon 120 

The  Siege  of  Jerusalem 124 

The  Deliverer  of  Jerusalem 132 

Emperor  Henry  V 137 

The  Dispute  about  Investitures 140 

Henry  I.  of  England 146 

A  S'axon  Bride 149 

I 


2  I,IST  OF  CONTENTS. 

Page 

Richard  I '52 

Richard  Coeur-de- Lion  in  the  Holy  Land 155 

The  Captive  King's  Complaint 163 

Saladin 164 

The  Sieges  of  Jerusalem  and  Joppa 168 

jENGHis  Khan 178 

The  Mogul  Conqueror , 180 

Tamerlanb 185 

Timur's  Capture  of  Damascus 189 

Peter  the  Cruel 194 

The  Battle  of  Navaretta 199 

The  Death  of  Queen  Blanche 203 

Henry  of  Trastamare • 205 

The  Royal  Fratricide 208 

DU  GUESCUN 210 

The  Troublesome  Free  Companies 213 

Louis  XI 220 

Louis  XI.   Visits  Charles  the  Bold 226 

The  Joyless  King 235 

John  Sobieski 237 

The  Turks  Driven  from  Vienna 242 

The  Siege  of  Vienna 248 

Poniatowski 252 

The  Last  King  of  Poland 254 

M01.IERE 264 

''Tartuffe''  and''  The  Misanthrope" 267 

Extracts  from  Tartuffe 272 

MiRABEAU \ 283 

The  Young  Mirabeau 288 

The  Leader  of  the  National  Assembly 289 

Mirabeau  and  Marie  Antionette 293 

Address  to  the  Constituents 298 

Madame  Roi,and 302 

The  Willing  Victim .  307 

Madatne  Roland .  308 


L 


LIST  OF  CONTENTS.  3 

PAGE 

Necker 309 

The  States- General  and  National  Assembly 313 

Robespierre 319 

The  Hypocrite  Unmasked 323 

What  shall  be  done  with  the  King ? 327 

Richard  Henry  Lee 329 

The  Advocate  of  Independence 332 

Robert  Morris 337 

The  Sinews  of  War 339 

John  Adams 342 

The  Declaration  of  Independence • 348 

The  Atjierican  People •    .    .  350 

Adafns  and  Liberty 352 

John  Jay 354 

Jay's  Treaty "^ 359 

AtrEXANDER   HaMII^TON 363 

The  National  Debt 368 

The  Duel  of  Hamilton  and  Burr 373 

Thomas  Jefferson 379 

Jefferson's  Ten  Rules 385 

The  Foundation  of  American  Liberty 385 

Foreign  Affairs  in  Jefferson's  Administration ■^87 

The  Death  of  Jefferson  and  Adams  .    .        390 

PaIvISSy  the  Potter 392 

Palissys  Account  of  his  Struggles 396 


LIST  OF  PHOTOGRAVURE  PLATES. 

VOLUME  IV. 


Artist.  Page 

Frederic  the  Great ^.  WarthmulUr  .   .  Frontispiece 

Henry  IV.  at  Canossa £.  Schwoiser 76 

Entry  of  Godfrey  de  Bouillon  into 

Jerusalem Karl  von  Piloty  ,.?....    120 

Don    Pedro    of    Castile   Urging   his 

Horse  in  the  Guadalquivir  .   .   .   .  R.  Balaca 194 

Entry  of  Louis  XI.  into  Paris  .   .   .   .  J.  C.  Boneza 220 

OLIERE  AND  HIS  Troupe. G.  Melingue 264 

•.DAME  Roland /.  Goupil 302 

AMINATION   OF   ROBESPIERRE E.  Lurcher 319 

VDERS  OF  THE  Continental  Congress  a.  Tholey 379 

SSY  THE  Potter N.  Attanasio 392 


FREDERIC  II.  (or  in  the  Ger- 
man form  Friedrich),  King  of 
Prussia,  was,  says  Lord  Ma- 
caulay,  "the  greatest  king 
that  has,  in  modern  times, 
succeeded,  by  right  of  birth, 
to  a  throne."  His  contem- 
poraries bestowed  on  him  the 
surname  of  "the Great, ' '  and 
posterity  has  confirmed  the 
title.  Carlyle  has  devoted  to 
the  record  of  his  life  the 
longest  of  his  works,  and 
presents  him  as  the  modern  embodiment  of  the  divine  right 
of  the  able  or  "cunning"  man,  the  man  that  can,  to  be 
konig  or  king. 

Frederic's  father,  Frederic  William  I.,  was  a  man  of  violent 
temper,  whose  ruling  passion  was  the  love  of  money,  and 
who  did  much  to  promote  the  prosperity  of  his  country,  then 
the  humblest  of  kingdoms.  His  wife,  Sophia  Dorothea,  was 
a  daughter  of  that  George  who  became  Elector  of  Hanover  in 
1698,  and  King  of  England  in  1714.  Frederic  was  born  in 
the  palace  at  Berlin,  on  the  24th  of  Januar}-,  1712,  a  year 
before  his  father  succeeded  to  the  throne.  Frederic  was  in- 
structed first  by  Madame  de  Roucoulles,  a  French  refugee,  who 
had  also  instructed  his  father.  His  eldest  sister,  Frederica 
Sophia  Wilhelmina,  was  educated  with  him,  and  a  mutual 
affection  and  admiration  for  each  other's  talents  continued 
unchanged  and  undiminished  till  the  death  of  the  princess. 

5 


6  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

Frederic  had  also  as  tutor  M.  Duhan  de  Jandiin,  who  had  fled 
from  France  on  the  revocation  of  the  Edict  of  Nantes,  and 
had  finished  his  education  at  the  French  college  at  Berlin. 
To  this  course  of  instruction  was  due  that  marked  preference 
for  the  French  language  and  literature  which  remained  one 
of  Frederic's  notable  characteristics  throughout  life.  For 
other  accomplishments  Frederic  was  placed  under  the  care  of 
Count  Finkenstein  and  Colonel  Kalkstein.  In  mathematics 
and  fortification  he  was  instructed  by  Major  Schoning,  an 
engineer  of  great  merit. 

In  youth,  Frederic's  allowance  consisted  of  but  360  dol- 
lars, afterwards  increased  to  600,  a  petty  income  for  a  crown 
prince.  At  the  age  of  fourteen  he  was  pronounced  the  most 
amiable  prince  possible,  handsome  and  well-made.  "His 
intellect  was  superior  to  his  age ;  and  he  possessed  all  the 
qualities  which  can  make  up  a  perfect  prince. ' '  Such  merits 
should  have  inspired  his  father  with  increased  afiection  for 
him;  yet  it  was  just  then  that  he  began  to  show  a  dislike  to 
his  son.  This  unnatural  feeling  was  occasioned  by  the  mutual 
dislike  of  father  and  son  for  each  other's  pursuits,  which,  as 
Frederic  grew  up,  became  still  more  marked.  Among  other 
causes  which  roused  the  father's  resentment  was  the  young 
man's  fondness  for  dress  and  fine  clothes,  which,  joined  to  his 
love  of  literature,  occasioned  the  old  king  to  say:  "He  is 
nothing  but  a  coxcomb  and  a  French  wit,  who  will  ruin  all 
that  I  have  done." 

When  Frederic  had  reached  the  age  of  eighteen,  Count 
Finkenstein  and  Colonel  Kalkstein  were  dismissed,  and  Col- 
onel Rocho  and  Major  Keyserling  were  assigned  as  his  com- 
panions. Rocho  was  a  man  without  talent ;  but  Keyserling, 
young,  thoughtless  and  inexperienced,  yet  agreeable  and 
lively,  secured  Frederic's  favor.  The  prince  was  entirely 
attached  to  his  mother,  and  his  devotion  to  her  increased  as 
his  father's  conduct  became  more  and  more  severe. 

Frederic  William's  dislike  for  his  son  terminated  in  actual 
and  degrading  brutality.  Dreadful  scenes  of  violence  were 
enacted  by  the  King,  not  only  on  Frederic,  but  also  on  his 
wife  and  eldest  daughter.  He  now  conceived  the  idea  of 
forcing  his  eldest  son,  by  a  mixture  of  severities  and  entrea- 


/- \ 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT.  7 

ties,  to  abandon  formally  his  rights  of  primogeniture,  and  to 
sign  an  act  renouncing  his  claim  to  the  succession  of  the 
Prussian  throne  in  favor  of  his  next  brother.  To  such  pro- 
posals Frederic  would  never  listen,  and  when  his  father 
urged  them,  only  answered:  "Declare  my  birth  illegitimate, 
and  I  give  up  the  throne  to  my  brother. ' ' 

At  length,  driven  almost  to  despair,  young  Frederic  de- 
termined to  seek  refuge  in  England,  where  he  hoped  to 
marry  the  Princess  Anne,  partly  from  the  persuasions  of  his 
mother,  and  partly  from  a  sort  of  amorous  correspondence 
which  had  gone  on  for  some  time  between  them.  His  sister 
Frederica,  and  two  of  his  friends,  lyieutenants  Katte  and 
Keith,  were  entrusted  with  the  secret  of  his  intended  flight, 
which  was  to  take  place  during  a  journey  he  was  about  to 
undertake  with  the  King  to  Anspach  and  Wesel.  Katte  and 
Keith  were  to  meet  him  in  his  flight,  and  accompany  him  to 
England.  Katte  is  said  to  have  been  indiscreet.  The  arrange- 
ment, however,  was  discovered  to  Frederic  William  by  a 
magistrate  of  Nuremberg,  who  had  opened  a  letter,  contain- 
ing the  whole  plan  of  flight.  The  King  preserved  secrecy 
with  regard  to  the  intelligence  he  had  received. 

They  started  on  the  journey,  and  Frederic  determined  to 
put  his  design  into  execution  at  a  small  village  between  Ans- 
pach and  Frankfort.     The  King,  resolved  to  catch  his  son  in 
the  very  act  of  flight,  set  spies  to  watch  his  every  movement. 
At  midnight  the  prince  arose,  left  the  village  and  proceeded 
to  a  field  where  horses  were  to  be  provided.     Before,  how- 
ever, he  could  mount,  he  was  seized  by  the  patrol  and  taken 
back  to  the  village.     When  taken  before  the  King,  a  fearful 
scene  ensued.     The  infuriated  father  flew  at  his  son's  throat 
and  tried  to  strangle  him,  and  it  was  with  the  greatest  difii- 
culty  that  one  of  his  generals  prevented  him  from  doing  so. 
He  tore  handfuls  of  hair  from  the  prince's  head,  and  struck 
a  blow  across  his  face  with  a  heavy  cane,  which  drew  blood. 
Frederic  cried  out  in  all  the  bitterness  of  despair  :  ' '  The  face 
of  one  of  the  House  of  Brandenburg  never  suffered  such  an 
insult  before."     From  this  moment   the   crown  prince   was 
treated  as  a  state  prisoner  ;  his  sword  was  taken  from  him, 
and  all  his  effects  were  seized  by  the  king's  order.     He  was 


8  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  KVENTS. 

taken  to  Wesel,  to  wliicli  place  Frederic  William  had  pre- 
ceded him  and  his  guards. 

On  the  morning  after  his  arrival,  Frederic  was  again 
brought  into  the  presence  of  his  father.  Another  violent 
scene  followed,  and  the  king  would  have  run  his  sword 
through  his  son,  had  not  General  Mosel  thrown  himself 
before  him  and  cried  out  :  ' '  Sire,  you  may  kill  me,  but  spare 
your  son."  The  task  of  guarding  Frederic  was  confided  to 
Colonel  Rocho  and  the  Generals  Valdo  and  Dosso.  Orders 
were  issued  for  the  arrest  of  Katte  and  Keith.  Keith  man- 
aged to  escape  to  England;  but  Katte  was  taken  and  con- 
demned, by  an  order  of  the  King,  to  be  beheaded.  In  the 
meantime  Frederic  was  kept  in  rigorous  confinement  at  Cus- 
trin.  Katte  was  taken  thither  and  beheaded  in  the  court- 
yard, whilst  the  unhappy  Frederic,  attired  in  a  coarse  prison 
dress,  was  compelled  to  witness  the  execution  of  his  friend. 
Such  had  been  the  express  orders  of  the  unnatural  father. 
"  Pardon  me,  my  dear  Katte,"  cried  Frederic  to  his  unfortu- 
nate friend,  who  nobly  replied  :  ' '  Death  for  so  amiable  a 
prince  is  sweet." 

Frederic  himself  was  at  the  point  of  death  for  weeks  after. 
It  appears  certain  that  the  King  had  resolved  to  take  away 
his  son's  life,  and  was  only  prevented  by  the  intercession  of 
Charles  VI. ,  Emperor  of  Austria,  and  Augustus  11. ,  King  of 
Poland.  Fifteen  months  later,  the  prince,  having  been 
released  from  his  strict  confinement  in  the  Castle  of  Custrin, 
was  employed  by  his  father  as  the  youngest  member  of  the 
Chamber  of  Domains,  but  was  not  pennitted  to  return  to 
court  until  the  marriage  of  his  sister,  the  Princess  Frederica, 
to  the  hereditary  prince,  Frederic  of  Baireuth.  Shortly  after 
this  his  father  obliged  him  to  marry  the  Princess  Elizabeth 
Christina,  daughter  of  Ferdinand  Albrecht,  Duke  of  Bruns- 
wick-Bevern.  The  ceremony  took  place  on  the  i2th  of  June, 
1733.  Frederic's  submission  in  this  instance  helped  to  regain 
for  him  his  father's  good  will.  Frederic  William  gave  the 
princess  the  palace  of  Schonhausen,  and  to  the  prince  the 
county  of  Ruppin,  and  in  1734,  the  town  of  Reinsberg,  where 
his  life  was  peaceful  and  happy,  though  he  neglected  his  wife, 
who  strove  to  please  him. 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT.  9 

Frederic  devoted  himself  to  literary  pursuits  and  to  music. 
Around  liim  were  gathered  Bielefeld,  Fouquet,  Knobelsdorf, 
Keiserling,  Jordan  and  other  learned  men ;  likewise  the  com- 
posers Graun  and  Benda,  and  the  painter  Pesne.  He  carried 
on  an  uninterrupted  correspondence  with  foreign  literati, 
especially  with  Voltaire,  whose  genius  filled  him  with  admi- 
ration. During  his  retirement  at  Reinsberg,  he  composed 
several  works,  the  mpst  noted  of  which  was  the  ' '  Anti- 
Machiavel,"  published  at  the  Hague  by  the  intervention  of 
Voltaire  in  1740.  It  was  a  refutation  of  the  celebrated 
treatise  of  Machiavelli  on  "  The  Prince,"  particularly  remark- 
able as  being  in  direct  contradiction  to  his  own  practice  when 
he  succeeded  to  the  throne. 

Frederic  William  expired  on  the  31st  of  May,  1740. 
Frederic's  conduct  had  been  such  for  some  time  as  to  conciliate 
his  father's  favor,  and  to  give  him  hope  that  the  kingdom 
would  not  be  ruined  by  his  son's  accession.  Frederic  was  with 
his  father  at  the  last,  and,  having  received  the  oaths  of  alle- 
giance from  the  garrison  of  Potsdam,  at  once  proceeded  to 
Berlin.  The  ministers  were  the  Count  de  Podevils,  who  held 
the  office  of  first  minister  for  foreign  afiairs ;  and  the  Count 
de  Finkenstein,  who  subsequently  succeeded  to  the  place  of 
Podevils.  Frederic  found  a  full  treasury  and  a  powerful 
army.  His  thirst  for  military  glor}-,  which  he  himself 
acknowledges,  tempted  him  to  embrace  any  opportunity  that 
might  offer.  His  military  force  amounted  to  76,000  men,  of 
which  about  26,000  were  foreigners. 

On  coming  to  the  throne,  Frederic  discarded  the  company 
which  had  gathered  around  him  at  Reinsberg.  He  made 
a  regular  distribution  of  his  time,  to  which  he  adhered  with 
the  most  rigid  exactness,  and  in  which  he  made  very  few 
alterations  during  the  forty-six  years  that  he  ruled  the 
Prussian  nation.  He  usually  rose  at  6  a.m.,  though,  by  his 
orders,  he  was  awakened  at  four  o'clock  in  the  first  part  of 
his  reign.  But  later  he  conquered  his  natural  desire  for  sleep 
and  rose  at  four  o'clock  till  an  advanced  period  of  his  life. 
As  king  he  showed  none  of  his  fondness  for  dress  with  which 
his  father  had  reproached  him.  He  wore  always  the  uniform 
of  his  guards,   with  military   boots,  and  in  later  years  was 


lO  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

careless  and  slovenly  in  appearance.  One  valet-de-chambre 
lit  his  fire,  shaved  him,  and  curled  his  hair.  The  King  did 
not  indulge  in  the  luxury  of  slippers  or  bedgown.  As 
soon  as  he  was  dressed  he  perused  his  letters.  He  employed 
four  secretaries;  at  8  a.m.  one  of  them  entered  his  chamber 
and  received  his  orders  for  the  day's  work.  The  King  then 
breakfasted,  and  at  9,  he  received  his  first  aide-de-camp,  with 
whom  he  arranged  everything  relating  to  military  affairs  in 
all  their  branches.  At  10,  Frederic  either  exercised  his  own 
regiment  of  guards,  or  some  other  regiment  of  the  garrison 
of  Potsdam.  After  this  he  attended  the  parade,  which  occu- 
pied his  time  till  noon.  Sometimes  he  devoted  this  part  of 
the  day,  however,  to  his  literary  pursuits,  to  music,  or  to  his 
private  correspondence.  The  dinner  hour  was  precisely  at 
12,  and  his  guests  consisted  generally  of  literary  men,  of  his 
relations,  of  a  certain  number  of  his  courtiers,  and  of  the 
general  officers  stationed  at  Potsdam.  This  repast  was  often 
prolonged  until  3  p.m.,  when,  if  the  weather  was  fine,  the 
King  would  take  a  long  walk.  At  4,  the  secretaries  of  the 
cabinet  brought  answered  letters  for  his  signature.  A  con- 
cert was  held  at  6  o'clock,  after  which  he  occupied  himself 
until  10,  which  was  supper-time.  Frederic  always  retired 
not  later  than  11  p.m. 

In  September,  1740,  Voltaire  visited  the  King,  who  was 
ill  with  an  attack  of  fever,  at  the  Castle  of  Meuse,  between 
Cleves  and  Wesel.  This  was  the  first  meeting  of  those  two 
celebrated  men,  whose  relations  form  a  remarkable  cha]3ter  in 
their  lives.  The  demise  of  the  Emperor  Charles  VI., 
which  took  place  on  the  20th  of  October,  1740,  changed  the 
destinies  of  Europe.  He  left  no  son,  but  his  daughter  was 
the  celebrated  Maria  Theresa.  The  Emperor  had  endeavored 
to  secure  and  establish  his  daughter's  position  as  heiress  to 
all  his  rights  and  dignities  by  the  Pragmatic  Sanction,  which, 
at  his  request,  had  been  approved  by  all  the  sovereigns  of 
Europe,  including  even  Frederic.  But  the  Prussian  King 
now  seized  the  opportunity  of  asserting  the  claims  of  the 
House  of  Brandenburg  to  four  principalities  in  Silesia,  the 
investiture  of  which  his  predecessors  had  not  been  able  to 
obtain:  while  he  demanded  from  Queen  Maria  Theresa  the 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT.  II 

duchies  of  Glogau  and  Sagaii,  promising  on  his  side  to  sup- 
port her  against  all  her  enemies,  to  vote  for  her  husband's 
elevation  to  the  imperial  dignity,  and  to  pay  her  2,000,000 
dollars.  His  proposals  were  summarily  rejected.  On  the 
I5tli  of  December,  1740,  Frederic,  though  still  suffering  from 
the  effects  of  his  fever,  set  out  for  the  conquest  of  Silesia,  at 
the  head  of  30,000  well-disciplined  troops.  As  he  mounted 
his  horse,  he  said  to  the  French  ambassador,  the  Marquis  de 
Beauvau  :  "I  am  going  to  play  your  game ;  if  the  aces  are 
dealt  to  me,  we  will  go  halves. ' ' 

On  the  23d  of  December,  the  Prussian  army  crossed  the 
frontier.  Two-thirds  of  the  population  of  the  province  being 
Protestants,  and  having  suffered  long  under  the  bigotr}^'  of  their 
Austrian  rulers,  were  favorable  to  Frederic  on  religious 
grounds.  The  King  blockaded  the  fortress  of  Glogau,  and  left 
a  portion  of  his  troops  there  under  the  command  of  Prince  Leo- 
pold Anhalt.  He  himself  marched  on  and  took  Breslau,  the 
capital  of  Silesia,  on  the  ist  of  January,  1741.  Each  evening 
was  marked  by  a  ball  given  by  him  to  the  inhabitants,  at 
which  he  generally  opened  the  festivities  with  some  one 
either  of  the  most  beautiful  or  of  the  most  noble  ladies  of  the 
province.  From  Breslau  Frederic  marched  to  Namslau  and 
Ohlau,  both  of  which  submitted  to  him.  He  was  now  joined 
by  Marshal  Schwerin,  who  had  advanced  to  Ottmachau,  on  the 
Neisse.  With  their  united  forces  they  compelled  the  garri- 
son in  that  fortress  to  surrender.  After  this  Marshal  Schwerin 
obliged  the  Austrian  army,  under  the  command  of  General 
Braun  (or  Brown)  to  retreat  into  IVIoravia.  Frederic  now 
returned  to  Berlin,  whilst  his  army  went  into  winter  quarters 
at  the  seat  of  war  under  the  command  of  Schwerin. 

On  the  iQtli  of  Februar}^  the  King  left  Berlin  and  rejoined 
his  troops.  On  the  9th  of  March  the  fortress  of  Glogau  sur- 
rendered, and  Count  Wallis,  with  a  garrison  of  800  men,  were 
made  prisoners  of  war.  During  the  winter,  the  Austrian 
field-marshal.  Count  Neipperg,  had  collected  a  considerable 
army  in  Moravia,  and  now  entered  Upper  Silesia.  The  King 
had  encamped  with  his  army  at  MoUwitz  near  Brieg.  Here 
a  severe  battle  was  fought  on  the  27th  of  April,  1741.  The 
Prussian  army  was  drawn  out  between  Hermsdorf  and  Pam- 


12  HISTORIC  CHARACTKRS  AND  FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

pitz.  After  a  vigorous  cannonade  on  both  sides,  the  Aus- 
trian hussars  succeeded  in  turning  the  left  of  Frederic's  army, 
and  pillaged  his  baggage.  Baron  de  Romer,  the  Austrian 
general  of  cavalry,  attacked  the  right  wing  of  the  Prussians. 
He  succeeded  in  putting  their  cavalry  into  disorder,  and  then 
penetrated  between  the  two  lines  of  infantry.  At  this  critical 
moment  Frederic  was  induced  to  believe  the  battle  lost ; 
and,  carried  along  by  his  own  flying  cavalry,  he  fled  to 
Oppeln.  It  has  been  said  that  he  took  refuge  in  a  windmill, 
which  led  to  the  bitter  remark,  that  the  King  of  Prussia,  at 
the  battle  of  Mollwitz,  "  had  covered  himself  with  glory  and 
flour."  But  Carlyle  shows  that  this  is  a  malicious  fable. 
Meanwhile  the  well-directed  fire  and  perfect  discipline  of  the 
Prussian  infantry  had  succeeded  in  beating  back  the  troops 
of  Romer.  They  retreated  with  great  loss,  and  their  com- 
mander was  killed.  They  lost  5,000  men,  killed  and 
wounded,  9  cannon  and  4  standards.  The  loss  of  the  Prus- 
sians amounted  to  4,600  killed  and  wounded.  Frederic  con- 
fessed after  the  war  that  the  contest  in  this  campaign  between 
Neipperg  and  himself,  seemed  to  be  which  should  commit  the 
most  faults.  By  profoundly  reflecting  on  these,  and  some 
subsequent  errors,  the  King  gained  that  precise  knowledge 
of  the  art  of  war  which  he  afterwards  exhibited. 

During  this  winter  the  Prussian  capital  was  the  centre  of 
negotiations.  France  pressed  the  King  to  allow  his  army  to 
act;  England  exhorted  him  to  conclude  a  peace  with  Austria; 
Spain  solicited  his  alliance;  Denmark,  his  advice  how  to 
change  sides;  and  the  German  empire,  anxious  for  peace, 
made  the  greatest  possible  endeavors  to  put  an  end  to  the 
present  trouble.  The  victory  of  Mollwitz,  which  nearly 
decided  the  fate  of  Silesia,  however,  drew  out  more  enemies 
to  Austria.  France  and  Bavaria  formed  an  alliance  with 
Frederic  against  the  young  and  beautiful  queen,  JNIaria 
Theresa,  whilst  she  still  wore  mourning  for  her  dead  father. 
Menaced  in  the  German  part  of  her  dominions,  she  hastened 
to  Plungary.  At  Presburg  the  unhappy  Queen,  bearing  in 
her  arms  her  infant  but  a  few  weeks  old,  appealed  to  the 
chivalry  of  the  Imperial  Diet.  Her  appeal  was  received 
with  the   thrilling   cry  which  soon   rang   through  Europe, 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT.  I3 

"Moriamur  pro  rege  iiostro,  Maria  Theresa!"  "Let  us 
die  for  our  kiug,  Maria  Theresa  ! ' '  The  war  of  the  Aus- 
trian Succession  began. 

On  the  night  of  the  i6th  of  May,  1742,  Frederic,  with  part 
of  his  troops,  inarched  to  Kuttenberg ;  but  hearing  that  the 
enemy  was  in  motion,  he  returned  to  his  camp  at  Chotusitz. 
With  the  dawn  of  day,  Prince  Charles  of  Lorraine  was  seen 
before  the  Prussian  intrenchments  with  the  Austrian  army. 
The  Prussian  army  amounted  to  24,000  men,  whilst  the  Aus- 
trian force  consisted  of  about  30,000.  At  the  commencement 
of  the  battle,  the  Prussian  cavalry  succeeded  in  turning  the 
left  wing  of  the  Austrians,  and  threw  them  into  disorder. 
Upon  seeing  this,  Frederic  brought  up  the  infantry  of  his 
right  wing,  and  completed  the  success  of  that  part  of  the 
army.  The  cavalry  of  the  left  wing  of  the  Prussians  also 
commenced  their  part  of  the  contest  with  the  same  good  for- 
tune; but  the  Austrians,  having  reinforced  their  right  wing, 
rallied  and  obliged  the  Prussians  to  retire  as  far  as  Chotusitz, 
where  they  pillaged  their  camp.  The  Austrian  infantry 
advanced  at  the  same  time  in  that  direction,  and  an  obstinate 
combat  commenced.  The  Prussian  right  wing,  already  vic- 
torious, decided  the  fate  of  the  day  by  attacking  the  enemy 
on  the  flank,  while,  at  the  same  moment.  General  Lehwald 
advanced  from  Chotusitz,  at  the  head  of  a  fresh  body  of 
infantr}%  The  Austrians  gave  way,  and  taking  the  route  by 
Czaslau,  fled  into  INIoravia. 

Frederic  wrote  the  following  characteristic  letter  to  the 
King  of  France  :  "  Sire,  the  Prince  Charles  has  attacked 
me,  and  I  have  beaten  him ! "  By  the  peace  of  Breslau, 
Frederic  obtained  the  full  sovereignty  of  Upper  and  Lower 
Silesia,  and  a  portion  of  the  county  of  Glatz.  On  his  side 
he  renounced  all  claims  to  the  other  Austrian  dominions, 
took  upon  himself  a  debt  of  1,700,000  dollars,  with  which 
Silesia  was  charged,  and  promised  to  respect  the  rights  of 
the  Roman  Catholics  in  Silesia.  This  peace  was  concluded 
on  the  28th  of  July,  1742,  at  Berlin.  Saxony  acceded  to  it, 
and  it  was  guaranteed  by  France  and  England. 

Prussia  endeavored  to  profit  by  the  tranquillity  she  enjoyed 
to  restore  her  finances,  and  to  augment  her  army  with  18,000 


14  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

men.  The  defence  of  Silesia  was  intrusted  to  an  army  of 
35,000  men,  who  had  themselves  been  the  instruments  of  the 
conquest  of  this  province.  Frederic,  however,  had  the  disap- 
pointment of  seeing  the  Queen  of  Hungary's  forces  become 
every  day  more  successful.  The  Bavarian  Emperor,  whose 
election  he  had  done  so  much  to  procure,  was  driven  from  all 
his  territories.  The  French  were  obliged  by  the  Prince  of 
Lorraine  to  retreat  with  discredit  to  the  western  bank  of  the 
Rhine.  A  British  army  also  had  crossed  the  Channel  in 
defence  of  the  young  queen.  George  II. ,  leading  the  troops 
in  person,  the  last  occasion  upon  which  a  sovereign  of  Britain 
was  under  the  fire  of  an  enemy,  routed  a  French  army  near 
the  village  of  Dettingen  on  the  Maine  in  the  month  of  June, 

1743- 

On  the  death  of  the  last  Count  of  East  Friesland,  in  1743, 

Frederic  took  possession  of  that  country.  He  sent  a  detach- 
ment of  the  garrison  of  Wesel  to  hold  it  for  him,  in  spite  of 
the  remonstrances  of  the  King  of  England,  and  of  the  Count 
of  Wied;  who  both  laid  claim  to  the  succession.  The  rights 
of  Frederic  to  the  Duchy  were,  however,  incontestable,  as  they 
rested  upon  a  treaty  of  succession  made  in  due  form  in  the 
year  1694,  and  sanctioned  by  the  Emperor  Leopold. 

At  the  end  of  the  year  1743,  Voltaire  arrived  at  Berlin. 
His  visit  to  that  capital  was  to  a  certain  extent  connected 
with  politics,  inasmuch  as  he  was  charged  with  the  mission 
of  sounding  the  King  of  Prussia,  and  finding  out  whether  he 
was  inclined  to  unite  again  with  France  against  the  House  of 
Austria.     Frederic  secretly  entered  into  this  alliance  in  April, 
1744,  as  he  feared,  from  the  success  of  the  Austrian  arms,  that 
Silesia  might  be  taken  from  him.     He  also  made  an  alliance 
with  the  Palatinate,  and  Hesse  Cassel  on  the  22d  of  May. 
Frederic  was  soon  ready  for  open  action.     On  the  loth  of 
August  he  unexpectedly  entered  Bohemia  and  took  Prague; 
but  being  pressed  by  the  Austrians,  under  Prince  Charles  of 
Lorraine,  and  the  Saxons,  their  allies,  he  was  obliged  to  leave 
Bohemia  before  the  end  of  the  year. 

The  next  year  brought  great  changes  among  the  contend- 
ing parties.  The  death  of  the  Emperor  Charles  VII.  on  the 
1 8th  of  January,  and  the  defeat  of  the  Bavarians  at  Pfaflfen- 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT.  I5 

liofen,  induced  his  son  the  young  Elector,  Maximilian  Joseph 
of  Bavaria,  to  make  peace  at  Fiissen,  with  Maria  Theresa. 
The  Frankfort  union  was  dissolved,  and  Hesse  Cassel  declared 
itself  neutral.  On  the  other  hand,  England,  Austria,  the 
Netherlands,  and  Saxony,  had  concluded  a  strict  alliance  at 
Warsaw  on  the  8tli  of  January,  and  Saxony  had  besides 
entered  into  a  special  convention  with  Austria  against  Prus- 
sia, on  the  1 8th  of  May.  But  within  three  weeks  Frederic 
defeaced  the  Austrians  and  Saxons,  on  the  4th  of  June,  at 
Hohenfriedberg  in  Silesia.  Early  in  July  the  King  of  Prus- 
sia entered  Bohemia,  and  gained  another  victory  after  a  very 
obstinate  combat  at  Sorr,  the  30th  of  September,  1745.  The 
victory  of  the  Prussians,  under  Prince  Leopold  of  Dessau, 
over  the  Saxons  at  Kesselsdorf,  on  the  15th  of  December,  led 
to  the  treaty  of  Dresden,  on  Christmas  Day,  1745,  which  was 
concluded  on  the  basis  of  the  treaty  of  Berlin.  Frederic 
retained  Silesia,  and  acknowledged  the  husband  of  Maria 
Theresa,  Francis  L,  as  Emperor,  and  Saxony  engaged  to  pay 
to  Prussia  $1,000,000,  Thus  ended  the  second  Silesian  war. 
When  the  Peace  of  Dresden  was  signed  and  ratified, 
Frederic  commenced  the  evacuation  of  Saxony  on  New 
Year's  Day,  1746,  and  returned  to  Berlin.  Here  he  was 
received  with  great  demonstrations  of  joy;  the  streets  were 
strewed  with  flowers  and  covered  with  triumphal  arches. 
Upon  the  victorious  King  was  bestowed  the  appellation  of 
Frederic  the  Great,  which  he  has  ever  since  retained. 

Frederic's  First  Battle — Mollwitz. 

Monday  morning,  loth  April,  1741,  the  Prussians  are  up 
betimes  ;  King  Friedrich  had  hardly  slept,  such  his  anxie- 
ties. This  morning,  all  is  calm,  sleeked  out  into  spotless 
white  ;  Pogarell  and  the  world  are  wrapt  as  in  a  winding- 
sheet,  near  two  feet  of  snow  on  the  ground.  Air  hard  and 
crisp  ;  a  hot  sun  possible  about  noon  season.  '  By  daybreak  ' 
we  are  all  astir,  rendezvousing,  ranking, — into  Four  Col- 
umns ;  ready  to  advance  in  that  fashion  for  battle,  or  for  de- 
ploying into  battle,  wherever  the  enemy  turn  up.  The  or- 
ders were  all  given  overnight,  two  nights  ago  ;  were  all  un- 
derstood, too,  and  known  to  be  rhadamanthine  ;  and,  down  to 


1 6  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

the  lowest  pioneer,  no  man  is  uncertain  what  to  do.  If  we 
but  knew  where  the  enemy  is ;  on  which  side  of  us  ;  what 
doing,  what  intending? 

At  break  of  day  the  ranking  and  arranging  began.  Poga- 
rell  clock  is  near  striking  ten,  when  the  last  squadron  or  bat- 
talion quits  Pogarell  ;  and  the  Four  Columns,  punctiliously 
correct,  are  all  under  way.  Two  on  each  side  of  Ohlau 
Highway  ;  steadily  advancing  with  pioneers  ahead  to  clear 
any  obstacle  there  may  be.  Few  obstacles  ;  here  and  there  a 
little  ditch,  no  fences,  smooth  wide  plain,  nothing  you  would 
even  call  a  knoll  in  it  for  many  miles  ahead  and  around. 
Mollwitz  is  some  seven  miles  north  from  Pogarell  ;  intermed- 
iate lie  dusty  fractions  of  villages  more  than  one  ;  two  miles 
or  more  from  Mollwitz  we  come  to  Pampitz  on  our  left,  the 
next  considerable,  if  any  of  them  can  be  counted  consider- 
able. 

Neipperg,  all  this  while,  is  much  at  his  ease  on  this  white 
resting-day.  Pie  is  just  sitting  down  to  dinner  at  the  Dorf- 
schulze's  (Village  Provost,  or  miniature  Mayor  of  Mollwitz), 
a  composed  man  ;  when — rockets  or  projectiles,  and  succes- 
sive anxious  sputterings  from  the  steeple-tops  of  Brieg,  are 
hastily  reported  :  what  can  it  mean?  Mean  little  perhaps; — 
Neipperg  sends  out  a  Hussar  party  to  ascertain,  and  compos- 
edly sets  himself  to  dine.  In  a  little  while  his  Hussar  party 
will  come  galloping  back,  faster  than  it  went  ;  faster  and 
fewer  ; — and  there  will  be  news  for  Neipperg  during  dinner  ! 
Better  have  had  one  idle  fellow,  one  of  your  20,000,  on  the 
Belfry-top  here  looking  Out,  though  it  was  a  rest-day. 

The  truth  is,  the  Prussian  advance  goes  on  with  punctili- 
ous exactitude,  by  no  means  rapidly.  Colonel  Count  von  Ro- 
thenburg, — is  warily  leading  the  Vanguard  of  Dragoons; 
warily,  with  the  Four  Columns  well  to  rear  of  him  :  the  Aus- 
trian Hussar  party  came  upon  Rothenburg,  not  two  miles 
from  Mollwitz  ;  and  suddenly  drew  bridle.  Then  Rothen- 
burg tumbles  to  the  right-about,  and  chases  ; — finds,  on  ad- 
vancing, the  Austrian  Army  totally  unaware.  It  is  thought, 
had  Rothenburg  dashed  forward,  and  sent  word  to  the  rear- 
ward to  dash  forward  at  their  swiftest,  the  Austrian  Army 
might  have  been  cut  in  pieces   here,  and  never  have  got 


FREDERIC  THE   GREAT.  l^ 

together  to  try  battle  at  all.  But  Rothenbiirg  had  no  orders  ; 
nay,  had  orders  Not  to  get  into  fighting  ; — nor  had  Friedrich 
himself,  in  this  his  first  Battle,  learned  that  feline  or  leonine 
promptitude  of  spring  which  he  subsequently  manifested. 
Far  from  it !  Indeed  this  punctilious  deliberation  and  slow 
exactitude  as  on  the  review-ground,  is  wonderful  and  note- 
worthy at  the  first  start  of  Friedrich  ; — the  faithful  appren- 
tice-hand still  rigorous  to  the  rules  of  the  old  shop.  Ten 
years  hence,  twenty  years  hence,  had  Friedrich  found  Neip- 
perg  in  this  condition,  Neipperg's  account  had  been  soon 
settled  ! — Rothenburg  drove  back  the  Hussars,  all  manner  of 
successive  Hussar  parties,  and  kept  steadily  ahead  of  the 
main  battle,  as  he  had  been  bidden. 

Pampitz  Village  being  now  passed,  and  in  rear  of  them  to 
left,  the  Prussian  Columns  halt  for  some  instants  ;  burst  into 
field-music  ;  take  to  deploying  themselves  into  line.  There 
is  solemn  wheeling,  shooting- out  to  right  and  left,  done  with 
spotless  precision:  once  in  line, — in  two  lines,  'each  three 
deep,'  lines  many  yards  apart, — they  will  advance  on  Moll- 
witz  ;  still  solemnly,  field-music  guiding,  and  banners  spread. 
Which  will  be  a  work  of  time. 

Fancy  Neipperg's  state  of  mind,  busy  beginning  dinner 
in  the  little  Schulze's,  or  Town-Provost's  house,  when  the 
Hussars  dash  in  at  full  gallop,  shouting  ''''  Der  Feind^  The 
Enemy  !  All  in  march  there  ;  vanguard  this  side  of  Pam- 
pitz ;  killed  forty  of  us  !" — Quick,  your  Plan  of  Battle,  then? 
Whitherward  ;  How  ;  What  ?  answer  or  perish  !  Neipperg 
was  infinitely  struck  ;  dropt  knife  and  fork  :  ' '  Send  for 
Rbmer,  General  of  the  Horse!"  Romer  did  the  indispen- 
sable :  a  swift  man,  not  apt  to  loose  his  head.  Romer' s  bat- 
tle-plan, I  should  hope,  is  already  made  ;  or  it  will  fare  ill 
with  Neipperg  and  him.  But  beat,  ye  drummers  ;  gallop,  ye 
aides-de-camp  as  for  life  !  The  first  thing  is  to  get  our  force 
together  ;  and  it  lies  scattered  about  in  three  other  Villages 
besides  Mollwitz,  miles  apart.  Neipperg's  trumpets  clangor, 
his  aides-de-camp  gallop  :  he  has  his  left  wing  formed, 
and  the  other  parts  in  a  state  of  rapid  genesis.  Horse  and 
Foot  pouring  in  from  Laugwitz,  Barzdorf,  Gruningen,  before 
the  Prussians  have  quite  done  deploying  themselves,  and  got 

IV — 2 


1 8  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS   AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS, 

well  within  shot  of  him.  Romer,  by  birth  a  Saxon  gentle- 
man, by  all  accounts  a  superior  soldier  and  excellent  General 
of  Horse,  commands  this  Austrian  left  wing  ;  General  Gold- 
lein,  a  Swiss  veteran  of  good  parts,  presiding  over  the  Infan- 
try in  that  quarter.  Neipperg  himself,  were  he  once  com- 
plete, will  command  the  right  wing. 

Neipperg  is  to  be  in  two  lines,  as  the  Prussians  are, 
with  horse  on  each  wing,  which  is  orthodox  military  order. 
His  length  of  front,  I  should  guess,  must  have  been  some- 
thing better  than  two  English  miles  :  a  sluggish  brook, 
called  of  Laugwitz,  from  the  village  of  that  name  which  lies 
some  way  across,  is  on  his  right  hand  ;  sluggish,  boggy  ; 
stagnating  towards  the  Oder  in  those  parts  : — improved  farm- 
ing has,  in  our  time,  mostly  dried  the  strip  of  bog,  and  made 
it  into  coarse  meadow,  which  is  rather  a  relief  amid  the  dry 
sandy  element.  Neipperg' s  right  is  covered  by  that.  His 
left  rests  on  the  Hamlet  of  Griiningen,  a  mile-and-half  north- 
east of  Mollwitz  ; — meant  to  have  rested  on  Hermsdorf  nearly 
east,  but  the  Prussians  have  already  taken  that  up.  The  sun 
coming  more  and  more  round  to  west  of  south  (for  it  is  now 
past  noon)  shines  right  in  Neipperg' s  face,  and  is  against 
him  :  how  the  wind  is,  nobody  mentions, — probably  there 
was  no  wind.  His  regular  cavalry,  8,600,  outnumbers  twice 
or  more  that  of  the  Prussians,  not  to  mention  their  quality  ; 
and  he  has  fewer  Infantry,  somewhat  in  proportion  ; — the  en- 
tire force  on  each  side  is  scarcely  above  20,000,  the  Prussians 
slightly  in  majority  by  count.  In  field-pieces  Neipperg  is 
greatly  outnumbered  ;  the  Prussians  having  about  threescore, 
he  only  eighteen.  And  now  here  are  the  Prussians,  close 
upon  our  right  wing,  not  yet  in  contact  with  the  right, — 
which  in  fact  is  not  yet  got  into  existence  ; — thank  Heaven 
they  have  not  come  before  our  left  got  into  existence,  as  our 
right  (if  you  knew  it)  has  not  yet  quite  finished  doing  ! — 

The  Prussians,  though  so  ready  for  deploying,  have  had 
their  own  difficulties  and  delays.  Between  the  boggy  brook 
of  Ivaugwitz  on  their  left,  and  the  village  of  Hermsdorf,  two 
miles  distant,  on  which  their  right  wing  is  to  lean,  there 
proves  not  to  be  room  enough  ;  and  then  owing  to  mistake  of 
Schulenburg  (our  old  pipe-clay  friend,  who  commands  the 


FREDERIC   THE   GREAT.  19 

right  wing  of  Horse  here,  and  is  not  up  in  time),  there  is  too 
much  room.  Nor  room  enough  for  the  Infantry,  we  say  : 
the  last  Three  Battalions  of  the  front  line  therefore,  the  three 
on  the  outmost  right,  wheel  round,  and  stand  athwart  ;  en 
potence  (as  soldiers  say),  or  at  right  angles  to  the  first  line  ; 
hanging  to  it  like  a  kind  of  lid  in  that  part, — between  Schu- 
lenburg  and  them, — had  Schulenburg  come  up.  Thus  are  the 
three  battalions  got  rid  of  at  least  ;  '  they  cap  the  First  Prus- 
sian line  rectangularly,  like  a  lid,'  says  my  authority, — lid 
which  does  not  reach  to  the  Second  Line  by  a  good  way. 
This  accidental  arrangement  had  material  effects  on  the  right 
wing.  Unfortunate  Schulenburg  did  at  last  come  up  : — had 
he  miscalculated  the  distances  then  ?  Once  on  the  ground, 
he  will  find  he  does  not  reach  to  Hermsdorf  after  all,  and  that 
there  is  now  too  much  room  !  What  his  degree  of  fault  was  I 
know  not  ;  Friedrich  has  long  been  dissatisfied  with  these 
dragoons  of  Schulenburg  ;  ' '  good  for  nothing,  I  always 
told  you  ' '  (at  that  skirmish  of  Baumgarten) :  and  now  here 
is  the  General  himself  fallen  blundering  ! — In  respect  of 
Horse,  the  Austrians  are  more  than  two  to  one  ;  to  make  out 
our  deficiency,  the  King  imitating  something  he  had  read 
about  Gustavus  Adolphus,  intercalates  the  Horse-Squadrons; 
on  each  wing,  with  two  battalions  of  Grenadiers,  and  so 
lengthens  them  ;  '  a  manoeuvre  not  likely  to  be  again  im- 
itated,' he  admits. 

All  these  movements  and  arrangements  are  effected  above 
a  mile  from  Mollwitz,  no  enemy  yet  visible.  Once  effected, 
we  advance  again  with  music  sounding,  sixty  pieces  of  artil- 
lery well  in  front, — steady,  steady  ! — across  the  floor  of  snow 
which  is  soon  beaten  smooth  enough,  the  stage,  this  day,  of 
a  great  adventure.  And  now  there  is  the  enemy's  left  wing, 
Romer  and  his  Horse  ;  their  right  wing  wider  away,  and  not 
yet,  by  a  good  space,  within  cannon-range  of  us.  It  is 
towards  two  of  the  afternoon  ;  Schulenburg  now  on  his 
ground,  laments  that  he  will  not  reach  to  Hermsdorf  ; — but 
it  may  be  dangerous  now  to  attempt  repairing  that  error?  At 
two  of  the  clock,  being  now  fairly  within  distance,  we  salute 
Romer  and  the  Austrian  left,  with  all  our  sixty  cannon  ;  and 
the  sound  of  drums  and  clarionets  is  drowned  in  universal  ar- 


20  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS   AND    FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

tillery  thunder.  Incessant,  for  tliey  take  (by  order)  to 
"swift-shooting,"  which  is  almost  of  the  swiftness  of  mus- 
ketry in  our  Prussian  practice  ;  and  from  sixty  cannon,  going 
at  that  rate,  we  may  fancy  some  effect.  The  Austrian  Horse 
of  the  left  wing  do  not  like  it  ;  all  the  less  as  the  Austrians, 
rather  short  of  artillery,  have  nothing  yet  to  reply  with. 

No  Cavalry  can  stand  long  there,  getting  shivered  in  that 
way;  in  such  a  noise,  were  there  nothing  more.  "  Are  we 
to  stand  here  like  milestones,  then,  and  be  all  shot  without 
a  stroke  struck?"  "Steady!"  answers  Romer.  But 
nothing  can  keep  them  steady  :  "  To  be  shot  like  dogs  {u)ie 
Hunde)  !  For  God's  sake  {Um  Gottes  IVillen)^  lead  us  for- 
ward, then,  to  have  a  stroke  at  them  !  " — in  tones  ever  more 
plangent,  plaintively  indignant  ;  growing  ungovernable. 
And  Romer  can  get  no  orders  ;  Neipperg  is  on  the  extreme 
right,  many  things  still  to  settle  there  ;  and  here  is  the  can- 
non-thunder going,  and  soon  their  very  musketry  will  open. 
And — and  there  is  Schulenburg,  for  one  thing,  stretching 
himself  out  eastwards  (rightwards)  to  get  hold  of  Hermsdorf ; 
thinking  this  an  opportunity  for  the  manoeuvre.  "  Forward  ! ' ' 
cries  Romer  ;  and  his  Thirty  Squadrons,  like  bottled  whirl- 
wind now  at  last  let  loose,  dash  upon  Schulenburg' s  poor  Ten 
(five  of  them  of  Schulenburg' s  own  regiment), — who  are 
turned  sideways  too,  trotting  towards  Hermsdorf,  at  the 
wrong  moment, — and  dash  them  into  wild  ruin.  That  must 
have  been  a  charge  !  That  was  the  beginning  of  hours  of 
chaos,  seemingly  irretrievable,  in  the  Prussian  right  wing. 

For  the  Prussian  Horse  fly  wildly  ;  and  it  is  in  vain  to 
rally.  The  King  is  among  them  ;  has  come  in  hot  haste, 
conjuring  and  commanding  :  poor  Schulenburg  addresses  his 
own  regiment,  "  Oh  shame,  shame  !  shall  it  be  told,  then?  " 
rallies  his  own  regiment,  and  some  others  ;  charges  fiercely  in 
with  them  again  ;  gets  a  sabre-slash  across  the  face, — does  not 
mind  the  sabre-slash,  small  bandaging  will  do  ; — gets  a  bullet 
through  the  head  (or  through  the  heart,  it  is  not  said  which)  ; 
and  falls  down  dead  ;  his  regiment  going  to  the  winds  again, 
and  his  care  of  it  and  of  other  things  concluding  in  this  hon- 
orable manner.  Nothing  can  rally  that  right  wing  ;  or  the 
more  you  rally,  the  worse  it  fares  :    they  are  clearly  no  match 


FREDERIC  THE   GREAT.  21 

for  Romer,  these  Prussian  Horse.  They  fly  along  the  front  of 
their  own  First  Line  of  Infantry,  they  fly  between  the  Two 
Lines  ;  Romer  chasing, — till  the  fire  of  the  Infantry  (intoler- 
able to  our  enemies,  and  hitting  some  even  of  our  fugitive 
friends)  repels  him.  For  the  notable  point  in  all  this  was  the 
conduct  of  the  infantry  ;  and  how  it  stood  in  these  wild  vor- 
texes of  ruin  ;  impregnable,  immovable,  as  if  every  man  of 
it  were  stone  ;  and  steadily  poured  out  deluges  of  fire, — '  five 
Prussian  shots  for  two  Austrian  : ' — such  is  perfect  discipline 
against  imperfect  ;  and  the  iron  ramrod  against  the  wooden. 
The  intolerable  fire  repels  Romer,  when  he  trenches  on 
the  Infantry  :  however,  he  captures  nine  of  the  Prussian  sixty 
o-uns  :  has  scattered  their  Horse  to  the  winds  :  and  charges 
again  and  again,  hoping  to  break  the  infantry  too, — till  a 
bullet  kills  him,  the  gallant  Romer  ;  and  some  other  has  to 
charge  and  try.  It  is  thought,  had  Goldlein  with  his  Aus- 
trian Infantry  advanced  to  support  Romer  at  this  juncture,  the 
battle  had  been  gained.  Five  times  before  Romer  fell  and 
after,  the  Austrians  charged  here  ;  tried  the  Second  Line  too  ; 
tried  once  to  take  Prince  Leopold  in  rear  there.  But  Prince 
Leopold  faced  round,  gave  intolerable  fire  ;  on  one  face  as  on 
the  other,  he,  or  the  Prussian  Infantry  anywhere,  is  not  to  be 
broken.  '  Prince  Friedrich,'  one  of  the  Margraves  of 
Schwedt,  King's  Cousin,  fell  in  these  wild  rally ings  and 
wrestlings;  'by  a  cannon-ball  at  the  King's  hand,'  not  said 
otherwise  where.  He  had  come  as  Volunteer,  few  weeks  ago, 
out  of  Holland,  where  he  was  a  rising  General  :  he  has  met 
his  fate  here, — and  Margraf  Karl,  his  brother,  who  also  gets 
wounded,  will  be  a  mournful  man  to-night. 

The  Prussian  Horse,  this  right  wing  of  it,  is  a  ruined  body  ; 
boiling  in  wild  disorder,  flooding  rapidly  away  to  rearward, — 
which  is  the  safest  direction  to  retreat  upon .  They  '  sweep 
away  the  King's  person  with  them,'  say  some  cautious  people  ; 
others  say,  what  is  the  fact,  that  Schwerin  entreated,  and  as 
it  were  commanded,  the  King  to  go  ;  the  battle  being,  to  all 
appearance,  irretrievable.  Go  he  did,  with  small  escort,  and 
on  a  long  ride, — to  Oppeln,  a  Prussian  post,  thirty-five  miles 
rearward,  where  there  is  a  bridge  over  the  Oder  and  a  safe 
country  beyond.     So  much  is  indubitable  ;  and  that  he  dis- 


22  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS    AND    FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

patched  an  Aide-de-Camp  to  gallop  into  Brandenburg,  and 
tell  the  Old  Dessauer,  "  Bestir  yourself!  Here  all  seems 
lost  !  " — and  vanished  from  the  field,  doubtless  in  very  des- 
perate humor.  Upon  which  the  extraneous  world  has  bab- 
bled a  good  deal,  "Cowardice  !  Wanted  courage  :  Haha  !" 
in  its  usual  foolish  way  ;  not  worth  answer  from  him  or  from 
us.  Friedrich's  demeanor,  in  that  disaster  of  his  right 
wing,  was  furious  despair  rather  ;  and  neither  Schulenburg 
nor  Margraf  Friedrich,  nor  any  of  the  captains,  killed  or  left 
living,  was  supposed  to  have  sinned  by  "cowardice  "  in  a  vis- 
ible degree  ! — 

Indisputable  it  is,  though  there  is  deep  mystery  upon  it, 
the  King  vanishes  from  Mollwitz  Field  at  this  point  for  six- 
teen hours,  into  the  regions  of  Myth,  "  into  Fairyland,"  as 
would  once  have  been  said  ;  but  reappears  unharmed  in  to- 
morrow's daylight. 

'  Had  Goldlein  but  advanced  with  his  Foot,  in  support  of 
gallant  Romer  ! '  say  the  Austrian  Books.  But  Goldlein  did 
not  advance  ;  nor  is  it  certain  he  would  have  found  advantage 
in  so  doing  :  Goldlein,  where  he  stands,  has  difficulty  enough 
to  hold  his  own.  For  the  notable  circumstance,  miraculous  to 
military  men,  still  is,  How  the  Prussian  Foot  (men  who  had 
never  been  in  fire,  but  whom  Friedrich  Wilhelm  had  drilled 
for  twenty  years)  stand  their  ground,  in  this  distraction  of  the 
Horse.  Not  even  the  two  outlying  Grenadier  Battalions 
will  give  away  ;  those  poor  intercalated  Grenadiers,  when  their 
Horse  fled  on  the  right  and  on  the  left,  they  stand  there,  like 
a  fixed  stone-dam  in  that  wild  whirlpool  of  ruin.  They  fix 
bayonets,  '  bring  their  two  field-pieces  to  flank '  (Winterfeld 
was  Captain  there),  and,  from  small  anns  and  big,  deliver 
such  a  fire  as  was  very  unexpected.  Nothing  to  be  made  of 
Winterfeld  and  them.  They  invincibly  hurl  back  charge 
after  charge  ;  and,  with  dogged  steadiness,  manoeuvre  them- 
selves into  the  general  Line  again  ;  or  into  contact  with  the 
Three  superfluous  Battalions,  arranged  en  potence^  whom  we 
heard  of.  Those  Three,  ranked  athwart  in  this  right  wing 
('like  a  lid,'  between  First  Line  and  second),  maintained 
themselves  in  like  impregnable  fashion, — Winterfeld  com- 
manding ; — and  proved  unexpectedly,   thinks  Friedrich,  the 


FREDERIC  THE   GREAT.  2$ 

saving-  of  the  whole.  For  they  also  stood  their  ground  im- 
movable, like  rocks  ;  steady  spouting  fire-torrents.  Five  suc- 
cessive charges  storm  upon  them,  fruitless;  "Steady,  vieine 
Kinder  ;  fix  bayonets,  handle  ramrods  !  There  is  the  Horse- 
deluge  thundering  in  upon  you  ;  reserve  your  fire,  till  you 
see  the  whites  of  their  eyes,  and  get  the  word  ;  then  give  it 
them,  and  again  give  it  them  :  see  whether  any  man  or  any 
horse  can  stand  it  !  " 

Neipperg,  soon  after  Romer  fell,  had  ordered  Goldlein  for- 
ward :  Goldlein  with  his  Infantry  did  advance,  gallantly 
enough  ;  but  to  no  purpose,  Goldlein  was  soon  shot  dead  ; 
and  his  infantry  had  to  fall  back  again,  ineffectual  or  worse. 
Iron  ramrods  against  wooden  ;  five  shots  to  two  :  what  is 
there  but  falling  back  ?  Neipperg  sent  fresh  horse  from  his 
right  wing,  with  Berlichingen,  a  new  famed  General  of 
Horse  ;  Neipperg  is  furiously  bent  to  improve  his  advantage, 
to  break  those  Prussians,  who  are  mere  musketeers  left  bare, 
and  thinks  that  will  settle  the  account  :  but  it  could  in  no 
wise  be  done.  The  Austrian  Horse,  after  their  fifth  trial,  re- 
nounce charging  ;  fairly  refuse  to  charge  any  more  ;  and  with- 
draw dispirited  out  of  ball-range,  or  in  search  of  things  not 
impracticable.  The  Hussar  part  of  them  did  something  of 
plunder  to  rearward  ; — and,  besides  an  attempt  on  the  Prus- 
sian baggage  and  knapsacks,  which  proved  to  be  '  too  well 
guarded,' — 'burnt  the  Church  of  Pampitz,'  as  some  small 
consolation.  The  Prussians  had  stript  off  their  knapsacks, 
and  left  them  in  Pampitz  :  the  Austrians,  it  was  noticed, 
stript  theirs  in  the  field  ;  built  walls  of  them,  and  fired  be- 
hind the  same,  in  the  kneeling,  more  or  less  protected  post- 
ure,— which  did  not  avail  them  much. 

In  fact,  the  Austrian  infantry  too,  all  Austrians,  hour  after 
hour,  are  getting  wearier  of  it :  neither  infantry  nor  cavalry 
can  stand  being  riddled  by  swift  shot  in  that  manner.  In 
spite  of  their  knapsack  walls,  various  regiments  have  shrunk 
out  of  ball-range  ;  and  several  cannot,  by  any  persuasion,  be 
got  to  come  into  it  again.  Others,  who  do  reluctantly  ad- 
vance,— see  what  a  figure  they  make  ;  man  after  man  edging 
away  as  he  can,  so  that  the  regiment  '  stands  forty  to  eighty 
men  deep,  with  lanes  through  it  every  two  or  three  yards  ; ' 


24  HISTORIC   CHARACTERvS   AND    FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

permeable  everywhere  to  cavalry,  if  we  had  them  ;  and  turn- 
ing nothing  to  the  enemy  but  colour-sergeants  and  bare  poles 
of  a  regiment  !  And  Romer  is  dead,  and  Goldlein  of  the  in- 
fantry is  dead.  And  on  their  right  wing,  skirted  by  that 
marshy  brook  of  Laugwitz, — Austrian  right  wing  had  been 
weakened  by  detachments,  when  Berlichingen  rode  off  to  suc- 
ceed Romer, — the  Austrians  are  suffering  :  Posadowsky's 
Horse  ( among  whom  is  Rothenburg,  once  vanguard), 
strengthened  by  remnants  who  have  rallied  here,  are  at  last 
prospering,  after  reverses.  And  the  Prussian  fire  of  small 
arms,  at  such  rate,  has  lasted  now  for  five  hours.  The  Aus- 
trian Army,  becoming  instead  of  a  web  a  mere  series  of  flying 
tatters,  forming  into  stripes  or  lanes  in  the  way  we  see,  ap- 
pears to  have  had  about  enough. 

These  symptoms  are  not  hidden  from  Schwerin.  His  own 
ammunition,  too,  he  knows  is  running  scarce,  and  fighters 
here  and  there  are  searching  the  slain  for  cartridges  : — 
Schwerin  closes  his  ranks,  trims  and  tightens  himself  a  little  ; 
breaks  forth  into  universal  field-music,  and  with  banners 
spread,  starts  in  mass  wholly,  "  Forwards  !"  Forwards  towards 
these  Austrians  and  the  setting  sun. 

An  intelligent  Austrian  officer,  writing  next  week  from 
Neisse,  confesses  he  never  saw  anything  more  beautiful.  "  I 
can  well  say,  I  never  in  my  life  saw  anything  more  beautiful. 
They  marched  with  the  greatest  steadiness,  arrow-straight, 
and  their  front  like  a  line  {schmirgleich)^  as  if  they  had  been 
upon  parade.  The  glitter  of  their  clear  arms  shone  strangely 
in  the  setting  sun,  and  the  fire  from  them  went  on  no  other- 
wise than  a  continued  peal  of  thunder."  Grand  picture  in- 
deed ;  but  not  to  be  enjoyed  as  a  Work  of  Art,  for  it  is  coming 
upon  us  !  "  The  spirits  of  our  Army  sank  altogether,"  con- 
tinues he  ;  "the  Foot  plainly  giving  way.  Horse  refusing  to 
come  forward,  all  things  wavering  towards  dissolution:" — 
so  that  Neipperg,  to  avoid  worse,  gives  the  word  to  go  ; — and 
they  roll  off  at  double-quick  time,  through  Mollwitz,  over 
Laugwitz  bridge  and  brook,  towards  Grotkau  by  what  routes 
they  can.  The  sun  is  just  sunk  ;  a  quarter  to  eight,  says  the 
intelligent  Austrian  officer, — while  the  Austrian  Army,  much 
to  its  amazement,  tumbles  forth  in  this  bad  fashion. 


FREDERIC  THE   GREAT.  25 

They  had  lost  nine  of  their  own  cannon,  and  all  of  those 
Prussian  nine  which  they  once  had,  except  one  :  eight  cannon 
Diimis^  in  all.  Prisoners  of  them  were  few,  and  none  of  much 
mark  :  two  Fieldmarshals,  Romer  and  Goldlein,  lie  among 
the  dead,  four  more  of  that  rank  are  wounded.  Four 
standards  too  are  gone  ;  certain  kettledrums  and  the  like 
trophies,  not  in  great  number.  Lieutenant-General  Browne 
was  of  these  retreating  Austrians  ;  a  little  fact  worth  noting  : 
of  his  actions  this  day,  or  of  his  thoughts  (which  latter  surely 
must  have  been  considerable),  no  hint  anywhere.  The  Aus- 
trians were  not  much  chased  ;  though  they  might  have  been, 
— fresh  Cavalry  (two  Ohlau  regiments,  drawn  hither  by  the 
sound)  having  hung  about  to  rear  of  them,  for  some  time 
past  ;  unable  to  get  into  the  fight,  or  to  do  any  good  till 
now.  Schwerin,  they  say,  though  he  had  two  wounds,  was  for 
pursuing  vigorously  :  but  Leopold  of  Anhalt  over-persuaded 
him  ;  urged  the  darkness,  the  uncertainty.  Berlichingen, 
with  their  own  Horse,  still  partly  covered  their  rear  ;  and  the 
Prussians,  Ohlauers  included,  were  but  weak  in  that  branch 
of  the  service.  Pursuit  lasted  little  more  than  two  miles,  and 
was  never  hot.  The  loss  of  men,  on  both  sides,  was  not  far 
from  equal,  and  rather  in  favour  of  the  Austrian  side  : — Aus- 
trians counted  in  killed,  wounded  and  missing,  4,410  men  ; 
Prussians,  4,613  ; — but  the  Prussians  bivouacked  on  the 
ground,  or  quartered  in  these  villages,  with  victory  to  crown 
them,  and  the  thought  that  their  hard  day's- work  had  been 
well  done.  Besides  Margraf  Friedrich,  Volunteer  from  Hol- 
land, there  lav  amons:  the  slain  Colonel  Count  von  Fincken- 
stein  (Old  Tutor's  Son),  King's  friend  from  boyhood,  and 
much  loved. 

Such  was  Mollwitz,  the  first  Battle  for  Silesia  ;  which  had 
to  cost  many  battles  first  and  last.  Silesia  will  be  gained,  we 
can  expect,  by  fighting  of  this  kind  in  an  honest  cause.  But 
here  is  something  already  gained,  which  is  considerable,  and 
about  which  there  is  no  doubt.  A  new  ^Military  Power,  it 
would  appear,  has  come  upon  the  scene  ;  the  Gazetteer-and- 
Diplomatic  world  will  have  to  make  itself  familiar  with  a 
name  not  much  heard  of  hitherto  among  the  Nations.  "A 
Nation  which  can  fight,"  think  the  Gazetteers  ;  "fight  almost 


26 


HISTORIC    CHARACTERS   AND    FAMOUS   EVENTS. 


as  the  very  Swedes  did  ;  and  is  led  on  by  its  King  too, — who 
may  prove,  in  his  way,  a  very  Charles  XIL,  or  small  Mace- 
donia's Madman,  for  anght  one  knows?" 

This  Mollwitz  is  a  most  deliberate,  regulated,  ponderously 
impressive  {gravitatisch)  Feat  of  Arms,  as  the  reader  sees  ; 
done  all  by  Regulation  methods,  with  orthodox  exactitude  ; 
in  a  slow,  weighty,  almost  pedantic,  but  highly  irrefragable 
manner.  It  is  the  triumph  of  Prussian  Discipline  ;  of  military 
orthodoxy  well  put  in  practice  ;  the  honest  outcome  of  good 
natural  stuff  in  those  Brandenburgers,  and  of  the  supreme  vir- 
tues of  Drill.  Neipperg  and  his  Austrians  had  much  de- 
spised Prussian  soldiering  :  "  Keep  our  soup  hot,"  cried  they, 
on  running  out  this  day  to  rank  themselves  ;  "  hot  a  little, 
till  we  drive  these  fellows  to  the  Devil  !  "  That  was  their 
opinion,  about  noon  this  day  :  but  that  is  an  opinion  they 
have  renounced  for  all  remaining  days  and  years. — It  is  a  Vic- 
tory due  properly  to  Friedrich  Wilhelm  and  the  Old  Des- 
sauer,  who  are  far  away  from  it.  Friedrich  Wilhelm,  though 
dead,  fights  here,  and  the  others  only  do  his  bidding  on  this 
occasion.  His  son,  as  yet,  adds  nothing  of  his  own  ;  though 
he  will  ever  henceforth  begin  largely  adding, — right  careful 
withal  to  lose  nothing,  for  the  Friedrich  Wilhelm  contribu- 
tion is  invaluable,  and  the  basis  of  everything  : — but  it  is 
curious  to  see  what  contrast  this  first  Battle  of  Friedrich 's  is 
with  his  latter  and  last  ones. — T.  Carlyle. 


'&K9'::,&rsji\m'j9'jiSfi'::,t;x^^ 


;  i  FREDERIC  THE  GREAT,    i^-fe 


% 


•^,J^!iriHtui-^tiij^Mur^—f 


URING  the  eleven  years  of  peace  that  fol- 
lowed the  Treaty  of  Dresden,  from  1745 
to  1756,  Frederic  devoted  himself  to  the 
internal  administration  of  his  dominions, 
the  organization  of  the  army,  and  to  literary 
pursnits.  Among  the  great  improvements 
which  he  contemplated  was  a  reform  in  the 
judicial  proceedings,  with  a  view  to  render 
them  more  simple  and  uniform,  in  all  the 
different  provinces  of  his  dominions.  Together  with  his 
chancellor.  Baron  Cocceji,  a  man  of  integrity  and  ability,  he 
compiled  the  "Code  Frederic,"  "a  body  of  laws  for  the 
dominions  of  the  King  of  Prussia,  founded  on  reason  and  the 
constitution  of  the  country. "  The  word  ' '  constitution ' '  here 
has  no  reference  to  any  previous  written  instrument,  but  is 
used  vaguely  to  denote  the  general  character  of  the  people 
and  their  existing  customs.  The  merits  of  the  Code  Frederic, 
as  compared  with  the  laws  which  preceded  it,  were — first,  the 
reducing  the  whole  body  of  the  jurisprudence  of  the  country 
to  one  system,  agreeing  in  all  its  parts ;  and  secondly,  the 
getting  rid  of  the  delays  and  vexatious  impediments  to  justice 
which  previously  existed.  The  new  code  had  also  many 
faults ;  among  which  are  the  obscurity  of  some  of  its  enact- 
ments, and  the  want  of  clear  order  in  its  provisions.  Few 
despotic  sovereigns  have  ever  been  more  careful  than  Frederic 
the  Great  to  prevent  injustice  or  oppression,  or  more  anxious 
to  mitigate  punishments.  On  the  petitions  which  were  sent 
to  him  against  the  decision  of  the  judges  in  civil  suits  he 
usually  wrote,  when  he  sent  them  back  to  be  reheard,  such 

27 


28  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS   AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

phrases  as  these  :  "  Do  not  be  so  harsh  upon  the  poor  ;"  "I 
do  not  choose  that  the  lower  orders  should  be  oppressed;" 
"  I  will  not  allow  my  subjects  to  be  tyrannized  over,"  etc. 

It  is  still  more  remarkable  that  Frederic  passed  at  once 
from  the  tumult  of  war  to  a  retired,  philosophical  life,  and 
gave  himself  up  to  poetry,  eloquence,  and  history,  without, 
however,  omitting  any  of  the  duties  of  a  sovereign.  Frederic 
wrote  "The  History  of  My  own  Time,"  "Memoirs  of  the 
House  of  Brandenburg,"  and  even  a  didactic  poem,  in  six 
books,  on  the  "Art  of  War,"  besides  others  of  less  import- 
ance. His  voluminous  works  would  hardly  have  entitled 
him  to  distinction  in  the  literary  world  had  he  not  been  a 
king.  All  are  written  in  French,  and  proud  as  the  Germans 
are  of  Frederic,  they  cannot  help  regretting  his  contempt  for 
German  literature,  to  the  improvement  of  which  he  con- 
tributed nothing. 

As  ruler  of  a  great  state,  Frederic  endeavored  to  make 
agriculture,  manufactures,  and  the  arts  flourish ;  and  encour- 
aged commerce.  Though  possessing  no  navy,  he  insisted  on 
the  right  of  free  navigation  for  his  subjects,  without  molesta- 
tion from  the  fleets  of  belligerents.  One  grand  object  was  to 
improve  his  revenue,  a  measure  necessary  for  the  maintenance 
of  his  army,  which  he  had  increased  to  160,000  men.  He 
expended  large  sums  in  gratifying  his  taste  for  the  arts,  by 
decorating  his  palaces  at  Berlin  and  Potsdam.  At  the  latter 
place  the  Palace  of  Sans  Souci  ("Free  from  Care  ")  was  erected 
by  him  in  1745,  and  was  thereafter  almost  his  constant  resi- 
dence. It  stands  on  a  commanding  eminence  above  the  town. 
Here  there  is  a  portrait  of  him  painted  in  his  fifty-sixth  year, 
the  only  one  for  which  he  ever  sat.  Besides  his  palaces,  he 
erected  many  splendid  edifices,  in  which,  however,  there  was 
this  incongruity,  that  the  richest  architectural  decorations 
were  often  lavished  on  the  exterior  of  buildings  which  were 
only  barracks  for  the  troops. 

When  the  war  broke  out  again  in  1756,  England  concluded 
a  treaty  with  the  king,  the  chief  object  being  to  secure  Hanover 
from  invasion.  Maria  Theresa  had,  by  strenuous  effort  and 
by  soliciting  the  aid  of  Madame  Pompadour,  enlisted  France, 
Russia  and  Poland  on  her  behalf.      This  formidable  alliance 


FREDERIC   THE   GREAT.  29 

was  for  a  time  kept  secret,  but  Frederic,  being  informed  of  it 
through  the  treachery  of  a  clerk  in  the  Saxon  chancery,  saw 
that  it  meant  for  him  the  loss  of  Silesia.  Resolving  Jto  antici- 
pate his  enemies,  he  commenced  operations  by  invading 
Saxony  on  the  24th  of  August,  1756,  thus  beginning  the 
third  Silesian,  or,  as  it  is  usually  called,  "The  Seven  Years' 
War. ' '  This  contest  was  the  most  extraordinary  and  import- 
ant in  modern  times,  previous  to  those  of  the  French  Revo- 
lution. Though  Frederic  II.  is  the  hero,  the  history  of  the 
war  is,  in  fact,  the  history  of  Continental  Europe.  The  king, 
intending  to  invade  Bohemia,  required  a  passage  through 
Saxony,  anticipating  which  the  Elector,  the  King  of  Poland, 
assembled  his  troops  in  an  intrenched  camp  at  Pirna.  Frederic 
took  possession  of  Dresden  on  the  loth  of  September,  with- 
out any  resistance  on  the  part  of  the  Saxons,  and  immediately 
secured  and  published  the  documents  which  proved  the  con- 
spiracy against  Prussia.  He  also  blockaded  Pirna,  but,  con- 
fiding this  investment  to  the  Margrave  Charles  of  Brandenburg, 
he  himself  advanced  with  24,000  troops  across  the  frontier  of 
Bohemia,  to  arrest  the  progress  of  20,000  Austrians  under 
Field -marshal  Braun,  whom  he  defeated  at  Lowositz.  The 
loss  of  the  two  armies  was  very  nearly  equal,  that  of  the 
Prussians  being  3200  killed  and  wounded,  and  of  the  Austrians 
3000,  hardly  an}-  prisoners  being  taken  on  either  side.  By 
this  contest  Frederic  secured  the  speedy  capitulation  of  the 
Saxons  at  Pirna. 

In  1757,  he  advanced  into  Bohemia.  On  the  6th  of  May, 
at  Prague,  he  met  the  forces  of  the  Empress-queen,  amounting 
to  about  75,000  men.  His  own  army  consisted  of  about 
68,000.  Prince  Charles  of  Lorraine  commenced  the  fight, 
which  resulted  in  a  great  victory  for  the  Prussians.  It,  how- 
ever, cost  Frederic  above  2000  men  killed,  8000  wounded,  and 
1500  taken  prisoners  ;  but  a  still  greater  loss  is  thus  recorded 
by  Frederic: — "On  our  side  we  had  to  mourn  the  death  of 
Marshal  Schwerin,  whose  loss  was  of  more  importance  to  us 
than  that  of  10,000  men  would  have  been.  His  death  withered 
the  laurels  of  a  victory  bought  with  such  precious  blood." 
Schwerin  had  fought  under  Marlborough  at  Blenheim,  and 
had  been  with  Charles  the  Twelfth  at  Bender.     At  the  age  of 


30  HISTORIC    CHARACTERS   AND    FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

seventy-two  he  still  preserved  the  activity  and  boldness  of 
youth.  He  was  Frederic's  tutor  in  the  art  of  war.  In  the 
battle  of  Prague  the  Austrians  had  4000  killed,  4000  wounded, 
and  nearly  9000  taken  prisoners.  Marshal  Braun  also  was  so 
severely  wounded  in  the  engagement  that  he  shortly  after- 
wards died  at  Prague. 

One  portion  of  the  Austrian  army  fled  towards  Beneschau ; 
and  the  other,  amounting  to  48,000  men,  commanded  by 
Prince  Charles,  hastened  to  shelter  itself  within  the  walls  of 
Prague.  Frederic  at  once  invested  that  city,  and  in  four  days 
the  whole  town  was  surrounded  with  lines  and  intrenchments, 
and  all  external  communication  thus  cut  off.  On  the  nieht 
of  the  23d  of  May,  Prince  Charles  made  a  sortie  at  the  head 
of  12,000  men.  He  was,  however,  repulsed  with  the  loss  of 
1000  men  killed  and  wounded.  The  Prussians  commenced 
the  bombardment  of  Prague  on  the  29th  of  May,  and  continued 
it  for  several  days;  during  which  time  the  town  was  set  on 
fire  in  various  places  with  shells  and  red-hot  balls.  The 
population  of  80,000  persons  subsisted  upon  scanty  supplies  of 
horseflesh.  Frederic,  taking  a  force  of  12,000  men  from  the 
blockading  army,  marched  to  join  the  forces  imder  the  Duke 
of  Bevern.  This  junction  was  effected,  and  on  the  17th  of 
June  the  King  of  Prussia  was  at  the  head  of  his  united  army 
of  32,000  men. 

The  Austrian  Count  Daun,  supported  by  above  60,000 
men,  was  strongly  posted  near  Kolin,  on  the  heights,  and  had 
in  his  front  a  rugged  ravine,  and  some  large  pieces  of  water. 
In  spite,  however,  of  the  enormous  superiority  in  numbers  of 
the  Austrians,  and  of  their  advantageous  position,  Frederic 
resolved  upon  attacking  them,  for  he  knew  that  the  Russians, 
Swedes,  French,  and  the  other  allies  of  the  Empire  were  on 
the  march  against  him.  The  battle  was  a  fearful  one,  and  at 
last  Frederic,  yielding  to  the  entreaties  of  his  own  generals, 
gave  the  order  to  retreat.  But  the  king  was  equally  great  in 
the  moment  of  defeat  as  in  that  of  victory,  and  he  arranged 
his  retreat  so  admirably  that  he  carried  off"  all  his  baggage 
and  the  greater  part  of  his  artillery.  The  Prussians  lost  in  the 
battle  of  Kolin  11,000  men,  killed  and  wounded.  Frederic's 
magnificent  regiment  of  guards  was  entirely  destroyed.     Of 


FREDERIC  THE   GREAT.  3 1 

the  Austriaiis  there  were  9000  men  killed  and  wounded. 
Count  Daun  was  among  the  wounded.  Frederic  retired  from 
the  field  of  battle  to  Nimbourg,  and  sent  orders  to  his  troops 
engaged  in  the  blockade  of  Prague  to  raise  the  siege  of  that 
city.  In  the  meantime  the  French  defeated  the  Duke  of 
Cumberland,  and  compelled  him  to  abandon  Hanover,  of 
which  they  took  possession;  and  about  the  same  time  the 
Russians  and  Swedes  invaded  Prussia  from  the  north. 

Frederic's  affairs  were  supposed  by  his  enemies,  and  even 
by  his  friends,  to  be  desperate  ;  but  he  was  not  dismayed. 
He  boldly  attacked  the  united  French  and  Austrian  army, 
twice  as  numerous  as  his  own,  at  Rosbach.  The  fight  lasted 
only  two  hours,  from  3  p.m.  till  5  ;  and  never  was  rout  more 
complete  than  that  of  the  allies.  Thirty  thousand  French,  and 
twenty  thousand  imperial  troops  were  seen  making  a  disgrace- 
ful and  precipitate  flight  before  five  battalions  and  a  few  squad- 
rons. It  is  related  that  Frederic,  riding  across  the  battle-field, 
saw  one  Frenchman  withstanding  the  attack  of  three  Prus- 
sians. He  stopped  the  combat,  and  addressing  the  Frenchman 
said,  "Do  you  think  you  are  invincible?"  "I  should,  sire," 
replied  the  soldier,  "if  I  fought  under  your  orders." 

Frederic  now  marched  into  Silesia,  where  Breslau  had 
been  taken  by  the  Austrians.  He  encamped  on  the  side  of 
this  town,  facing  Lissa,  on  the  4th  of  December,  1757.  The 
next  day  he  found  himself  in  the  presence  of  the  Aus- 
trian army,  consisting  of  90,000  men,  which  had  advanced  to 
meet  him.  Although  the  army  of  the  King  of  Prussia  did 
not  amount  to  above  30,000,  he  determined  not  to  refuse  the 
combat.  After  a  sanguinary  encounter,  the  battle  of  the 
plains  of  Lissa  ended  in  the  complete  defeat  of  the  Austrians. 
The  Prussians  lost  upon  this  occasion  5,000  men  killed  and 
wounded,  while  the  enormous  losses  of  the  Austrians  amounted 
to  28, 703.  On  the  6th  of  December,  Frederic  invested  Breslau, 
and  as  soon  as  the  heavy  artillery  arrived  from  Neisse  and 
Brieg,  began  to  batter  the  town,  regardless  of  the  severity  of 
the  season.  In  the  course  of  the  attack,  a  shell  set  fire  to  a 
magazine  of  powder  under  the  rampart ;  a  bastion  was  blown 
up  and  filled  the  ditch ;  and  the  commandant.  General  Sprecher, 
fearing  a  general  assault,  surrendered  the  town,  and  himself 


32  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS   AND    FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

and  his  numerous  grarrison  prisoners  of  war.  This  event 
delivered  into  the  hands  of  the  Prussians  thirteen  generals, 
700  officers,  and  17,536  soldiers  as  prisoners.  The  Russians 
and  Swedes  had  retreated  from  the  Prussian  territories, 
and  the  Hanoverians  had  assembled  a  large  force  under 
Prince  Frederic  of  Brunswick,  to  co-operate  with  the 
Prussians. 

At  the  close  of  1757,  Frederic's  affairs  were  so  far  restored 
that  he  might  have  hoped  for  success  in  the  next  campaign, 
if  he  could  have  kept  back  the  Russians.  He  remained  dur- 
ing the  winter  at  Breslau,  which  he  considered  to  be  the  best 
place  for  making  preparations  for  the  coming  contest.  The 
admiration  which  Frederic's  conduct  had  excited  in  England, 
and  confidence  in  his  ability,  induced  the  English  government 
to  grant  him  a  subsidy  of  ^^"670, 000,  which  became  an  annual 
grant.  But  the  Empress  Elizabeth,  daughter  of  Peter  the 
Great  of  Russia,  was  his  most  inveterate  enemy.  In  the 
depth  of  winter,  Count  Fermor,  with  an  army  of  1 10,000 
Russians,  invaded  Prussia,  and  obliged  the  inhabitants  to  take 
the  oath  of  allegiance  to  his  Empress.  Frederic's  great  object 
was  to  stop  the  progress  of  the  Russians.  On  the  24th  of  Au- 
gust, 1758,  the  two  armies  sighted  each  other.  Next  day  a 
sanguinary  and  desperate  battle  was  fought  at  Zorndorf,  end- 
ing in  the  defeat  of  the  Russians.  The  victory,  however,  cost 
the  Prussians  10,000  men  killed  and  wounded,  and  the  Rus- 
sians 18,600.  Several  minor  engagements  were  fought  during 
this  campaign,  so  that  during  its  continuance  the  King  of 
Prussia's  total  losses  were  about  30,000  men,  whilst  those 
of  his  enemies  exceeded  100,000. 

In  1759,  the  Russians  advanced  to  Frankfort-on-the-Oder. 
On  the  12th  of  August,  Frederic  commenced  to  attack  them. 
For  six  hours  did  the  Prussians,  with  an  incredible  bravery, 
opposed  to  an  enemy  greatly  superior  in  numbers,  and  mowed 
down  in  whole  ranks  by  the  fire  of  artillery,  keep  their  ground. 
Frederic,  who  was  obstinately  bent  upon  wresting  t^e  victory 
from  the  Russians,  led  his  troops  several  times  in  person  to 
the  charge.  Two  horses  were  killed  under  him,  and  his 
clothes  were  pierced  with  balls  At  last,  the  Prussians  were 
forced  to  retreat,  and  the  king  himself  had  great  difficulty  in 


FREDERIC  THE   GREAT.  33 

making  liis  escape  from  the  field.  Finally,  they  rallied  about 
a  league  from  the  battle-field,  at  Goritz,  from  whence,  the 
next  day,  they  retired  to  Reitwent.  This  battle  of  Frankfort 
(or  Kunersdorf)  was  by  far  the  most  destructive  to  the  Prus- 
sians of  any  they  had  yet  endured.  They  lost  7,584  killed, 
besides  11,119  wounded,  among  whom  were  almost  all  the 
generals  and  officers  of  distinction.  The  loss  of  the  Russians 
and  Anstrians,  who  aided  them,  amounted  to  3,511  killed  and 
12,260  wounded.  Soltikof,  the  Russian  general,  wrote  to  the 
Empress,  when  sending  the  details  of  the  battle:  "Your 
IMajesty  must  not  be  surprised  at  the  greatness  of  our  loss.  It 
is  the  custom  of  the  King  of  Prussia  to  sell  his  defeats  very 
dear."  At  the  beginning  of  the  day,  the  King  of  Prussia 
thought  himself  so  sure  of  the  victory  that  he  wrote  to  the 
Queen:  "Madame,  we  have  driven  the  Russians  from  their 
intrenchments  ;  in  two  hours  expect  to  hear  of  a  glorious  vic- 
tory." But  when  obliged  to  quit  the  field,  he  wrote  a  second 
letter,  desiring  her  to  send  away  the  royal  family  from  Berlin, 
and  to  have  the  archives  removed,  adding  that  the  city  might 
make  terms  with  the  enemy. 

Yet  Berlin  was  saved  for  a  time.  Frederic's  skillful  con- 
duct after  his  defeat  induced  the  Russian  general,  instead 
of  entering  Brandenburg,  to  join  the  Austrians  in  lyusatia  ; 
but  soon  afterwards,  General  Finck,  one  of  Frederic's  best 
leaders,  with  15,000  men,  was  taken  prisoner  by  the  Austrians, 
and  a  smaller  corps  shared  the  same  fate.  Frederic,  however, 
received  reinforcements,  and  IMarshal  Daun  was  content  to 
occupy  the  camp  at  Pirna  and  cover  Dresden.  In  the  follow- 
ing spring,  some  fruitless  negotiations  for  peace  took  place. 
In  the  campaign  the  city  of  Dresden  suffered  very  severely 
from  a  bombardment,  by  which  Frederic  destroyed  the  finest 
part  of  the  city.  On  the  other  hand,  the  Russians  and  Aus- 
trians entered  Berlin,  which  was  saved  from  plunder,  but  had 
to  pay  heavy  contributions. 

Berlin  was  soon  evacuated,  and  Frederic,  who  was  hasten- 
ing to  its  relief,  turned  into  Saxony,  where  he  was  induced, 
by  the  desperate  condition  of  his  affairs,  to  venture  to  attack 
the  Austrians,  who  were  strongly  posted  at  Torgau.  On  the 
3d  of  November,  1760,  he  defeated  them,  after  a  most  obsti- 
IV— 3 


34  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

iiate  battle,  perhaps  the  bloodiest  fought  during  the  whole 
war.  The  Austrians  retreated  ;  the  Russians  and  Swedes  also 
quitted  his  dominions,  and  Frederic  was  able  to  recover 
strength  in  winter  quarters  in  Saxony. 

At  the  commencement  of  1761,  it  was  evident  that  the 
King  of  Prussia's  situation  was  most  critical.  He  confessed 
himself  that  after  the  great  losses  he  had  sustained,  his  army 
was  not  equal  to  what  it  had  formerly  been.  He  accordingly 
occupied  a  strong  camp  in  Silesia,  where  he  remained  mo- 
tionless, watching  his  enemies ;  but  was  unable  to  prevent 
Marshal  I^oudon  from  taking  Schweidnitz,  and  the  Russians, 
Colberg.  Frederic's  situation  was,  indeed,  so  desperate  that 
he  is  said  to  have  seriously  contemplated  suicide.  At  this 
critical  moment  occurred,  perhaps,  the  only  event  which  could 
have  saved  him.  This  was  the  death  of  the  Empress  Eliza- 
beth, of  Russia,  on  the  5th  of  January,  1762,  and  the  accession 
of  Peter  HI.,  who,  being  an  enthusiastic  admirer  of  Frederic, 
immediately  concluded  a  treaty  of  alliance  with  him.  Peace 
was  also  made  with  the  Swedes ;  and,  though  Peter  was 
soon  deposed,  yet  Catherine,  who  succeeded  him,  observed  a 
strict  neutrality  during  the  remainder  of  the  war. 

Frederic  and  his  brother.  Prince  Henry,  gained  several 
advantages  in  1762  and  1763,  and  peace  having  been  con- 
cluded between  Great  Britain  and  France,  Austria  was  left 
alone.  The  Empress-Queen  was,  therefore,  obliged  to  con- 
clude peace  with  Prussia.  The  two  j)owers  mutually  guaran- 
teed the  whole  of  each  other's  German  dominions,  Frederic 
also  promising  to  give  his  vote  to  Joseph  as  King  of  the  Ro- 
mans. The  King  of  Poland  was  restored  to  his  dominions 
without  compensation.  Thus  ended  the  Seven  Years'  War, 
which,  after  immense  sacrifice  of  human  life  and  treasure,  left 
the  political  balance  of  Europe  unchanged.  Yet  the  issue 
of  this  great  contest,  in  which  the  genius  of  Frederic  had  been 
so  eminently  distinguished,  secured  to  him  a  decisive  influence 
in  the  affairs,  not  only  of  Germany,  but  of  all  Europe. 

Returning  to  his  capital,  after  an  absence  of  more  than  six 
years,  Frederic  seriously  directed  his  attention  to  repair  the 
injuries  inflicted  on  his  dominions  by  the  war.  He  opened 
his  magazines  to  give  his  subjects  grain,  both  for  food  and  for 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT.  35 

seed.  He  distributed  horses  among  the  farmers ;  rebuilt,  at 
his  own  expense,  the  houses  which  had  been  burnt ;  founded 
colonies,  erected  manufactories,  and  made  canals  for  the  con- 
venience of  inland  trade.  Silesia  was  exempted  from  the  pay- 
ment of  all  taxes  for  six  years,  and  the  New  Mark  and  Pome- 
rania  for  two  years.  To  relieve  the  nobility  in  these  three 
provinces,  a  system  of  credit  was  introduced,  by  which  the 
value  of  estates  was  raised  and  the  rate  of  interest  reduced. 
In  1764,  Frederic  founded  the  Bank  of  Berlin,  to  which  he 
gave  $8,000,000  as  its  first  fund.  Though  he  really  desired 
to  promote  trade,  some  of  his  measures  were  injudicious,  and 
others  decidedly  unjust :  for  instance,  the  debasement  of  the 
current  coin.  Meantime  he  continued  to  maintain  a  very 
large  army. 

In  March,  1764,  an  alliance  was  concluded  with  Russia,  by 
which  Frederic  supported  the  election  of  the  new  King  of  Po- 
land, Stanislaus  Poniatowski,  and  the  cause  of  the  oppressed 
Dissidents  of  Poland.  In  1772,  he  agreed  to  the  first  partition 
of  Poland,  by  which  he  obtained  all  Polish  Prussia,  and  a  part 
of  Great  Poland,  as  far  as  to  the  River  Netz,  but  with  the 
exception  of  Dantzic  and  Thorn.  Frederic  the  Great  has 
been  charged  with  having  first  suggested  the  partition  of  Po- 
land ;  but  the  fact  is,  that  Frederic  I,  had  formed  a  plan  for 
the  partition  of  Poland,  as  early  as  17 10.  From  that  time 
the  kingdom  of  Prussia  was  divided  into  East  and  West 
Prussia. 

In  1778,  on  the  death  of  the  Elector  of  Bavaria,  without 
children,  Frederic  interfered  to  prevent  Austria  from  parti- 
tioning that  country.  The  question,  however,  terminated 
without  a  battle,  by  the  treaty  of  Tescheii,  in  INIay,  1779,  by 
which  Austria  renounced  its  intentions,  and  consented  to  the 
union  of  the  Franconian  principalities  with  Prussia.  In  1785, 
the  Emperor,  having  formed  a  plan  to  obtain  Bavaria,  in  ex- 
change for  the  Low  Countries,  Frederic  defeated  it,  in  con- 
junction with  Saxony  and  Hanover,  by  concluding  the  alliance 
between  the  German  princes,  called  the  "  Fiirstenbund," 
which  has  been  considered  as  the  masterpiece  of  his  policy. 
In  1786,  Frederic  concluded  a  treaty  of  amity  and  commerce 
with  the  United  States  of  America. 


36  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

Thougii  he  had  long  suffered  from  gout  and  asthma,  which 
terminated  iu  confirmed  dropsy,  not  a  little  aggravated  by  his 
indulgence  in  the  pleasures  of  the  table,  he  continued  his 
unremitted  attention  to  public  affairs  till  within  two  days  of 
his  death,  the  approach  of  which  he  contemplated  with  com- 
posure. He  died  at  2.30  a.m.  on  the  17th  of  August,  1786, 
at  his  favorite  palace  of  Sans  Souci,  in  the  seventy-fifth  year 
of  his  age  and  the  forty-seventh  of  his  reiga.  Being  child- 
less, he  left  to  his  nephew,  Frederic  William  II.,  a  kingdom 
enlarged  from  2,190  to  3,515  German  square  miles;  above 
;$70,ooo,ooo  in  the  treasury,  and  an  army  of  200,000  men. 

Frederic  was  rather  below  the  middle  size,  somewhat  stout 
in  youth,  but  lean  in  old  age.  His  intelligent  face  was  lighted 
up  by  large,  sparkling  gray  eyes.  In  old  age  he  wore  an  old 
blue  uniform  with  red  facings,  having  its  front  soiled  with 
Spanish  snufif.  He  was  called  by  the  people  "Old  Fritz,"  or 
"Father  Fritz." 

Frederic  the  Great,  thougli  regarded  by  some  as  a  cham- 
pion of  Protestantism,  had  a  great  contempt  for  religious 
institutions,  and  even  for  religion  itself  He  was  avowedly 
an  unbeliever  in  a  Divine  revelation,  regarding  it  as  an  inven- 
tion of  the  priests.  He  was,  perhaps,  driven  to  this  view  by 
reaction  from  the  severe  dogmatism  of  his  fanatical  father. 
Frederic,  though  showing  affection  for  his  mother  and  sisters 
and  a  few  friends,  was  deficient  in  sensibility.  Though  ex- 
amples of  his  clemency  and  placability  are  recorded,  he  was 
often  harsh  and  cruel,  and  at  times  seemed  to  take  malicious 
pleasure  in  tormenting  others.  His  conduct  was  guided  by 
his  pleasure  and  interests,  with  little  regard  for  the  rights 
of  others  or  for  morality.  French  literature,  and  especially 
the  writings  of  Voltaire,  inspired  his  mind,  and  he  was  grati- 
fied to  pay  his  teacher  in  his  own  coin.  After  all  his  youthful 
rebellion  against  an  unreasonable,  tyrannical  father,  he  ended 
by  being  in  many  respects  like  him — a  despotic  busybody. 
Although  he  was  long  engaged  in  destructive  and  costly  wars, 
Frederic  contracted  no  public  debt  ;  and,  though  he  exacted 
from  his  subjects  an  enormous  revenue,  much  of  it  found  its 
way  back  into  their  pockets.  His  appellation  of  the  "Great" 
was  earned  on  the  battle-field ;  but  it  is  also  deserved  for  his 


FREDERIC  THE   GREAT.  37 

merits  as  a  legislator  and  for  his  firm  establishment  of  Prussia 
among  the  Great  Powers  of  Europe,  and  laid  the  foundation 
of  a  genuinely  united  Empire. 

The  Four  Battles  of  1757. 

The  scheme  for  the  campaign  of  1757  was  simple,  bold, 
and  judicious.  The  Duke  of  Cumberland  with  an  English 
and  Hanoverian  army  was  in  Western  Germany,  and  might 
be  able  to  prevent  the  French  troops  from  attacking  Prussia. 
The  Russians,  confined  by  their  snows,  would  probably  not 
stir  till  the  spring  was  far  advanced.  Saxony  was  prostrated. 
Sweden  could  do  nothing  very  important.  During  a  few 
months  Frederic  would  have  to  deal  with  Austria  alone. 
Even  thus  the  odds  were  against  him.  But  ability  and 
courage  have  often  triumphed  against  odds  still  more  for- 
midable. 

Early  in  1757  the  Prussian  army  in  Saxony  began  to 
move.  Through  four  defiles  in  the  mountains  tl- sy  came 
pouring  into  Bohemia.  Prague  was  his  first  mark  ;  but  the 
ulterior  object  was  probably  Vienna.  At  Prague  lay  Marshal 
Brown  with  one  great  army.  Daun,  the  most  cautious  and 
fortunate  of  the  Austrian  captains,  was  advancing  with 
another.  Frederic  determined  to  overwhelm  Brown  before 
Daun  should  arrive.  On  the  sixth  of  May  was  fought,  under 
those  walls  which,  a  hundred  and  thirty  years  before,  had 
witnessed  the  victory  of  the  Catholic  League  and  the  flight  of 
the  unhappy  Palatine,  a  battle  more  bloody  than  any  which 
Eiirope  saw  during  the  long  interval  between  Malplaquet  and 
Eylau.  The  king  and  Prince  Ferdinand  of  Brunswick  were 
distinguished  on  that  day  by  their  valor  and  exertions.  But 
the  chief  glory  was  with  Schwerin.  When  the  Prussian 
infantry  wavered,  the  stout  old  marshal  snatched  the  colors 
from  an  ensign,  and,  waving  them  in  the  air,  led  back  his 
regiment  to  the  charge.  Thus  at  seventy-two  years  of  age, 
he  fell  in  the  thickest  battle,  still  grasping  the  standard 
which  bears  the  black  eagle  on  the  field  argent.  The  victory 
remained  with  the  king,  but  it  had  been  dearly  purchased. 
Whole  columns  of  his  bravest  warriors  had  fallen.  He 
admitted  that  he  had  lost  eighteen  thousand  men.     Of  the 


38  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EViENTS. 

enemy,  twenty-four  thousand  had  been  killed,  wounded,  or 
taken. 

Part  of  the  defeated  anny  was  shut  up  in  Prague.  Part 
fled  to  join  the  troops  which,  under  the  command  of  Daun, 
were  now  close  at  hand.  Frederic  determined  to  play  over 
the  same  game  which  had  succeeded  at  Losowitz.  He  left  a 
large  force  to  besiege  Prague,  and  at  the  head  of  thirty 
thousand  men  he  marched  against  Daun.  The  cautious 
marshal,  though  he  had  a  great  superiority  in  numbers, 
would  risk  nothing.  He  occupied  at  Kolin  a  position  almost 
impregnable  and  awaited  the  attack  of  the  king. 

It  was  the  i8th  of  June — a  day  which,  if  the  Greek  super- 
stition still  retained  its  influence,  would  be  held  sacred  to 
Nemesis — a  day  on  which  the  two  greatest  princes  and  soldiers 
of  modern  times  were  taught,  by  a  terrible  experience,  that 
neither  skill  nor  valor  can  fix  the  inconstancy  of  fortune. 
The  battle  began  before  noon  ;  and  part  of  the  Prussian 
army  maintained  the  contest  till  after  the  midsummer  sun 
had  gone  down.  But  at  length  the  king  found  that  his 
troops,  having  been  repeatedly  driven  back  with  frightful 
carnage,  could  no  longer  be  led  to  the  charge.  He  was  with 
difficulty  persuaded  to  quit  the  field.  The  officers  of  his 
personal  staff"  were  under  the  necessity  of  expostulating  with 
him,  and  one  of  them  took  the  liberty  to  say,  "Does  your 
majesty  mean  to  storm  the  batteries  alone  ? ' '  Thirteen 
thousand  of  his  bravest  followers  had  perished.  Nothing 
remained  for  him  but  to  retreat  in  good  order,  to  raise  the 
siege  of  Prague,  and  to  hurry  his  army  by  different  routes  out 
of  Bohemia. 

This  stroke  seemed  to  be  final.  Frederic's  situation  had 
at  best  been  such,  that  only  an  uninterrupted  run  of  good 
luck  could  save  him,  as  it  seemed,  from  ruin.  And  now, 
almost  in  the  outset  of  the  contest,  he  had  met  with  a  check 
which,  even  in  a  war  between  equal  powers,  would  have  been 
felt  as  serious.  He  had  owed  much  to  the  opinion  which 
all  Europe  entertained  of  his  army.  Since  his  accession, 
his  soldiers  had  in  many  successive  battles  been  victorious 
over  the  Austrians.  But  the  glory  had  departed  from  his 
arms.      All   whom    his   malevolent  sarcasms   had  wounded 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT.  39 

made  haste  to  avenge  themselves  by  scoffing  at  the  scoffer. 
His  soldiers  had  ceased  to  confide  in  his  star.  In  every  part 
of  his  camp  his  dispositions  were  severely  criticised.  Even 
in  his  own  family  he  had  detractors.  His  next  brother, 
William,  heir-presumptive,  or  rather,  in  truth,  heir-apparent 
to  the  throne,  and  ancestor  of  the  present  sovereign,  could 
not  refrain  from  lamenting  his  own  fate  and  that  of  the 
House  of  Hohenzollern,  once  so  great  and  so  prosperous, 
but  now,  by  the  rash  ambition  of  its  chief,  made  a  byword 
to  all  nations.  These  complaints,  and  some  bhmders  which 
William  committed  during  the  retreat  from  Bohemia,  called 
forth  the  bitter  displeasure  of  the  inexorable  king.  The 
prince's  heart  was  broken  by  the  cutting  reproaches  of  his 
brother  ;  he  quitted  the  army,  retired  to  a  countr>^  seat,  and 
in  a  short  time  died  of  shame  and  vexation. 

It  seemed  that  the  king's  distress  could  hardly  be 
increased.  Yet  at  this  moment  another  blow  not  less  terrible 
than  that  of  Kolin  fell  upon  him.  The  French  under 
Marshal  D'Estrees  had  invaded  Germany.  The  Duke  of 
Cumberland  had  given  them  battle  at  Hastembeck,  and  had 
been  defeated.  In  order  to  save  the  Electorate  of  Hanover 
from  entire  subjugation,  he  had  made,  at  Clostern  Severn,  an 
arrangement  with  the  French  generals,  which  left  them  at 
liberty  to  turn  their  arms  against  the  Prussian  dominions. 

That  nothing  might  be  wanting  to  Frederic's  distress,  he 
lost  his  mother  just  at  this  time  ;  and  he  appears  to  have 
felt  the  loss  more  than  was  to  be  expected  from  the  hardness 
and  severity  of  his  character.  In  truth,  his  misfortunes  had 
now  cut  to  the  quick.  The  mocker,  the  tyrant,  the  most 
rigorous,  the  most  imperious,  the  most  cynical  of  men,  was 
very  unhappy.  His  face  was  so  haggard  and  his  form  so  thin, 
that  when  on  his  return  from  Bohemia  he  passed  through 
Leipsic,  the  people  hardly  knew  him  again.  His  sleep  was 
broken  ;  the  tears,  in  spite  of  himself,  often  started  into  his 
eyes  ;  and  the  grave  began  to  present  itself  to  his  agitated 
mind  as  the  best  refuge  from  misery  and  dishonor.  His 
resolution  was  fixed  never  to  be  taken  alive,  and  never  to 
make  peace  on  condition  of  descending  from  his  place  among 
the  powers  of  Europe.     He  saw  nothing  left  for  him  except 


40  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND  FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

to  die  ;  and  he  deliberately  chose  his  mode  of  death.  He 
always  carried  about  with  him  a  sure  and  speedy  poison  in  a 
small  glass  case ;  and  to  the  few  in  whom  he  placed  confidence, 
he  made  no  mystery  of  his  resolution. 

But  we  should  very  imperfectly  describe  the  state  of 
Frederic's  mind  if  we  left  out  of  view  the  laughable 
peculiarities  which  contrasted  so  singularly  with  the  gravity, 
energy,  and  harshness  of  his  character.  It  is  difficult  to  say 
whether  the  tragic  or  the  comic  predominated  in  the  strange 
scene  which  was  then  acted.  In  the  midst  of  all  the  great 
king's  calamities,  his  passion  for  writing  indifferent  poetry 
grew  stronger  and  stronger.  Enemies  all  around  him,  despair 
in  his  heart,  pills  of  corrosive  sublimate  hidden  in  his  clothes, 
he  poured  forth  hundreds  upon  hundreds  of  lines,  hateful 
to  gods  and  men — the  insipid  dregs  of  Voltaire's  Hippocrene 
— the  faint  echo  of  the  lyre  of  Chaulieu.  It  is  amusing  to 
compare  what  he  did  during  the  last  months  of  1757,  with 
what  he  wrote  during  the  same  time.  It  may  be  doubted 
whether  any  equal  portion  of  the  life  of  Hannibal,  of  Csesar, 
or  of  Napoleon,  will  bear  a  comj)arison  with  that  short 
period,  the  most  brilliant  in  the  history  of  Prussia  and  of 
Frederic. 

At  the  beginning  of  November,  the  net  seemed  to  have 
closed  completely  round  him.  The  Russians  were  in  the 
field,  and  were  spreading  devastation  through  his  eastern 
provinces.  Silesia  was  overrun  by  the  Austrians.  A  great 
French  army  was  advancing  from  the  west  under  the  com- 
mand of  Marshal  Soubise,  a  prince  of  the  great  Armorican 
house  of  Rohan.  Berlin  itself  had  been  taken  and  plundered 
by  the  Croatians.  Such  was  the  situation  from  which 
Frederic  extricated  himself,  with  dazzling  glory,  in  the  short 
space  of  thirty  days. 

He  marched  first  against  Soubise.  On  the  fifth  of  No- 
vember the  armies  met  at  Rosbach.  The  French  were  two 
to  one  ;  but  they  were  ill-disciplined,  and  their  general  was 
a  dunce.  The  tactics  of  Frederic,  and  the  well-regulated 
valor  of  the  Prussian  troops,  obtained  a  complete  victory. 
Seven  thousand  of  the  invaders  were  made  prisoners.  Their 
guns,  their  colors,  their  baggage,  fell  into  the  hands  of  the 


FREDERIC  THE   GREAT,  4I 

conquerors.  Those  who  escaped  fled  as  confusedly  as  a  mob 
scattered  by  cavalry.  Victorious  in  the  west,  the  king 
turned  his  arms  toward  Silesia.  In  that  quarter  every- 
thing seemed  to  be  lost.  Breslau  had  fallen  ;  and  Charles 
of  Lorraine,  with  a  mighty  power,  held  the  whole  province. 
On  the  fifth  of  December,  exactly  one  month  after  the  battle 
of  Rosbach,  Frederic,  with  forty  thousand  men,  and  Prince 
Charles,  at  the  head  of  not  less  than  sixty  thousand,  met 
at  Leuthen,  hard  by  Breslau.  The  king,  who  was,  in 
general,  perhaps  too  much  inclined  to  consider  the  common 
soldier  as  a  mere  machine,  resorted,  on  this  great  day,  to 
means  resembling  those  which  Bonaparte  afterwards  employed 
with  such  signal  success  for  the  purpose  of  stimulating 
military  enthusiasm.  The  principal  officers  were  convoked. 
Frederic  addressed  them  with  great  force  and  pathos ;  and 
directed  them  to  speak  to  their  men  as  he  had  spoken  to 
them.  When  the  armies  were  set  in  battle  array,  the 
Prussian  troops  were  in  a  state  of  fierce  excitement,  but 
their  excitement  showed  itself  after  the  fashion  of  a  grave 
people.  The  columns  advanced  to  the  attack  chanting,  to 
the  sound  of  drums  and  fifes,  the  rude  hymns  of  the  old 
Saxon  Sternholds.  They  had  never  fought  so  well  ;  nor  had 
the  genius  of  their  chief  ever  been  so  conspicuous.  ' '  That 
battle,"  said  Napoleon,  "was  a  masterpiece.  Of  itself  it 
is  sufficient  to  entitle  Frederic  to  a  place  in  the  first  rank 
among  generals."  The  victory  was  complete.  Twenty- 
seven  thousand  Austrians  were  killed,  or  wounded,  or  taken  ; 
fifty  stand  of  colors,  a  hundred  guns,  four  thousand  wagons, 
fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Prussians.  Breslau  opened  its 
gates;  Silesia  was  reconquered;  Charles  of  Lorraine  retired  to 
hide  his  shame  and  sorrow  at  Brussels  ;  and  Frederic  allowed 
his  troops  to  take  some  repose  in  winter  quarters,  after  a 
campaign,  to  the  vicissitudes  of  which  it  will  be  difficult  to 
find  any  parallel  in  ancient  or  modern  history. 

The  king's  fame  filled  all  the  world.  He  had,  during  the 
last  year,  maintained  a  contest,  on  terms  of  advantage,  against 
three  powers,  the  weakest  of  which  had  more  than  three 
times  his  resources.  He  had  fought  four  great  pitched  battles 
against  superior  forces.     Three  of  these  battles  he  had  gained ; 


42  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

and  the  defeat  of  Kolin,  repaired  as  it  had  been,  rather  raised 
than  lowered  his  military  renown.  The  victory  of  Leuthen 
is,  to  this  day,  the  proudest  on  the  roll  of  Prussian  fame. 
Leipsic,  indeed,  and  Waterloo,  produced  consequences  more 
important  to  mankind.  But  the  glory  of  Iveipsic  must  be 
shared  by  the  Prussians  with  the  Austrians  and  Russians ; 
and  at  Waterloo  the  British  infantry  bore  the  burden  and 
heat  of  the  day.  The  victory  of  Rosbach  was,  in  a  military 
point  of  view,  less  honorable  than  that  of  Leuthen,  for  it  was 
gained  over  an  incapable  general  and  a  disorganized  army. 
But  the  moral  effect  which  it  produced  was  immense.  All 
the  preceding  triumphs  of  Frederic  had  been  triumphs  over 
Germans,  and  could  excite  no  emotions  of  national  pride  among 
the  German  people.  It  was  impossible  that  a  Hessian  or  a 
Hanoverian  could  feel  any  patriotic  exultation  on  hearing 
that  Pomeranians  slaughtered  Moravians,  or  that  Saxon  ban- 
ners had  been  hung  in  the  churches  of  Berlin.  Indeed, 
though  the  military  character  of  the  Germans  justly  stood 
high  throughout  the  world,  they  could  boast  of  no  great  day 
which  belonged  to  them  as  a  people  ; — of  no  Agincourt,  of 
no  Bannockburn.  Most  of  their  victories  had  been  gained 
over  each  other ;  and  their  most  splendid  exploits  against 
foreigners  had  been  achieved  under  the  command  of  Eugene, 
who  was  himself  a  foreigner. 

The  news  of  the  battle  of  Rosbach  stirred  the  blood  of  the 
whole  of  the  mighty  population  from  the  Alps  to  the  Baltic, 
and  from  the  borders  of  Courland  to  those  of  I^orraine. 
Westphalia  and  Lower  Saxony  had  been  deluged  by  a  great 
host  of  strangers,  whose  speech  was  unintelligible,  and 
whose  petulant  and  licentious  manners  had  excited  the 
strongest  feelings  of  disgust  and  hatred.  That  great  host 
had  been  put  to  flight  by  a  small  band  of  German  warriors, 
led  by  a  prince  of  German  blood  on  the  side  of  father  and 
mother,  and  marked  by  the  fair  hair  and  clear  blue  eye  of 
Germany.  Never  since  the  dissolution  of  the  empire  of 
Charlemagne,  had  the  Teutonic  race  won  such  a  field  against 
the  French.  The  tidings  called  forth  a  general  burst  of 
delight  and  pride  from  the  whole  of  the  great  family  which 
spoke  the  various  dialects  of  the  ancient  language  of  Armi- 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT.  43 

nius.  The  fame  of  Frederic  began  to  supply,  in  some  degree, 
the  place  of  a  common  government  and  of  a  common  capital. 
It  became  a  rallying  point  for  all  true  Germans — a  subject  of 
mutual  congratulation  to  the  Bavarian  and  the  Westphalian, 
to  the  citizen  of  Frankfort  and  the  citizen  of  Nuremberg. 
Then  first  it  was  manifest  that  the  Germans  were  truly  a 
nation.  Then  first  was  discernible  that  patriotic  spirit  which, 
in  1 813,  achieved  the  great  deliverance  of  Central  Europe, 
and  which  still  guards,  and  long  will  guard,  against  foreign 
ambition,  the  old  freedom  of  the  Rhine. — Lord  Macaulay. 

Frederic's  Last  Battle — Torgau. 

The  Hill  Siptitz  makes  a  very  main  figure  in  the  battle 
now  imminent.  Siptitz  Height  is,  in  fact,  Daun's  Camp  ;  where 
he  stands  intrenched  to  the  utmost,  repeatedly  changing  his 
position,  the  better  to  sustain  Friedrich's  expected  attacks. 
It  is  a  blunt  broad-backed  elevation,  mostly  in  a  vineyard, 
perhaps  on  the  average  200  feet  above  the  general  level,  and 
of  five  or  six  square  miles  in  area  :  length,  east  to  west,  from 
Grosswig  neighborhood  to  the  environs  of  Torgau,  may  be 
about  three  miles  :  breadth,  south  to  north,  from  the  Siptitz 
to  the  Zinna  neighborhoods,  above  half  that  distance.  The 
Height  is  steepish  on  fhe  southern  side,  all  along  to  the  south- 
west angle  (which  was  Daun's  left  flank  in  the  great  action 
coming),  but  swells  up  with  easier  ascent  on  the  west,  north 
and  other  sides. 

Daun  stands  fronting  southward  along  these  Siptitz 
Heights,  looking  towards  Schilda  and  his  dangerous  neigh- 
bors ;  heights,  woods,  ponds  and  inaccessibilities  environing 
his  position  and  him.  One  of  the  strongest  positions  imagin- 
able ;  which,  under  Prince  Henri,  proved  unexpugnable 
enough  to  some  of  us.  A  position  not  to  be  attacked  on  that 
southern  front,  nor  on  either  of  its  flanks  : — where  can  it  be 
attacked?  Impregnable,  under  Prince  Henri  in  far  inferior 
force  ;  how  will  you  take  it  from  Daun  in  decidedly  superior? 
A  position  not  to  be  attacked  at  all,  most  military  men  would 
say ; — though  one  military  man,  in  his  extreme  necessity, 
must  and  will  find  a  way  into  it. 

One  fault,  the  unique  military  man,  intensely  pondering, 


44  HISTOEIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

discovers  that  it  has  :  it  is  too  small  for  Dauu  ;  not  area 
enough  for  manoeuvring  65,000  men  in  it ;  who  will  get  into 
confusion  if  properly  dealt  with.  A  most  comfortable  light- 
flash,  the  eureka  of  this  terrible  problem.  "We  will  attack 
it  on  rear  and  on  front  simultaneously ;  that  is  the  way  to 
handle  it!"  Yes;  simultaneously,  though  that  is  difficult, 
say  military  judges  ;  perhaps  to  Prussians  it  may  be  possible. 
It  is  the  opinion  of  military  judges  who  have  studied  the 
matter,  that  Friedrich's  plan,  could  it  have  been  perfectly 
executed,  might  have  got  not  only  victory  from  Daun,  but 
was  capable  to  fling  his  big  army  and  him  pell-mell  upon  the 
Elbe  bridge,  that  is  to  say,  in  such  circumstances,  into  Elbe 
river,  and  swallow  him  bodily  at  a  frightful  rate  !  That  fate 
was  spared  poor  Daun. 

Monday^  jd  November^  1760^  at  half-past  six  in  the  morn- 
ing, Friedrich  is  on  march  for  this  great  enterprise.  The 
march  goes  northward,  in  three  columns,  with  a  fourth  of 
baggage  ;  through  the  woods,  on  four  different  roads.  North- 
ward all  of  it  at  first ;  but  at  a  certain  point  ahead  (at  cross- 
ing of  the  Eilenburg-Torgau  Road,  namely),  the  march  is  to 
divide  itself  in  two.  Half  of  the  force  is  to  strike  off  right- 
ward  there  with  Ziethen,  and  to  issue  on  the  south  side  of 
Siptitz  Hill ;  other  half,  under  Friedrich  himself,  to  continue 
northward,  long  miles  farther,  and  then  at  last  bending  round, 
issue — simultaneously  with  Ziethen,  if  possible — upon  Siptitz 
Hill  from  the  north  side.  We  are  about  44,000  strong, 
against  Dann,  who  is  65,000. 

Simultaneously  with  Ziethen,  so  far  as  humanly  possible ; 
that  is  the  essential  point  !  Friedrich  has  taken  every  pains 
that  it  shall  be  correct,  in  this  and  all  points  ;  and  to  take 
double  assurance  of  hiding  it  from  Daun,  he  yesternight,  in 
dictating  his  orders  on  the  other  heads  of  method,  kept  en- 
tirely to  himself  this  most  important  Ziethen  portion  of  the 
business.  And  now,  at  starting,  he  has  taken  Ziethen  in  his 
carriage  with  him  a  few  miles,  to  explain  the  thing  by  word 
of  mouth.  At  the  Eilenburg  road,  or  before  it,  Ziethen  thinks 
he  is  clear  as  to  everything ;  dismounts ;  takes  in  hand  the 
mass  intrusted  to  him ;  and  strikes  off  by  that  rightward 
course:    "Rightward,  Herr  Ziethen  ;    rightward  till  you  get 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT.  45 

to  Klltscheu,  your  first  considerable  island  in  this  sea  of 
wood;  at  Klitsclien  strike  to  the  left  into  the  woods  again, — 
your  road  is  called  the  Butter-Strasse  {Butter-Street)  ;  goes  by 
the  northwest  sides  of  Siptitz  Height ;  reach  Siptitz  by  the 
Butter-Street,  and  then  do  your  endeavor  ! ' ' 

With  the  other  half  of  his  army,  specially  with  the  first 
column  of  it,  Friedrich  proceeds  northward  on  his  own  part 
of  the  adventure.  Three  columns  he  has,  besides  the  baggage 
one  :  in  number  about  equal  to  Ziethen's ;  if  perhaps  other- 
wise, rather  the  chosen  half ;  about  8,000  grenadier  and  foot- 
guard  people,  with  Kleist's  Hussars,  are  Friedrich's  own 
column.  Friedrich's  column  marches  nearest  the  Daun  posi- 
tions ;  the  baggage-column  farthest ;  and  that  latter  is  to  halt, 
under  escort,  quite  away  to  left  or  westward  of  the  disturbance 
coming  ;  the  other  two  columns,  Hulsen's  of  foot,  Holstein's 
mostly  of  horse,  go  through  intermediate  tracks  of  wood,  by 
roads  more  or  less  parallel  ;  and  are  all,  Friedrich's  own  col- 
umn, still  more  the  others,  to  leave  Siptitz  several  miles  to 
right,  and  to  end,  not  at  Siptitz  Height,  but  several  miles 
past  it,  and  then  wheeling  round,  begin  business  from  the 
northward  or  rearward  side  of  Daun,  while  Ziethen  attacks 
or  menaces  his  front, — simultaneously,  if  possible.  Fried- 
rich's march,  hidden  all  by  woods,  is  more  than  twice  as  far 
as  Ziethen's — some  fourteen  or  fifteen  miles  in  all  :  going 
straight  northward  ten  miles  ;  thence  bending  eastward,  then 
southward  through  woods ;  to  emerge  about  Neiden,  there  to 
cross  a  brook  (Striebach),  and  strike  home  on  the  north  side 
of  Daun.  The  track  of  march  is  in  the  shape  somewhat  of  a 
shepherd's  crook  ;  the  long  handle  of  it,  well  away  from 
Siptitz  reaches  up  to  Neiden,  this  is  the  straight  or  wooden 
part  of  said  crook  ;  after  which  comes  the  bent,  catching,  or 
iron  part, — intended  for  Daun  and  his  fierce  flock.  Ziethen 
has  hardly  above  six  miles ;  and  ought  to  be  deliberate  in  his 
woodlands,  till  the  King's  party  have  time  to  get  round. 

The  morning  I  find,  is  wet  ;  fourteen  miles  of  march  ; 
fancy  such  a  promenade  through  the  dripping  woods  ;  hea^'^', 
toilsome,  and  with  such  errand  ahead  !  The  delays  were 
considerable  ;  some  of  them  accidental.  Vigilant  Daun  has 
detachments  watching  in  these  woods  : — a  General  Ried,  who 


46  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

fires  cannon  and  gets  oflf :  then  a  General  St.  Ignon  and  the 
St.  Ignon  Regiment  of  Dragoons  ;  who,  being  between 
column  first  and  column  second,  cannot  get  away  ;  but,  after 
some  industry  by  Kleist  and  those  of  column  two,  are  caught 
and  pocketed,  St.  Ignon  himself  prisoner  among  the  rest. 
This  delay  may  perhaps  be  considered  profitable  ;  but  there 
were  other  delays  absolutely  without  profit.  For  example, 
that  of  having  difSculties  with  your  artiller}'-wagons  in  the 
wet  miry  lanes  ;  that  of  missing  your  road,  at  some  turn  in 
the  solitary  woods  ;  which  latter  was  the  sad  chance  of 
column  third,  fatally  delaying  it  for  many  hours. 

Daun,  learning  by  those  returned  parties  from  the  woods 
what  the  Royal  intentions  on  him  are,  hastily  whirls  himself 
round,  so  as  to  front  north,  and  there  receive  Friedrich  ;  best 
line  northward  for  Friedrich' s  behoof;  rear  line  or  second- 
best  will  now  receive  Ziethen  or  what  may  come.  Daun's 
arrangements  are  admitted  to  be  prompt  and  excellent.  Lacy, 
with  his  20,000 — who  lay,  while  Friedrich' s  attack  was  ex- 
pected from  south,  at  Loswig,  as  advanced  guard,  east  side 
of  the  Grosse  Teich  (supreme  pond  of  all,  which  is  a  contin- 
uation of  the  Duck-trap,  Entefang^  and  hangs  like  a  chief 
goitre  on  the  goitry  neck  of  Torgau), — Lacy  is  now  to  draw 
himself  north  and  westward,  and  looking  into  the  Entefang 
over  his  left  shoulder  (so  to  speak),  be  rear-guard  against  any 
Ziethen  or  Prussian  party  that  may  come.  Daun's  baggage 
is  all  across  the  Elbe,  all  in  wagons  since  yesterday  ;  three 
bridges  hanofinof  for  Daun  and  it,  in  case  of  adverse  accident. 
Daun  likewise  brings  all  or  nearly  all  his  cannon  to  the  new 
front,  for  Friedrich' s  behoof:  200  new  pieces  hither  :  Arch- 
enholtz  says  400  in  whole  ;  certainly  such  a  weight  of  artillery 
as  never  appeared  in  battle  before.  Unless  Friedrich' s  arrange- 
ments prove  punctual,  and  his  stroke  be  emphatic,  Friedrich 
may  happen  to  fare  badly.  On  the  latter  point,  of  emphasis, 
there  is  no  dubiety  for  Friedrich :  but  on  the  former,— 
things  are  already  past  doubt,  the  wrong  way  !  For  the  last 
hour  or  so  of  Friedrich' s  march  there  has  been  continual 
storm  of  cannonade  and  musketry  audible  from  Ziethen' s 
side  : — "Ziethen  engaged  ! "  thinks  everybody  ;  and  quickens 
step   here,  under   this   marching  music   from   the   distance. 


FREDERIC  THE   GREAT.  47 

Which  is  but  a  wrong  reading  or  mistake,  nothing  more  ;  the 
real  phenomenon  being  as  follows  :  Ziethen  punctually  got  to 
Klitschen  at  the  due  hour  ;  struck  into  the  Bittter-Strasse^ 
calculating  his  paces ;  but,  on  the  edge  of  the  wood  found 
a  small  Austrian  party,  like  those  in  Friedrich's  route  ;  and, 
pushing  into  it,  the  Austrian  party  replied  with  cannon  before 
running.  Whereupon  Ziethen,  not  knowing  how  inconsider- 
able it  was,  drew  out  in  battle-order  ;  gave  it  a  salvo  or  two  ; 
drove  it  back  on  Lacy,  in  the  Duck-trap  direction, — a  long 
way  east  of  Butter-Street,  and  Ziethen' s  real  place  ; — unlucky 
that  he  followed  it  so  far  !  Ziethen  followed  it  ;  and  got  into 
some  languid  dispute  with  Lacy  :  dispute  quite  distant,  lan- 
guid, on  both  sides,  and  consisting  mainly  of  cannon  ;  but 
lasting  in  this  way  many  precious  hours.  This  is  the  phe- 
nomenon which  friends  in  the  distance  read  to  be,  "  Ziethen 
engaged  ! ' '  Engaged,  yes,  and  alas  with  what  ?  What  Zie- 
then's  degree  of  blame  was,  I  do  not  know.  Friedrich 
thought  it  considerable: — "Stupid,  stupid,  mein  lieber!'''' 
which  Ziethen  never  would  admit  ; — and,  beyond  question,  it 
was  of  high  detriment  to  Friedrich  this  day.  Such  accidents, 
say  military  men,  are  inherent,  not  to  be  avoided,  in  that 
double  form  of  attack  :  which  may  be  true,  only  that  Fried- 
rich had  no  choice  left  of  forms  just  now. 

About  noon  Friedrich's  Vanguard  (Kleist  and  Hussars), 
about  I  o'clock  Friedrich  himself,  7  or  8,000  Grenadiers, 
emerged  from  the  woods  about  Neiden.  This  column,  wdiich 
consists  of  choice  troops,  is  to  be  the  front  line  of  the  attack. 
But  there  is  3^et  no  second  column  under  Hiilsen,  still  less 
any  third  under  Holstein,  come  in  sight :  and  Ziethen's  can- 
nonade is  but  too  audible.  Friedrich  halts  ;  sends  Adjutants 
to  hurry  on  these  columns  ; — and  rides  out  reconnoitring, 
questioning  peasants  ;  earnestly  surveying  Daun's  ground 
and  his  own.  Daun's  now  right  wing  well  eastward  about 
Zinna  had  been  Friedrich's  intended  point  of  attack  ;  but  the 
ground,  out  there,  proves  broken  by  boggy^  brooks  and 
remnant  stagnancies  of  the  Old  Elbe  :  Friedrich  finds  he 
must  return  into  the  wood  again;  and  attack  Daun's  left. 
Daun's  left  is  carefully  drawn  down  en  pote7ice^  or  gallows- 
shape  there  ;    and  has,  within  the  wood,  carefully  built  by 


48  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

Prince  Henri  last  year,  an  extensive  abatis,  or  complete 
western  wall, — only  the  north  part  of  which  is  perhaps  now 
passable,  the  Austrians  having  in  the  cold  time  used  a  good 
deal  of  it  as  firewood  lately.  There,  on  the  northwest  corner 
of  Daun,  across  that  weak  part  of  the  abatis,  must  Friedrich's 
attack  lie.  But  Friedrich's  columns  are  still  fatally  behind, 
— Holstein,  with  all  the  cavalry  we  have,  so  precious  at  pres- 
ent, is  wandering  by  wrong  paths ;  took  the  wrong  turn  at 
some  point,  and  the  Adjutant  can  hardly  find  him  at  all,  with 
his  precept  of  ' '  Haste,  Haste  ! ' ' 

We  may  figure  Friedrich's  humor  under  these  ill  omens. 
Ziethen's  cannonade  becomes  louder  and  louder  ;  which  Fried- 
rich  naturally  fancies  to  be  death  or  life  to  him, — not  to  mean 
almost  nothing,  as  it  did.  ''''  Mcin  Gott^  Ziethen  is  in  action, 
and  I  have  not  my  infantry  up!"  cried  he.  And  at  length 
decided  to  attack  as  he  was  :  Grenadiers  in  front,  the  chosen 
of  his  infantry  ;  Ramin's  Brigade  for  second  line  ;  and,  except 
about  800  of  Kleist,  no  cavalry  at  all.  His  battalions  march 
out  from  Neiden,  and  through  difficult  brooks,  Striebach 
and  the  like,  by  bridges  of  Austrian  build,  which  the 
Austrians  are  obliged  to  quit  in  hurry.  The  Prussians  are  as 
yet  perpendicular  to  Daun,  but  will  wheel  rightward,  into  the 
Domitsch  wood  again  ;  and  then  form, — parallel  to  Daun's 
northwest  shoulder  ;  and  to  Prince  Henri's  abatis,  which  will 
be  their  first  obstacle  in  charging.  Their  obstacles  in  forming 
were  many  and  intricate  ;  ground  so  difficult,  for  artillery 
especially  :  seldom  was  seen  such  expertness,  such  willing- 
ness of  mind.  And  seldom  lay  ahead  of  men  such  obstacles 
after  forming  !  Think  only  of  one  fact  :  Daun,  on  sight  of 
their  intentions,  has  opened  400  pieces  of  artillery  on  them, 
and  these  go  raging  and  thundering  into  the  hem  of  the 
wood,  and  to  whatever  issues  from  it,  now  and  for  hours  to 
come,  at  a  rate  of  deafening  uproar  and  of  sheer  deadlmess, 
which  no  observer  can  find  words  for. 

Archenholtz,  a  very  young  officer  of  fifteen,  who  came  into 
it  perhaps  an  hour  hence,  describes  it  as  a  thing  surpassable 
only  by  doomsday  :  clangorous  rage  of  noise  risen  to  the  in- 
finite; the  forest,  with  its  echoes,  bellowing  far  and  near,  and 
reverbrating  in  universal  death-peal ;  comparable  to  the  trump 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT.  49 

of  doom.  Friedrich  himself,  who  is  an  old  hand,  said  to 
those  about  him:  "  What  an  infernal  fire!  Did  you  ever  hear 
such  a  cannonade  before?  I  never."  Friedrich  is  between 
the  two  lines  of  his  Grenadiers,  which  is  his  place  during  the 
attack:  the  first  line  of  Grenadiers,  behind  Prince  Henri's 
abatis,  is  within  500  yards  of  Daun;  Ramin's  brigade  is  to 
rear  of  the  second  line,  as  a  reserve.  Horse  they  have  none, 
except  the  800  Kleist  Hussars;  who  stand  to  the  left,  outside 
the  wood,  fronted  by  Austrian  horse  in  hopeless  multitude. 
Artillery  they  have,  in  effect,  none:  their  batteries,  hardly  to 
be  got  across  these  last  woody  difficulties  of  trees  growing 
and  trees  felled,  did  rank  outside  the  wood,  on  their  left;  but 
could  do  absolutely  nothing  (gun-carriages  and  gunners, 
officers  and  men,  being  alike  blown  away);  and  when  Tem- 
pelliof  saw  them  afterwards,  they  never  had  been  fired  at  all. 
The  Grenadiers  have  their  muskets,  and  their  hearts  and 
their  right  hands. 

With  amazing  intrepidity,  they,  being  at  length  all  ready 
in  rank  within  800  yards,  rush  into  the  throat  of  this  Fire- 
volcano;  in  the  way  commanded, — which  is  the  alone  way: 
such  a  problem  as  human  bravery  seldom  had.  The  Grena- 
diers plunge  forward  upon  the  throat  of  Daun;  but  it  is  into 
the  throat  of  his  iron  engines  and  his  tearing  billows  of 
cannon-shot  that  most  of  them  go.  Shorn  down  by  the  com- 
pany, by  the  regiment,  in  those  terrible  800  yards, — then  and 
afterwards.  Regiment  Stiitterheim  was  nearly  all  killed  and 
wounded,  say  the  books.  You  would  fancy  it  was  the  fewest 
of  them  that  ever  got  to  the  length  of  selling  their  lives  to 
Daun,  instead  of  giving  them  away  to  his  400  cannon.  But 
it  is  not  so.  The  Grenadiers,  both  lines  of  them,  still  in  quan- 
tity, did  get  into  contact  with  Daun.  And  sold  him  their 
lives,  hand  to  hand,  at  a  rate  beyond  example  in  such  circum- 
stances;— Daun  having  to  hurr}^  up  new  force  in  streams 
upon  them;  resolute  to  purchase,  though  the  price,  for  a  long 
while,  rose  higher  and  higher. 

At  last  the  6,000  Grenadiers,  being  now  reduced  to  the 

tenth  man,  had  to  fall  back.     Upon  which   certain  Austrian 

battalions  rushed  down  in  chase,  counting  it  victory  come: 

but  were  severely  admonished  of  that  mistake;  and  driven 

IV — 4 


50  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND  FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

back  by  Ramin's  people,  who  accompanied  them  into  their 
ranks,  and  again  gave  Daun  a  great  deal  of  trouble  before  he 
could  overpower  them.  This  is  attack  first,  issuing  in  failure 
first:  one  of  the  stiffest  bits  of  fighting  ever  known.  Began 
about  two  in  the  afternoon;  ended,  I  should  guess,  rather 
after  three. 

Daun,  by  this  time,  is  in  considerable  disorder  of  line ; 
though  his  400  fire-throats  continue  belching  ruin,  and 
deafening  the  world,  without  abatement.  Daun  himself  had 
got  wounded  in  the  foot  or  leg  during  this  attack,  but  had  no 
time  to  mind  it  :  a  most  busy,  strong  and  resolute  Daun  ; 
doing  his  very  best.  Friedrich,  too,  was  wounded, — nobody 
will  tell  me  in  which  of  these  attacks.  What  his  feelings 
were,  as  this  Grenadier  attack  went  on, — a  struggle  so 
unequal,  but  not  to  be  helped,  from  the  delays  that  had  risen, 
— nobody,  himself  least  of  all,  records  for  us:  only  by  this 
little  symptom:  Two  grandsons  of  the  Old  Dessauer's  are 
Adjutants  of  his  Majesty,  and  well  loved  by  him;  one  of  them 
now  at  his  hand,  the  other  heading  his  regiment  in  this 
charge  of  Grenadiers.  Word  comes  to  Friedrich  that  this 
latter  one  is  shot  dead.  On  which  Friedrich,  turning  to  the 
brother,  and  not  hiding  his  emotion,  as  was  usual  in  such 
moments,  said:  "  All  goes  ill  to-day;  my  friends  are  quitting 
me.  I  have  just  heard  that  your  brother  is  killed."  Words 
which  the  Anhalt  kindred,  and  the  Prussian  military  public, 
treasured  up  with  a  reverence  strange  to  us. 

Shortly  after  three,  Hiilsen's  column  did  arrive:  choice 
troops  these  too,  the  Pomeranian  Mantenffel^  one  regiment 
of  them; — young  Archenholtz  of  Forcade  i^x^t  battalion  here, 
second  and  third  with  Ziethen,  making  vain  noise)  was  in 
this  column;  came,  with  the  others,  winding  to  the  wood's 
edge,  in  such  circuits,  poor  young  soul;  rain  pouring,  if  that 
had  been  worth  notice;  cannon-balls  plunging,  boughs  crash- 
ing, such  a  Doomsday  thunder  broken  loose  :  —  they  did 
emerge  steadily,  nevertheless,  he  says,  ' '  like  sea-billows  or 
flow  of  tide,  under  the  smoky  hurricane."  Pretty  men  are 
here  too,  Manteufifel  Pommerners;  no  hearts  stouter.  With 
these,  and  the  indignant  remnants  which  waited  for  them,  a 
new  assault  upon  Daun  is  set  about.     And  bursts  out,  on 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT.  5I 

that  same  northwest  corner  of  him;  say  about  half-past  three. 
The  rain  is  now  done,  "blown  away  by  the  tremendous 
artillery,"  thinks  Archenholtz,  if  that  were  any  matter. 

The  attack,  supported  by  a  few  more  horse  (though  column 
three  still  fatally  lingers),  and,  I  should  hope,  by  some  practi- 
cable weight  of  field-batteries,  is  spurred  by  a  grimmer  kind 
of  indignation,  and  is  of  fiercer  spirit  than  ever.  Think  how 
Manteuffel  of  Foot  will  blaze  out;  and  what  is  the  humor  of 
those  once  overwhelmed  remnants,  now  getting  air  again! 
Daun's  line  is  actually  broken  in  this  point,  his  artillery  sur- 
mounted and  become  useless;  Daun's  potenceand  north  front 
are  reeling  backwards,  Prussians  in  possession  of  their 
ground.  "  The  field  to  be  ours  !  "  thinks  Friedrich,  for  some 
time.  If  indeed  Ziethen  had  been  seriously  busy  on  the 
southern  side  of  things,  instead  of  vaguely  cannonading  in 
that  manner  !  But  resolute  Daun,  with  promptitude,  calls  in 
his  reserve  from  Grosswig,  calls  in  whatsover  of  disposable 
force  he  can  gather;  Daun  rallies,  rushes  again  on  the  Prus- 
sians in  overpowering  number;  and,  in  spite  of  their  most 
desperate  resistance,  drives  them  back,  ever  back;  and  re- 
covers his  ground. 

A  very  desperate  bout,  this  second  one;  probably  the 
toughest  of  the  battle:  but  the  result  again  is  Daun's;  the 
Prussians  palpably  obliged  to  draw  back.  Friedrich  himself 
got  wounded: — Friedrich' s  wound  was  a  contusion  on  the 
breast;  came  of  some  spent  bit  of  case-shot,  deadened  farther 
by  a  famed  pelisse  he  wore, — "which  saved  my  life,"  he  said 
afterwards  to  Henri.  The  King  himself  little  regarded  it 
(mentioning  it  only  to  brother  Henri,  on  inquir}^  and  solici- 
tation), during  the  few  weeks  it  still  hung  about  him. 
The  books  intimate  that  it  struck  him  to  the  earth,  void  of 
consciousness  for  some  time,  to  the  terror  of  those  about  him; 
and  that  he  started  up,  disregarding  it  altogether  in  this  press 
of  business,  and  almost  as  if  ashamed  of  himself,  which  im- 
posed silence  on  people's  tongues.  In  military  circles  there  is 
still,  on  this  latter  point,  an  anecdote;  which  I  cannot  confirm 
or  deny,  but  will  give  for  the  sake  of  Berenhorst  and  his 
famed  book  on  the  Art  of  War.  Berenhorst — a  natural  son 
of  the  Old  Dessauer's,  and  evidently  enough  a  chip  of  the  old 


52  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

block,  only  gone  into  the  articulate-speaking  or  intellectual 
form — was,  for  the  present,  an  Adjutant  or  Aide-de-camp  of 
Friedrich's;  and  at  this  juncture  was  seen  bending  over  the 
swooned  Friedrich,  perhaps  with  an  over-pathos  or  elaborate 
something  in  his  expression  of  countenance:  when  Friedrich 
re-opened  his  indignant  eyes:  "  What  have  you  to  do  here?" 
cried  Friedrich,  "  Go  and  gather  runaways  "  (be  of  some  real 
use,  can't  you)! — which  unkind  cut  struck  deep  into  Beren- 
horst,  they  say;  and  could  never  after  be  eradicated  from  his 
gloomy  heart. 

This  second  attack  is  again  a  repulse  to  the  indignant 
Friedrich ;  though  he  still  persists  in  fierce  effort  to  recover 
himself;  and  indeed  Daun's  interior,  too,  it  appears,  is  all  in 
a  whirl  of  confusion  ;  his  losses  too  having  been  enormous  : — 
when,  see,  here  at  length,  about  half-past  four,  sun  now  down, 
is  the  tardy  Holstein,  with  his  cavalry,  emerging  from  the 
woods.  Comes  wending  on  yonder,  half  a  mile  to  north  of 
us;  straight  eastward  or  Elbe-ward  (according  to  the  order  of 
last  night),  leaving  us  and  our  death-struggles  unregarded,  as 
a  thing  that  is  not  on  his  tablets,  and  is  no  concern  of  Hol- 
stein's.  Friedrich  halts  him,  not  quite  too  late;  organizes  a 
new  and  third  attack.  Simultaneous  universal  effort  of  foot 
and  horse  upon  Daun's  front ;  Holstein  himself,  who  is 
almost  at  Zinna  by  this  time,  to  go  upon  Daun's  right  wing. 
This  is  attack  third;  and  is  of  sporadic  intermittent  nature, 
in  the  thickening  dusk  and  darkness:  part  of  it  is  successful, 
none  of  it  beaten,  but  nowhere  the  success  complete.  Thus, 
in  the  extreme  west  or  leftmost  of  Friedrich's  attack,  Spaen 
Dragoons, — one  of  the  last  horse  regiments  of  Holstein's 
column, — Spaen  Dragoons,  under  their  Lieutenant-Colonel 
Dalwig  (a  beautiful  manoeuvrer,  who  has  stormed  through 
many  fields,  from  Mollwitz  onwards),  cut  in,  with  an  admired 
impetuosity,  with  an  audacious  skill,  upon  the  Austrian 
Infantry  Regiments  there;  broke  them  to  pieces,  took  two  of 
them  in  the  lump  prisoners  ;  bearded  whole  torrents  of 
Austrian  cavalry  rushing  up  to  the  rescue, — and  brought  off 
their  mass  of  prisoner  regiments  and  six  cannon; — the  Austrian 
rescuers  being  charged  by  some  new  Prussian  party,  and 
hunted  home  again.      "Had  these  Prussian  horse  been  on 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT.  53 

their  ground  at  two  o'clock,  and  done  as  now,  it  is  very  evi- 
dent," says  Tempelliof,  "  what  the  Battle  of  Torgau  had  by 
this  time  been!  " 

Near  by,  too,  farther  rightwards,  if  in  the  bewildering  in- 
distinctness I  might  guess  where  (but  the  where  is  not  so 
impoitant  to  us),  Baireuth  Dragoons,  they  of  the  sixty-seven 
standards  at  Striegau  long  since,  plunged  into  the  Austrian 
Battalions  at  an  unsurpassable  rate;  tumbled  four  regiments 
of  them  heels  over  head,  and  in  a  few  minutes  took  the  most 
of  them  prisoners  ;  bringing  them  home  too,  like  Dalwig, 
through  crowds  of  rescuers.  Eastward,  again,  or  Elbe-ward, 
Holstein  has  found  such  intricacies  of  ground,  such  boggy 
depths  and  rough  steeps,  his  cavalry  could  come  to  no  decisive 
sabering  with  the  Austrian  ;  but  stood  exchanging  shot ; — 
nothing  to  be  done  on  that  right  wing  of  Daun. 

Daun's  left  flank,  however,  does  appear,  after  three  such 
attacks,  to  be  at  last  pretty  well  ruined :  Tempelhof  says, 
"  Daun's  whole  front  line  was  tumbled  to  pieces;  disorder 
had,  sympathetically,  gone  rearward,  even  in  those  eastern 
parts  ;  and  on  the  western  and  northwestern  the  Prussian 
horse  regiments  were  now  standing  in  its  place."  But,  indeed, 
such  charging  and  recharging,  pulsing  and  repulsing,  has 
there  been  hereabouts  for  hours  past,  the  rival  hosts  have  got 
completely  interpenetrated ;  Austrian  parties,  or  whole  regi- 
ments, are  to  rear  of  those  Prussians  who  stand  ranked  here, 
and  in  victorious  posture,  as  the  night  sinks.  Night  is  now 
sinking  on  this  murderous  day:  "  Nothing  more  to  be  made 
of  it;  try  it  again  to-morrow!"  thinks  the  King;  gives 
Hiilsen  charge  of  bivouacking  and  re-arranging  these  scat- 
tered people  ;  and  rides  with  escort  northwestward  to  Elsnig, 
north  of  Neiden,  well  to  rear  of  this  bloody  arena, — in  a 
mood  of  mind  which  may  be  figured  as  gloomy  enough. 

Daun,  too,  is  home  to  Torgau, — I  think,  a  little  earlier, — 
to  have  his  wound  dressed,  now  that  the  day  seems  to  him 
secure,  Buccow,  Daun's  second,  is  killed;  Daun's  third  is  an 
Irish  Graf  O'Donnell,  memorable  only  on  this  one  occasion; 
to  this  O'Donnell,  and  to  Lacy,  who  is  firm  on  his  ground 
yonder,  untouched  all  day,  the  charge  of  matters  is  left. 
Which  cannot  be  a  difficult  one,  hopes  Daun.     Daun,  while 


54  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

his  wound  is  dressing,  speeds  off  a  courier  to  Vienna.  Courier 
did  enter  duly  there,  with  glorious  trumpeting  postilions,  and 
universal  hep-hep-hurrah ;  kindling  that  ardently  loyal  city 
into  infinite  triumph  and  illumination, — for  the  space  of  cer- 
tain hours  following. 

Hiilsen  meanwhile  has  been  doing  his  best  to  get  into  pro- 
per bivouac  for  the  morrow;  has  drawn  back  those  eastward 
horse  regiments,  drawn  forward  the  infantry  battalions;  for- 
ward, I  think,  and  well  rightward,  where,  in  the  daytime, 
Daun's  left  flank  was.  On  the  whole,  it  is  northwestward 
that  the  general  Prussian  bivouac  for  this  night  is ;  the  ex- 
tremest  j(9?/!///westernmost  portion  of  it  is  Infantry,  under 
General  Lestwitz  ;  a  gallant  useful  man,  who  little  dreams  of 
becoming  famous  this  dreary  uncertain  night. 

It  is  six  o'clock.  Damp  dusk  has  thickened  down  into 
utter  darkness,  on  these  terms  : — when,  lo,  cannonade  and 
musketade  from  the  south,  audible  in  the  Lestwitz-Hulsen 
quarters  :  seriously  loud;  red  glow  of  conflagration  visible 
withal, — some  unfortunate  village  going  up  ("  Village  of  Sip- 
titz  think  you  ?  ");  and  need  of  Hiilsen  at  his  fastest  !  Hiil- 
sen, with  some  readiest  foot  regiments,  circling  round,  makes 
thitherward;  Lestwitz  in  the  van.  Let  us  precede  him  thither, 
and  explain  a  little  what  it  was. 

Ziethen,  who  had  stood  all  day  making  idle  noises, — of 
what  a  fatal  quality  we  know,  if  Ziethen  did  not, — waiting 
for  the  King's  appearance,  must  have  been  considerably  dis- 
pleased with  himself  at  nightfall,  when  the  King's  fire  gradu- 
ally died  out  farther  and  farther  north,  giving  rise  to  the 
saddest  surmises,  Ziethen' s  Generals,  Saldern  and  Mollen- 
dorf,  are  full  of  gloomy  impatience,  urgent  on  him  to  try 
something.  "  Push  westward,  nearer  the  King?  Some 
stroke  at  the  enemy  on  their  south  or  southwestern  side, 
where  we  have  not  molested  them  all  day  ?  No  getting  across 
the  RiJhrgraben  on  them,  says  your  Excellenz  ?  Siptitz  vil- 
lage, and  their  battery  there,  is  on  our  side  of  the  Rohrgraben: 
— um  Gottes  Willen^  something,  Herr  General  !  "  Ziethen 
does  finally  assent  :  draws  leftward,  westward  ;  unbuckles 
Saldern's  people  upon  Siptitz;  who  go  like  sharp  hounds  from 
the  slip  ;    fasten  on  Siptitz  and  the  Austrians  there,  with  a 


FREDERIC  THE   GREAT.  55 

will;  wrench  these  out,  force  them  to  abandon  their  battery, 
and  to  set  Siptitz  on  fire,  while  they  run  out  of  it.  Comfort- 
able bit  of  success,  so  far, — were  not  Siptitz  burning,  so  that 
we  cannot  get  through.  "  Through,  no ;  and  were  we 
througli,  is  not  there  the  Rohrgraben?"  thinks  Ziethen,  not 
seeing  his  way. 

How  lucky  that,  at  this  moment,  MoUendorf  comes  in, 
with  a  discovery  to  westward  ;  discovery  of  our  old  friend 
"the  Butter-Street," — it  is  nothing  more, — where  Ziethen 
should  have  marched  this  morning :  there  would  he  have 
found  a  solid  road  across  the  Rohrgraben,  free  passage  by  a 
bridge  between  two  bits  of  ponds,  at  the  SchCiferei  (Sheep- 
Farm)  of  Siptitz  yonder.  "  There  still,"  reports  MoUendorf, 
"the  solid  road  is  ;  unbeset  hitherto,  except  by  me  MoUen- 
dorf !  "  Thitherward  all  do  now  hasten,  Austrians,  Prus- 
sians: but  the  Prussians  are  beforehand;  MoUendorf  is  master 
of  the  Pass,  deploying  himself  on  the  other  side  of  it,  and 
Ziethen  and  ever^'body  hastening  through  to  support  him 
there,  and  the  Austrians  making  fierce  fight  in  vain.  The 
sound  of  which  has  reached  Hiilsen,  and  set  I^estwitz  and  him 
in  motion  thither. 

For  the  thing  is  vital,  if  we  knew  it.  Close  ahead  of  Mol- 
lendorf,  when  he  is  through  this  pass,  close  on  Mollendorf's 
left,  as  he  wheels  round  on  the  attacking  Austrians,  is  the 
southwest  comer  of  Siptitz  Height.  Southwest  corner,  highest 
point  of  it;  summit  and  key  of  all  that  battle  area;  rules  it 
all,  if  you  get  cannon  thither.  It  hangs  steepish  on  the 
southern  side,  over  the  Rohrgraben,  where  this  Mollendorf- 
Austrian  fight  begins;  but  it  is  beautifully  accessible,  if  you 
bear  round  to  the  west  side, — a  fine  saddle- shaped  bit  of  clear 
ground  there,  in  shape  like  the  outside  or  seat  of  a  saddle; 
Domitsch  Wood  the  crupper  part;  summit  of  this  Height  the 
pommel,  only  nothing  like  so  steep: — it  is  here  (on  the  south- 
ern saddle-flap,  so  to  speak),  gradually  mounting  westward  to 
the  crupper-and-pommel  part,  that  the  agony  now  is. 

And  here,  in  utter  darkness,  illuminated  only  by  the  mus- 
ketry and  cannon  blazes,  there  ensued  two  hours  of  stiff  wrest- 
ling in  its  kind  :  not  the  fiercest  spasm  of  all,  but  the  final 
which  decided  all.     Lestwitz,  Hulsen,  come  sweeping  on,  led 


56  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND  FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

by  the  sound  and  the  fire;  "  beathig  the  Prussian  march, 
they,"  sharply  on  all  their  drums, — Prussian  march,  rat-tat- 
tan,  sharply  through  the  gloom  of  chaos  in  that  manner;  and 
join  themselves,  with  no  mistake  made,  to  Mollendorf's,  to 
Ziethen's  left  and  the  saddle-flap  there,  and  fall  on.  The 
night  is  pitch  dark,  says  Archenholtz ;  you  cannot  see  your 
hand  before  you.  Old  Hiilsen's  bridle-horses  were  all  shot 
away,  when  he  heard  this  alarm,  far  off:  no  horse  left; 
and  he  is  old,  and  has  his  own  bruises.  He  seated  himself  on 
a  cannon;  and  so  rides,  and  arrives;  right  welcome  the  sight 
of  him,  doubt  not!  And  the  fight  rages  still  for  an  hour  or 
more. 

About  nine  at  night,  all  the  Austrians  are  rolling  off",  east- 
ward, eastward.  Prussians  goading  them  forward  what  they 
could  (firing  not  quite  done  till  ten) ;  and  that  all-important 
pommel  of  the  saddle  is  indisputably  won.  The  Austrians 
settled  themselves,  in  a  kind  of  half-moon  shape,  close  on  the 
suburbs  of  Torgau;  the  Prussians  in  a  parallel  half-moon  pos- 
ture, some  furlongs  behind  them.  The  Austrians  sat  but  a 
short  time  ;  not  a  moment  longer  than  was  indispensable. 
Daun  perceives  that  the  key  of  his  ground  is  gone  from  him; 
that  he  will  have  to  send  a  second  courier  to  Vienna.  And, 
above  all  things,  that  he  must  forthwith  get  across  the  Elbe 
and  away.  Lucky  for  him  that  he  has  three  bridges  (or  four, 
including  the  town  bridge),  and  that  his  baggage  is  already 
all  across  and  standing  on  wheels.  With  excellent  dispatch 
and  order  Daun  winds  himself  across, — all  of  him  that  is  still 
coherent;  and  indeed,  in  the  distant  parts  of  the  battle-field, 
wandering  Austrian  parties  were  admonished  hitherward  by 
the  river's  voice  in  the  great  darkness, — and  Daun's  loss  in 
prisoners,  though  great,  was  less  than  could  have  been  ex- 
pected: 8,000  in  all. 

Till  towards  one  in  the  morning,  the  Prussians,  in  their 
half-moon,  had  not  learned  what  he  was  doing.  About  one 
they  pushed  into  Torgau,  and  across  the  town  bridge;  found 
twenty-six  pontoons, — all  the  rest  packed  off"  except  these 
twenty-six;  — and  did  not  follow  further.  Lacy  retreated  by 
the  other  or  left  bank  of  the  river,  to  guard  against  attempts 
from  that  side.     Next  day  there  was  pursuit  of  Lacy  ;  some 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT.  57 

prisoners  and  furnitures  got  from  him,  but  nothing  of 
moment:  Daun  and  Lacy  joined  at  Dresden;  took  post,  as 
usual,  behind  their  inaccessible  Plauen  Chasms.  Sat  there, 
in  view  of  the  chasing  Prussians,  without  farther  loss  than 
this  of  Torgau,  and  of  a  campaign  gone  to  water  again.  What 
an  issue,  for  the  third  time! — 

On  Torgau-field,  behind  that  final  Prussian  half-moon, 
there  reigned,  all  night,  a  confusion  which  no  tongue  can 
express.  Poor  wounded  men  by  the  hundred  and  the  thous- 
and, weltering  in  their  blood,  on  the  cold  wet  ground;  not 
surgeons  or  nurses,  but  merciless  predatory  sutlers,  equal  to 
murder  if  necessary,  waiting  on  them  and  on  the  happier  that 
were  dead.  ' '  Unutterable ! ' '  says  Archenholtz ;  who,  though 
wounded,  had  crawled  or  got  carried  to  some  village  near. 
The  living  wandered  about  in  gloom  and  uncertainty ;  lucky 
he  whose  haversack  was  still  his,  and  a  cnist  of  bread  in  it: 
water  was  a  priceless  luxury,  almost  nowhere  discoverable. 
Prussian  Generals  roved  about  with  their  staff-officers,  seeking 
to  reform  their  battalions;  to  little  purpose.  They  had  grown 
indignant,  in  some  instances,  and  were  vociferously  impera- 
tive and  minatory;  but  in  the  dark  who  need  mind  them? 
— they  went  raving  elsewhere,  and,  for  the  first  time,  Prus- 
sian word  of  command  saw  itself  futile.  Pitch  darkness, 
bitter  cold,  ground  trampled  into  mire.  On  Siptitz  Hill  there 
is  nothing  that  will  burn  :  farther  back,  in  the  Domitsch 
Woods,  are  numerous  fine  fires,  to  which  Austrians  and  Prus- 
sians alike  gather:  "  Peace  and  truce  between  us;  to-morrow 
morning  we  will  see  which  are  prisoners,  which  are  captors." 
So  pass  the  wild  hours,  all  hearts  longing  for  the  dawn,  and 
what  decision  it  will  bring. 

Friedrich,  at  Elsnig,  found  every  hut  full  of  wounded,  and 
their  surgeries,  and  miseries  silent  or  loud.  He  himself  took 
shelter  in  the  little  church;  passed  the  night  there.  Busy 
about  many  things; — "  using  the  altar,"  it  seems,  "by  way  of 
writing-table  [self  or  secretaries  kneeling,  shall  we  fancy,  on 
these  new  terms?],  and  the  stairs  of  it  as  seat."  Of  the  final 
Ziethen-Lestwitz  effort  he  would  scarcely  hear  the  musketry 
or  cannonade,  being  so  far  away  from  it.  At  what  hour,  or 
from  whom  first,  he  learned  that  the  battle  of  Torgau  had 


58 


HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 


become  victory  in  the  night-time,  I  know  not:  the  anecdote 
books  send  him  out  in  his  cloak,  wandering  up  and  down 
before  day-break ;  standing  by  the  soldiers'  fires;  and  at  length, 
among  the  woods,  in  the  faint  incipiency  of  dawn,  meeting  a 
shadow  which  proves  to  be  Ziethen  himself  in  the  body,  with 
embraces  and  congratulations: — evidently  mythical,  though 
dramatic.  Reach  him  the  news  soon  did;  and  surely  none 
could  be  welcomer.  Headquarters  change  from  the  altar-steps 
in  Elsnig  Church  to  secular  rooms  at  Torgau.  Ziethen  has 
already  sped  forth  on  the  skirts  of  Lacy ;  whole  army  follows 
next  day;  and,  on  the  war- theatre  it  is,  on  the  sudden,  a 
total  change  of  scene.  Conceivable  to  readers  without  the 
details. 

Hopes  there  were  of  getting  back  Dresden  itself;  but  that, 
on  closer  view,  proved  unattemptable.  Daun  kept  his  Plauen 
Chasm,  his  few  square  miles  of  ground  beyond ;  the  rest  of 
Saxony  was  Friedrich's,  as  heretofore.  Loudon  had  tried  hard 
on  Kosel  for  a  week;  storming  once,  and  a  second  time,  very 
fiercely,  Goltz  being  now  near;  but  could  make  nothing  of  it; 
and,  on  wind  of  Goltz,  went  his  way.  The  Russians,  on 
sound  of  Torgau,  shouldered  arms,  and  made  for  Poland. 
Daun,  for  his  own  share,  went  to  Vienna  this  winter;  in  need 
of  surgery,  and  other  things.  The  population  there  is  rather 
disposed  to  be  grumbly  on  its  once  heroic  Fabius;  wishes  the 
Fabius  were  a  little  less  cunctatory.  But  Imperial  Majesty 
herself,  one  is  proud  to  relate,  drove  out,  in  old  Roman  spirit, 
some  miles,  to  meet  him,  her  defeated,  over-honored  Daun, 
and  to  inquire  graciously  about  his  health,  which  is  so  im- 
portant to  the  State. 

Torgau  was  Daun' s  last  battle:  Daun's  last  battle;  and, 
what  is  more,  was  Friedrich's  last. — T.  Cari^yle. 


FREDERIC  WILLIAM,  sur- 
named  ' '  The  Great  Elector, ' ' 
was  the  prince  to  whom 
the  House  of  Hohenzollerii 
owes  its  primary  importance. 
He  laid  the  foundation  on 
which  in  the  next  century- 
Frederic  the  Great  built.  "His 
success,"  says  Carl  vie,  "if 
we  look  where  he  started  and 
where  he  ended,  was  beyond 
that  of  any  other  man  in  his 
day.  He  found  Brandenburg 
annihilated,  and  he  left  Bran- 
denburg sound  and  flourish- 
ing. ' '  This  Friedrich  Wilhelm,  to  use  his  exact  German  name, 
was  born  in  Berlin  in  1620  and  was  a  son  of  the  Elector  George 
Wilhelm,  a  feeble  and  vascillating  ruler.  He  succeeded  his 
father  in  1640,  when  for  many  years  Brandenburg  had  been 
overrun  and  devastated  by  the  opposing  armies  of  the  Thirty 
Years'  War.  Three  times  Brandenburg  fell  to  be  the  principal 
theatre  of  conflict,  "where  all  forms  of  the  dismal  were  at 
their  height."  In  the  emphatic  language  of  Carlyle,  "  Polit- 
ical significance  Brandenburg  had  none — a  mere  Protestant 
appendage  dragged  about  by  a  Papist  Kaiser." 

The  Thirty  Years'  War  continued  many  years  after  the 
accession  of  Frederic  William  to  this  feeble  electorate,  and 
his  first  efforts  were  directed  to  removing  and  keeping  out  of 
his  territories  the  devastating  foreign  armies.  By  prudent 
and  patient  efforts  and  skillful  diplomacy,  he  contrived  to 

59 


5> 


6o  HISTORIC  CHARACTEIRS   AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

extricate  himself  from  his  fatal  position  and  to  deliver  his 
country.  He  had  great  military  ability,  but  he  had  the 
greater  moral  courage  to  refrain  from  war  when  his  country 
was  unable  to  bear  its  burdens.  He  therefore  preferred  to 
manceuvre  and  negotiate,  which  he  did  in  an  adroit  and 
masterly  manner.  Meantime  by  degrees  he  collected  an  army 
of  about  25,000  men,  fit  to  be  reckoned  among  the  best 
troops  then  in  being. 

In  religion  Frederic  William  was  a  decided  Protestant. 
His  first  wife  was  Louisa,  Princess  of  Orange,  an  excellent 
and  wise  woman,  who  was  the  aunt  of  William  III.  of 
England,  When  the  Peace  of  Westphalia  (1648)  terminated 
the  Thirty  Years'  War,  Frederick  William  obtained  the 
secularized  bishoprics  of  Magdeburg,  Halberstadt  and  Minden 
with  part  of  Pomerania.  He  claimed  all  Pomerania,  as  heir  of 
the  dukes  whose  line  became  extinct  in  1637,  but  the  Swedes 
possessed  it  and  kept  the  greater  part.  The  Elector's  ability 
was  shown  in  organizing  and  regulating  his  dominions  ;  he 
drained  bogs  and  settled  colonies  in  the  waste  places.  From 
the  Oder  to  the  Spree,  fifteen  English  miles,  he  cut  a  canal, 
which  still  bears  his  name. 

After  seven  years  of  peaceful  industry,  war  broke  out 
between  Charles  Gustavus  of  Sweden  and  the  king  of  Poland, 
and  Frederic  William  was  compelled  to  join  his  army  to  the 
Swedish  army.  They  defeated  the  King  of  Poland  at  the  battle 
of  Warsaw,  July,  1656.  In  the  next  year  Friedric  Wil- 
liam changed  sides  and  formed  an  alliance  with  King  John 
Casimir,  who  recognized  the  independence  of  East  Prussia, 
or  in  the  words  of  Carlyle,  ' '  agreed  to  give  up  the  '  Homage 
of  Preussen '  for  this  service  ;  a  grand  prize  for  Friedrich 
Wilhelm. "  East  Prussia,  which  formerly  belonged  to  Poland, 
was  then  annexed  to  Brandenburg.  The  king  of  Sweden 
threatened  vengeance,  but  his  death  prevented  the  execution 
of  these  threats.  The  annexed  states,  however,  were  slow 
in  recognizing  the  Elector  as  their  legitimate  ruler,  but  a 
judicious  mixture  of  kindness  and  severity  brought  them 
around. 

As  the  ally  of  the  Emperor,  Frederic  William  took  the 
field  against  Louis  XIV  of  France  in  1672.     While  he  was 


THE  GREAT  ELECTOR.  6 1 

fighting  in  Alsace  in  1674,  the  Swedes,  instigated  by  Louis 
XIV.,  made  war  on  him  and  invaded  Brandenburg  with  about 
16,000  men.  As  the  Elector  could  not  be  spared  by  the 
Emperor,  the  Swedes  met  little  resistance  in  the  first  cam- 
paign. After  resting  several  months  in  winter-quarters,  he 
marched  rapidly  to  Magdeburg,  where  he  learned  that  the 
Swedes  were  divided  into  three  parties,  the  middle  one  being 
forty  miles  distant.  With  his  cavalry  and  part  of  his  infantry 
he  hastened  to  the  attack,  and  completely  defeated  this  body  at 
Fehrbellin,  on  the  i8th  of  June,  1675.  This  victory  ended 
the  domination  of  the  Swedes  south  of  the  Baltic.  It  v/as 
called  the  Marathon  of  Brandenburg,  and  was  the  Elector's 
first  famous  exploit. 

Four  years  later  came  his  second  exploit.  The  Swedes 
again  as  allies  of  Louis  XIV. ,  invaded  Prussia  in  the  winter 
of  1678-1679,  doing  sad  havoc  there,  and  menacing  Konigs- 
berg.  Frederic  Williain  started  from  Berlin  with  the  opening 
year,  on  his  long  march.  In  January  it  was  necessary  that  he 
should  cross  rapidly  from  Carwe  on  the  shore  of  the  Frische 
Haf  to  Gilge  on  the  Curische  Haf,  where  the  Swedes  were.  The 
distance,  in  a  direct  line  across  the  frozen  waters,  was  about  one 
hundred  miles.  Hastily  gathering  all  the  sledges  and  all  the 
horses  of  the  district,  he  mounted  about  4,000  men  on  sledges, 
which  were  drawn  across  the  ice  and  snow.  ' '  The  Swedes  were 
beaten  here,"  says  Carlyle,  "on  Friedrich  Wilhelm's  rapid 
arrival ;  were  driven  into  disastrous  rapid  retreat  northward, 
which  they  executed  in  hunger  and  cold,  fighting  continually 
like  northern  bears  under  the  grim  sky."  Frederic  William 
gained  possession  of  Pomerania  by  conquest,  but  when  the 
war  was  terminated  by  the  treaty  of  St.  Germain  in  1679, 
Louis  XIV  insisted  that  Sweden  should  retain  Pomerania, 
and  the  Elector  reluctantly  gave  it  back. 

When  in  1685  the  Edict  of  Nantes  was  revoked  by  the 
King  of  France,  some  20,000  French  Protestants  took  ^refuge 
in  Brandenburg,  and  were  munificently  welcomed  by  the 
Elector,  who  showed  a  noble  piety  and  humane  pity  as  well  as 
excellent  judgment.  These  refugees  established  in  Berlin  the 
industries  for  which  they  had  been  distinguished  in  their 
native  land. 


62  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

Frederic  William's  first  wife,  Louise  Henrietta,  was  a 
woman  of  such  clear  and  penetrating  understanding  that  he 
engaged  in  no  important  enterprise  without  consulting  her. 
After  her  death  he  married  a  lady  named  Dorothea,  who  was 
a  faithful  wife,  and  by  whom  he  had  thirteen  children. 
"With  or  without  his  will,  he  was  in  all  the  great  v/ars  of  his 
time — the  time  of  Louis  XIV.,  who  kindled  Europe  four  times 
over."  He  died  April  29,  1688,  and  was  succeeded  by  his 
son  Frederic. 

The  Emergence  of  Brandenburg. 

On  his  return  to  his  hereditary  dominions  in  Brandenburg 
at  the  death  of  his  father,  Frederick  William  found  them  laid 
waste  and  utterly  powerless,  the  several  provinces  disunited, 
and  totally  wanting  in  any  sound  line  of  policy.  The  country 
was  a  constant  and  easy  prey  to  the  violence  of  all  the  bellig- 
erent powers. 

"On  one  hand,"  says  the  Elector,  in  a  treatise  written  by 
him  during  the  early  years  of  his  reign,  and  which  is  still 
extant, — "on  one  hand  I  have  the  King  of  Sweden,  on  the 
other  the  Emperor :  here  I  stand  between  the  two,  awaiting 
that  which  they  will  do  unto  me — whether  they  will  leave  me 
mine  own,  or  whether  they  will  take  it  away."  When  he 
read  the  Bible — and  this  was  the  only  history  which  was  then 
strongly  impressed  upon  the  minds  of  men — he  almost 
doubted  whether  any  prince  had  ever  been  placed  in  such 
sore  necessity  as  he  then  was :  neither  David  nor  Solomon, 
he  thought,  had  ever  found  it  so  hard  to  discover  what  they 
ought  to  do. 

He  had  a  strong  feeling  that  he  ought  not  to  separate  from 
the  Emperor  lightly;  but  it  would  have  been  wilful  self- 
deception  to  imagine  that  he  should  receive  any  effectual 
assistance  from  that  quarter.  He  beheld  his  real  position 
with  perfect  clearness.  "Of  what  use,"  exclaimed  he, 
"  could  such  princes  be  to  the  Emperor  as  would  suffer  them- 
selves to  be  driven  away  from  their  possessions  and  their 
people  ? ' ' 

Above  all,  it  was  necessary  first  to  make  himself  master  of 
the  March,  where  his  father's  minister.  Count  Schwarzenberg, 


THE  GREAT  EI^ECTOR.  63 

had  taken  up  an  almost  independent  position,  and  was  deter- 
mined to  pursue  his  old  line  of  policy,  with  the  assistance  of 
the  generals  of  the  army  which  had  been  levied  under  the 
Emperor's  name  and  authority.  It  is  impossible  to  read, 
without  astonishment  and  interest,  how  Frederick  William 
burst  his  bonds,  brought  into  subjection  those  imperial  leaders 
who  held  possession  of  the  various  fortresses  in  his  dominions, 
and  finally  got  rid  of  them.  We  are  reminded  of  the  bold 
and  happy  stratagems  of  Italian  party  warfare,  with  this  dif- 
ference, that,  in  the  Elector's  case,  talent  was  enlisted  in  the 
service  of  the  righteous  cause.  Frederick  William  was  com- 
pelled to  employ  a  union  of  force  and  cunning  in  order  to 
obtain  possession  of  the  fortresses  built  by  his  forefathers, 
and  of  his  own  hereditarv  dominions.  There  was  no  need  of 
proceeding  to  acts  of  violence  against  his  father's  minister,  as 
has  long  been  supposed.  This  man's  end  affords  a  remark- 
able study  of  human  nature.  Schwarzenberg  was  in  an 
excited  state,  varying  between  sickness  and  health,  when  it 
happened  one  day  that  the  officers  of  one  of  the  regiments 
devoted  to  the  Emperor  demanded  of  him,  in  violent  terms, 
the  payment  of  their  arrears.  He  was  forced  to  satisfy  them 
out  of  his  private  purse.  Immediately  after  he  heard,  in- 
directlv  it  is  true,  but  with  indubitable  certaintv,  that  his  new 
master  did  not  look  upon  him  with  favor.  We  cannot  take 
upon  ourselves  to  say  that  his  conscience  smote  him,  but  he 
must  have  been  well  aware  how  heai-^'  was  the  guilt  which 
the  Elector  ascribed  to  him.  At  that  ver}'  moment  he  was 
seized  with  a  fever  which  in  a  few  days  put  an  end  to  his  life. 
The  elements  which  he  had  struggled  to  hold  together  were 
now  for  ever  disunited  :  he  felt  himself  open  to  attack  on  botli 
sides  ;  and  the  destruction  of  the  policy  which  he  had  pursued 
put  an  end  to  his  existence. 

Now  that  Frederick  William  was  no  longer  fettered  by  his 
connection  with  the  Emperor,  he  could  venture  to  make  some 
advances  to  the  Swedes.  It  was  only  after  a  tedious  and  diffi- 
cult negotiation  that  he  at  last  succeeded  in  inducing  the 
Swedes  to  evacuate  those  places  in  the  IMarch  which  they  still 
held.  The  Hessians  likewise  quitted  the  western  districts  of 
Cleves,  and  the  Elector  could  now  breathe  more  freelv.     At 


64  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

length  he  was  enabled  to  arm  a  small  body  of  troops — a  right 
which  had  been  contested,  but  upon  which  everything  de- 
pended. This  procured  for  him  a  certain  consideration,  as 
well  as  some  sort  of  security  against  the  fluctuating  masses  of 
troops  by  which  he  was  surrounded.  He  needed  this  force  to 
support  him  in  the  negotiations  which  had  been  set  on  foot  in 
the  meantime,  but  which  were  interrupted  at  every  step  by 
fresh  hostile  outbreaks,  and  were  on  the  whole  most  effectively 
forv/arded  by  formidable  warlike  manifestations. 

The  Elector  was  determined  not  to  give  up  his  intention 
of  obtaining  possession  of  those  additions  to  his  territories,  the 
prospect  of  which  had  called  forth  such  violent  opposition 
from  his  rivals.  In  the  year  1647  Frederick  William  con- 
cluded an  agreement  with  Pfalz  Neuburg,  by  which,  after 
mature  consideration,  he  recognized  the  outline  which  had 
been  drawn  up  for  the  partition  of  the  succession  of  Cleves, 
effacing,  however,  from  the  former  treaty,  several  clauses  dis- 
advantageous to  himself.  He  likewise  secured  to  himself  the 
possession  of  two  countships,  one  of  which,  the  March,  was 
at  that  time  nearly  the  most  considerable  in  the  Empire,  as 
well  as  of  the  old  duchy  of  Cleves — all  situate  on  the  western 
frontier  of  the  Empire.  Both  princes  agreed  to  lay  their 
treaty  before  the  Emperor  for  approbation,  but  to  observe 
the  terms  of  it  even  should  the  Emperor  withhold  his  sanction. 
They  likewise  agreed  to  make  common  cause  in  defending 
both  their  dominions  against  all  other  powers.  It  was  a 
matter  of  considerable  importance  that  in  the  treaty  of  Osna- 
briick  these  resolutions  were  tacitly  adopted,  or,  at  any  rate, 
that  the  claims  formerly  made  by  other  princes  were  not 
insisted  upon.  The  times,  indeed,  were  past  when  the  Order 
of  Teutonic  Knights  could  entertain  any  hopes  of  regaining 
possession  of  the  Duchy  of  Prussia;  nor  would  any  attempt  to 
alter  the  internal  condition  of  the  March  of  Brandenburg 
have  been  at  all  more  feasible.  The  German  hierarchy  was 
then  occupied  with  far  different  matters  than  the  recovery  by 
the  Church  of  those  possessions  which  had  become  secular 
fiefs. 

Of  all  the  former  possessions  of  the  house  of  Brandenburg, 
one  only  was  now  wanting — the  duchy  of  Jagerndorf,  which 


THE   GREAT  ELECTOR.  65 

the  Emperor  had  seized  and  bestowed  upon  some  one  else. 
A  special  discussion  took  place  upon  this  subject;  but  in  the 
general  negotiations  another  territory  was  the  subject  of  con- 
tinual discussion ;  this  was  the  Duchy  of  Pomerania,  the  cession 
of  which  involved  questions  of  as  much  importance  to  the 
Empire  at  large  as  to  Brandenburg.  At  length  the  Emperor 
and  the  imperial  council  recognized  the  just  claims  of  the 
House  of  Brandenburg,  but  at  the  same  time  declared  them- 
selves unable  to  assist  the  Elector  in  supporting  them. 

Frederick  William  replied  that  Pomerania  was  a  province 
which  God  had  given  to  his  ancestors  and  to  himself,  and 
that  he  wished  for  nothing  but  to  be  left  in  quiet  possession 
of  it ;  that  he  had  no  mind  to  offer  it  for  sale,  but,  if  he  was 
to  lose  it,  or  any  part  thereof,  he  demanded  such  compensa- 
tion for  his  loss  as  might  satisfy  him. 

Here,  however,  he  encountered  great  difficulties.  He 
complains  that  those  among  his  neighbors  who  most  strenu- 
ously insisted  upon  the  cession  of  the  province,  now  most 
violently  opposed  his  receiving  any  compensation.  But  Fred- 
erick William  was  already  too  powerful  for  the  Emperor  to 
risk  driving  him,  by  a  refusal,  to  take  part  with  the  French 
or  the  Swedes.  It  was  therefore  determined  to  take  a  momen- 
tous step  in  the  history  of  the  Empire — to  secularize  the  sees 
of  Halberstadt,  Minden,  and  Magdeburg  in  his  favor,  in  con- 
sideration of  the  loss  of  Vorpommern.  The  rest  of  Pomerania, 
with  Camin,  remained  in  his  possession.  In  later  times  this 
compensation  has  been  considered  as  disproportionately  large, 
but  such  was  not  the  view  taken  of  it  then.  At  all  events,  it 
is  manifest  that  Frederick  William  himself  was  by  no  means 
satisfied.  Of  all  the  princes  of  the  House  of  Brandenburg,  he 
is  the  only  one  who  ever  showed  a  strong  predilection  for 
maritime  life  and  maritime  power.  It  was  the  dream  of  his 
youth  that  he  would  one  day  sail,  along  shores  obedient  to 
his  will,  all  the  way  from  Ciistrin,  out  by  the  mouths  of  the 
Oder,  across  to  the  coast  of  Prussia.  His  sojourn  in  the 
Netherlands  had  strengthened,  though  it  had  not  inspired, 
his  love  of  the  sea. 

Thus  then,  without  having  made  any  conquests,  the  House 
of  Brandenburg  came  out  of  this  war  with  far  more  extensive 
IV— 5 


66  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

possessions  than  it  had  held  on  first  taking  part  in  it.  But 
by  the  mere  acquisition  of  a  certain  number  of  provinces 
nothing  was  done  towards  the  development  of  Germany  or  of 
Europe.  It  yet  remained  to  be  seen  whether  the  prince  who 
had  been  so  successful  in  maintaining  his  own  rights  would 
now  embrace  that  line  of  policy  which  the  state  of  public 
affairs  required. 

In  this  he  was  powerfully  assisted  by  the  present  security 
of  the  independence  of  the  territorial  powers,  combined  as  it 
was  with  the  Protestant  form  of  worship,  which  had  been 
established  by  the  treaty  of  peace.  Beyond  a  doubt,  then, 
what  was  most  needed  was  strength  enough  to  maintain  this 
independence.  Experience  had  already  shown  the  evil  result- 
ing to  Germany  from  the  want  of  vigor  and  power  of  resistance 
in  the  governments  of  the  various  states.  If  two  opposing 
religious  systems  were  henceforth  to  exist  in  the  Empire,  it 
was  essential  that  each  should  afford  a  sufficient  counterpoise 
to  the  other,  so  that  neither  need  constantly  fly  to  some  foreign 
power  for  assistance  against  every  danger  that  threatened  it. 

Alliances  had  been  formerly  made  for  this  object,  but  these 
had  invariably  been  forcibly  broken  up,  or  had  split  upon 
some  internal  dissension.  It  was  therefore  of  immense  advan- 
tage for  German  Protestantism  that  a  power  should  arise 
which  should  be  able  to  defend  itself  unaided,  and  effectually 
to  resist  all  foreign  interference. 

But  this  was  far  from  being  all  that  was  required.  It 
might  safely  be  assumed  that  Sweden  would  alwa}'s  afford 
protection  to  the  religious  element;  but  this  was  not  consistent 
with  the  German  idea  of  Protestantism,  which  had  never 
separated  itself  from  the  Emperor  and  the  Empire.  A  most 
dangerous  influence  upon  the  internal  relations  of  the  German 
commonwealth  would  be  thus  given  to  a  line  of  policy  neces- 
sarily directed  towards  entirely  foreign  interests.  During 
the  course  of  the  wars,  the  two  powers  which  had  been  intro- 
duced into  Germany  had,  by  dint  of  intolerable  violence  and 
oppression,  extorted  important  cessions  of  territory.  The 
time  was  now  come  for  endeavoring  to  regain  that  which  had 
been  thus  lost.  The  honor  of  the  German  name  had  to  be 
supported,  or  rather  to  be  restored.     Thus  it  happened  that 


THE  GREAT  ELECTOR.  67 

the  interest  of  Protestantism  and  of  individual  territorial 
princes  was  bound  up  with  a  common  national  interest,  tem- 
pering the  acerbity  of  the  former.  Constituted  as  the  German 
Empire  then  was,  it  was  possible  for  a  prince  to  conceive  and 
pursue  both  these  principles  simultaneously.  All  that  was 
needed  was  that  he  should  be  in  a  position  to  do  so  on  the 
strength  of  his  own  imaided  authority. 

In  order  to  attain  to  this  position  it  was  absolutely  essential 
to  the  House  of  Brandenburg  that  the  provinces  united  under 
its  rule  should  no  longer  be  dependent  upon  foreign  powers, 
which  was  especially  the  case  so  long  as  the  Duchy  of  Prussia 
formed  a  province  of  Poland. 

In  the  year  1654,  when  the  Swedes,  who  had  not  as  yet 
been  checked  by  any  great  reverses,  began  the  war  afresh 
against  the  King  of  Poland — at  first  with  irresistible  success 
— Frederick  William  found  himself  in  much  the  same  position 
on  his  eastern  frontier  as  that  in  which  he  had  been  ten  years 
before  in  Germany  itself. 

It  would  carry  us  far  beyond  our  present  limits  were  we 
to  enter  upon  a  minute  investigation  of  the  line  of  policy 
which  Frederick  William  pursued  in  these  eventful  times  ; — 
how  at  first  he  hoped  and  intended  to  maintain  a  neutral 
position,  but  soon  found  himself  compelled  to  make  common 
cause  with  the  Swedes ;  how  after  awhile  he  forsook  their 
alliance,  and  entered  into  negotiations  with  the  King  of 
Poland.  The  most  important  result  was  that  during  this 
campaign  he  formed  an  army  which,  by  its  glorious  deeds, 
gave  fresh  lustre  to  the  long-tarnished  military  fame  of  Bran- 
denburg, and  that  he  put  an  end  to  the  irksome  subjection 
in  which  he  had  stood  to  the  crown  of  Poland.  When  he 
joined  the  Poles,  they  could  not  refuse  to  grant  him  the  same 
terms  which  the  Swedes  had  offered.  In  November,  1657,  at 
a  solemn  meeting  at  Bromberg,  beneath  the  vault  of  heaven, 
the  King  and  the  Elector  ratified  by  oath  a  treaty  releasing 
the  Duchy  of  Prussia  from  its  former  allegiance  to  the  crown 
of  Poland,  and  declaring  it  a  sovereign  state.  The  results  of 
subsequent  wars  and  the  treaties  of  1660  recognized  and  con- 
firmed this  newly-acquired  independence. — L.  VON  Ranke. 


68  HISTORIC  CHARACTKRS  AND   FAMOUS  EVKNTS. 

The  Battle  of  Fehrbellin. 

In  1675  t^^  Swedes,  under  the  celebrated  Wrangel,  now 
old 'and  infirm,  were  commanded  to  threaten  the  Electorate; 
and  this  quickly  brought  back  Frederick  William,  by  the 
most  flying  marches,  from  the  Rhine  to  his  capital.  The 
Elector's  was  comparatively  a  weak  army  when  contrasted 
with  that  of  Sweden,  under  the  nominal  command  of  Wran- 
gel, then  long  accustomed  to  success;  and  Frederick  William 
found  many  of  the  strong  places  in  Brandenburg  reduced 
before  he  could  arrive  to  the  relief  of  his  distressed  subjects. 
However,  the  presence  of  the  Sovereign  and  the  fidelity  of 
his  people,  aided  by  the  active  energy  of  the  Elector,  soon 
regained  the  ascendancy,  and  he  resolved  to  confound  and 
chastise  the  insolence  of  his  enemy.  Having  quitted  Fran- 
conia  he  reached  Magdeburg  on  the  loth  of  June,  and  crossed 
the  Elbe  the  same  night,  and  at  the  head  of  his  cavalry  he 
reached  Rathenau  the  night  following.  General  Dorfling  led 
the  advance;  and  hearing  that  the  garrison  of  the  town, 
under  Wangelin  the  Governor,  were  indulging  in  a  debauch, 
and  knowing  the  advantage  of  prompt  action  under  such  a 
circumstance,  he  collected  some  boats  on  the  banks  of  the 
Harel,  and  crossing  that  river  (although  his  force  was  entirely 
horse),  succeeded  in  getting  the  gates  forced  and  entering  the 
town  while  all  the  officers  within  were  sleeping  themselves 
sober.  They  awoke  only  to  find  themselves  prisoners  of  war 
to  a  prince  they  had  thought  far  away  in  Rhineland. 

The  Elector,  however,  would  not  halt,  but  pushed  on  with 
his  cavalry  to  Nauen,  Here  he  had  hoped  to  cut  oflf  the  two 
principal  bodies  of  Swedes,  who  occupied  Havelburg  and 
Brandenburg ;  but  they  had  been  warned  of  his  approach, 
and,  as  he  heard,  were  on  their  march  to  their  rendezvous  at 
the  bridge  of  Fehrbellin.  Frederick  William  was  unable  to 
come  up  with  them  until,  on  the  i8th,  he  reached  that  post, 
and  found  the  Swedish  troops  collected  and  formed  up  in  a 
strong  camp  between  Halkelberg  and  Tornow,  having  the 
bridge  of  Fehrbellin  under  their  right  flank,  while  their  left 
leaned  against  a  gentle  rising  ground  that  commanded  the 
marshy  bank  of  the  little  river  Rein.     The  enemy's  force 


THE   GREAT  EI^ECTOR.  69 

was  7,000  infantry,  800  dragoons  and  10  guns,  advantageously 
posted;  and  the  Elector  had  only  5,000  weary  horsemen  to 
oppose  them,  for  his  infantry  was  still  in  the  rear. 

The  Swedish  army  was  nominally  under  the  connnand  of 
the  celebrated  Karl  Gustaf  Wraugel;  but  he  was  unable  from 
his  infirmities  to  mount  a  horse,  and  was  carried  hither  and 
thither  in  a  litter;  so  that  he  was  utterly  unequal  to  the 
direction  of  the  troops.  Under  such  circumstances  of  their 
leader,  it  was  no  discredit  to  them  that  they  should  have  been 
surprised,  for  the  sight  of  the  Prussians  in  their  front  was 
scarcely  believed;  indeed,  they  thought  that  Frederick  Wil- 
liam was  far  off,  still  near  the  banks  of  the  Rhine.  The 
Elector's  infantry,  counting  11,000  men,  was  in  fact  not 
come  up,  but  was  many  miles  in  the  rear.  Time  was,  how- 
ever, so  precious,  that  he  resolved  upon  an  immediate  attack 
with  his  cavalry  alone. 

It  is  recorded  that,  on  this  occasion,  when  the  Great 
Elector  found  himself  in  the  presence  of  the  foe,  and  under 
the  necessity  of  adopting  this  resolution,  standing  in  the 
presence  of  his  horsemen,  he  took  a  pistol  from  the  holster  of 
his  saddle,  and  fired  it  in  the  air,  exclaiming  as  he  turned  his 
eyes  up  to  heaven,  " 'Tis  to  Thy  glory,  Great  God,  that  I 
discharge  my  arms.  Defend  my  cause,  for  Thou  knowest  it 
to  be  just.  Punish  my  enemies,  for  Thou  knowest  them  to 
be  unrelenting."  Then  throwing  away  the  discharged 
weapon,  and  drawing  his  sword,  he  turned  to  his  soldiers, 
and  said,  "  Comrades  !  I  desire  no  other  defence,  nor  any 
other  weapon,  but  the  protection  of  God,  your  courage,  and 
my  sword.  Follow  me,  therefore,  my  friends:  do  as  I  do, 
and  be  assured  of  victory. ' ' 

The  Prince  of  the  House  of  Romberg  was  directed  to 
take  1,600  horse  to  reconnoitre  the  enemy,  but  not  to  engage. 
However,  the  Prince  did  not  exactly  obey  orders,  and  somewhat 
hastened  the  crisis.  Nevertheless,  the  circumstances  of  the 
case  were  so  urgent,  that  the  Elector  determined  to  attack. 
The  Swedes  opened  their  guns  upon  the  advance  of  the 
Brandenburg  cavalry ;  but  Frederick  William's  eye  dis- 
cerned a  sandy  eminence  unoccupied  by  the  Swedes,  which 
lie  at  once  secured,  and  there  placed  his  thirteen  guns,  under 


70 


HISTORIC   CHARACTERS   AND    FAMOUS   EVENTS. 


the  fire  of  which  he  took  up  a  position  at  the  head  of  his 
horse,  and  fell  upon  the  enemy's  right  wing,  which  was 
occupied  by  the  cavalry  regiment  of  Ostrogothia.  He  suc- 
ceeded in  routing  these,  who  fell  back  and  disordered  the 
infantry  formation,  that  broke  and  fled  in  precipitation  to  the 
bridge,  which  broke  down  under  them.  The  vSwedish  infan- 
try, seeing  the  necessity  of  retreat,  fell  back  with  their  accus- 
tomed discipline,  in  good  order;  but  they  lost  3,000  men  in 
action,  with  their  guns,  and  many  standards.  The  want  of 
infantry  prevented  Frederick  William  from  forcing  the  pos- 
session of  Fehrbellin;  so  that  the  Swedes  were  enabled  to 
repair  the  bridge,  and  thus  escaped  total  annihilation. 

The  little  town  was  hurriedly  protected  by  abattis  and 
trenches  and  other  means  of  barricade,  which  effectually  pre- 
vented an  immediate  attack  with  cavalry.  As  soon,  how- 
ever, as  the  Brandenburg  infantry,  11,000  in  number,  came 
up,  General  Dorflinger  was  directed  to  force  Fehrbellin  the 
next  morning;  but  the  Swedes  at  once  crossed  the  bridge, 
and  burnt  it,  and  had  already  made  good  their  retreat  before 
the  passage  of  the  little  river  Rein  could  be  accomplished. 
The  Brandenburgers  at  length  got  into  pursuit,  and  captured 
and  plundered  much  baggage;  but  the  Swedes,  reduced  to 
4,000  men,  made  the  best  of  their  way  by  Wittstock  to  Meck- 
lenburg. 

This  cavalry  afiair  has  been  dignified  by  universal  history 
as  a  great  battle.  It  had  all  the  merit  of  dashing  enterprise, 
a  judicious  plan,  and  a  resolute  execution;  but  it  was  the 
political  influences  which  followed  it  that  justified  its  renown. 

— Sir  E.  Cust. 


^^^^^^l^#^^-4^t^- 


HENRY  THE  FOWLER. 


HENRY  I.  of  Germany  is  a 
prominent  figure  in  mediae- 
val history.  By  uniting  the 
five  great  dukedoms,  he  did 
much  to  make  Germany  a 
nation.  He  regained  Lotha- 
ringia,  or  Lorraine,  which 
remained  attached  to  Ger- 
many for  eight  centuries.  He 
strengthened  the  country, 
built  walled  towns  and  fort- 
resses, and  disciplined  the 
armies. 

Henry  was  bom  in  the 
year  876,  being  the  son  of 
Otto  or  Otho,  the  Illustrious, 
Duke  of  Saxony,  who  had  refused  the  regal  dignity.  His 
mother  was  the  daughter  of  the  Emperor  Arnulph.  In  912, 
his  father  died,  after  having  appointed  him  Duke  of  Saxony, 
and  also  Lord  of  Thuringia  and  part  of  Franconia.  Henry 
showed  great  activity  in  public  affairs.  The  Emperor  Conrad 
I.,  who  had  opposed  many  of  Henry's  efforts,  yet  acknowl- 
edged his  ability,  and,  when  on  his  death-bed,  sent  the  in- 
signia of  the  imperial  dignity  to  him,  as  the  most  suitable 
successor.  When  the  messenger  arrived,  he  found  Henry  in 
the  Hartz  jMountains,  engaged  in  field  sport,  with  his  falcon 
on  his  wrist.  From  this  circumstance  he  obtained  the  sur- 
name of  ' '  the  Fowler. ' '  An  assembly  of  the  principal  nobles 
confirmed  him  as  King  of  the  Romans  in  919.  The  Archbishop 
of  Mainz  (]\Iayence)  offered  to  anoint  him  ;  but  Henry  declared 
it  was  sufficient  that  he  was  called  to  rule  over  Germany  by 

71 


72  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS   AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

God's  grace  and  the  choice  of  the  people,  and  entreated  the 
Archbishop  to  reserve  the  oil  for  some  more  pious  monarch. 

His  first  care  was  to  restore  concord  among  the  princes 
of  Germany,  in  which  he  was  successful.  He  sought  to  retain 
them  in  their  allegiance  by  permitting  them  to  form  alliances 
with  members  of  his  own  family.  He  placed  in  every  duke- 
dom, as  governor  of  those  lands  which  belonged  immediately 
to  the  crown,  a  Count  Palatine,  who  was  invested  with  the 
authority  of  imperial  judge  within  his  district. 

Having  thus  restored  to  the  crown  the  rights  of  which  it 
had  been  deprived  through  the  weakness  of  former  sovereigns, 
Henry  proceeded  to  take  measures  for  resisting  the  fierce 
Hungarians,  who  had  long  harassed  the  German  territories. 
But  the  military  affairs  of  the  empire  had  been  so  miserably 
neglected  during  the  disputes  of  the  nobles,  that  Henry,  after 
gaining  a  victory  in  922,  was  pleased  to  release  the  captured 
chief  to  the  Hungarians,  on  their  pledging  themselves  not  to 
disturb  Germany  for  nine  years,  provided  a  tribute  of  gold 
was  annually  sent  them.  He  now  marched  against  the  Van- 
dals, drove  them  out  of  Saxony,  and  exterminated  the  whole 
nation  on  the  shores  of  the  Baltic.  He  was  victorious  over 
the  Danes,  Sclavonians,  and  took  prisoner  Wenceslaus,  the 
King  of  Bohemia,  whom,  after  a  long  captivity,  he  restored 
to  his  throne. 

In  the  treaty  which  he  entered  into  at  Bonn,  in  922,  with 
Charles  the  Simple,  King  of  France,  Henry  set  aside  the 
pretensions  of  Charles  I.  to  the  empire.  When  that  prince 
was  deposed  by  his  nobles,  Henry  espoused  his  cause.  The 
chief  purpose  of  his  interference,  however,  was  to  seize  Lor- 
raine from  Raoul,  Duke  of  Burgundy.  In  the  end,  he  was 
content  to  receive  homage  from  the  Duke  of  that  province. 
The  Emperor  was  diligently  employed  in  extending  his 
dominions,  in  regulating  their  defences,  and  in  propagating 
the  Christian  religion  among  the  neighboring  heathen  tribes. 
That  Henry's  renown  had  spread  far  beyond  the  confines 
of  his  own  land  is  proved  by  the  alacrity  with  which  King 
Athelstan,  of  England,  entered  into  his  proposal  of  an  alliance 
by  marriage.  Henry  sought  a  bride  for  his  son  Otto,  and 
asked  for  the  sister  of  the  English  king.     Athelstan  sent,  not 


HENRY  THE   FOWLER.  73 

one,   but   two  of  his  sisters,    and    Edith,    the   elder   of  the 
princesses  who  had  come  for  inspection,  was  chosen  by  Otto. 

The  nine  years  of  truce  agreed  on  with  the  Hungarians 
were  spent  by  Henry  in  the  most  active  preparations  to  meet 
the  enemy  on  equal  terms.  He  caused  numerous  fortresses  to 
be  built,  which  he  strongly  garrisoned.  The  bands  of  outlaws 
which  had  infested  the  country  were  formed  into  regular  com- 
panies to  defend  it.  Henry  now  found  himself  able  to  bid 
defiance  to  the  Hungarians,  and,  when  the  truce  expired,  he 
is  said  to  have  sent  them  a  mangy  dog,  as  the  only  tribute  he 
thenceforward  intended  to  pay.  In  the  next  year,  933,  they 
entered  Germany  with  two  armies,  one  of  which  was  defeated 
by  the  Saxons,  near  Sondershausen  :  the  other  was  met  by 
the  king  in  person  at  Keuschberg,  on  the  Saale.  The  Hun- 
garians, who  had  learned  of  the  defeat  of  their  brethren,  made 
fire-signals  on  the  hills  to  draw  the  rest  of  their  hordes 
together.  Henr\",  having  addressed  his  men  in  a  spirited 
and  encouraging  harangue,  unfurled  before  them  the  banner 
of  the  Archangel  ]\Iichael,  and  charged  the  Hungarians  with 
the  cry  of  "Lord  have  mercy!"  which  was  echoed  back  by 
the  fearful  "Hui!  Hui!"  of  the  barbarians.  After  a  san- 
guinary conflict,  the  whole  army  of  the  enemy  was  either 
slain  or  put  to  flight. 

Peace  and  good  oider  having  been  restored  through  all 
parts  of  his  dominions,  he  resolved  to  comply  with  the  Pope's 
invitation  to  receive  from  him  the  imperial  crov/n  in  Rome. 
He  set  out  for  Italy  at  the  head  of  an  army  ;  but,  being 
attacked  with  a  fit  of  apoplexy  on  the  road,  he  returned  to 
Memleben,  where  he  died,  in  936,  at  the  age  of  sixty,  having 
reigfned  eighteen  vears. 

Henry  the  Fowler  was  distinguished  for  excellent  qualities 
of  body  and  mind.  He  was  energetic  and  wise,  his  naturally 
clear  understanding  overcoming  his  defects  of  learning.  He 
was  a  terror  to  his  enemies,  but  mild  and  just  to  his  friends 
and  subjects.  He  has  been  reproached  for  his  love  of  show 
and  the  impetuosity  of  his  temper.  His  encouragement  of 
municipal  life  gave  a  new  aspect  to  Germany,  and  his 
valiant  repulse  of  invaders  established  its  position  in  me- 
diaeval history. 


74  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS   AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

Carlyle  calls  Henry  the  Fowler  ' '  the  Father  of  whatever 
good  has  since  been  in  Germany,"  and  thus  concludes  his 
characteristic  brief  sketch  : — "Hail,  brave  Henry  :  across  the 
nine  dim  centuries,  we  salute  thee,  still  visible  as  a  valiant 
Son  of  Cosmos  and  Son  of  Heaven,  beneficently  sent  us ;  as 
a  man  who  did  in  grim  earnest  '  serve  God '  in  his  day,  and 
whose  works  accordingly  bear  fruit  to  our  day,  and  to  all 
days ! ' ' 

THE  GERMAN'S  FATHERLAND. 

"Which  is  the  German's  Fatherland? 
Is't  Prussia's  or  Swabia's  land? 
Is't  where  the  Rhine's  rich  vintage  streams? 
Or  where  the  Northern  sea-gull  screams  ? — 

Ah,  no,  no,  no  ! 
His  Fatherland's  not  bounded  so  ! 

Which  is  the  German's  Fatherland? 
Bavaria's  or  Styria's  land? 
Is't  where  the  Marsian  ox  unbends? 
Or  where  the  Marksman  iron  rends  ? — 

Ah,  no,  no,  no ! 
His  Fatherland's  not  bounded  so  ! 

Which  is  the  German's  Fatherland? 
Pomerania's  or  Westphalia's  land? 
Is't  where  sweep  the  Dunian  waves? 
Or  where  the  thundering  Danube  raves  ? — 

Ah,  no,  no,  no ! 
His  Fatherland's  not  bounded  so  ! 

Which  is  the  German's  Fatherland? 
O,  tell  me  now  the  famous  land  ! 
Is't  Tyrol,  or  the  land  of  Tell  ? 
Such  lands  and  people  please  me  well. — 

Ah,  no,  no,  no  ! 
His  Fatherland's  not  bounded  so  ! 

Which  is  the  German's  Fatherland? 
Come  tell  me  now  the  famous  land. 
Doubtless,  it  is  the  Austrian  State, 


HENRY  THE   FOWLER. 

In  honors  and  in  triumphs  great. — 

Ah,  no,  no,  no ! 
His  Fatherland's  not  bounded  so  ! 

Which  is  the  German's  Fatherland? 
So  tell  me  now  the  famous  land  ! 
Is't  what  the  princes  won  by  sleight 
From  the  Emperor's  and  Empire's  right? — 

Ah,  no,  no,  no ! 
His  Fatherland's  not  bounded  so  ! 

Which  is  the  German's  Fatherland? 
So  tell  me  now  at  last  the  land  ! — 
As  far's  the  German  accent  rings 
And  hymns  to  God  in  heaven  sings, — 

That  is  the  land,— 
There,  brother,  is  thy  Fatherland  ! 

There  is  the  German's  Fatherland, 
Where  oaths  attest  the  grasped  hand, — 
Where  truth  beams  from  the  sparkling  eyes, 
And  in  the  heart  love  warmly  lies ; — 

That  is  the  land, — 
There,  brother,  is  thy  Fatherland ! 

That  is  the  German's  Fatherland, 
Where  wrath  pursues  the  foreign  band, — 
Where  every  Frank  is  held  a  foe. 
And  Germans  all  as  brothers  glow  ; — 

That  is  the  land, — 
All  Germany's  thy  Fatherland !— E.  M.  ArndT. 


75 


HENRY  IV.,  of  Germany,  was  born 
in  1050  ;  and  was  the  son  of  the 
Emperor,  Henry  III.,  surnamed 
the  ' '  Black. ' '  When  but  four  years 
old,  this  prince  was  crowned  King 
of  the  Romans,  and  two  years 
after,  on  the  death  of  his  father, 
the  child  succeeded  to  the  imperial 
dignity.  The  regency  was  com- 
mitted to  his  mother,  the  Empress 
Agnes.  But  the  strong  hand  and  will  of  his  father  were 
wanting,  and  the  great  nobles  sought  to  recover  their  indepen- 
dence. The  Empress  was  deprived  of  her  office  in  1062,  and 
the  tuition  of  the  young  Emperor  was  committed  to  Anno, 
Archbishop  of  Cologne,  a  harsh  and  bigoted  prelate,  who 
incurred  his  pupil's  bitter  dislike.  Then  Adalbert,  Arch- 
bishop of  Bremen,  succeeded  to  his  place,  and,  being  gay 
and  worldly,  allowed,  and  even  encouraged,  Henry  in  every 
species  of  licentious  indulgence  in  order  to  obtain  an  influ- 
ence over  him,  and  to  exercise  the  royal  power  in  his  name. 
Henry  became  extravagant  and  careless  of  all  but  his  own 
pleasure;  yet  he  early  displayed  his  courage  in  the  tumults 
of  the  times. 

In  his  twenty-first  year  Henry  took  up  his  residence  at 
Goslar,  in  Saxony,  with  the  purpose  of  quelling  the  lawless 
proceedings  which  had  long  prevailed  in  the  country.  A 
temporary  agreement  followed  ;  but  the  misconduct  of  the 
emperor,  who  gave  his  confidence  to  persons  of  vicious  prin- 
ciples, threw  him  into  fresh  difficulties.  At  the  suggestion 
of  Anno,  who  had  regained  his  place  through  the  efforts  of 
76 


t.ScnwoistR.PlNX. 


HENKT  JT-:  -fA'   CJlNOSSJl. 


HENRY   IV.    OF  GERMANY.  77 

the  nobles,  Henry  had  married  Bertha,  daughter  of  Otho, 
IMarquess  of  Italy.  Finding  her  an  obstacle  to  his  licentious 
mode  of  living,  he  tried  to  obtain  a  divorce  ;  but  her  virtue 
baffled  his  evil  designs.  His  headstrong  willfulness  deprived 
him  of  the  attachment  of  his  friends,  and  the  princes  of  the 
empire  actually  assembled  to  consider  his  deposition  ;  but 
his  promises  of  amendment  appeased  their  displeasure.  The 
revolt  of  Otto  of  Nordheim,  Duke  of  Bavaria,  was  quickly 
subdued ;  a  second  revolt  soon  followed,  in  which  Henry 
was  obliofed  to  grant  the  demands  of  his  enemies.  But  on  a 
third  rising,  Henry  in  person  gave  the  rebels  a  bloody  defeat 
at  Hohenburg  in  1075,  and  making  himself  master  of  the 
whole  country,  reduced  them  to  beg  for  peace. 

In  the  meantime,  the  formidable  Hildebrand,  who  had 
been  the  active  counsellor  of  preceding  Popes,  was  himself 
elevated  to  the  Popedom,  as  Gregory  VII.  Though  the 
emperor  testified  his  dissatisfaction  at  not  having  been  con- 
sulted in  the  election,  he  was  induced  by  Gregory's  request  to 
confirm  it.  Mutual  causes  of  dissension,  however,  soon  arose  in 
Gregory's  efforts  to  free  the  Church  from  abuses,  especially 
from  its  absolute  dependence  on  the  temporal  power.  The 
struggle  culminated  in  the  deposition  of  the  Pope  by  Henry's 
partisans,  and  the  excommunication  of  Henry  by  the  Pope. 
Upon  the  promulgation  of  the  Pope's  sentence,  the  emperor 
was  deserted  even  by  his  own  partisans,  and  was  reduced  to  such 
extremities  that  humiliation  was  his  only  resource.  Henry,  in 
the  depth  of  winter,  crossed  the  Alps  with  his  wife  and  child, 
arriving  at  Canossa,  in  the  Apennines,  where,  at  the  suggestion 
of  jMatilda,  of  Tuscany,  the  Pope  had  retired  in  January,  1077. 

Before  Gregory-  was  persuaded  to  admit  the  emperor  to 
his  presence,  Henry  had  passed  through  a  scene  of  extreme 
degradation.  Upon  his  arrival  at  the  outer  gate  of  the 
fortress,  he  was  required  to  dismiss  all  his  attendants,  and 
enter  alone  ;  at  the  next  gate  to  divest  himself  of  the  ensigns 
of  royalty,  and  to  put  on  a  coarse  woollen  tunic,  in  which 
dress,  and  barefooted,  he  was  suffered  to  stand  three  whole 
days  at  a  third  gate,  exposed  to  the  severity  of  the  weather, 
fasting  from  morning  till  night,  and  imploring  the  mercy  of 
God  and  the  Pope.     At  length,  Matilda  and  other  persons  of 


78  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS   AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

distinction  who  were  with  Gregory,  began  to  complain  of  the 
severity.  These  murmurings  being  reported  to  Gregory,  he 
thought  proper  that  Henry  should  be  admitted  on  the  fourth 
day.  At  that  meeting  the  Pontiff  granted  the  Emperor  abso- 
lution, after  he  had  subscribed  to  very  humiliating  terms, 
among  others  that  he  would  submit  to  the  judgment  which 
the  Pope,  at  a  time  and  place  appointed,  should  give  upon  the 
accusations  made  against  him  ;  and  that  in  the  meantime  he 
should  not  assume  the  title  of  king,  or  wear  the  ornaments  or 
exercise  the  functions  of  royalty. 

The  emperor  soon  after  departing  showed  bitter  resentment 
and  thus  renewed  Gregory's  hostility.  The  princes  of  the 
empire  who  had  already  practically  deposed  Henry  as  emperor, 
then  elected  in  his  place  Rudolph,  Duke  of  Swabia.  The  Pope 
sent  him  a  crown,  and  placed  Henry  anew  under  the  ban  of  the 
Church.  Henry,  who  lacked  neither  vigor  nor  courage  in  the 
field,  levied  an  army,  gave  Rudolph  two  defeats,  and  conquered 
the  whole  Duchy  of  Swabia.  In  answer  to  Gregory's  second 
excommunication,  the  Emperor  Henry  held  a  national  coun- 
cil of  his  German  and  Italian  prelates  at  Brixen,  which  pro- 
nounced the  deposition  of  Gregory  and  elected  a  new  Pope, 
under  the  name  of  Clement  III.  This  step  was  followed  by  the 
utter  defeat  of  Rudolph,  who  fell  mortally  wounded  on  Octo- 
ber 15th,  1080.  The  famous  Godfrey  of  Bouillon  had  struck 
the  fatal  blow.  Henry  entered  Italy  with  an  army,  be- 
sieged Rome,  forced  Gregory  to  take  refuge  in  the  Castle  of 
St.  Angelo,  and  then  had  himself  and  wife  crowned  by 
Clement  in  1084. 

During  the  absence  of  Henry  in  Italy,  his  enemies  in 
Germany  recovered  strength,  and,  in  1085,  elected  Count 
Herman  of  Luxemburg  King  of  the  Romans.  Henry's 
return  put  an  end  to  the  competition  by  the  defeat  of  his 
rival ;  and  he  had  equal  success  against  another  competitor, 
Ecbert,  Marquis  of  Thuringia .  Meantime  the  Romans,  regard- 
ing Clement  as  an  anti-pope,  placed  in  the  chair  of  St.  Peter 
Victor  III.  ;  and  after  his  death,  Urban  II.  The  Countess 
Matilda,  of  Tuscany,  and  the  Normans  assisted  the  Church, 
and  Henry  once  more  marched  into  Italy  to  support  his 
declining  interest.     He  was   successful  in  the  field,  till  his 


HENRY   IV.    OF  GERMANY.  79 

oldest  son,  Conrad,  was  induced  to  join  the  adverse  party  in 
conjunction  with  the  emperor's  new  wife,  Adelaide  of  Bran- 
denburg, whom  his  ill  usage  had  rendered  his  enemy.  Con- 
rad was  elected  King  of  the  Romans,  and  his  father  was 
obliged  to  give  way  to  his  influence,  and  returned  to  Ger- 
many, where  he  caused  Conrad  to  be  put  under  the  ban  of 
the  empire  and  procured,  at  a  Diet  held  at  Aix-la-Chapelle, 
the  election  of  his  second  son,  Henry,  to  the  dignity  of  King 
of  the  Romans .  Pope  Urban  II. ,  the  anti-pope  Clement,  and 
Henry's  son,  Conrad,  all  died  within  two  years. 

Henry  might  now,  probably,  have  passed  his  days  in  toler- 
able tranquillit}-,  had  not  his  difierence  with  the  Church  of 
Rome  been  irreconcilable.  Persisting  in  his  claim  of  con- 
firming all  elections  to  the  Holy  See,  he  continued  to  nomi- 
nate successive  anti-popes,  and  refused  to  acknowledge 
Paschal  II. ,  who  had  succeeded  Urban.  That  Pontiff,  there- 
fore, used  all  his  influence  to  raise  enemies  against  the 
emperor  in  Germany;  and  even  induced  his  own  son,  Henry, 
under  pretext  of  zeal  for  religion,  to  take  arms  against  him. 
The  prince  was  at  first  successful  in  seizing  the  imperial 
treasures  at  Spires  ;  but  finding  afterwards  that  his  father  was 
likely  to  prove  the  strongest,  he  perfidiously  affected  remorse, 
threw  himself  at  the  emperor's  feet,  obtained  forgiveness, 
and  then  persuaded  him  to  disband  his  army.  When  this 
was  done,  he  made  his  father  a  prisoner,  and  repairing  to 
a  Diet  convoked  at  Mentz,  in  1106,  assisted  in  his  solemn 
deposition. 

The  Archbishops  of  Mentz  and  Cologne  were  sent  to 
inform  him  of  this  act,  and  to  demand  the  crown  and  other 
regalia.  Henry,  having  in  vain  remonstrated,  put  on  his 
royal  ornaments,  and  seating  himself  in  a  chair  of  state, 
addressed  the  prelates  to  this  effect:  "Here  are  the  ensigns 
of  that  royalty  with  which  we  were  invested  by  God  and  the 
princes  of  the  empire  :  if  you  disregard  the  wrath  of  Heaven 
and  the  everlasting  reproach  of  mankind  so  much  as  to  lay 
violent  hands  on  your  sovereign,  and  strip  us  of  them  by 
force,  we  are  not  in  a  condition  to  defend  ourselves  from  such 
an  outrage."  This  expostulation  had  no  effect;  the  arch- 
bishops snatched  the  crown  from  Henry's  head,  and,  drag- 


8o  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

ging  him  from  his  seat,  pulled  off  the  imperial  robes  by  force. 
The  aged  sovereign,  with  tears  trickling  down  his  cheeks, 
cried  out :  ' '  Great  God !  Thou  art  the  God  of  vengeance !  I 
have  sinned,  I  confess,  and  merited  this  shame  by  the  follies  of 
my  youth ;  but  Thou  wilt  not  fail  to  punish  these  traitors  for 
their  perjury  and  ingratitude."  So  completely,  however, 
was  his  heart  crushed,  that  he  afterwards  made  a  voluntary 
resignation  of  his  crown  in  favor  of  his  son,  and  threw  him- 
self at  the  feet  of  the  Pope's  legate,  beseeching  absolution 
from  the  sentence  of  excommunication,  which  it  was  not  in 
the  power  of  the  legate  to  grant. 

It  is  to  the  eternal  disgrace  of  his  son  that  the  emperor  was 
suffered  to  want  even  the  common  necessaries  of  life. 
When  he  applied  to  the  Bishop  of  Spires  to  grant  him  for 
subsistence  a  canon's  chair  in  his  cathedral,  which  he  himself 
had  liberally  endowed,  his  request  was  refused.  "  Pity  me, 
my  dear  friends,"  said  the  emperor,  with  a  deep  sigh,  upon 
this  repulse,  "for  I  am  touched  by  the  hand  of  the  Lord. ' ' 
After  undergoing  great  suffering  for  some  time  in  the  Castle 
of  Burghenheim,  where  his  unnatural  son  had  confined  him, 
he  managed  to  escape  and  fled  to  ColognCj  where  he  was 
received  with  joy  and  acknowledged  as  lawful  emperor. 
Troops  were  raised  for  him  in  the  Low  Countries,  and  fortune 
seemed  once  again  disposed  to  smile  upon  him.  Before, 
however,  any  further  step  could  be  taken  on  his  behalf,  he 
was  seized  with  an  illness  which  terminated  fatally  on  August 
7th,  1 106.  The  Bishop  of  Liege  conducted  the  funeral  service 
with  a  splendor  befitting  his  position,  but  the  body  was  laid 
in  an  unconsecrated  chapel  at  Spires,  and  remained  five  years 
without  proper  interment,  until  the  ban  of  the  Church  under 
which  he  rested  had  been  removed. 

Henry  IV.  was  a  man  of  great  personal  courage,  and 
possessed  some  eminent  qualifications  as  a  ruler;  but  his 
attachment  to  licentious  pleasures  led  to  various  unjust  and 
shameful  actions,  and  laid  a  foundation  for  the  unparalleled 
misfortunes  and  disgraces  of  his  reign.  His  failure  in  his 
contest  with  the  spiritual  power  proved  anew  the  absolute 
strength  of  righteousness  and  the  inherent  weakness  of  vice. 


HENRY   IV.   OF  GERMANY.  8 1 

Henry  IV.  at  Rome. 

Henry,  in  the  spring  of  1081,  once  more  descended  into 
Italy.  He  came,  not  as  formerly,  a  pilgrim  and  an  exile,  but 
at  the  head  of  an  army  devoted  to  his  person,  and  defying  all 
carnal  enemies  and  all  spiritual  censures.  He  came  to 
encounter  Hildebrand,  destitute  of  all  Transalpine  alliances, 
and  supported  even  in  Italy  by  no  power  but  that  of  the 
Countess  Matilda ;  for  the  Norman  Duke  of  Apulia  was  far 
away,  attempting  the  conquest  of  the  Eastern  capital  and 
empire.  But  Henry  left  in  his  rear  the  invincible  Saxons 
and  the  hero  who  commanded  them.  To  prevent  a  diversion 
in  that  quarter,  the  emperor  proposed  to  abdicate  his  dominion 
in  Saxony  in  favor  of  Conrad,  his  son.  But  Otho  (a  merry 
talker,  as  his  annalist  informs  us)  rejected  the  project  with 
the  remark  that  "  the  calf  of  a  vicious  bull  usually  proved 
vicious."  Leaving,  therefore,  this  implacable  enemy  to  his 
machinations,  the  emperor  pressed  forward,  and  before  the 
summer  the  citizens  of  Rome  saw  from  their  walls  the  Ger- 
man standards  in  hostile  array  in  the  Campagna. 

In  the  presence  of  such  dangers  the  gallant  spirit  of  the 
aged  Pope  once  more  rose  and  exulted.  He  convened  a 
synod  to  attest  his  last  defiance  of  his  formidable  enemy.  He 
exhorted  the  German  princes  to  elect  a  successor  to  Rudolf. 
In  letters  of  impassioned  eloquence  he  again  maintained  his 
supremacy  over  all  the  kings  and  rulers  of  mankind.  He 
welcomed  persecution  as  the  badge  of  his  holy  calling,  and 
while  the  besiegers  were  at  the  gates  he  disposed  (at  least  in 
words)  of  royal  crowns  and  distant  provinces.  Matilda  sup- 
plied him  with  money,  which  for  a  while  tranquillized  the 
Roman  populace.  He  himself,  as  we  are  assured,  wrought 
miracles  to  extinguish  conflagrations  kindled  by  their 
treacher}^  In  language  such  as  martyrs  use,  he  consoled  the 
partners  of  his  sufierings.  In  language  such  as  heroes  breathe, 
he  animated  the  defenders  of  the  city.  The  siege  or  block- 
ade continued  for  three  years  uninterruptedly,  except  when 
Henr^^'s  troops  were  driven,  by  the  deadly  heats  of  autumn, 
to  the  neighboring  hills. 

Distress,  and  it  is  alleged  bribery,  at  length  subdued  the 
rv— 6 


82  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND  FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

courage  of  the  garrison.  On  every  side  clamors  were  heard 
for  peace,  for  Henry  demanded,  as  the  terms  of  peace,  nothing 
more  than  the  recognition  of  his  imperial  title,  and  his  coro- 
nation by  the  hands  of  Gregory.  The  conscience,  perhaps 
the  pride,  of  Gregory  revolted  against  this  proposal.  His 
invincible  will  opposed  and  silenced  the  outcries  of  the  fam- 
ished multitudes ;  nor  could  their  entreaties  or  their  threats 
extort  from  him  more  than  a  promise  that,  in  the  approach- 
ing winter,  he  would  propose  the  question  to  a  pontifical 
synod.  It  met,  by  the  permission  of  Henry,  on  the  30th  of 
November,  1083.  It  was  the  latest  council  of  Gregory's  ponti- 
ficate. A  few  bishops,  faithful  to  their  chief  and  to  his  cause, 
now  occupied  the  seats  so  often  occupied  by  mitred  church- 
men. Every  pallid  cheek  and  anxious  eye  was  turned  to 
him  who  occupied  the  loftier  throne  in  the  centre  of  that 
agitated  assembly.  He  rose,  and  the  half-uttered  suggestions 
of  fear  and  human  policy  were  hushed  into  deep  stillness  as 
he  spoke.  He  spoke  of  the  glorious  example,  of  the  light 
affliction,  and  of  the  eternal  reward  of  martyrs  for  the  faith. 
He  spoke  as  dying  fathers  speak  to  their  children,  of  peace, 
and  hope,  and  of  consolation.  But  he  spoke  also  as  inspired 
prophets  spake  of  yore  to  the  kings  of  Israel,  denouncing  the 
swift  vengeance  of  Heaven  against  his  oppressor.  The 
enraptured  audience  exclaimed  that  they  had  heard  the  voice 
of  an  angel,  not  of  a  man.  Gregory  dismissed  the  assembly, 
and  calmly  prepared  for  whatever  extremity  of  distress  might 
await  him. 

It  did  not  linger.  In  the  spring  of  1084  the  garrison  was 
overpowered,  the  gates  were  thrown  open  to  the  besiegers, 
and  Gregory  sought  a  precarious  refuge  in  the  Castle  of  St. 
Angelo.  He  left  the  great  Church  of  the  Lateran  as  a  theatre 
for  the  triumph  of  his  antagonist  and  his  rival.  Seated  on 
the  Apostolic  throne,  Guibert,  the  anti-pope  of  Brixen,  was 
consecrated  there  by  the  title  of  Clement  III.,  and  then,  as 
the  successor  of  Peter,  he  placed  the  crown  of  Germany  and 
of  Italy  on  the  brows  of  Henr}'  and  Bertha,  as  they  knelt 

before  him. 

And  now  Henry  had,  or  seemed  to  have,  in  his  grasp  the 
author  of  the  shame  of  Canossa,   of  the   anathemas  of  the 


HENRY  IV.    OF  GERMANY. 


83 


Lateral!,  and  of  the  civil  wars  and  rebellions  of  the  empire. 
The  base  populace  of  Rome  were  already  anticipating  with 
sanguinary  joy  the  humiliation,  perhaps  the  death,  of  the 
noblest  spirit  who  had  reigned  there  since  the  slaughter  of 
Julius.  The  approaching  catastrophe,  whatever  might  be  its 
form,  Gregory  was  prepared  to  meet  with  a  serene  confidence 
in  God,  and  a  haughty  defiance  of  man.  A  few  hours  more, 
and  the  Castle  of  St.  Angelo  must  have  yielded  to  famine  or 
to  assault ;  when  the  aged  Pope,  in  the  very  agony  of  his  fate, 
gathered  the  reward  of  the  policy  with  which  he  had 
cemented  the  alliance  between  the  Papacy  and  the  Nonnan 
conquerors  of  the  South  and  of  Italy.  Robert  Guiscard, 
returning  from  Constantinople,  flew  to  the  rescue  of  his 
suzerain. 

Scouts  announced  to  Henry  the  approach  of  a  Norman 
host,  in  which  the  Norman  battle-axe  and  the  cross  were 
strangely  united  with  the  Saracenic  cimeter  and  the  crescent. 
A  precipitate  retreat  scarcely  rescued  his  enfeebled  troops 
from  the  impending  danger.  He  abandoned  his  prey  in  a 
fever  of  disappointment.  Unable  to  slake  his  thirst  for 
vengeance,  he  might  perhaps  allay  it  by  surprising  the 
Great  Countess,  and  overwhelming  her  forces,  still  in  arms 
in  the  Modenese.  But  he  was  himself  surprised  in  the 
attempt  by  her  superior  skill  and  vigilance.  Shouts  for  St. 
Peter  and  Matilda  roused  the  retreating  Imperialists  by 
night,  near  the  castle  of  Sorbaria.  They  retired  across  the 
Alps  with  such  a  loss  of  men,  of  officers,  and  of  treasure,  as 
disabled  them  from  any  further  enterprises. — Sir  J.  Stephen. 


-M'J^^<^g^ 


AT  the  beginning  of  the 
eleventh  centuty,  in  the 
general  low  condition  of 
society,  the  Church  was . 
not  free  from  the  prevalent 
spirit  of  ignorance,  sensu- 
ality and  avarice  :  it  was, 
in  fact,  deeply  tainted  with 
the  rot  of  corrupt  worldli- 
ness.  And  this  degeneracy 
showed  itself  most  marked- 
ly in  three  principal  evils  : 
simony,  lay  investitures, 
and  incontinence.  Bishop- 
rics and  other  ecclesiastical 
offices  were  openly  bought  and  sold.  The  appointment  to 
such  offices  lay  quite  in  the  hands  of  kings  and  princes,  even 
the  Pope  being  in  a  great  measure  thus  subject  to  the  power 
of  noble  laymen. 

In  the  midst  of  this  general  and  extreme  laxity  in  the 
government  of  the  Church  there  came  forward  one  who, 
called  the  "  immovable  pillar  of  the  Holy  See "  by  Peter 
Damian,  became  the  leading  figure  in  the  contest  which 
ensued  between  spiritual  and  temporal  authority,  resulting  in 
the  triumph  of  the  former.  And  more  than  that,  his  princi- 
ples have  survived  him,  leaving  the  papacy  still  potent  on 
earth  in  spite  of  all  adverse  agencies. 

Hildebrand  was  born  about  1020,   at  Soano  or  Saono,  a 
small  town  of  Tuscany,  as  the  son  of  a  carpenter.     His  name 
is  suggestive  of  German  extraction,  but  of  his  ancestry  prac- 
84 


GREGORY  VII.  85 

tically  nothing  is  recorded.  His  youth  was  passed  in  the 
monastery  of  St.  ]\Iary  on  the  Aventine,  in  Rome,  whence,  it 
appears,  he  went  to  pass  some  years  at  the  great  Burgundian 
cloister  of  Cluny,  then  under  the  charge  of  Odillon.  Here 
was  completed  his  education,  and  the  asceticism,  devotion  and 
self-sacrifice  which  he  there  learned  to  practice,  had  a  forma- 
tive influence  in  the  life  of  the  young  monk,  who  thus 
acquired  habits  of  austerity  which  characterized  him  ever 
after.  "Small,  delicate,  and  miimposing  in  appearance," 
says  an  American  writer,  "  his  wonderful  eye  often  terrified 
the  beholder." 

From  the  first,  Hildebrand  comprehended  wherein  lay  the 
only  salvation  of  the  Church.  Perhaps  his  motives  were  at 
least  mixed  ;  the  extremists  on  both  sides  of  the  question 
have  characterized  him  variously  as  saint  and  as  tyrant,  but  he 
was  undoubtedly,  as  Von  Sybel  says,  "one  of  the  most 
remarkable  men  of  any  age,"  and  many  will  endorse  Monta- 
lembert  when  he  calls  Hildebrand  "greatest  of  monks  and 
greatest^ of  popes,"  or  conservative  John  Lord's  characteriza- 
tion, "  Hildebrand,  the  greatest  hero  of  the  Roman  Church," 
famous  "for  the  grandeur  of  his  character,  the  heroism  of  his 
struggles,  and  the  posthumous  influence  of  his  deeds."  Mil- 
man,  too,  considered  him  one  to  be  contemplated,  notwith- 
standing some  great  drawbacks,  as  a  benefactor  of  mankind. 

Hildebrand  was  essentially  a  diplomatist,  a  statesman,  and 
man  of  decisive  action  ;  such  qualifications  made  him  specially 
fitted  for  the  important  and  responsible  missions  with  which 
he  was  early  entrusted.  It  appears  that  he  more  than  once 
visited  the  imperial  court  for  the  transaction  of  business,  and 
in  1046,  on  his  return  from  such  a  visit  to  the  court  of  Henry 
III,  he  becarne  chaplain  of  Pope  Gregory  VI,  on  whose  death 
he  returned  again  to  Cluny. 

His  activity  as  a  reformer  of  the  evils  which  were  under- 
mining the  power  of  the  church  began  early.  Perhaps  his 
first  notable  blow  at  the  ascendancy  of  the  lay  authority  over 
that  of  the  papacy  was  to  induce  Bruno,  Bishop  of  Toul, 
when  appointed  pope  (as  Leo  IX)  by  the  emperor  of  Germany, 
to  lay  aside  his  pontifical  vestments  and  refuse  to  enter  upon 
his  ofl5ce  until  regularly  elected  in  Rome.     Lloreover,   this 


86  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS, 

young  man  continued  to  exercise  a  notable  influence  over 
Leo  IX,  as  he  did  also  over  the  popes  who  followed  him, — 
Victor  II,  Stephen  IX,  Nicholas  II  (by  whose  election,  in 
1055,  the  intruder  Benedict  X  was  ousted),  and  Alexander  11. 
During  their  short  pontificates,  he  inspired  their  government 
and  prepared  the  way  for  a  full  development  of  his  principles, 
of  those  temporal  claims  of  the  mediaeval  papacy  of  which  he 
is  the  historical  representative. 

Thus  was  Hildebrand  long  content  to  be  the  virtual  ruler, 
though  occupying  a  subordinate  position,  while  continuing  to 
fill  missions  of  great  importance  and  to  play  a  prominent  part 
in  the  councils  of  the  church.  Among  others,  he  attended 
the  important  council  at  Tours,  in  which  the  case  of  Berengar 
was  judged.  On  the  death  of  Leo  IX  in  1054  it  was  desired 
that  Hildebrand  should  succeed  him  ;  he  declined  the  honor, 
but  was  a  controlling  element  in  the  negotiations  ensuing 
with  the  emperor  in  regard  to  the  choice  of  a  successor.  Geb- 
hard  of  Eichstadt  was  elected  as  Victor  II  (1055),  and  though 
a  relative  of  the  emperor,  and  hitherto  decidedly  anti-papal, 
he  now  came  as  much  under  the  influence  of  Hildebrand  as 
his  predecessor  had  been.  Hildebrand  also  labored  success- 
fully for  the  election  of  the  following  popes,  and  finally,  in 
1073,  on  the  death  of  Alexander  II,  was  himself  unanimously 
chosen  at  Rome,  much  against  his  will,  to  fill  the  vacant 
chair.  He  decided,  however,  to  await  the  sanction  of  the 
German  emperor,  Henry  IV,  which  was  granted  despite  the 
opposition  of  the  German  bishops. 

As  pope  Gregory  VII,  Hildebrand  now  strove  all  the  more 
earnestly  to  carry  into  effect  the  two  principal  ideas  by  which 
he  was  actuated:  "the  establishment  of  the  supremacy  of 
the  papacy  within  the  church,  and  the  effective  assertion  of 
the  supremacy  of  the  church  over  the  state."  Against  the 
secularized  condition  of  the  church  his  first  vigorous  meas- 
ures were  directed  ;  a  synod  held  at  Rome  in  March,  1074, 
condemned  the  simony  then  prevalent,  and  also  ordered  the 
enforcement  of  the  old  strict  laws  of  celibacy.  The  decrees 
of  this  synod  were  confirmed  at  a  second  one  held  at  Rome  in 
February',  1075,  which  also  passed  the  first  acts  against  lay 
investitures.     In  the  same  year,  a  revolt  was  organized  in 


GREGORY  VII.  87 

Rome  by  Cencius,  wlio  seized  Gregory  while  lie  was  celebrat- 
ing mass  in  the  church  of  Santa  Maria  Maggiore,  but  was 
soon  compelled  by  the  populace  to  release  him.  If  Gregory's 
decrees  branding  the  married  priests  had  already  aroused  the 
resentment  of  the  latter,  his  uncompromising  warfare  on  lay 
investitures  was  sure  to  encounter  the  violent  opposition  of 
the  nobility,  especially  in  Germany,  for  it  meant  to  them  the 
loss  of  a  lucrative  source  of  profit  in  the  sale  of  clerical 
offices. 

In  1075,  Henr\'  IV  was  cited  to  appear  at  Rome  and  answer 
for  his  conduct  ;  the  emperor's  reply  was  to  have  Gregory 
deposed  by  a  diet  held  at  Worms,  January  24th.  But  the 
pope  now  used  his  most  powerful  weapon  in  defence  ;  the 
anathema  of  Rome,  dreaded  excommunication,  was  hurled 
against  Henry,  whose  subjects  were  thereby  absolved  from 
their  oath  of  allegiance.  The  effect  was  overwhelming  ;  the 
powerful  emperor  found  himself  abandoned,  and  had  to  seek 
the  forgiveness  of  his  enemy  in  abject  submission.  In  mid- 
winter he  crossed  the  Alps,  almost  alone,  and  in  January,  1077, 
after  a  miserable  and  perilous  journey,  reached  Canossa, 
whither  the  Pope  had  retired.  Here  Henry  IV  clad  in  the 
garb  of  a  pilgrim,  stood  bareheaded  and  barefooted  in  the 
snow  for  three  days  before  the  Castle  of  Canossa,  (the  strong- 
hold of  Gregor}-'s  friend,  the  Count  Matilda),  a  suppliant  for 
absolution.  But  the  relentless  old  pontiff  granted  it  only  on 
the  merciful  interference  of  the  Countess  Matilda,  that  re- 
markable woman  who  labored  and  lived  for  Gregory,  to  whom 
she  offered  an  untiring  and  unflagging  devotion. 

Hardly  was  the  interview  between  these  two  remarkable 
men  over,  however,  when  Henry  recovered  from  his  weakness 
and  plotted  vengeance  for  the  humiliation  he  had  endured. 
But  what  was  done  could  not  be  undone  :  the  success  which 
the  Emperor's  arms  now  secured  could  not  weaken  the  im- 
mense moral  victor}^  attained  by  the  wily  pontiff.  The 
supremac}'  of  the  church  over  the  state  had  been  successfully 
asserted.  The  excommunication  against  the  emperor  was 
renewed  in  November,  1078,  and  Rudolph  of  Suabia  was 
elected  in  his  stead.  A  terrible  war  ensued  in  Germany. 
Rudolph  died  in  1080,  and  in  the  same  year  the  emperor,  with 


88  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND  FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

a  powerful  army,  escorted  Guibert,  arclibisliop  of  Ravenna, 
who  had  been  chosen  Gregory's  successsor,  into  Italy.  Siege 
was  laid  to  the  Holy  City,  which  made  a  bold  defence,  and 
held  out  for  three  years.  When  the  city  fell,  Gregory  retreated 
to  the  Castle  of  St.  Angelo,  and  Henry  had  Guibert  consecrated 
as  Clement  III.  But  now  came  help  for  Gregory:  Robert 
Guiscard,  the  Norman,  at  the  head  of  a  powerful  force,  made 
himself  master  of  Rome  and  reinstated  the  Pope.  The  army 
sacked  the  city,  however,  and  Gregory  withdrew  to  Salerno, 
where  he  died  May  25,  1085,  after  having  once  more  pro- 
nounced excommunication  against  Henry  and  the  antipope 
Clement  III. 

His  last  words  are  said  to  have  been  :  "I  have  loved 
righteousness  and  hated  iniquity,  and  therefore  I  die  in  exile, ' ' 
But  he  had  left  a  legacy  to  his  successors — the  idea  of  the 
supremacy  of  the  Church  of  Rome — which  formed  the  bul- 
wark of  a  power  that  endured  despite  all  adverse  conditions. 
"Its  full  development,"  says  Eugene  I^awrence,  "is  chiefly 
to  be  traced  in  the  character  of  Innocent  III.  Of  all  the 
Bishops  of  Rome,  Innocent  approached  nearest  to  the  comple- 
tion of  Gregory's  grand  idea.  He  was  the  true  Universal 
Bishop,  .  .  .  the  incarnation  of  spiritual  despotism  and 
pride." 

Gregory's  great  and  lasting  services  to  the  church  have 
been  graphically  described  by  Sir  James  Stephen,  who  said  : 

' '  He  found  the  papacy  dependent  on  the  Emperor,  he 
sustained  it  by  alliances  almost  commensurate  with  the  Italian 
peninsula.  He  found  the  papacy  electoral  by  the  Roman 
people  and  clergy  ;  he  left  it  electoral  by  papal  nomination. 
He  found  the  emperor  the  virtual  patron  of  the  Roman  See  ; 
he  wrested  that  power  from  his  hands.  He  found  the  secu- 
lar clergy  the  allies  and  dependents  of  the  secular  power  ;  he 
converted  them  into  inalienable  auxiliaries  of  his  own.  He 
found  the  patronage  of  the  Church  the  desecrated  spoil  and 
merchandise  of  princes  ;  he  reduced  it  to  his  own  dominion. 
He  is  celebrated  as  the  reformer  of  the  impure  and  profane 
abuses  of  his  age  ;  he  is  more  justly  entitled  to  the  praise  of 
having  left  the  impress  of  his  own  gigantic  character  on  all 
the  ages  which  have  succeeded  him. ' ' 


gregory  vii.  89 

Tribur  and  Canossa. 

(Note. — Some  expressions  in  this  Extract  have  been  modified.) 
Ill  the  autumn  of  1076  there  appeared  from  Rome  a 
rescript  which,  in  the  event  of  Henry's  continued  resistance 
to  the  sentence  of  the  last  papal  council,  required  the  German 
princes  and  prelates,  counts  and  barons,  to  elect  a  new 
emperor,  and  assured  them  of  the  Apostolic  confirmation  of 
any  choice  which  should  be  worthily  made.  These  were  no 
idle  words.  The  death-struggle  could  no  longer  be  post- 
poned. Legates  arrived  from  Rome  to  guide  the  proceedings 
of  the  diet  to  be  convened  for  this  momentous  deliberation. 
It  met  during  the  autumn  at  Tribur. 

The  annals  of  mankind  scarcely  record  so  solemn  or  so 
dispassionate  an  act  of  national  justice.  Some  princely 
banner  waved  over  every  adjacent  height,  and  groups  of 
unarmed  soldiers  might  be  traced  along  the  furthest  windings 
of  the  neighboring  Rhine,  joining  in  the  pleasant  toils,  and 
swelling  the  gay  carols,  of  the  mature  vintage.  In  the 
centre,  and  under  the  defence  of  that  vast  encampment,  rose 
a  pavilion,  within  which  were  collected  all  whose  dignity 
entitled  them  to  a  voice  in  that  high  debate.  Stationed  on 
the  opposite  bank  of  the  river,  Henry  received  quick  intelli- 
gence of  the  progress  and  tendency  of  the  discussion.  The 
prospect  darkened  hourly.  Soldiers  had  already  been  dis- 
patched to  secure  him,  and  his  person  was  in  danger  of 
unknightly  indignities,  which  might  for  ever  have  estranged 
the  reverence  borne  to  him  by  the  ruder  multitude,  when  he 
attempted  to  avert  the  impending  sentence  of  deposition  by 
au  offer  to  abdicate  all  the  powers  of  government  to  his 
greater  feudatories,  stipulating  for  himself  only  that  he  should 
retain  his  imperial  title  as  the  nominal  head  of  the  Teutonic 
empire. 

For  seven  successive  days  speech  answered  speech  on  this 
proposal;  and  when  men  could  neither  speak  nor  listen  more, 
the  project  of  a  nominal  reign,  shorn  of  all  substantial 
authority,  was  adopted  by  the  diet,  but  (in  modern  phrase) 
with  amendments  obviously  imposed  by  the  representatives 
of  the  sacerdotal  power.     The  Pope  was  to  be  invited  to  hold 


go  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

a  diet  at  Augsburg,  in  the  ensuing  spring.  He  was,  mean- 
while, to  decide  whether  Henry  should  be  restored  to  the 
bosom  of  the  Church.  If  so  restored,  he  was  at  once  to 
resume  all  his  imperial  rights.  But  if  the  sun  should  go 
down  on  him  still  an  excommunicate  person  on  the  23d  of 
February,  1077,  his  crown  was  to  be  transferred  to  another. 
Till  then  he  was  to  dwell  at  Spires,  with  the  title  of 
emperor,  but  without  a  court,  an  army,  or  a  place  of  public 
worship. 

The  theocratic  theory,  hitherto  regarded  as  a  mere  Utopian 
extravagance,  had  thus  passed  into  a  practical  and  sacred 
reality.  The  fisherman  of  Galilee  had  triumphed  over  the 
conqueror  of  Pharsalia.  The  vassal  of  Otho  had  reduced 
Otlio's  successor  to  vassalage.  The  universal  monarchy 
which  heathen  Rome  had  wrung  from  a  bleeding  world  had 
been  extorted  by  Christian  Rome  from  the  superstition  or  the 
reverence  of  mankind. 

Henry  had  scarcely  completed  his  twenty-sixth  year. 
Degraded,  if  not  finally  deposed,  hated  and  reviled,  abandoned 
by  man  and  compelled  by  conscience  to  anticipate  his  aban- 
donment by  God,  he  yet,  in  the  depths  of  his  misery,  retained 
the  remembrance  and  the  hope  of  dominion.  The  future  was 
still  bright  with  the  anticipations  of  youth.  He  might  yet 
retrieve  his  reputation,  resume  the  blessings  he  had  squan- 
dered, and  take  a  signal  vengeance  on  his  great  antagonist. 
And,  amidst  the  otherwise  universal  desertion,  there  remained 
one  faithful  bosom  on  which  to  repose  his  own  aching  heart. 
Bertha,  his  wife,  who  had  retained  her  purity  unsullied 
amidst  the  license  of  his  court,  now  retained  her  fidelity 
unshaken  amidst  the  falsehood  of  his  adherents.  Her  wrongs 
had  been  such  as  to  render  a  deep  resentment  nothing  less 
than  a  duty.  Her  happiness  and  her  honor  had  been  basely 
assailed  by  the  selfish  profligate  to  whom  the  most  solemn 
vows  had  in  vain  united  her.  But  to  her  those  vows  were  a 
bond  stronger  than  death,  and  indissoluble  by  all  the  con- 
federate powers  of  earth  and  hell. 

In  her  society,  though  an  exile  from  every  other,  Henry 
wore  away  two  months  at  Spires  in  a  fruitless  solicitation  to 
the  Pope  to  receive  him  in  Italy  as  a  penitent  suitor  for  recon- 


GREGORY  VII.  91 

cilement  with  the  Church.  December  had  now  arrived,  and 
in  less  than  ten  weeks  would  be  fulfilled  the  term  when,  if 
still  excommunicate,  he  must,  according  to  the  sentence  of 
Tribur,  finally  resign,  not  the  prerogatives  alone,  but  with 
them  the  title  and  rank  of  head  of  the  empire.  No  sacrifices 
seemed  too  great  to  avert  this  danger ;  and  history  tells  of 
none  more  singular  than  those  to  which  the  heir  of  the 
Franconian  d)'nasty  w?s  constrained  to  submit.  In  the  garb 
of  a  pilgrim,  and  in  a  season  so  severe  as  during  more  than 
four  months  to  have  converted  the  Rhine  into  a  solid  mass  or 
ice,  Henry  and  his  faithful  Bertha,  carrying  in  her  arms  theif 
infant  child,  undertook  to  cross  the  Alps,  with  no  escort  but 
such  menial  servants  as  it  was  yet  in  his  power  to  hire  for 
that  desperate  enterprise.  Among  the  courtiers  who  had  so 
lately  thronged  his  palace,  not  one  would  become  the  com- 
panion of  his  toil  and  dangers  Among  the  neighboring 
princes  who  had  so  lately  solicited  his  alliance,  not  one  would 
grant  him  the  poor  boon  of  a  safe  conduct  and  a  free  passage 
through  their  states.  Even  his  wife's  mother  exacted  from 
him  large  territorial  cessions,  as  the  price  of  allowing  him 
and  her  own  daughter  to  scale  one  of  the  Alpine  passes, 
apparently  that  of  the  Great  St.  Bernard.  Day  by  day 
peasants  cut  out  an  upward  path  through  the  long  windings 
of  the  mountain.  In  the  descent  from  the  highest  summit, 
when  thus  at  length  gained,  Henry  had  to  encounter  fatigues 
and  dangers  from  which  the  chamois  hunter  would  have 
turned  aside.  Vast  trackless  wastes  of  snow  were  traversed, 
sometimes  by  mere  crawling,  at  other  times  by  the  aid  of  rope- 
ladders  or  still  ruder  contrivances,  and  not  seldom  by  a  sheer 
plunge  along  the  inclined  steep ;  the  Empress  and  her  child 
being  enveloped  on  those  occasions  in  the  raw  skins  of  beasts 
slaughtered  on  the  march. 

The  transition  from  these  dangers  to  security,  from  the 
pine  forests,  glaciers,  and  precipices  of  the  Alps  to  the 
sunny  plains  of  Italy,  was  not  so  grateful  to  the  wearied 
travelers  as  the  change  from  the  gloom  of  Spires  to  the 
rapturous  greetings  which  hailed  their  advance  along  the 
course  of  the  Po.  A  splendid  court,  a  numerous  army,  and 
an  exulting  populace,  once  more  attested  the  majesty  of  the 


92  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND  FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

emperor ;  nor  was  the  welcome  of  his  Italian  subjects  desti- 
tute of  a  deeper  significance  than  usually  belongs  to  the 
paeans  of  the  worshipers  of  kings.  They  dreamed  of  the 
haughty  Pontiff  humbled,  of  the  See  of  Ambrose  exalted  to 
civil  and  ecclesiastical  supremacy,  and  of  the  German  yoke 
lifted  from  their  necks.  Doomed  as  were  these  soaring  hopes 
to  an  early  disappointment,  the  enthusiasm  of  Henry's 
partisans  justified  those  more  sober  expectations  which  had 
prompted  his  perilous  journey  across  the  Alps.  He  could 
now  prosecute  his  suit  to  the  Pope  with  the  countenance  and 
in  the  vicinity  of  those  zealous  adherents,  and  at  a  secure  dis- 
tance from  the  enemies  toward  whom  Hildebrand  was  already 
advancing,  to  hold  the  contemplated  Diet  of  Augsburg. 

In  the  personal  command  of  a  military  escort,  Matilda 
attended  the  papal  progress,  and  was  even  pointing  out  to  her 
guards  their  line  of  march  through  the  snowy  peaks  which 
closed  in  her  northern  horizon,  when  tidings  of  the  rapid 
march  of  the  emperor  at  the  head  of  a  formidable  force 
induced  her  to  retreat  to  the  fortress  at  Canossa.  There,  in 
the  bosom  of  the  Apennines,  her  sacred  charge  would  be 
secure  from  any  sudden  assault ;  nor  had  she  anything  to 
dread  from  the  regular  leaguer  of  such  powers  as  could,  in 
that  age,  have  been  brought  to  the  siege  of  it.  Canossa  was 
the  cradle  and  the  original  seat  of  her  ancient  race.  It  was 
also  the  favorite  residence  of  the  Great  Countess,  and  when 
Gregory  found  shelter  within  her  halls,  they  were  crowded 
with  guests  of  the  highest  eminence  in  social  and  in  literary 
rank.  Thither  came  a  long  line  of  mitred  penitents  from 
Germany,  whom  the  severe  Hildebrand  consigned  on  their 
arrival  to  solitary  cells,  with  bread  and  water  for  their  fare ; 
and  there  also  appeared  the  German  emperor  himself,  not  the 
leader  of  the  rumored  host  of  Lombard  invaders,  but  sur- 
rounded by  a  small  and  unarmed  retinue — mean  in  their 
apparel,  and  contrite  in  outward  aspect,  a  humble  suppliant 
for  pardon  and  acceptance  to  the  communion  of  the  faithful. 
He  well  knew  that  to  break  the  alliance  of  patriotism, 
cupidity  and  superstition,  which  had  degraded  him  at  Tribur, 
it  was  necessary  to  rescue  himself  from  the  anathema  which 
he  had  but  too  justly  incurred,  and  that  his  crown  must  be 


GREGORY  VII.  93 

redeemed,  not  by  force,  but  by  submission  to  his  formidable 
antagonist. 

It  was  towards  the  end  of  January.  The  earth  was 
covered  with  snow,  and  the  mountain  streams  were  arrested 
by  the  keen  frost  of  the  Apennines,  when,  clad  in  a  thin 
penitential  garment  of  white  linen,  and  bare  of  foot,  Henry, 
the  descendant  of  so  many  kings,  and  the  ruler  of  so  many 
nations,  ascended  slowly  and  alone  the  rocky  path  which  led 
to  the  outer  gate  of  the  fortress  of  Canossa.  With  strange 
emotions  of  pity,  of  wonder,  and  of  scorn,  the  assembled 
crowd  gazed  on  his  majestic  fonn  and  noble  features,  as, 
passing  through  the  first  and  the  second  gateway,  he  stood  in 
the  posture  of  humiliation  before  the  third,  which  remained 
inexorably  closed  against  his  further  progress.  The  rising 
sun  found  him  there  fasting ;  and  there  the  setting  sun  left 
him,  stiff  with  cold,  faint  with  hunger,  and  devoured  by 
ill-suppressed  resentment.  A  second  day  dawned,  and  wore 
tardily  away,  and  closed,  in  a  continuance  of  the  same  indig- 
nities. A  third  day  came,  and,  still  irreverently  trampling 
on  the  hereditar}^  lord  of  the  fairer  half  of  the  civilized  world, 
Hildebrand  once  more  compelled  him  to  prolong  till  nightfall 
this  dreadful  penance. 

It  was  the  fourth  day  on  which  Henry  had  borne  the 
humiliating  garb  of  an  affected  penitent,  and  in  that  sordid 
raiment  he  drew  near  on  his  bare  feet  to  the  more  than 
imperial  majesty  of  the  Church,  and  prostrated  himself,  in  more 
than  servile  deference,  before  the  diminutive  and  emaciated 
old  man,  "from  the  terrible  glance  of  whose  countenance," 
we  are  told,  "  the  eye  of  ever}'  beholder  recoiled  as  from  the 
lightning."  Hunger,  cold,  nakedness,  and  shame  had,  for 
the  moment,  crushed  the  gallant  spirit  of  the  sufferer.  He 
wept  and  cried  for  mercy,  again  and  again  renewing  his 
entreaties,  until  he  had  reached  the  lowest  level  of  abasement 
to  which  his  own  enfeebled  heart,  or  the  haughtiness  of  his 
great  antagonist,  could  depress  him.  Then,  and  not  till 
then,  did  the  Pope  condescend  to  revoke  the  anathema  of  the 
Vatican. 

The  price  of  pardon  was  a  promise  to  submit  himself  to 
the  future  judgment  of  the  Apostolic  See;  to  resign  his  crown 


94  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

if  that  judgment  should  be  unfavorable  to  him;  to  abstain 
meanwhile  from  the  enjoyment  of  any  of  his  royal  preroga- 
tives or  revenues ;  to  acknowledge  that  his  subjects  had  been 
lawfully  released  from  their  allegiance  ;  to  banish  his  former 
friends  and  advisers ;  to  govern  his  states,  should  he  regain 
them,  in  obedience  to  the  papal  counsels  ;  to  enforce  all  papal 
decrees  ;  and  never  to  revenge  his  present  humiliation.  To 
the  observance  of  the  terms  thus  dictated  by  the  conqueror 
the  oaths  of  Henry  himself,  and  of  several  prelates  and 
princes  as  his  sponsors,  were  pledged  ;  and  then,  in  the  name 
of  Him  who  had  declared  that  His  kingdom  was  not  of  this 
world,  the  solemn  words  of  pontifical  absolution  rescued  the 
degraded  emperor  from  the  forfeit  to  which  he  had  been  con- 
ditionally sentenced  by  the  confederates  at  Tribur. 

Another  expiation  was  yet  to  be  made  to  the  injured 
majesty  of  the  tiara.  Holding  in  his  hand  the  seeming 
bread,  which  (as  he  believed)  words  of  far  more  than 
miraculous  power  had  just  transmuted  into  the  very  Body 
which  died  and  was  entombed  at  Calvary,  "Behold!"  ex- 
claimed the  Pontiff,  fixing  his  keen  and  flashing  eye  on  the 
jaded  countenance  of  the  unhappy  monarch,  "behold  the 
Body  of  the  Lord  !  Be  it  this  day  the  witness  of  my  inno- 
cence. May  the  Almighty  God  now  free  me  from  the 
suspicion  of  the  guilt  of  which  I  have  been  accused  by  thee 
and  thine,  if  I  be  really  innocent !  May  He  this  very  day 
smite  me  with  a  sudden  death,  if  I  be  really  guilty  !  " 
Amidst  the  acclamations  of  the  bystanders,  he  then  looked 
up  to  heaven,  and  broke  and  ate  the  consecrated  element. 
' '  And  now, ' '  he  exclaimed,  turning  once  more  on  the  awe- 
stricken  Henry  that  eye  which  neither  age  could  dim  nor 
pity  soften,  "if  thou  art  conscious  of  thine  innocence,  and 
assured  that  the  charges  brought  against  thee  by  thine  own 
opponents  are  false  and  calumnious,  free  the  Church  of  God 
from  scandal,  and  thyself  from  suspicion,  and  take  as  an 
appeal  to  Heaven  this  Body  of  the  Lord  !  " 

That,  in  open  contradiction  to  his  own  recent  prayers 
and  penances,  the  penitent  should  have  accepted  this  awful 
challenge,  was  obviously  impossible.  He  trembled,  and 
evaded  it.     At  length,  when  his  wounded  spirit  and  half- 


GREGORY  VII.  95 

lifeless  frame  could  endure  no  more,  a  banquet  was  served, 
where,  suppressing  the  agonies  of  shame  and  rage  with  which 
his  bosom  was  to  heave  from  that  moment  to  his  last,  he 
closed  this  scene  of  wretchedness  by  accepting  the  hospitali- 
ties, sharing  in  the  familiar  discourse,  and  submitting  to  the 
benedictions  of  the  man  who  had  in  his  person  given  proofs, 
till  then  unimagined,  of  the  depths  of  ignominy  to  which  the 
Temporal  Chief  of  Christendom  might  be  depressed  by  the 
powers  of  her  Ecclesiastical  Head. 

The  Lombard  lords,  who  had  hailed  the  arrival  of  their 
sovereign  in  Italy,  had  gradually  overtaken  his  rapid  advance 
to  Canossa.  There,  marshalled  in  the  adjacent  valleys,  they 
anxiously  awaited,  from  day  to  day,  intelligence  of  what 
might  be  passing  within  the  fortress,  when  at  length  the 
gates  were  thrown  open,  and,  attended  only  by  the  usual 
episcopal  retinue,  a  bishop  was  seen  to  descend  from  the  steep 
path  which  led  to  their  encampment.  He  announced  that 
Henry  had  committed  himself  to  the  present  discipline  and 
to  the  future  guidance  of  the  Pope,  and  had  received  his 
ghostly  absolution  ;  and  that  on  the  same  terms,  his  Holiness 
was  ready  to  bestow  the  same  grace  on  his  less  guilty 
followers.  As  the  tidings  of  this  papal  victory  flew  from  rank 
to  rank,  the  mountains  echoed  with  one  protracted  shout  of 
indignation  and  defiance.  The  Lombards  spurned  the  pardon 
of  Hildebrand. 

In  the  midst  of  this  military  tumult  the  gates  of  Canossa 
were  again  thrown  open,  and  Henry  himself  was  seen 
descending  to  the  camp,  his  noble  figure  bowed  down  and  his 
lordly  countenance  overcast  with  unwonted  emotions.  As  he 
passed  along  the  Lombard  lines,  every  eye  expressed  contempt, 
and  derision  was  on  every  tongue.  But  the  Italian  was  not 
the  German  spirit.  They  could  at  once  despise  and  obey. 
Following  the  standard  of  their  degraded  monarch,  they  con- 
ducted him  to  Reggio,  where,  in  a  conclave  of  ecclesiastics, 
he  instantly  proceeded  to  concert  schemes  for  their  deliverance 
and  for  his  own  revenge. — Sir  J.  Stephen. 


96  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND  FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

St.  Gregory,  Monk  and  Pope. 

In  the  e}'es  of  the  men  of  the  Middle  Ages,  the  two 
powers,  though  distinct  in  their  object,  their  limits,  and, 
above  all,  in  their  exercise,  had  one  origin  and  one  sanction — 
the  Divine  institution.  The  Church  and  society  formed  but 
one  and  the  same  body,  governed  by  two  different  forces, 
of  which  one  was,  by  its  nature,  essentially  inferior  to  the 
other. 

It  is  thus  that  the  subordination  of  all  Christians,  not 
excepting  crowned  heads,  to  the  pontifical  authority,  led,  in 
certain  extreme  cases,  to  the  subordination  of  the  Crown 
itself.  Nobody,  indeed,  being  able  to  deny  to  the  Church  the 
right  of  directing  consciences  in  temporal  matters,  of  deter- 
mining the  nature  of  sin,  of  defining  the  limits  of  good  and 
evil,  it  was  concluded  that  to  her  should  belong  the  right 
of  settling  those  questions  of  conscience  w^hich  were  con- 
nected with  the  government  of  society.  To  provoke  the 
Church,  as  did  in  succession  nearly  all  the  nations  of  Chris- 
tendom— to  exercise  the  functions  of  arbitrator  between  sub- 
jects and  kings — and  to  employ  against  the  crimes  or  abuses 
of  sovereignty  that  penal  system  which  entered  into  every 
medieval  constitution, — was  to  extend  the  authority  of  that 
Church  beyond  the  bounds  indispensable  to  its  existence,  but 
was  not,  as  has  been  said,  to  bridge  a  gulf :  it  was  believed 
then  that  the  pastoral  authority  to  which  the  right  had  been 
given,  according  to  the  apostle,  to  judge  angels,  to  bind  and 
loose  in  heaven,  must  have  the  right  to  judge,  as  a  last  resort, 
in  terrestrial  causes  ;  and  no  one  was  surprised  to  find  that  the 
Church,  which  had  received  from  God  full  power  to  procure 
the  salvation  of  souls,  should  also  have  that  of  saving  society 
and  repressing  the  excesses  of  those  by  whom  it  was  dis- 
turbed.  .  .  . 

Before  taking  action  against  King  Henry  with  that  rigor 
which  was  justified  by  the  law  of  the  Church,  and  called  for 
by  the  complaints  of  the  oppressed  Saxons,  Gregory  cited 
Henry,  as  Alexander  II.  had  already  done,  to  appear  at  Rome 
to  defend  himself  Henry,  misled  by  a  fatal  pride,  and  feeling 
himself  sure  of  the  majority  of  an  episcopate  corrupted  by 


GREGORY  VII.  97 

simony,  replied  to  this  summons  by  a  crime  unheard  of  in  the 
records  of  Christendom, — by  deposing,  in  a  council  of  twenty- 
six  bishops,  the  Pope,  the  father  and  judge  of  all  Christendom, 
against  whom  not  a  shadow  of  canonical  reproach  existed. 

The  deposition  of  Henry  IV.  by  Gregory  has  been  the 
subject  of  unceasing  discussion ;  but  few  remember  that 
Henry  himself  began  by  deposing  Gregory  in  the  Assembly 
at  Worms — a  ludicrous  sentence,  equally  without  pretext  and 
without  antecedent,  which  was  notified  to  him  in  language 
which  no  one  had  ever  before  addressed  to  the  Vicar  of  Christ. 
Here  are  some  fragments  of  this  strange  document : 

"To  Hildebrand,  no  longer  a  Pope,  but  a  false  monk — I, 
Henry,  King  by  the  merciful  ordination  of  God,  deprive  thee 
of  the  right  of  being  Pope,  which  thou  seemest  to  possess, 
and  command  thee  to  descend  from  the  See  of  that  city,  the 
pontificate  of  which  belongs  to  me  by  the  grace  of  God  and 
the  oath  of  the  Romans,  for  thou  art  condemned  by  the 
anathema  and  judgment  of  all  our  bishops,  and  by  ours  ;  come 
down,  therefore,  and  abandon  the  Apostolic  See,  which  we 
take  from  thee.  Let  another  ascend  the  throne  of  Peter,  and 
teach  true  doctrine.  I,  Henry,  King  by  the  grace  of  God, 
with  all  our  bishops  —  I  say  to  thee,  Come  down!  come 
down  ! ' ' 

It  was  only  in  answer  to  this  odious  and  unheard-of  act 
that  Gregory,  yielding  to  the  unanimous  exhortations  of  a 
hundred  and  ten  bishops,  assembled  in  council  at  Rome,  and 
in  presence  of  the  Empress  Agnes,  Henry's  own  mother,  gave 
the  first  sentence  of  excommunication  against  the  Emperor, 
freed  his  subjects  from  their  oaths  of  fidelity,  and  took  from 
him  the  government  of  Germany  and  Italy.  Even  this  sen- 
tence was  only  to  be  definitive  if  the  prince  should  refuse  to 
seek  absolution  before  the  expiration  of  the  year.  When  the 
German  princes  assembled  at  Tribur,  to  proceed  on  their  side 
to  the  deposition  of  Henry,  Gregor}'  again  interceded  with 
them  to  calm  their  exasperation  against  the  tyrant,  whose 
heart  he  hoped  might  be  touched  by  repentance.  "As  it  is 
neither  pride  nor  greed,"  he  wrote  to  them,  "which  has 
moved  us  against  Henrs^  IV.,  but  zeal  for  the  discipline  of  the 
Church,  we  implore  you  in  our  Lord  Jesus,  and  as  our  beloved 
IV— 7 


98  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

brethren,  to  receive  him  with  kindness,  if,  with  all  his  heart, 
he  turn  from  his  evil  ways.  Display  towards  him,  not  only 
that  justice  which  might  cut  short  his  reign,  but  also  that 
mercy  which  covers  many  sins.  Remember  the  frailty  of  man, 
which  is  common  to  us  all  ;  do  not  forget  the  noble  and  pious 
memory  of  his  father  and  mother ;  pour  the  oil  of  pity  on  his 
wounds. ' ' 

Elsewhere,  giving  an  account  of  his  conduct  to  the  princes 
and  people  of  Germany,  he  says  :  "If  the  king  would  accept 
our  decrees,  and  reform  his  life,  we  take  God  to  witness  the 
joy  which  his  salvation  and  his  glory  would  inspire  in  us,  and 
the  good-will  with  which  we  should  open  to  him.  the  doors 
of  Holy  Church  as  to  one  who,  appointed  prince  of  the  people 
and  master  of  the  fairest  of  kingdoms,  ought  to  be  the  de- 
fender of  justice  and  of  the  peace  of  Catholics.  ...  If,  by 
the  insj)iration  of  God,  he  will  repent,  whatever  may  have 
been  his  attempts  against  us,  he  shall  find  us  always  ready  to 
receive  him  into  the  holy  communion," 

After  the  absolution  of  Canossa,  Gregory  adoj^ted  the  line 
of  conduct  best  fitted  to  recall  Henry  permanently  to  the 
path  of  order  and  justice.  While  he  acknowledged  the  insur- 
gent nations  as  sharers  in  his  perils,  and  allies  in  the  struggle 
of  right  against  wrong,  he  did  not  approve  the  precipitate 
election  of  Rudolph  of  Suabia  to  the  throne  of  which  Henry 
IV.  had  been  declared  by  the  princes  to  be  unworthy ;  and, 
although,  at  the  Diet  of  Forchheim,  where  the  election  was 
made,  the  independence  of  the  Church  and  the  freedom 
of  episcopal  elections  had  been  formally  granted,  he  preserved 
for  three  years  a  strict  neutrality  between  the  two  kings. 
"We  have  not  pledged  ourselves,"  he  wrote  to  the  Germans, 
"either  to  one  or  other  of  the  kings,  to  lend  them  an  unjust 
support ;  for  we  would  rather  die,  if  need  were,  than  suffer 
ourselves  be  drawn  by  our  own  inclination  to  do  what  would 
trouble  the  Church  of  God.  We  are  well  aware  that  we  are 
ordained  and  placed  in  the  Apostolic  See,  not  to  seek  there 
our  own  profit,  but  that  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  to  pursue  our 
way  through  a  thousand  labors,  following  the  footsteps  of  our 
fathers,  to  the  eternal  rest  of  the  future. ' ' 

This  extreme  moderation  offended  the  Saxons  and  all  those 


GREGORY  VII.  99 

who  had  shaken  off  Henry's  yoke.  Not  understanding  the 
motives  which  led  the  Pope  to  hope,  in  spite  of  all,  that 
Henry's  conduct  would  be  affected  by  the  absolution  of 
Canossa,  they  suspected  the  Pontiff  of  a  base  connivance  with 
their  t}Tant,  and  wrote  to  him  the  most  indignant  appeals, 
complaining  that  he  had  abandoned  them,  and  was  temporiz- 
ing with  the  common  enemy  at  the  price  of  their  blood,  and 
imploring  him,  in  the  name  of  Christ,  to  recall  his  courage, 
and  to  strike  the  wolves  which  devoured  the  flock  of  be- 
lievers. .  .   . 

As  for  Gregor}',  nothing  shook  the  calm  and  moderation 
of  his  soul ;  to  the  remonstrances  and  injurious  suspicions 
of  the  partisans  of  the  Church  of  Germany,  he  replied  :  "  Do 
not  doubt  me,  my  dearest  brothers ;  do  not  think  that  I  shall 
ever,  knowingly,  favor  the  party  which  is  in  the  wrong  ;  I 
would  rather  die  for  your  salvation  than  gain  all  the  glory 
of  the  world  by  your  destruction.  If,  by  false  letters  or  false 
reports,  you  are  told  to  the  contrar}',  do  not  believe  it.  I  fear 
God,  and  every  day  I  suffer  for  love  of  Him  ;  but  I  have  little 
fear  of  the  pride  or  seductions  of  the  world,  awaiting  with 
certainty  the  consolations  of  that  God  whose  mercy  exceeds 
our  hopes  and  our  merits."  And  in  another  place  :  "I  hear 
that  some  of  you  distrust  me,  and  accuse  me  of  Vv^orldly  incon- 
stancy in  the  midst  of  my  dangers,  .  .  .  The  Italians,  on  the 
other  hand,  reproach  me  with  too  great  sternness  towards 
Henry.  For  me,  my  conscience  tells  me  that  I  have  always 
acted  towards  the  one  party  and  towards  the  other  according 
to  justice  and  equity.  Be  certain  that,  through  the  guidance 
of  God,  no  man,  either  by  love  or  fear,  or  any  other  human 
passion,  has  ever  been  able,  or  will  ever  be  able,  to  turn  me 
from  the  straight  path  of  justice." 

But  when  the  time  for  patience  was  over,  the  measure 
of  Henry's  crimes  full,  and  his  bad  faith  indisputably  proved  ; 
when  it  was  seen  that  the  King  had  swept  away — to  use  the 
words  of  a  contemporary — like  spiders'  webs,  all  the  condi- 
tions which  the  forbearance  of  the  Pontiff  had  imposed  upon 
him  at  Canossa, — with  what  vigor  and  majesty  did  Gregory, 
launching  against  Henr}^  his  second  and  final  sentence,  pro- 
claim Rudolph  as  King  !     Let  us  recall  here,  that  all  lovers 


lOO  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

of  courage  and  justice  may  profit  by  them,  the  Pontiff's  im- 
mortal words  :  ' '  Blessed  Peter,  prince  of  the  Apostles,  and 
thou,  Paul,  teacher  of  nations,  deign,  I  implore  you,  to  bend 
your  ears  to  me,  and  hear  me  in  your  clemency  ;  you  who 
are  the  disciples  and  lovers  of  the  truth,  help  me  to  make 
known  this  truth,  and  to  dissipate  that  error  which  you  hate, 
so  that  my  brethren  may  understand  me  better,  and  may 
know  that  it  is  owing  to  your  support,  after  that  of  the  Lord 
and  of  His  mother  Mary,  always  a  virgin,  that  I  resist  the 
wicked,  and  am  able  to  bring  you  help  in  all  your  calami- 
ties." Then,  after  having  given  an  account  of  his  whole 
life,  his  struggles,  the  first  repentance  of  Henry,  followed  by 
new  crimes,  he  ends  thus:  "For  these  reasons,  trusting  in 
the  justice  and  mercy  of  God,  and  of  His  most  pious  mother 
Mary,  always  a  virgin,  and  armed  with  your  authority,  I 
excommunicate  the  before-named  Henry,  called  king  ;  I  bind 
him  with  the  bonds  of  anathema  ;  in  the  name  of  Almighty 
God,  and  in  your  names,  I  deprive  him  once  more  of  the 
kingdoms  of  Germany  and  Italy  ;  I  take  from  him  all  power 
and  all  royal  dignity  ;  I  forbid  all  Christians  to  obey  him  as 
king,  and  I  release  from  their  oath  all  who  have  sworn,  or 
who  shall  in  future  swear,  fidelity  to  him  as  his  subjects.  .  .  . 
Let,  then,  the  kings  and  all  the  princes  of  this  age  learn  what 
you  are,  and  how  great  is  your  power,  and  let  them  fear  to 
despise  the  commands  of  your  Church  ;  exercise  your  justice 
against  King  Plenry  so  promptly  that  all  may  see  that  his  fall 
comes  not  by  chance,  but  by  your  power.  .  .  .  And  may  it 
please  God  that  his  confusion  lead  him  to  penitence,  so  that 
his  soul  may  be  saved  in  the  day  of  the  Lord  !  ' ' 

No  human  consideration  dictated  to  Gregory  this  final 
judgment ;  for  the  affairs  of  his  partisans  in  Germany  were 
then  in  an  almost  desperate  condition ;  and  soon  afterwards 
Rudolph,  that  King  of  blessed  memory,  died,  like  another 
Maccabeus,  in  the  arms  of  victory,  saying,  "Living  or  dying, 
I  accept  gladly  what  God  wills." 

After  this  catastrophe,  events  followed  each  other  fast. 
Guibert,  Archbishop  of  Ravenna,  was  elected  Pope  by  the 
imperialist  prelates  of  Germany  and  Lombardy.  Henry  IV., 
victorious,  then  passed  into  Italy,  where  the  Countess  Ma- 


GREGORY   VII.  lOI 

tilda  alone  dared  to  resist  liiiii.  Gregory  was  three  times 
besieged  in  Rome,  shut  up  in  the  Castle  of  St.  Angelo,  be- 
trayed by  the  cowardice  and  avarice  of  the  Romans ;  his 
annual  councils  were  deserted  by  most  of  the  bishops ;  and 
the  Anti-pope  and  Henry  crowned  each  other  in  St.  Peter's. 
But  it  was  when  Gregory  had  reached  the  depths  of  adversity, 
in  the  midst  of  this  desertion  and  danger,  that  the  nobleness 
and  purity  of  his  soul  assumed  a  character  still  more  sublime; 
it  was  then  that  he  appeared  even  greater  than  when,  at 
Canossa,  the  son  of  emperors  was  seen  kneeling  humbly  at 
his  feet.  In  vain  Henry,  victor  and  Master  of  Rome,  offered 
peace  to  the  Pontiff,  on  the  sole  condition  of  being  crowned 
by  him ;  Gregory,  without  soldiers,  without  treasure,  reduced 
to  the  Castle  of  St.  Angelo  as  his  last  refuge,  demanded  in 
his  turn  from  the  king,  as  an  imperative  condition,  that 
repentance  which  the  pride  of  the  schismatics  refused.  Not 
a  shadow  of  fear  or  of  regret  now  interferes  to  obscure  the 
brightness  of  that  noble  mind  ;  we  find  no  longer  any  trace 
of  that  hesitation  or  want  of  decision  for  which  he  had  been 
so  much  blamed,  and  which  had  been  inspired  by  generosity, 
at  a  time  when  his  enemy  was  subdued  and  despoiled  !  From 
the  moment  when  that  enemy  triumphed,  a  calm  and  indom- 
itable firmness  animated  all  the  Pontiff^'s  words  and  actions  ; 
in  the  midst  of  a  prolonged  and  terrible  crisis,  he  continued, 
as  before,  his  correspondence  with  the  princes  and  bishops 
of  all  Christian  countries  ;  he  watched  over  all  the  interests 
of  the  universal  Church,  and  only  spoke  of  himself  to  promise 
the  faithful  that  he  would  not  betray  their  cause  or  that 
of  Christ.  "We  know,"  he  wrote,  "that  our  brethren  are 
wearied  by  the  length  of  the  struggle  ;  but  there  is  nothing 
nobler  than  to  fight  long  for  the  liberty  of  Holy  Church.  Let 
others  submit  to  a  miserable  and  diabolical  serfdom  ;  let 
others  seek  to  subject  the  unfortunate  to  the  rule  of  the 
demon  ;  Christians  are  called  upon  to  deliver  from  this  rule 
the  unfortunates  who  are  placed  under  it."  And  in  another 
place  :  ' '  Up  to  this  time  few  of  us  have  resisted  the  wicked 
to  the  shedding  of  blood,  and  very  few  have  died  for  Christ. 
Think,  my  beloved,  think  how  many  every  day  expose  their 
lives  for  profane  masters  for  the  sake  of  vile  wages.     But  we, 


I02 


HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 


what  sufferings  do  we  encounter,  wliat  work  are  we  doing  for 
the  Supreme  King,  who  promises  us  eternal  glory?  What 
shame  and  what  mockery  would  be  yours,  if,  while  these  men 
face  death  for  a  miserable  reward,  you  are  seen  flying  from 
that  persecution  which  would  purchase  for  you  the  treasure 
of  celestial  blessedness  !  .  .  .  Keep,  then,  your  eyes  always 
fixed  upon  the  banner  of  your  Leader,  who  is  the  eternal 
King ;  and  to  overcome  the  old  enemy,  learn  not  only  how  to 
brave  persecution  and  death,  but  even  to  seek  them  for  the 
love  of  God  and  the  defence  of  your  religion." 

Never  losing  sight  of  the  purely  spiritual  character  of  the 
contest  which  exposed  him  to  such  dangers,  and  regarding 
the  winning  of  souls  as  the  highest  victory,  Gregory  at  once 
exhorted  the  faithful  to  immovable  firmness  in  resistance,  and 
recommended  to  them  an  active  care  for  the  salvation  of  their 
adversaries.  "We  all  wish  with  one  accord,"  he  said,  "that 
God  may  be  glorified  in  us,  and  that  He  may  deign  to  admit 
us,  with  our  brethren,  even  with  those  who  persecute  us,  to 
eternal  life.  .  .  .  Multiply,  therefore,  your  alms  and  your 
prayers ;  and  seek  by  all  possible  means  to  prevail  with  your 
Redeemer  that  your  enemies,  whom,  by  His  precept,  you  are 
bound  to  love,  may  return  to  the  standard  of  Holy  Church, 
that  bride  for  whom  He  deigned  to  die  ;  for,  again  I  say  it,  we 
seek  the  destruction  of  no  man,  but  the  salvation  of  all  in 
Christ." — Count  de  Montalembert. 


REGORY  VII.  on  his  death-bed,  named 
four  monks  as  his  possible  successors 
on  the  pontifical  throne  :  Didier, 
Abbot  of  Monte  Cassino  ;  Hugh, 
Abbot  of  Cluny  ;  Odo,  Cardinal- 
Bishop  of  Ostia  ;  and  Anselm,  Bishop 
of  Lucca.  Didier  was  elected,  much 
against  his  will,  under  the  name  of 
Victor  III.,  but  soon  died  ;  where- 
upon, in  March,  1088,  Odo  became 
Pope  under  the  name  of  Urban  II. 
This  monk,  Odo,  was  born  as  the  son  of  the  Seigneur  of 
Imagery  (near  Chatillon-sur-Marne),  After  having  been  under 
the  instruction  of  St.  Bruno  at  Rheims,  he  entered  the  Benedic- 
tine cloister  at  Cluny,  and  thence  was  summoned  (1078)  to  the 
court  of  Gregory  VII.  by  whom  he  was  made  Cardinal-Bishop 
of  Ostia.  On  his  election  as  Pope,  Urban,  always  a  prominent 
supporter  of  Hildebrandism,  at  once  continued  the  policy  of 
his  great  predecessor,  Gregory,  with  the  same  energy  and  with 
more  craftiness  and  diplomacy.  But  his  power  was  at  first 
much  weakened  by  the  formidable  influence  of  the  Anti- 
pope  Guibert  (Clement  III.)  and  his  powerful  protector, 
Henry  IV.  Emperor  of  Germany  (by  whom  Urban  had  been 
made  a  prisoner,  when  legate  to  Germany,  in  1084). 

The  temporary  ascendancy  of  the  Anti-pope  forced  Urban 
to  leave  Rome  for  some  time ;  but  the  tide  soon  began  to  turn 
in  his  favor.  Much  of  this  success  was  the  result  of  policy  : 
the  famous  Countess  Matilda  of  Tuscany,  a  strong  and  de- 
voted supporter  of  Urban,  as  of  Gregory  before  him,  married 
Guelph  of  Bavaria,  who  carried  on  a  war  against  Henry  IV. ; 

103 


I04  HISTORIC   CHARACTi^RS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

the  Pope  renewed  his  predecessor's  declarations  against  simony, 
clerical  marriages,  and  the  acceptance,  by  priests,  of  ecclesias- 
tical offices  from  laymen.  Prince  Conrad,  son  of  the  Emperor, 
was  aided  in  his  rebellion  against  his  father.  Finally,  the 
Empress  Adelaide  (or  Praxedis)  roused  indignation  by  her 
charge  against  Henry  IV.  her  husband,  of  most  disgraceful 
and  outrageous  conduct.  The  Empress  repeated  her  denunci- 
ations before  the  great  General  Council  convoked  by  the  Pope 
at  Placentia  in  1095,  and  her  husband  was  laid  anew  under 
the  ban  of  excommunication,  which  had  also  been  launched 
against  King  Philip  I.  of  France,  for  bigamy.  A  noteworthy 
occurrence  at  this  meeting  was  the  appearance  of  envoys  from 
the  Byzantine  Emperor  Alexios  Comnenos,  come  to  plead  for 
aid  against  the  ^Moslems  menacing  Constantinoj)le,  The  assem- 
bled multitude  (about  4,000  ecclesiastics  and  some  30,000 
laymen)  were  deeply  moved  by  the  reports  of  these  ambassa- 
dors, and  when  the  Council  of  Clermont  met,  in  November 
of  the  same  year,  the  time  was  ripe  for  the  inauguration  of  the 
Crusades. 

The  hermit-monk,  Peter  of  Amiens,  full  of  burning  zeal  at 
recollection  of  the  odious  oppression  of  the  Christians  in  the 
Holy  City  by  the  infidels,  had  fanned  the  smouldering  feeling 
of  the  people  into  a  high  flame  of  fervent  enthusiasm.  And 
now  Urban,  at  Clermont,  in  France,  set  the  seal  of  papal 
authority  and  sanction  upon  this  desire  to  free  the  Holy  City 
from  the  hands  of  the  Mohammedans.  In  graphic  language 
he  described  the  tyranny  and  sacrileges  of  the  Turks,  exhort- 
ing his  hearers  to  deliver  the  Holy  Land  from  the  yoke  of 
Islam,  and  thus  make  atonement  for  their  own  sins. 

"They  who  die,"  said  he,  "will  enter  the  mansions  of 
heaven,  while  the  living  shall  behold  the  sepulchre  of  their 
Lord.  Blessed  are  they  who,  taking  this  vow  upon  them, 
shall  inherit  such  a  recompense  :  happy  are  they  who  are  led 
to  such  a  conflict,  that  they  may  share  in  such  rewards." 
The  multitude,  thus  encouraged  in  their  own  enthusiasm, 
broke  in  with  the  passionate  cry  "  God  wills  it  !  "  "  Let  those 
words  be  your  war-cry,"  replied  the  Pope,  adding:  "You  are 
soldiers  of  the  cross  :  then  wear  the  blood-red  siofn  of  Him 
who  died  for  the  salvation  of  your  souls.     Wear  it  as  a  token 


URBAN   II.  105 

that  His  help  will  never  fail  you  ;  wear  it  as  the  pledge  of  a 
vow  which  can  never  be  recalled. ' '  Thus  was  inaugurated 
that  great  movement  which  several  predecessors  of  Urban — 
notably  Gregory  VII. — had  desired,  but  for  which  they  had 
not  }et  found  the  time  propitious,  and  which  they  had  there- 
fore not  been  able  to  organize. 

In  the  remaining  years  of  Urban' s  pontificate,  Henry  IV. 
was  finally  driven  out  of  Italy.  Another  event  of  importance 
was  the  holding  of  a  council  at  Bari  in  1098,  attended  by 
many  Greek  bishops. 

Urban' s  connection  with  the  Crusade  must  be  regarded  as 
the  most  important  episode  in  his  pontificate  ;  it  marks  an 
epoch  in  the  history  of  Latin  Christianity,  resulting  in  the 
strengthening  of  the  papal  power.  Urban  died  when  not  yet 
sixty  years  of  age,  on  the  29th  of  July,  1099,  fourteen  days 
after  the  capture  of  Jerusalem,  but,  of  course,  before  the  news 
of  that  great  victory  had  reached  Italy. 

The  Council  of  Clermont. 

By  the  eloquent  soul-stirring  preaching  of  Peter  the  Her- 
mit, Western  Christendom,  particularly  France,  was  prepared 
for  the  outburst  of  militant  religion.  Nothing  w^as  wanting 
but  a  plan,  leaders,  and  organization.  Such  was  the  state  of 
things  when  Pope  Urban  presented  himself  to  the  Council  of 
Clermont,  in  Auvergne. 

Where  all  the  motives  which  stir  the  mind  and  heart,  the 
most  impulsive  passion  and  the  profoundest  policy,  conspire 
together,  it  is  impossible  to  discover  which  has  the  dominant 
influence  in  guiding  to  a  certain  course  of  action.  Urban, 
no  doubt,  with  his  strong  religiousness  of  character,  was  not 
superior  to  the  enthusiasm  of  his  times  ;  to  him  the  Crusade 
was  the  cause  of  God.  This  is  manifest  from  the  earnest  sim- 
plicity of  his  memorable  speech  in  the  council.  No  one  not 
fully  possessed  by  the  frenzy  could  have  communicated  it. 
At  the  same  time,  no  event  could  be  more  favorable  or  more 
opportune  for  the  advancement  of  the  acknowledged  suprem- 
acy over  Latin  Christendom,  or  for  the  elevation  of  Urban 
himself  over  the  rival  Pope  and  the  temporal  sovereigns,  his 
enemies  ....  The  author  of  the  Crusades  was  too  holy  a  per- 


Io6  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

son,  too  manifest  a  vicegerent  of  Christ  Himself,  for  men  either 
to  question  his  title  or  circumscribe  his  authority. 

Never,  perhaps,  did  a  single  speech  of  man  work  such  ex- 
traordinary and  lasting  results  as  that  of  Urban  11.  at  the 
Council  of  Clermont.  He  dwelt  on  the  sanctity,  on  the  won- 
ders of  the  land  of  promise;  the  land  chosen  of  God,  to  whom 
all  the  earth  belonged  as  His  own  inheritance  ;  the  land  of 
which  the  history  has  been  recorded  both  in  the  Old  and  New 
Testament  ;  of  this  land  the  foul  infidels  were  now  the  lords  : 
of  the  Holy  City  itself,  hallowed  by  the  life  and  death  of  the 
Saviour.  Whose  soul  melted  not  within  ?  Whose  bowels 
were  not  stirred  with  shame  and  sorrow  ?  The  Holy  Temple 
has  become  not  only  a  den  of  thieves,  but  the  dwelling-place 
of  devils.  The  churches,  even  that  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre 
itself,  had  become  stalls  for  cattle,  and  Christian  men  were 
massacred  .  .  .  within  the  holy  precincts.  The  heavenly  fire 
had  ceased  to  descend  ;  the  Lord  would  not  visit  His  defiled 
sanctuary.  While  Christians  were  shedding  Christian  blood, 
they  were  sinfully  abandoning  this  sacred  field  for  their  valor, 
and  yielding  up  their  brethren  in  Christ  to  the  yoke,  to  the 
sword  of  the  Unbeliever;  they  were  warring  on  each  other, 
when  they  ought  to  be  soldiers  of  Christ.  He  assured  them 
that  the  Saviour  Himself,  the  God  of  armies,  would  be  their 
leader  and  their  guide  in  battle.  There  was  no  passion  which 
he  left  unstirred.  "The  wealth  of  your  enemies  shall  be 
yours  ;  ye  shall  plunder  their  treasures.  Ye  serve  a  Com- 
mander who  will  not  pennit  His  soldiers  to  want  bread,  or  a 
just  reward  for  their  services. ' '  He  offered  absolution  for  all 
sins  (there  was  no  crime — murder,  adultery,  robbery,  arson — 
which  might  not  be  redeemed  by  this  act  of  obedience  to 
God),  absolution  without  penance  to  all  who  would  take  up 
arms  in  this  sacred  cause.  It  is  better  to  fall  in  battle  than 
not  to  march  to  the  aid  of  the  Brethren  :  he  promised  eternal 
life  to  all  who  should  suffer  the  glorious  calamity  of  death  in 
the  Holy  Land,  or  even  on  the  way  to  it.  The  Crusader  passed 
at  once  into  Paradise.  For  himself,  he  must  remain  aloof ; 
but,  like  a  second  Moses,  while  they  were  slaughtering  the 
Amalekites,  he  would  be  perpetually  engaged  in  fervent  and 
prevailing  prayer  for  their  success. 


URBAN   II.  107 

The  Pontiff  could  scarcely  conclude  his  speech ;  he  was  in- 
terrupted by  ill-suppressed  murmurs  of  grief  and  indignation. 
At  its  close  one  loud  and  simultaneous  cry  broke  forth,  "It  is 
the  will  of  God  !  It  is  the  will  of  God  !"  All  ranks,  all  classes, 
were  seized  with  the  contagious  passion;  the  assembly  de- 
clared itself  the  army  of  God.  Not  content  with  his  imme- 
diate success,  the  Pope  enjoined  on  all  the  bishops  to  preach  in- 
stantly, unremittingly,  in  every  diocese,  the  imperative  duty 
of  taking  up  arms  to  redeem  the  Holy  Sepulchre.  The  epi- 
demic madness  spread  with  a  rapidity  inconceivable,  except 
from  the  knowledge  how  fully  the  mind  and  heart  of  man 
were  prepared  to  imbibe  the  infection.  France,  including 
both  its  Frank  and  Norman  population,  took  the  lead;  Ger- 
many, of  colder  temperament,  and  distracted  by  its  own  civil 
contentions — the  imperialist  faction,  from  hatred  of  the  Pope 
— moved  more  tardily  and  reluctantly;  in  Italy  it  was  chiefly 
the  adventurous  Normans  who  crowded  to  the  war  ;  in  Eng- 
land the  Normans  were  too  much  occupied  in  securing  their 
vast  possessions,  the  Anglo-Saxon  population  too  much  de- 
pressed to  send  large  numbers  of  soldiers.  All  Europe, 
however,  including  the  northern  nations,  except  Spain,  oc- 
cupied with  her  own  crusade  in  her  own  realm,  sent  their 
contingent  either  to  the  wild  multitudes  who  swarmed  forth 
under  Walter  the  Pennyless,  or  the  more  regular  army  under 
Godfrey  of  Boulogne.  The  Crusade  was  no  national  war  of 
Italy,  France,  or  Germany  against  the  Egyptian  empire  of  the 
Fatimites,  or  the  Seljukian  Sultan  of  Iconium  :  it  was  a  war 
of  Christendom  against  Mahommedanism.  No  government 
hired  the  soldiers,  unless  so  far  as  the  feudal  chief  sunnnoued 
his  vassals  to  accompany  him;  nor  provided  transports  and  the 
artillery  and  implements  of  war,  or  organized  a  commissariat, 
or  nominated  to  the  chief  command.  Each  was  a  volunteer, 
and  brought  his  own  horse,  arms,  accoutrements,  provisions. 
In  the  first  disastrous  expeditions,  under  Peter  the  Hermit 
and  Walter  the  Pennyless,  the  leaders  were  designated  by 
popular  acclamation  or  by  bold  and  confident  self-election. 
The  general  deference  and  respect  for  his  admired  character 
and  qualifications  invested  Godfrey  of  Boulogne  with  the  com- 
mand of  the  first  regular  army. 


io8 


HISTORIC  characte;rs  and  famous  e;vents. 


It  was  fortunate,  perhaps,  tliat  none  of  the  great  sovereigns 
of  Europe  joined  the  first  Crusade.  The  Emperor  and  the 
King  of  France  were  under  excommunication  ;  Conrad,  King 
of  Italy,  too  necessary  to  the  Pope  to  be  spared  from  Italy  ;  in 
William  Rufus  was  wanting  the  great  impulse,  religious  faith. 
The  ill  success  of  the  later  Crusades  undertaken  by  Emperors 
and  Kings,  their  frequent  want  of  ability  for  supreme  com- 
mand when  alone,  their  jealousies  when  allied,  show  that  a 
league  of  princes  of  the  second  rank,  though  not  without 
their  intrigues  and  separate  interests,  was  better  suited  by  this 
kind  of  expedition. 

Urban  II.  lived  to  hear  hardly  more  than  the  disasters  and 
miseries  of  his  own  work.  His  faith  had  the  severe  trial  of 
receiving  the  sad  intelligence  of  the  total  destruction  of  the 
myriads  who  marched  into  Hungary  and  perished  on  the  way, 
by  what  was  unjustly  considered  the  cruelty  of  the  Hunga- 
rians and  treachery  of  the  Greeks  ;  hardly  one  of  these  ever 
reached  the  borders  of  the  Holy  Land.  His  depression  may 
have  been  allayed  by  the  successes  of  the  army  under  Godfrey 
of  Boulogne  :  he  heard  of  the  capture  of  Antioch,  but  died 
before  the  tidings  of  the  capture  of  Jerusalem,  on  the  i5tli  of 
July,  1099.  could  reach  Rome. — H.  H.  M11.MAN. 


(^  (fy^  (^   c^ 


<?^^t> 


o     Cj^     c£>     C~3 


PETER  THE  HERMIT  is 
known  to  posterity  through 
the  single  great  effort  of  his 
life  :  the  preaching  of  the 
Crusade.  Born  at  Amiens 
in  Picardy,  about  1050,  he 
had  laid  aside  the  accoutre- 
ments of  war  to  strive  for 
perfection  in  the  solitude  of 
a  hermit's  life.  Like  others, 
he  made  a  pilgrimage  to 
Jerusalem,  and  was  stirred 
to  wrath  at  sight  of  the  in- 
dignities suffered  by  the  pil- 
■-'        "  grims  and  the  Christian  in- 

habitants of  the  city  at  the 
hands  of  the  infidels.  When  he  visited  Simeon,  the  Greek 
Patriarch  of  the  Holy  City,  that  venerable  man  who  had 
suffered  from  the  persecutions  of  the  Turks,  deplored  the 
weakness  of  the  Byzantine  Empire,  which  prevented  it  from 
protecting  the  Christians  in  Syria.  Peter  rebuked  his  despon- 
dency, and  promised  him  the  aid  of  Western  Christendom. 
Then  entering  the  Temple,  he  heard,  as  he  believed,  the  voice 
of  the  Lord:  "Rise,  Peter,  go  forth  to  make  known  the 
tribulations  of  my  people.  The  hour  is  come  for  the  delivery 
of  my  ser\'^ants,  for  the  recovery  of  the  Holy  Places. ' ' 

Peter  returned  to  Europe,  fully  persuaded  of  his  divine 
commission,  and  devoted  with  self-sacrificing  enthusiasm  to 
the  task  of  delivering  the  Holy  City  from  the  hateful  and 
oppressive  rule  of  the  ^Mohammedans.     He  gained  an  interview 

109 


no  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS   AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

with  Pope  Urban  11. ,  to  whom  he  delivered  letters  from  the 
patriarch  Simeon,  and  whom  he  moved  by  his  eloquent 
and  pathetic  account  of  the  humiliation  of  the  church  in  the 
Holy  City.  With  the  sanction  of  the  Pope,  Peter  set  out  in 
1094,  to  prepare  the  way  for  the  great  enterprise  and  rouse 
Christendom  to  a  high  pitch  of  enthusiasm.  Unprepossess- 
ing in  appearance,  poorly  clad,  this  fervent  enthusiast  im- 
parted his  stirring  earnestness  to  those  to  whom  he  preached  : 
high  and  low,  rich  and  poor,  all  were  aroused,  both  by  his 
fiery  appeals  and  his  earnest  piety  and  sympathetic  upright- 
ness. When,  in  November,  1095,  the  Pope  met  at  Clermont, 
an  immense  assemblage  of  church  dignitaries,  he  found  the 
time  propitious,  and  with  earnest  eloquence  urged  his  hearers, 
already  inflamed  by  the  preaching  of  Peter,  to  undertake  the 
deliverance  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  evoking  from  them  the 
passionate  cry  "It  is  the  will  of  God,"  and  bidding  them  as 
soldiers  of  the  cross  to  wear  the  blood-red  sign  of  the  Son 
of  God. 

Thus  was  inaugurated,  in  a  torrent  of  enthusiasm,  that 
great  movement  which,  projected  under  so  pure  and  noble  a 
motive,  was  destined  to  cost  so  many  lives,  and  which,  holding 
out  the  promise  of  salvation  to  all  who  should  take  part  in  the 
redemption  of  the  Holy  Land,  enlisted  in  its  service  a  large 
element  with  sordid,  purely  selfish,  and  unworthy  motives. 
The  very  beginning  was  unpropitious,  for,  while  prudence 
dictated  the  forming  of  armies  under  practical  guidance,  an 
impatient  rabble  started  out  prematurely  under  the  command 
of  Peter  the  Hermit  and  Walter  the  Pennyless. 

This  motley  crew  of  men  and  women  was  followed  by 
other  large  and  equally  disorderly  hordes,  under  the  leadership 
of  the  monk  Gotschalk  and  others,  who  soon  rushed  into 
excesses,  slaughtered  the  Jews,  and  by  their  plundering  and 
other  outrages  roused  the  enmity  of  the  inhabitants  of  the 
countries — more  especially  Hungary  and  Bulgaria, — through 
which  they  passed.  The  undisciplined  throng  became  scat- 
tered and  entirely  disorganized,  Peter  being  for  a  time  a 
lonely  fugitive.  When  the  remnants  of  the  host  reached 
Constantinople,  the  Emperor  Alexios,  desirous  of  ridding 
himself  of  the   lawless   band,  persuaded   them   to   cross   the 


PETER  THE  HERMIT.  Ill 

Bospliorus.  But  once  on  Asiatic  soil,  they  were  entrapped  and 
crushed  by  the  Seljukian  Sultan  Kilidje  Arslan;  it  is  said  that, 
in  all,  some  300,000  people  perished  in  this  ill-advised  and 
disorderly  movement. 

Peter,  with  the  remnant  of  his  crowd,  effected  a  junction 
with  Godfrey  of  Bouillon's  grand  army  of  Crusaders,  which 
had  in  the  meantime  been  organized  and  sent  out  under  more 
auspicious  circumstances,  and  he  finally  won  the  reward  for 
his  labors  and  his  disappointments,  by  entering  Jerusalem 
with  the  victorious  army  in  1099. 

Before  that  happy  consummation  of  his  efforts,  however, 
Peter,  like  his  great  Apostolic  namesake,  had  a  severe  hour  of 
trial.  This  intrepid  and  dauntless  man,  simple  and  earnest 
in  his  faith,  which  had  seemed  invincible,  wavered  in  an  hour 
of  weakness.  During  the  long  and  wearisome  siege,  aggra- 
vated by  the  pangs  of  hunger  and  thirst,  he  deserted  with  the 
doughty  Count  William  of  Melun ;  but  they  were  overtaken 
and  captured  by  Tancred.  Peter's  backsliding  was  forgotten 
when  the  Christian  army  had  entered  the  Holy  City  as  con- 
querors, and  the  throng  fell  down  at  his  feet  with  thanks  to 
God.  When  he  was  able  to  preach  upon  the  Mount  of  Olives, 
the  scene  must  truly  have  been  one  of  joyful  triumph  to  him; 
it  was  the  closing  incident  of  his  life-work.  His  task  was 
done  ;  the  first  Crusade  had  come  to  a  successful  termination. 

Peter  returned  to  Europe  and  founded  the  Abbey  of  Neuf- 
moustier  at  Huy  in  the  diocese  of  Liege,  of  which  he  was  the 
first  prior.  There  the  monk  whose  great  work  it  had  been  first 
to  unite  and  set  in  motion  the  nations  of  Western  Christen- 
dom for  as^gressive  warfare  against  the  fanatical  followers 
of  Mohammed,  died  peacefully  on  the  7th  of  July,  11 15. 

The  Crusades. 

The  Crusades,  if  we  should  calculate  the  incalculable 
waste  of  human  life  from  first  to  last  (a  waste  without  achiev- 
ing any  enduring  result),  and  all  the  human  misery  which  is 
implied  in  that  loss  of  life,  may  seem  the  most  wonderful 
frenzy  which  ever  possessed  mankind.  But  from  a  less  ideal 
point  of  view — a  view  of  human  affairs  as  they  have  actually 
evolved  under  the  laws  or  guidance  of  Divine  Providence, 


112  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND  FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

considerations   suggest  themselves   whicli   mitigate   or  alto- 
gether avert  this  contemptuous  or  condemnatory  sentence. 

.  .  .  The  Crusades  consummated,  and  the  Christian 
Church  solemnly  blessed  and  ratified  the  unnatural,  it  might 
be,  but  perhaps  necessary  and  inevitable,  union  between 
Christianity  and  the  Teutonic  military  spirit.  What  but 
Christian  warlike  fanaticism  could  cope  with  the  warlike 
Mahomraedan  fanaticism  which  had  now  revived  by  the 
invasion  of  the  Turks,  a  race  more  rude  and  habitually 
predatory  and  conquering  than  the  Arabs  of  the  Prophet,  and 
apparently  more  incapable  of  yielding  to  those  genial  influ- 
ences of  civilization  which  had  gradually  softened  down  the 
Caliphs  of  Damascus,  Bagdad,  Cairo,  and  Cordova  to  splendid 
and  peaceful  monarchs?  Few  minds  were,  perhaps,  far- 
seeing  enough  to  contemplate  the  Crusades,  as  they  have 
been  viewed  by  modern  history,  as  a  blow  struck  at  the  heart 
of  the  Mahommedan  power,  as  a  politic  diversion  of  the  tide 
of  war  from  the  frontiers  of  the  European  kingdoms  to  Asia. 
Yet  neither  can  this  removal  of  the  war  to  a  more  remote 
battle-field,  nor  the  establishment  of  the  principle  that  all 
Christian  powers  were  natural  allies  against  Mahommedan 
powers  (though  this  principle,  at  a  later  period,  gave  way 
before  European  animosities  and  enmities),  have  been  with- 
out important  influence  on  the  course  of  human  affairs. 

The  effects  of  these  expeditions  to  the  Holy  Land  may 
further  be  considered  under  four  heads. 

I. — The  first  and  more  immediate  result  of  the  Crusades 
was  directly  the  opposite  to  that  which  had  been  promised, 
and  no  doubt  expected,  by  the  advisers  of  these  expeditions. 

The  security  of  the  Eastern  Christian  empire,  and  its  con- 
sequent closer  alliance  with  Latin  Christendom,  though  not 
the  primary,  was  at  least  a  secondary  object.  But  instead  of 
the  reconciliation  of  the  Byzantine  empire  with  the  West,  the 
Crusade  led  to  a. more  total  estrangement ;  instead  of  blending 
the  Churches  into  one,  the  hostility  became  more  strong  and 
obstinate. 

The  Emperors  of  the  East  found  their  friends  not  less 
dangerous  and  destructive  than  their  enemies  could  have 
been.     Vast  hordes  of  disorderly  and  undisciplined  fanatics 


PETER  THE  HERMIT.  1 13 

came  swarming  across  the  frontiers,  trampling  down  every- 
thing in  their  way,  and  spreading  desolation  through  the 
more  peaceful  and  flourishing  provinces.  The  leaders  of  the 
Crusade,  the  Hermit  himself,  and  a  soldier  of  fortune,  Walter, 
who  went  by  the  name  of  Pennyless,  were  altogether  without 
authority,  and  had  taken  no  steps  to  organize  or  to  provide  food 
for  this  immense  population  which  they  had  set  in  motion. 
This  ami)-  consisted  mainly  of  the  poorer  classes,  whose  arms, 
such  as  they  were,  were  their  only  possession.  The  more 
enthusiastic,  no  doubt,  vaguely  trusted  to  the  protection 
of  Providence ;  God  would  not  allow  the  soldiers  of  His 
Blessed  Son  to  perish  with  want.  The  more  thoughtful  cal- 
culated on  the  hospitality  of  their  Christian  brethren.  The 
pilgrims  of  old  had  found  hospitals  and  caravanseries  estab- 
lished for  their  reception ;  they  had  been  fed  by  the  inex- 
haustible bounty  of  the  devout.  But  it  had  occurred  to  none 
that,  however  friendly,  the  inhabitants  of  Hungary  and  the 
provinces  of  the  Byzantine  empire  through  which  they  passed 
could  not,  without  miracles,  feed  the  swelling  and,  it  seemed, 
never-ending  swarm  of  strangers.  Hunger  led  to  plunder, 
plunder  to  hostility,  hostility  hardened  and  inflamed  to  the 
most  bitter  mutual  antipathy.  Europe  rang  with  denuncia- 
tions of  the  inhospitality,  the  barbarity  of  these  more  than 
unbelievers,  who  were  accused  of  secret  intelligence  and 
confederacy  with  the  Mahommedans  against  the  cause  of 
Christ. 

The  conduct  of  the  more  regular  army,  which  took  another 
and  less  destructive  course,  was  restrained  by  some  discipline, 
and  maintained  at  first  some  courtesy,  yet  widened  rather 
than  closed  this  irreparable  breach.  The  Emperor  of  the 
Bast  found  that  his  Western  allies  conquered  not  for  him,  but 
for  themselves.  Instead  of  considering  Syria  and  Palestine 
as  parts  of  the  Eastern  empire,  they  created  their  own  inde- 
pendent principalities,  and  owned  no  sovereignty  in  him  who 
claimed  to  be  the  legitimate  lord  of  those  territories.  There 
was  a  singular  sort  of  feudal  title  made  out  to  Palestine.  God 
was  the  Sovereign  owner.  Through  the  Virgin — of  royal 
descent  from  the  house  of  David — it  descended  to  our  Lord. 
At  a  later  period,  the  contempt  of  the  Franks  reached  its 
IV— 8 


114  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

height  iu  their  conquest  of  Constantinople,  and  the  establish- 
ment of  a  Latin  dynasty  on  the  throne  of  the  Eastern  empe- 
rors ;  contempt  which  was  amply  repaid  by  the  hatred  of  the 
Greeks,  who,  when  they  recovered  the  empire,  were  only 
driven  by  hard  necessity  to  cultivate  any  friendly  alliance 
with  the  West. 

II. — The  Pope,  the  clergy,  the  monastic  institutions,  de- 
rived a  vast  accession  of  power,  influence  and  wealth  from 
the  Crusades.  Already  Urban,  by  placing  himself  at  the 
head  of  the  great  movement,  had  enshrined  himself  in  the 
general  reverence  ;  and  to  the  Pope  reverence  was  power  and 
riches.  He  bequeathed  this  great  legacy  of  pre-eminence  to  his 
successors.  The  Pope  was  general-in-chief  of  the  armies 
of  the  faith.  He  assumed  from  the  commencement,  and 
maintained  to  the  end  of  the  Crusades  an  enormous  dispens- 
ing authority,  to  which  no  one  ventured  or  was  disposed  to 
raise  any  objection  ;  not  a  dispensing  authority  only  from  the 
penalties  of  sin  in  this  world  or  the  next,  a  mitigation  of  the 
pains  of  purgatory,  or  a  remittal  of  those  acts  of  penance 
which  the  Church  commuted  at  her  will ;  the  taking  the 
Cross  absolved,  by  his  authority,  from  all  temporal,  civil  and 
social  obligation.  It  substituted  a  new  and  permanent  prin- 
ciple of  obedience  for  feudal  subordination.  The  Pope  became 
the  liege  lord  of  mankind. 

The  prince  who  took  the  Cross  left  his  dominions  under 
the  protection  of  the  Holy  See ;  but  as  the  more  ambitious, 
rapacious  and  irreligious  of  the  neighboring  sovereigns  were 
those  who  remained  behind,  this  security  was  extremely  pre- 
carious. But  the  noble  became  really  exempt  from  most 
feudal  claims  ;  he  could  not  be  summoned  to  the  banner  of  his 
lord  :  even  the  bonds  of  the  villein,  the  serf  and  the  slave  were 
broken  or  enfeebled  ;  the}^  were  free  if  they  could  extricate 
themselves  from  a  power  which,  in  the  eye  of  the  Church,  as 
interfering  with  the  discharge  of  a  higher  duty,  was  lawless, 
to  follow  the  Cross.  Even  the  creditor  could  not  arrest  the 
debtor.  The  crusader  was  the  soldier  of  the  Church,  and  this 
was  his  first  allegiance,  which  released  him  from  all  other. 

The  hold  on  the  human  mind  which,  directly  or  indirectly, 
accrued  to  the  Pope  in  Europe  from  this  right  of  levying  war 


PETER  THE  HERMIT.  II5 

tliroughoiit  Cliristendom  against  tlie  Unbeliever,  of  summon- 
ing, or  at  least  enlisting,  all  mankind  under  the  banner  of  the 
Cross,  could  not  but  increase  in  its  growth  as  long  as  the 
crusading  frenzy  maintained  its  power. 

To  take  the  Cross  was  the  high  price  which  might  obtain 
absolution  for  the  most  enormous  offence ;  and,  therefore, 
if  the  Pope  so  willed,  he  would  be  satisfied  with  nothing  less. 
There  were  few  sovereigns  so  cautious,  or  so  superior  to  the 
dominant  superstition,  as  not,  in  some  period  of  enthusiasm  or 
disaster,  of  ambition  or  affliction,  either  from  the  worldly  de- 
sire of  propitiating  the  favor  of  the  Pope,  or  under  the  pangs 
of  wounded  conscience,  to  entangle  themselves  with  this 
irrevocable  vow ;  that  vow,  at  least,  which  could  only  be 
annulled  by  the  Pope,  who  was  in  general  little  disposed  to 
relax  his  hold  on  his  self-fettered  subject.  The  inexorable 
taskmaster,  to  whom  the  king  or  prince  had  sold  himself  in 
the  hour  of  need,  either  demanded  the  immediate  service,  or 
held  the  mandate  in  terror  over  his  head  to  keep  him  under 
subjection. 

The  legatine  authority  of  the  Pope  expanded  to  a  great 
extent  in  consequence  of  the  Crusades.  Before  this  period,  an 
ecclesiastic,  usually  of  high  rank  or  fame,  had  been  occa- 
sionally commissioned  by  the  Pope  to  preside  in  local  councils, 
to  determine  controversies,  to  investigate  causes,  to  negotiate 
with  sovereigns.  As  acting  in  the  Pope's  person,  he  assumed 
or  exercised  the  right  of  superseding  all  ordinary  jurisdiction — 
that  of  the  bishops,  and  even  of  the  metropolitans.  The 
Crusades  gave  an  opportunitj-  of  sending  legates  into  every 
country'  in  Latin  Christendom,  in  order  to  preach  and  to 
recruit  for  the  Crusades,  to  urge  the  lait)-  who  did  not  take 
up  the  Cross  in  person  to  contribute  to  the  expenses  of  the 
war,  to  authorize  or  to  exact  the  subsidies  of  the  clergy.  The 
public  mind  became  more  and  more  habituated  to  the  pres- 
ence, as  it  were,  of  the  Pope,  by  his  representative,  to  the 
superseding  of  all  authority  in  his  name. 

Not  only  the  secular  clergy,  but  the  monasteries,  were 
bound  to  assign  part  of  their  revenues  for  the  conquest  of  the 
Holy  Land  ;  but  the  vast  increase  in  their  wealth  and  terri- 
torial possessions  more  than  compensated  for  this,  at  first, 


Il6  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND  FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

light  taxation.  There  may  have  been  few,  but  doubtless 
there  were  some,  of  all  ranks  up  to  princedoms,  who,  in  their 
reckless  enthusiasm,  stripped  themselves  of  all  their  goods, 
abandoned  their  lands  and  possessions,  and  reserved  nothing 
but  their  sword,  their  horse,  and  a  trifling  sum  for  their  main- 
tenance, determined  to  seek  either  new  possessions  or  a 
glorious  and  saintly  grave  in  the  Holy  Land.  But  all  were 
suddenly  called  upon  for  a  large  expenditure,  to  meet  which 
they  had  made  no  provision.  The  private  adventurer  had  to 
purchase  his  arms,  his  Milan  or  Damascus  steel,  his  means 
of  transport  and  provision  ;  the  nobles  and  the  princes,  in 
proportion  to  their  rank  and  territory,  to  raise,  arm  and 
maintain  their  vassals.  Multitudes  were  thus  compelled  to 
pledge  or  to  alienate  their  property.  Here  and  there,  pru- 
dent nobles,  or  even  kings,  might  watch  this  favorable  open- 
ing, when  estates  were  thrown  so  prodigally  and  abundantly 
on  the  market.  So  William  Rufus  bought  his  elder  brother's 
dukedom  of  Normandy. 

But  there  was  one  wealthy  body  alone  which  was  not 
deeply  embarked  in  these  costly  undertakings — the  Church. 
The  bishops  who  took  up  the  Cross  might  possibly  burthen, 
they  could  not  alienate,  their  estates.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
clergy  and  the  monasteries  were  everywhere  on  the  spot  to 
avail  themselves  of  the  embarrassments  and  difficulties  of 
their  neighbors,  Godfrey  of  Boulogne  alienated  part  of  his 
estates  to  the  Bishop  of  Verdun  ;  he  pledged  another  part  to 
the  Bishop  of  Liege.  For  at  least  two  centuries  this  traffic 
went  silently  on,  the  Church  always  receiving,  rarely  alienat- 
ing. Whoever,  during  the  whole  period  of  the  Crusades, 
sought  to  whom  he  might  entrust  his  lands  as  guardian,  or  in 
perpetuity,  if  he  should  find  his  grave  or  richer  possessions  in 
the  Holy  Land,  turned  to  the  Church,  by  whose  prayers  he 
might  win  success,  by  whose  masses  the  sin  which  clung  to 
the  soul  even  of  the  soldier  of  the  Cross  might  be  purged 
away.  If  he  returned,  he  returned  often  a  disappointed  and 
melancholy  man,  took  refuge  from  his  despondent  religious 
feelings  in  the  cloister,  and  made  over  his  remaining  rights 
to  his  brethren.  If  he  returned  no  more,  the  Church  was  in 
possession.     Thus  in  every  way  the  all-absorbing  Church  was 


PETER  THE  HERMIT.  I17 

still  gathering  in  wealth,  encircling  new  lands  within  her 
hallowed  pale,  the  one  steady  merchant  who,  in  this  vast 
traffic  and  sale  of  personal  and  of  landed  property,  never 
made  a  losing  venture,  but  went  on  accumulating  and  still 
accumulating,  and  for  the  most  part  withdrawing  the  largest 
portion  of  the  land  in  every  kingdom  into  a  separate  estate, 
which  claimed  exemption  from  all  burthens  of  the  realm, 
until  the  realm  was  compelled  to  take  measures,  violent  often, 
and  iniquitous  in  the  mode,  but  still  inevitable.  The  Church 
which  had  thus  peaceably  despoiled  the  world  was  in  her  turn 
unscrupulously  despoiled, 

III. — The  Crusades  established  in  the  Christian  mind  the 
justice  and  the  piety  of  religious  wars. 

The  first  Crusades  might  be  in  some  degree  vindicated  as 
defensive.  In  the  long  and  implacable  contest,  the  Maliom- 
medan  had,  no  doubt,  been  the  aggressor :  Islam  first  declared 
general  and  irreconcilable  war  against  all  hostile  forms 
of  belief;  the  propagation  of  faith  in  the  Koran  was  the 
avowed  aim  of  its  conquests. 

Neither  the  secure  possession  of  their  vast  Asiatic  do- 
minions of  Egypt,  Africa  and  Spain,  nor  their  great  defeat 
by  Charles  IMartel,  quelled  their  aggressive  ambition.  They 
were  constantly  renewing  hostilities  in  every  accessible  part 
of  the  East  and  West,  threatening,  or  still  further  driving  in, 
the  frontier  of  the  Byzantine  empire,  covering  the  Mediterra- 
nean with  their  fleets,  subduing  Sicily,  and  making  dangerous 
inroads  and  settlements  in  Italy.  New  nations  or  tribes  from 
the  remoter  East,  with  all  the  warlike  propensities  of  the 
Arabs,  but  with  the  fresh  and  impetuous  valor  of  young 
proselytes  to  the  Koran,  were  constantly  pouring  forth  from 
the  steppes  of  Tartary,  the  mountain  glens  of  the  Caucasus  or 
the  Himalaya,  and  infusing  new  life  into  Mahommedanism. 
The  Turks  had  fully  embraced  its  doctrines  of  war  to  all 
of  hostile  faith  in  their  fiercest  intolerance  ;  they  might  seem 
imperiously  to  demand  a  general  confederacy  of  Christendom 
against  this  declared  enemy.  Even  the  oppressions  of  their 
Christian  brethren,  oppressions  avowedly  made  more  cruel  on 
account  of  their  religion,  within  the  dominions  of  the  Ma- 
hommedans,   might  perhaps  justify  an   armed  interference. 


Il8  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

The  iudignities  and  persecutions  to  which  the  pilgrims,  who 
had  been  respected  up  to  this  period,  were  exposed,  the  wan- 
ton and  insulting  desecration  of  the  holy  places,  were  a  kind  of 
declaration  of  war  against  everything  Christian.  But  it  is  more 
easy  in  theory  than  in  fact  to  draw  the  line  between  wars  for 
the  defence  and  for  the  propagation  of  the  faith.  Religious 
war  is  too  impetuous  and  eager  not  to  become  a  fanaticism. 
From  this  period  it  was  an  inveterate,  almost  uncontested, 
tenet,  that  wars  for  religion  were  not  merely  justifiable,  but 
holy  and  Christian,  and,  if  holy  and  Christian,  glorious  above 
all  other  wars.  The  unbeliever  was  the  natural  enemy  of 
Christ  and  of  His  Church ;  if  not  to  be  converted,  to  be  pun- 
ished for  the  crime  of  unbelief,  to  be  massacred,  exterminated 
by  the  righteous  sword.   .  .  . 

IV. — A  fourth  result  of  the  Crusades,  if  in  its  origin  less 
completely  so,  and  more  transitory  and  unreal,  yet  in  its 
remote  influence  felt  and  actually  living  in  the  social  manners 
of  our  own  time,  was  Chivalry,  or  at  least  the  religious  tone 
which  Chivalry  assumed  in  all  its  acts,  language,  and  cere- 
monial. The  Crusades  swept  away,  as  it  were,  the  last  im- 
pediment to  the  wedlock  of  religion  with  the  warlike  propen- 
sities of  the  age.  All  the  noble  sentiments  which,  blended 
together,  are  Chivalry — the  high  sense  of  honor,  the  disdain 
or  passion  for  danger,  the  love  of  adventure,  compassion  for 
the  weak  or  the  oppressed,  generosity,  self-sacrifice,  self-devo- 
tion for  others — found  in  the  Crusades  their  animating  prin- 
ciple, perpetual  occasion  for  their  amplest  exercise,  their  per- 
fection and  consummation.  How  could  the  noble  Christian 
knight  endure  the  insults  to  his  Saviour  and  to  his  God,  the 
galling  shame  that  the  place  of  his  Redeemer's  birth  and 
death  should  be  trampled  by  the  scoffer,  the  denier  of  His 
Divinity?  Where  were  adventures  to  be  sought  so  stirring  as 
in  the  distant,  gorgeous,  mysterious  East,  the  land  of  fabled 
wealth,  the  birthplace  of  wisdom,  of  all  the  religions  of  the 
world  ;  a  land  only  to  be  approached  by  that  which  was  then 
thought  a  long  and  perilous  voyage  along  the  Mediterranean 
Sea,  or  by  land  through  kingdoms  inhabited  by  unknown 
nations  and  people  of  strange  languages ;  through  Constanti- 
nople, the  traditions  of  whose  wealth  and  magnificence  pre- 


PETER  THE   HERMIT. 


119 


vailed  tliroughout  the  West?  For  whom  was  the  lofty  mind 
to  feel  compassion,  if  not  for  the  down-trodden  victim  of  Pa- 
gan mockery  and  oppression,  his  brother-worshiper  of  the 
Cross,  who  for  that  worship  was  suffering  cruel  persecution  ? 
To  what  uses  could  wealth  be  so  fitly  or  lavishly  devoted  as 
to  the  rescue  of  Christ's  Sepulchre  from  the  Infidel?  To 
what  more  splendid  martyrdom  could  the  valiant  man  aspire 
than  to  death  in  the  fields  which  Christ  had  watered  with  His 
own  blood  ?  What  sacrifice  could  be  too  great  ?  Not  even 
the  absolute  abnegation  of  home,  kindred,  the  proud  castle, 
the  host  of  retainers,  the  sumptuous  fare,  for  the  tent  on  the 
desert,  the  scanty  subsistence,  it  might  be  (though  this  they 
would  disdain  to  contemplate)  the  dungeon,  the  bondage  in 
remote  Syria. 

Lastly,  and  above  all,  where  would  be  found  braver  or 
more  worthy  antagonists  than  among  the  Knights  of  the 
Crescent,  the  invaders — too  often,  it  could  not  be  denied,  the 
conquerors  —  of  the  Christian  world?  Hence  it  was  that 
France  and  Spain  were  pre-eminently  the  crusading  king- 
doms of  Europe,  and,  as  it  were,  the  birthplace  of  Chivalry : 
Spain,  as  waging  her  unintermitting  crusade  against  the 
Saracens  of  Granada  and  Cordova  ;  France,  as  furnishing  by 
far  the  most  numerous  and,  it  may  be  said,  with  the  Nor- 
mans, the  most  distinguished  leaders  of  the  Crusades,  from 
Godfrey  of  Boulogne  down  to  St,  Louis  ;  so  that  the  name 
of  Frank  and  of  Christian  became  almost  equivalent  in  the 
East. — H.  H.  MiLMAN. 


•^^W"  ^^ 


HE  crowning-point  of  Godfrey  of  Bouillon's 
career,  the  one  action  with  which  he  has 
become  almost  entirely  identified,  was  the 
recovery  of  Jerusalem  from  Moslem  domina- 
tion. Peter  the  Hermit  formed  the  ferment- 
ing element  to  rouse  the  people  to  the 
religious  enthusiasm  which  Pope  Urban  II. 
officially  sanctioned  and  raised  to  the  highest 
pitch  by  his  eloquence.  But  in  the  great  movement  which 
ensued,  the  First  Crusade,  Godfrey  was  the  central  actuating 
figure,  and  despite  dissensions  and  jealousies  in  his  camp,  to 
him  was  finally  offered  the  highest  honor  that  the  Crusaders 
had  to  bestow, — the  crown  of  Jerusalem. 

Godfrey  was  born  in  1061,  as  the  oldest  son  of  Count 
Eustache  II.  of  Boulogne.  His  first  appearance  in  history  oc- 
curs in  connection  with  his  valiant  espousal  of  the  cause  of 
Henry  IV.  against  the  Pope.  He  planted  the  imperial  standard 
within  the  walls  of  Rome,  and  secured  the  crown  to  Henry.  But 
when  he  was  attacked  by  illness  soon  after,  it  was  but  natural 
for  the  devout  to  see  in  this  a  judgment  from  God  for  his  sacri- 
legious conduct  in  opposing  a  successor  of  St.  Peter.  Perhaps 
Godfrey  himself  saw  in  the  Crusade  an  opportunity  to  gain 
atonement;  at  any  rate,  he  sounded  a  call  to  arms. 

Godfrey,  who  was  known  as  a  brave,  wise  and  upright 
man,  soon  had  a  large  and  orderly  force  under  his  command 
(80,000  foot-soldiers  and  10,000  cavalry,  it  is  said),  among  his 
officers  being  his  brother  Eustace  and  his  half-brother  Bald- 
win. The  troops  marched  in  good  order,  plundering  being 
prohibited.  This  latter  rule,  however,  was  purposely  broken 
in  order  to  bring  the  Greek  Emperor  Alexios  to  terms, 
120 


o 
o 

§ 

b 


GODFREY  OF   BOUIIvLON.  121 

especially  on  his  refusal  to  liberate  Hugh,  Count  of  Verman- 
dois,  brother  of  the  French  king,  and  again  when  he  forbade 
his  subjects  to  sell  provisions  to  the  envoys  of  Godfrey.  The 
treacherous  emperor  planned  a  night  attack  on  the  Crusaders, 
which  was  unsuccessful.  A  peace  was  finally  patched  up, 
and  a  compact  made  by  which  Alexios  agreed  to  supply  food 
to  the  Crusaders,  and  the  chiefs  of  the  latter  acknowledged 
him  as  tlieir  liege  lord  while  they  were  within  the  borders  of 
his  land.  He  went  through  the  ceremony  of  adopting  God- 
frey, who  thus  became  his  vassal  and  protector  of  the  empire. 
But  we  may  well  believe  that  he  did  not  feel  at  ease  until 
Godfrey's  army,  as  well  as  those  of  Bohemond,  Tancred,  and 
Raymond  of  Toulouse,  following  after,  had  crossed  the 
Bosphorus.  These  combined  forces  formed  an  enormous  host, 
the  horsemen  alone  being  reckoned  at  100,000. 

After  some  sharp  encounters  with  the  Seljukian  Sultan 
Kilidje  Arslan,  Nice  (or  NicEea)  was  the  first  place  to  be 
besieged  ;  but  when  the  prize  was  almost  within  their  grasp, 
the  banner  of  the  Greek  Empire  was  seen  floating  on  the 
walls  :  the  city  had  submitted  to  the  envoys  of  Alexios. 
Though  incensed  at  this  selfish  action  of  the  distrustful  and 
intriguing  emperor,  the  Crusaders  did  not  interfere,  but 
resumed  their  march.  A  day  later  (July  4,  1097),  Kilidje 
Arslan  attacked  the  Christian  army,  and  was  routed  after  a 
fierce  conflict  ;  but  the  Turks  managed  to  ravage  the  land  in 
advance  of  the  Crusaders,  so  that  the  march  of  the  latter 
through  Phrygia  was  attended  by  terrible  suflering.  Dissen- 
sions arose  among  the  warriors  of  the  cross  ;  Baldwin  quar- 
reled with  Tancred,  and,  pursuing  his  own  advancement, 
hastened  to  aid  the  Greek  or  Armenian  tyrant  of  Edessa,  who 
adopted  him  as  his  son.  By  the  beginning  of  October,  the 
main  army  lay  before  Antioch  on  the  Orontes,  the  capital 
of  S^Tia  ;  but  Godfre}'  had  fallen  ill,  a  spirit  of  lawlessness 
was  beginning  to  pervade  the  ranks  (there  were  even  some 
desertions,  as  those  of  the  Coimt  de  Llelun  and  later  of 
Stephen  de  Blois),  and  the  machiner}'  of  war  at  their  com- 
mand was  quite  inadequate.  Thus  much  time  was  wasted, 
and  with  the  winter  season  came  hunger  and  disease.  The 
siege  was  carried  on  with   persistence,  however,  and  the  city 


122  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS   KVENTS, 

was  finally  betrayed  into  the  hands  of  the  crusading  army  by 
Phirouz,  a  renegade  Christian,  whose  aid  Bohemond  had 
secured.  Some  of  the  Christians  mounted  the  walls  at  night, 
opened  the  gate,  their  companions  rushed  in,  and  Antioch 
was  taken  with  great  and  savage  carnage. 

The  joy  of  the  Crusaders  at  this  achievement  did  not  last 
long,  for  they  were  speedily  hemmed  in  by  the  hosts  of  Kerboga, 
Prince  of  Mosul,  and  famine  once  more  stared  them  in  the 
face.  Despair  seized  upon  the  soldiers,  and  the  bands  of  dis- 
cipline became  loosened  ;  while  in  this  dark  hour  there  were 
also  not  wanting  those  who  saw  visions  promising  succor. 
Finally  Peter  Barthelemy,  chaplain  of  Raymond  of  Toulouse, 
roused  religious  fervor  by  announcing  that  St,  Andrew  had 
revealed  to  him  the  fact  that  in  the  Church  of  St.  Peter  was 
hidden  the  Roman  spear  which  pierced  the  Saviour's  side. 
A  search  was  instituted,  a  day  spent  in  digging,  and  a  weapon 
finally  found,  which  was  borne  by  Adhemar,  Bishop  of  Puy, 
when  the  crusaders  sallied  forth  to  meet  the  besieging  army. 
This  was  on  June  28,  1098  ;  and  though  Kerboga's  vast  host 
gave  him  a  temporary  advantage,  yet  the  tide  of  battle  was 
turned  by  one  of  those  supposedly  supernatural  events  which 
so  frequently  fired  the  courage  of  the  Crusaders,  White 
figures,  mounted,  were  seen  on  the  neighboring  mountains  ; 
"  The  saints  are  coming  to  your  aid,"  shouted  the  Bishop  of 
Puy,  and  the  soldiers,  uttering  their  war-cry  "God  wills  it," 
rushed  with  irresistible  force  upon  their  enemies,  whom  they 
routed  completely. 

After  this  victory,  the  army  returned  to  Antioch  :  the 
severe  heat  of  summer,  which  would  be  even  harder  to  bear 
on  the  arid  and  barren  roads  to  Jerusalem,  made  a  season  of 
rest  appear  necessary.  Hugh  of  Vermandois  and  Baldwin  of 
Hainault  were  sent  to  Alexios  to  remonstrate  with  him  for 
withholding  his  promised  aid.  But  Baldwin  fell  into  the 
hands  of  the  Turks,  and  Hugh,  after  having  met  the  emperor, 
returned  to  Europe.  Lleanwhile  there  were  bickerings  and 
quarrels  among  the  crusading  chiefs,  a  feeling  of  discourage- 
ment was  spreading  through  the  army,  and  a  plague  broke 
out,  which  claimed  many  noble  victims,  among  whom  was 
the  Bishop  of  Puy. 


GODFREY   OF  BOUILLON,  1 23 

Finally,  after  taking  ]\Iarra  with  great  slaughter,  the  army 
set  out  for  Jerusalem,  in  May,  1099,  reaching  the  goal  of  their 
long  pilgrimage  early  in  June.  As  their  eyes  rested  upon  the 
hallowed  spot  for  which  they  had  endured  so  much  misery,  a 
transport  of  ecstatic  joy  seized  upon  them  :  they  approached 
the  city  in  solemn  awe.  An  ill-timed  though  impetuous 
attack  resulted  in  a  repulse  for  the  Crusaders,  and  they  now 
began  a  siege  which  was  again  marked  by  great  suffering 
from  hunger  and  thirst.  Adequate  engines  of  war  were  con- 
structed, and  on  July  14,  1099,  the  final  attack  began.  All 
day  long  it  raged,  and  on  the  morrow  the  battle  was  resumed. 
Once  again  did  a  vision  serve  to  rouse  the  flagging  zeal  of  the 
Crusaders  :  a  knight  in  shining  array  was  seen  on  Mount 
Olivet,  apparently  urging  on  the  Christians  to  new  efforts. 
"It  is  St.  George,"  cried  Godfrey,  and  his  men,  thus  made 
confident  of  success,  returned  to  the  charge  with  renewed 
vigor.  In  the  afternoon,  the  conquest  of  Jerusalem  was  finally 
achieved,  Lutold  of  Tournay  being  the  first  one  to  stand  on 
the  walls  of  the  city,  closely  followed  by  his  brother  Engel- 
bert,  Godfrey,  and  others.  Slaughter  without  mercy  now 
ensued  :  full  retribution  was  meted  out  to  the  IMoslems  for 
their  former  cruelties,  oppression  and  insults.  When  this 
dreadful  carnage  was  over,  the  crusaders  turned  to  thoughts 
of  devotion,  giving  reverent  thanks  to  God  for  this  victory 
vouchsafed  to  the  armies  of  Christendom. 

The  business  of  conquest  having  been  attended  to,  meas- 
ures were  taken  to  secure  a  stable  government,  and  Godfrey 
was  chosen  king,  a  title  w^hich  he  declined  to  assume,  pre- 
ferring to  bear  that  of  Defender  and  Baron  of  the  Holy  Sepul- 
chre. His  reign  lasted  hardly  a  year ;  but  during  this  short 
period,  a  code  of  laws,  known  as  the  Assizes  of  Jerusalem,  is 
said  to  have  been  compiled ;  but  some  authorities  assign  this 
code  to  a  later  century,  though  it  may  have  embodied  some 
laws  promulgated  by  Godfrey.  It  is  also  worthy  of  note  that 
under  him  the  Knights  Hospitallers,  devoted  to  the  care  of  the 
sick  and  the  poor,  came  into  existence,  eventually  to  become 
a  famous  order.  But  he  could  not  give  undivided  attention 
to  these  works  of  peace.  He  had  to  march  against  the  forces 
of  the  Caliph  of  Egypt,  who  were  attacking  Ascalon,  and 


124  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS   e;ve;nTS. 

whom  lie  completely  routed.  On  a  later  occasion,  in  the 
summer  of  iioo,  when  returning  to  the  city  from  an  expedi- 
tion, he  was  seized  with  a  fever,  to  which  he  soon  succumbed, 
on  July  1 8th,  in  the  prime  of  manhood. 

If  some  of  his  actions  seem  hardly  in  accordance  with  the 
nobility  of  character  generally  ascribed  to  him,  we  must  not 
forget  the  manners  and  morals  of  his  time,  and  the  men  he 
had  to  deal  with.  Judging  him  from  this  point  of  view,  and 
relatively,  Foulcher's  characterization  does  not  appear  over- 
drawn when  he  speaks  of  the  "excellence  of  his  nobility, 
his  valor  as  a  knight,  his  gentleness  of  manner,  modest 
patience,  and  admirable  morals."  He  was  worthy  to  be  taken 
as  the  hero  of  the  Christian  Iliad,  Tasso's  Geriisalemme 
Liberata. 

The  Siege  of  Jerusalem. 

It  was  a  beautiful  summer  morning  in  the  month  of  June, 
and  ere  the  great  body  of  the  Crusade  had  proceeded  many 
miles  the  day  broke  in  all  the  majesty  of  Eastern  light.  They 
had  just  reached  the  summit  of  a  gentle  hill,  when,  starting 
up  with  the  rapidity  which  characterizes  the  dawn  of  Syria, 
the  sun  rushed  forth,  and  they  beheld  in  the  distance  a  rocky 
steep,  crowned  with  towers,  and  walls,  and  domes,  and  mina- 
rets. ' '  Jerusalem  !  Jerusalem  ! ' '  became  the  cry  throughout 
the  army,  as  the  object  of  all  their  toil,  and  labor,  and  strife, 
and  suffering  appeared  before  their  eyes.  All  that  they  had 
endured  up  to  that  moment, — weariness,  thirst,  famine, 
pestilence,  and  the  sword, — were  forgotten  in  exceeding  great 
joy,  or  only  remembered  to  render  that  joy  more  ecstatic  and 
overpowering.  The  effect  could  scarcely  be  borne  :  some 
laughed,  some  wept,  some  shouted  "  Hierosolyma  !  "  some 
cast  themselves  on  the  ground,  some  fainted,  and  some  died 
upon  the  spot. 

The  more  devout  of  the  pilgrims  pulled  off  their  shoes, 
and  approached  the  scene  of  our  redemption  barefoot  ;  but 
the  general  feeling  which  succeeded  to  the  emotions  produced 
by  the  first  sight  of  the  city  was  wrath  at  seeing  it  in  the 
hands  of  the  Infidel.  The  soldiery  advanced  with  a  strong 
determination  of  spending  the  last  drop  of  their  blood  to  free 


GODFRKY   OF  BOUILLON.  1 25 

the  Redeemer's  tomb  from  the  power  of  the  Mussuhnan;  and 
after  a  skirmish,  in  which  some  Saracens,  who  had  come  forth 
to  reconnoitre,  were  driven  in,  the  barbicans  were  carried  by 
Godfrey,  Tancred,  and  others,  the  wall  itself  was  reached, 
and  the  assault  commenced  with  mattocks,  axes,  and  whatever 
other  instruments  could  be  procured.  Some  short  ladders 
enabled  the  Crusaders  to  climb  up  the  wall,  so  as  to  urge  the 
strife  with  the  enemy  upon  the  battlements  ;  but  those  ma- 
chines were  not  sufficiently  tall  or  numerous  to  afford  any 
prospect  of  success.  The  Saracens  assailed  the  Christians,  as 
they  approached,  with  stones,  arrows,  and  Greek  fire  ;  and  as 
night  advanced  it  was  found  necessary  to  withdraw  the  troops 
of  the  Crusade,  and  to  delay  any  farther  attack  till  catapults, 
mangonels,  and  the  usual  implements  of  war  had  been  pro- 
vided. Wood  for  the  construction  of  these  machines  was 
procured  from  Sichon  ;  some  Genoese  seamen,  who  had  landed 
at  Jaffa,  and  who  were  famous  for  their  skill  in  mechanics, 
aided  greatly  in  preparing  the  artillery  afterwards  used  :  but 
still  much  time  was  occupied  in  this  task  ;  and  in  the  mean- 
while a  precaution  taken  by  the  commander  of  the  Egyptians, 
named  Iftikhur-eddaule  ("the  Glory  of  the  Empire  ")  operated 
terriblv  ao-ainst  the  Christians.  In  the  hottest  and  most  arid 
part  of  the  year,  he  had  filled  up  all  the  wells,  and  the  streams 
had  been  dried  by  the  sun  :  such  was  the  drought  in  the 
Christian  camp,  that  a  drop  of  liquid  was  not  to  be  procured 
for  a  piece  of  gold.  Springs,  however,  were  at  length  dis- 
covered at  a  considerable  distance  from  the  citv  ;  but  the  ser- 
vice  of  procuring  water  was  a  very  dangerous  one,  as  the 
IMussulman  forces  invested  the  whole  of  the  surrounding 
country,  and  cut  off  any  small  bodies  which  strayed  from  the 
Christian  camp. 

The  modern  city  comprised  within  its  fortifications  four  of 
the  mountains,  or  rather  hills,  on  which  the  capital  of  the 
Hebrews  was  anciently  seated.  These  were  ]\Ioria,  Golgotha, 
Bezetha,  and  Acra  ;  Mount  Sion  had  been  left  out  in  the  cir- 
cuit of  the  walls,  though  it  would  appear  that  they  extended 
some  way  up  the  rise  of  that  hill.  On  three  sides  the  place 
was  defended  by  deep  valleys  ;  the  Valle}^  of  Josaphat  on  the 
east,  that  of  Ennom  on  the  south,  and  a  lateral  branch  of  the 


126  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

same  valley  on  the  west :  on  the  north  the  approach  was  open. 
A  narrow  valley  also  divided  the  old  town  into  two  parts,  the 
largest  of  which  was  Mount  Moria. 

The  camp  of  the  Crusaders,  as  at  first  marked  out,  extended 
from  the  north-eastern  angle  to  the  most  western  gate  of  the 
city;  Godfrey  himself  with  his  troops  ending  the  line  towards 
the  east,  and  the  Count  of  St.  Giles  towards  the  west.  But 
shortly  after  the  various  posts  had  been  assigned,  the  Pro- 
venjal  leader,  finding  that  the  deep  valley  between  him  and 
the  walls  must  prove  a  continual  obstacle  to  his  operations, 
removed  with  a  part  of  his  troops  to  the  rise  of  Mount  Sion, 
notwithstanding  the  strenuous  opposition  of  the  other  leaders, 
who  were  greatly  offended  by  this  proceeding,  and  refused  to 
give  him  any  assistance  in  defending  his  new  camp.  He  con- 
trived, nevertheless,  to  seduce  a  number  of  the  soldiery  from 
the  quarters  of  his  neighbors  ;  and  thus  the  dissensions,  as 
well  as  the  vices,  of  the  Crusaders  were  renewed  under  the 
walls  of  Jerusalem,  and  seem  not  to  have  been  less  than  at 
Antioch  or  Marrah. 

The  construction  of  the  machines  went  on,  however,  from 
day  to  day,  and  a  period  was  fixed  for  the  recommencement  of 
the  attack.  The  importance  of  the  undertaking,  the  probable 
death  of  many  there  present,  the  revival  of  hopes  and  expecta- 
tions caused  by  preparations  for  the  last  grand  effort,  at  length 
re-awakened  in  the  bosoms  of  the  Crusaders  the  finer  and 
higher  feelings  which  had  at  one  time  entirely  possessed  them. 
The  princes  met  together  and  consulted  ;  the  clergy  inter- 
posed, and  represented  how  unfit  were  men  soiled  with  vices, 
and  heated  with  contention  amongst  themselves,  to  fight  for 
the  deliverance  of  the  Sepulchre  of  Christ,  and  attempt  the 
recovery  of  the  City  of  God.  The  hearts  of  the  hearers  were 
melted,  and  setting  an  example  to  the  whole  host,  Tancred 
offered  to  be  reconciled  to  his  enemy  the  Count  of  Toulouse, 
and  embraced  him  in  the  face  of  the  army.  All  the  other 
quarrels  and  dissensions  ceased  at  the  same  time.  The  princes 
and  the  soldiery  were  exhorted  to  repent  by  Peter  the  Hermit, 
who  had  now  recovered  a  considerable  portion  of  his  influ- 
ence ;  and  a  solemn  procession  round  the  walls  took  place  to 
the  sounds  of  psalms  and  hymns,  while  the  priests,  barefooted, 


GODFREY   OF  BOUILLON.  1 27 

bore  the  symbols  of  salvation,  and  the  warriors  followed, 
repeating  aloud,  "  God  wills  it !  God  wills  it !  "  Various  acts 
of  devotion  and  penance  were  performed  ;  and  the  excitement 
of  men's  minds  caused  the  enthusiastic  to  see  visions  and 
hear  prophecies,  and  the  credulous  to  believe  them.  But  as 
the  hour  approached,  hope  and  expectation  were  raised  as 
well  as  superstition,  and  one  of  the  military  proceedings  of 
Godfrey,  which  had  something  marvellous  in  its  character, 
increased  the  confidence  of  the  people. 

Various  warlike  machines,  of  great  power  and  immense 
bulk,  had  been  constructed  opposite  those  points  in  the  fortifi- 
cations which  the  leaders  intended  to  attack  ;  but  the  Duke  of 
Lorraine  had  remarked  that  where  he,  the  Count  of  Flanders, 
and  Robert  of  Normandy  had  set  down,  the  Saracens  had 
never  ceased  to  strengthen  their  defences.  The  walls,  also, 
were  there  extremely  high,  the  ditch  deep,  and  the  valley 
rugged,  and,  not  long  before  the  assault  took  place,  Godfrey 
formed  the  sudden  determination  of  moving  the  immense 
tower,  and  all  the  other  large  engines  which  he  had  con- 
structed, as  well  as  his  camp  itself,  to  a  spot  between  the  gate 
of  St,  Stephen  and  the  valley  of  Josaphat,  nearly  a  mile  from 
his  former  position.  The  ground  there  was  more  even,  and 
the  Saracens,  not  expecting  attack  upon  that  side,  had  made 
no  addition  to  the  defences,  so  that  a  fairer  prospect  of  success 
was  to  be  found  in  that  quarter.  In  the  course  of  one  night 
the  whole  of  this  operation  was  completed,  the  engines  were 
taken  down,  carried  piece  by  piece  to  the  spot  selected,  and 
then  reconstructed  ;  and  when  day  dawned  on  the  following 
morning,  the  Christians  and  the  Saracens  were  both  astonished 
to  behold  the  camp  of  Godfrey  pitched  opposite  the  weakest 
point  of  the  city.  Some  time  was  still  occupied  in  filling  up 
a  part  of  the  ditch  so  as  to  enable  the  machines  to  be  brought 
close  to  the  walls  ;  but  at  length  all  was  completed,  and  on 
the  morning  of  Thursday,  the  14th  of  July,  1099,  the  attack 
commenced.  The  soldiers  of  the  Crusade  took  their  places  in 
the  movable  towers,  which  were  raised  to  such  a  height  as  to 
overtop  the  walls  ;  the  catapults  were  pushed  forward  to  batter 
the  defences,  and  the  sow  was  dragged  along  to  sap  the 
foundations,  while  the  mangonels  and  ballista  were  brought  as 


128  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS   AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS- 

near  as  possible,  to  cast  masses  of  stone  and  darts  with  the 
greatest  possible  effect. 

As  soon  as  tlie  Saracens  belield  tlie  Christian  army  in 
motion,  showers  of  arrows  and  javelins  were  poured  forth 
from  the  battlements,  and  when  the  towers  and  the  instru- 
ments for  the  sap  came  near,  immense  pieces  of  rock,  beams 
of  wood,  balls  of  flame,  and  torrents  of  the  unextinguishable 
Greek  fire,  were  cast  down  upon  the  heads  of  the  Crusaders. 
Still,  however,  they  rushed  on,  undaunted  and  unchecked  : 
the  knights  of  the  highest  reputation  occupying  the  upper 
storeys  of  the  towers,  while  Godfrey  himself  was  seen  armed 
with  a  bow,  and  exposed  to  all  the  shafts  of  the  enemy, 
sending  death  around  him  with  an  unerring  hand. 

In  the  meanwhile  a  great  number  of  the  soldiers  were 
busily  employed  in  working  the  machines,  while  others  cov- 
ered the  operations  of  those  who  had  approached  close  to  the 
wall  by  incessant  flights  of  arrows.  The  Saracens,  however, 
opposed  them  with  the  energy  of  men  fighting  for  their  hearths 
and  homes,  and  the  valor  of  the  Crusaders  themselves  was 
only  equal  to  the  determined  courage  of  the  defenders  of 
Jerusalem.  From  morning  till  nightfall  the  combat  continued ; 
but  at  length  darkness  fell  over  the  earth,  and  the  city  was 
not  yet  taken.  The  walls  of  Jerusalem  were  much  injured, 
as  were  also  the  military  engines  of  the  besiegers  ;  but  during 
the  night  both  hosts  labored  diligently,  and  the  damage  done 
was  repaired  before  the  morning. 

The  fifteenth  of  the  month  dawned  at  length,  and  found 
the  Crusaders  in  no  degree  discouraged  by  their  previous  v/ant 
of  success.  On  the  contrary,  the  strife  of  the  preceding  day 
seemed  but  to  have  added  fierceness  and  vehemence  to  their 
valor,  and  the  assault  recommenced  with  the  same  activity  as 
on  the  first  day.  All  the  strong  and  active  men  in  the  army 
were  engaged  in  the  attack.  Those  whom  the  military 
machines  could  not  contain  were  occupied  in  plying  the 
mangonels  and  battering-rams.  The  old  and  the  feeble,  too, 
busied  themselves  in  bringing  up  missiles  and  assisting  the 
wounded  ;  and  the  women  mingled  with  the  soldiers,  bearing 
to  them  needful  supplies  of  water  and  provisions.  Thus 
lasted  the  fight  through  the  greater  part  of  Friday,  and  vie- 


GODFREY   OF   BOUII.IvON.  1 29 

tory  seemed  as  far  off  as  ever.  A  great  deal  of  confusion  and 
disarray  existed  in  the  ranks  of  the  Crusaders  ;  many  were 
slain,  many  more  were  wounded,  and  scarcely  any  progress 
had  been  made  in  battering  the  walls  or  breaking  down  the 
gates.  The  shower  of  arrows  and  other  missiles  from  the  bat- 
tlements was  as  fierce  as  ever  ;  and  several  of  the  Christian  sol- 
diery were  seen  withdrawing  from  the  ranks,  when  suddenly, 
on  a  conspicuous  part  of  Mount  Olivet,  a  knight  in  shining 
armour  was  beheld  waving  on  the  dismayed  Crusaders  to 
return  to  the  attack.  A  cry  spread  through  the  army  that  St. 
George  had  come  down  from  heaven  to  help  them.  All  eyes 
beheld  the  figure  of  him  on  whom  this  designation  was  be- 
stowed ;  and  with  renewed  courage  they  rushed  again  to  the 
assault. 

As  usually  happens  on  such  occasions,  two  or  three  advan- 
tages were  gained  at  different  points,  nearly  at  the  same 
moment.  The  gate  of  St.  Stephen  shook  under  the  blows  of 
Tancred,  Robert  of  Normandy,  and  the  Count  of  Flanders.' 
An  immense  gabion  of  straw  and  cotton,  which  had  been  let 
down  to  protect  the  walls  from  the  blows  of  a  battering-ram 
placed  near  Godfrey  of  Bouillon  himself,  was  set  on  fire  and 
destroyed.  The  flames,  which  for  a  moment  were  very  vio- 
lent, drove  the  defenders  from  that  part  of  the  battlements  ; 
the  movable  tower  of  the  Duke  was  pushed  uj)  close  to  the 
wall,  and  one  side  of  the  highest  stage  being,  as  usual,  con- 
structed so  as  to  let  down  and  form  a  sort  of  bridge,  was 
suffered  to  descend.  A  knight  of  Tournay,  called  lyutold,  at 
that  moment  set  the  example  to  the  whole  host,  and  sprang 
from  the  platform  upon  the  rampart  of  the  besieged  city. 
Another  followed,  and  then  Godfrey,  Baldwin  de  Bourg,  and 
Eustace,  the  brother  of  the  Duke,  one  after  the  other,  leaped 
down  to  the  support  of  Lutold. 

At  that  moment  the  standard  of  the  Cross  was  seen  float- 
ing over  the  walls  of  Jerusalem,  and  with  loud  shouts  the 
whole  crusading  army  pressed  forward  to  assail  the  city  with 
furious  energy.  An  instant  after,  the  gate  of  St.  Stephen 
gave  way,  and  Tancred  and  the  two  Roberts  rushed  in,  fol- 
lowed by  the  troops  of  Normandy,  Flanders  and  Otranto.  By 
this  time  a  breach  had  been  effected  in  another  part  of  the 
IV — g 


130  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

wall  ;  and  there,  too,  the  German  soldiers  were  entering  in 
crowds,  while  numbers  of  the  most  resolute  and  gallant 
soldiers  in  the  army  poured  down  from  the  tower,  to  support 
Godfrey  and  his  companions  in  possession  of  the  wall. 

The  news  soon  reached  the  Count  of  Toulouse  on  the  other 
side  of  the  city  that  his  companions  were  within  the  gates  ; 
and  emulous  of  their  achievement,  he  abandoned  the  efforts 
he  was  making  from  his  movable  tower,  caused  scaling-ladders 
to  be  brought,  and  effected  an  entrance  by  escalade. 

Despair  took  possession  of  the  Mahommedan  population  ; 
but  it  was  not  a  cowardly  despair,  and  they  protracted  the 
struggle  in  the  streets  for  a  considerable  time.  Some  of  the 
Crusaders  gave  themselves  up  to  plunder  ;  but  Godfrey  and 
the  great  mass  of  the  Christian  force  thought  of  nothing  but 
slaughter.  They  recollected  all  the  barbarous  cruelties  which 
had  been  exercised  during  several  centuries  upon  the  faithful; 
they  recollected  that  but  a  few  days  before  they  had  seen  the 
men  with  whom  they  now  fought  hand  to  hand,  raising  the 
symbol  of  Christ's  suffering  upon  the  walls  of  the  very  city 
where  He  suffered,  and  casting  filth  and  ordure  upon  the  sign 
of  our  salvation.  They  drove  them  through  the  streets,  they 
followed  them  into  the  houses,  they  slaughtered  them  in  the 
temples.  For  many  hours  no  mercy  was  shown;  and  in  one 
day,  the  fierce  sword  of  enthusiastic  intolerance  did  more  than 
avenge  the  wrongs  of  four  hundred  years. 

The  most  terrible  slaughter  that  took  place  was  in  the 
mosque  of  Omar,  where  an  immense  body  of  the  Mussulman 
population  had  taken  refuge,  and  in  which  they  made  a 
furious  and  determined  resistance.  It  was  some  time  before 
the  Crusaders  could  force  their  wa}^  in;  but  when  they  had 
done  so,  the  massacre  was  awful.  The  blood  poured  from  the 
temple  in  streams,  and  we  are  assured  that  in  the  court  the 
flood  of  gore,  before  it  could  escape,  rose  to  the  knees  of  the 
mounted  knights  and  the  bridles  of  the  horses.  Ten  thousand 
men  were  slain  therein,  and  several  thousand  took  refuge  on 
the  roof  of  the  temple,  and  prepared  to  defend  themselves  to 
the  last. 

The  day  was  now  too  far  spent  for  the  Crusaders  to  attack 
them  in  this  last  stronghold,  and  as  the  fierceness  of  strife  was 


GODFREY   OF   BOUILI^ON.  I3I 

now  beo-iniiiiio:  to  subside,  the  thirst  for  infidel  blood  was  well 
nigh  sated.  Even  on  that  first  day  a  great  number  were  spared; 
and  on  the  second,  the  only  farther  slaughter  that  took  place 
occurred  at  the  fatal  mosque  of  Omar.  It  would  appear,  from 
the  account  of  Robert,  that  the  conquerors  offered  their 
lives  to  the  Saracen  soldiery  if  they  would  surrender : 
but  the  Moslems,  well  knowing  that  slavery  was  to  be 
their  destiny  if  they  submitted,  made  up  their  minds  to 
death.  The  passage  to  the  top  of  the  temple  was  forced 
by  the  Christians,  and  many  of  the  Saracens  were  slaughtered 
on  the  roof,  many  cast  themselves  down  and  were  dashed  to 
pieces. 

As  soon  as  the  capture  of  Jerusalem  was  complete,  and  the 
great  work  for  which  they  had  come  so  many  miles,  and  en- 
dured so  many  evils,  was  accomplished,  the  leaders  of  the 
Crusade  threw  off  the  panoply  of  war,  and  putting  on  the  vest- 
ments of  penitents,  proceeded  from  one  holy  place  to  another 
to  offer  up  their  adorations  with  prayers  and  tears.  The  places 
of  peculiar  sanctity  were  purified  and  washed  from  the  blood 
with  which  they  were  stained,  and  the  grand  consideration 
then  became,  how  the  Christian  dominion,  which  it  had  cost 
so  much  to  re-establish  in  the  East,  could  be  best  maintained, 
surrounded  as  it  was  on  every  side  by  infidel  enemies,  whom 
every  principle  of  policy  should  have  taught  to  unite  for  the 
purpose  of  crushing  the  small  body  of  inveterate  foes  which 
had  succeeded  in  planting  the  banner  of  the  Cross  where  the 
standard  of  Islam  had  so  long  stood  unassailed. 

Some  time  before  the  capture  of  the  city  of  Jerusalem,  the 
difficulties  and  dangers  wdiich  surrounded  the  Crusaders  had 
called  forth  a  proposal  which  no  one  had  dreamed  of  at  the 
commencement  of  the  Crusade.  A  part  of  the  troops  clam- 
ored loudly  for  the  election  of  a  King  :  and  the  dissensions 
which  had  taken  place  amongst  the  leaders,  with  the  general 
want  of  unity  in  object,  and  in  action,  which  had  been  con- 
spicuous in  all  their  proceedings  since  the  siege  of  Antioch, 
certainly  showed,  in  a  manner  likely  to  convince  the  blindest, 
that  a  leader  was  wanting,  endowed  with  greater  powers  than 
those  which  the  princes  of  the  Crusade  had  conferred  upon 
Godfrey.     So  general  was  this  feeling  that,  at  the  end  of  eight 


132  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

days,  the   principal   cliiefs   met   together  to  elect  a  King  of 
Jerusalem. 

"By  the  common  decree  of  all,"  says  Robert  the  Monk, 
"by  universal  wish,  and  general  assent,  the  Duke  Godfrey 
was  elected,  on  the  eighth  day  after  the  capture  of  the  city  ; 
and  well  did  they  all  concur  in  such  a  choice,  for  he  showed 
himself  such  in  his  government,  that  he  did  more  honor  to 
the  royal  dignity  than  that  dignity  conferred  on  him.  This 
honor  did  not  make  him  illustrious,  but  the  glory  of  the  honor 
was  multiplied  by  him.  He  showed  himself  so  superior 
and  excellent  in  royal  majesty,  that  if  it  had  been  possible  to 
bring  all  the  kings  of  the  earth  around  him,  he  would  have 
been  judged  by  all,  the  first  in  chivalrous  qualities,  in  beauty 
of  face  and  body,  and  noble  regularity  of  life." 

Godfrey  was  probably  one  of  the  few  who  did  not  seek  the 
honor  imposed  upon  him,  but,  on  the  contrary,  notwithstand- 
ing the  pressing  entreaties  of  his  fellow  princes,  he  declined 
to  receive  the  title  of  King,  declaring  that  he  would  never 
wear  a  crown  of  gold  in  a  city  where  his  Saviour  had  worn  a 
crown  of  thorns,  and  that  he  was  contented  with  the  title  of 
Defender  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre. — G.  P.  R.  James. 

THE  DKIvIVERER  OF  JERUSALEM. 

I  sing  the  pious  arms  and  Chief,  who  freed 
The  Sepulchre  of  Christ  from  thrall  profane ; 
Much  did  he  toil  in  thought,  and  much  in  deed  ; 
Much  in  the  glorious  enterprise  sustain  ; 
And  Hell  in  vain  opposed  him  ;  and  in  vain 
Afric  and  Asia  to  the  rescue  pour'd 
Their  mingled  tribes  ; — Heaven  recompensed  his  pain 
And  from  all  fruitless  sallies  of  the  sword, 
True  to  the  Red-Cross  flag  his  wandering  friends  restored. 

O  thou,  the  Muse,  that  not  with  fading  palms 
Circlest  thy  brows  on  Pindus,  but  among 
The  Angels  warbling  their  celestial  psalms, 
Hast  for  thy  coronal  a  golden  throng 
Of  everlasting  stars !  make  thou  my  song 
Lucid  and  pure ;  breathe  thou  the  flame  divine 


GODFREY  OP  BOU]XI.ON.  133 

Into  my  bosom ;  and  forgive  the  wrong, 
If  with  grave  truth  light  fiction  I  combine, 
And  sometimes  grace  my  page  with  other  flowers  than 
thine !  .  .   . 

Six  summers  now  were  pass'd,  since  in  the  East 
Their  high  Crusade  the  Christians  had  begun ; 
And  Nice  by  storm,  and  Antioch  had  they  seized 
By  secret  guile,  and  gallantly,  when  won, 
Held  in  defiance  of  the  myriads  dun, 
Press' d  to  its  conquest  by  the  Persian  king; 
Tortosa  sack'd,  when  now  the  sullen  sun 
Enter' d  Aquarius,  to  breme  winter's  wing 
The  quarter' d  hosts  give  place,  and  wait  the  coming 
spring.  .  .  . 

All  things  on  earth  God  views ;  at  length  His  eyes 
Upon  the  Christian  Powers  in  Syria  rest, 
And  with  that  clear  inspection  which  descries 
The  most  conceal' d  affections  of  the  breast. 
He  notices  how  Godfrey  burns  to  wrest 
From  hand  profane  the  consecrated  town, 
And,  heaven  affecting,  in  what  slight  request 
He  holds  the  meaner  joys  of  earth — renown. 
Treasure,  and  purple  power,  and  glory's  meteor  crown.   .  .  . 

"Godfrey,"  said  Gabriel,  "the  suited  time  that  calls 
Beleaguer' d  hosts  to  arms,  at  length  survey; 
Why,  while  Oppression  sits  in  Salem's  halls, 
And  Fortune  beckons,  this  supine  delay? 
Call  now  the  Princes  of  your  arm'd  array 
To  solemn  council,  and  if  sloth  dissuade, 
Spur  thou  them  on  the  city  to  assay ; 
Thee  God  elects  to  guide  their  blest  crusade. 
And,  chosen  of  all,  by  all  thy  voice  shall  be  obey'd : 

"  His  messenger  I  am,  and  thus  reveal 

To  thee  His  sacred  will ;  of  victory  rare 

What  hopes  should  hence  be  thine  ;  and  O,  what  zeal 

For  the  brave  hosts  committed  to  thy  care  ! ' ' 

He  spoke ;  he  ceased  ;  and,  vanishing  in  air, 

To  the  serenest  and  the  loftiest  part 


134  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND  FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

Of  heaven  flew  back ;  long  dazzled  by  the  glare 
Of  the  bright  vision,  and  amazed  at  heart, 
Godfrey  with  upraised  eyes  remain' d,  and  lips  apart. 

But  when,  recovering  spirit,  he  discern'd 
Who  sent,  who  came,  and  what  was  the  command. 
If  late  he  glow'd,  he  now  with  ardor  burn'd 
To  end  the  war  committed  to  his  hand : 
Not  that  ambition's  breath  his  bosom  fann'd 
In  vain-glorious  pride,  from  so  entire 
A  preference  o'er  the  rest,  but  as  a  brand 
Or  living  coal  in  a  refulgent  fire. 
In  his  LrOrd's  will  becomes  his  own  desire. 

Then  from  their  various  posts  his  valiant  friends, 
Not  far  dispersed,  to  council  he  invites ; 
Message  on  message,  scroll  on  scroll,  he  sends, 
And  strong  entreaty  to  advice  unites  ; 
Whatso  might  most  from  indolent  delights 
Rouse  the  reluctant,  whatso  most  might  reach 
And  quicken  generous  natures,  he  indites ; 
Meets  all  men's  moods,  and  with  such  charms  of  speech, 
That  while  he  all  compels,  he  wins  and  pleases  each. 

All,  except  Bohemond,  attend ;  in  train 
The  busy  people  flock  behind  ;  part  wait 
Without,  encamp' d  upon  the  ample  plain. 
The  rest  Tortosa  holds  from  gate  to  gate : 
Baron,  and  prince,  and  helmed  potentate 
The  Consistory  crowd,  a  solemn  throng. 
When,  with  an  air  august,  in  ducal  state 
Godfrey  arose ;  majestically  strong 
His  graceful  periods  flow,  and  charm  the  soul  along. 

"  Warriors  of  God,  by  God  himself  elected. 
Of  his  true  Faith  the  breaches  to  restore ! 
Ye,  whom  His  arm  has  guided,  and  protected 
From  storms  by  sea  and  ambuscades  on  shore ! 
So  that  in  these  few  years  that  have  flown  o'er, 
It  has  been  ours  strong  monarchies  to  tame, 
Realm  after  realm,  rebellious  now  no  more, 
And  through  the  shaken  nations  spread  the  fame 
Of  His  triumphant  Cross  and  consecrated  name ! —  ... 


GODFREY  OF  BOUII.I.ON.  1 35 

"  He  who  would  here  raise  empires,  must  not  seek 
On  worldly  policies  the  base  to  found, 
Where  of  a  fellow  faith  his  friends  are  weak 
And  few,  amidst  the  countless  Pagans  round, 
The  land  that  people, — here,  where  he  no  ground 
Can  have  on  Grecian  succor  to  presume. 
And  all  too  distant  from  his  trumpet's  sound 
Lies  the  far  West ;  he  builds,  but  the  Simoon 
Sweeps  round,  and  instant  turns  his  palace  to  a  tomb. 

"Turks,  Persians,  Antioch  (an  illustrious  prize, 
In  fame  and  fact  magnificent),  attest 
Not  our  past  skill,  but  the  assisting  skies  ; 
Victor)^  a  wonder  was :  now,  if  we  wrest 
These  purposed  blessings  to  an  end  unblest, 
Wronging  the  Giver  who  so  far  has  crown' d 
The  hopes  we  cherish' d, — Chiefs  !  I  tremble,  lest 
We  vanish  to  a  fable  and  a  sound, — 
The  brilliant  byword  pass'd  through  the  wide  nations  round. 

"  May  there  be  none  among  us,  O  my  friends. 
So  to  misuse  such  gifts  !  your  interests  see ; 
With  these  sublime  commencements  let  the  ends. 
The  filament  and  woof  throughout  agree. 
Now  that  the  passes  of  the  land  are  free, 
Now  that  the  vernal  season  clears  the  plain, 
Apt  for  the  enterprise,  why  rush  not  we 
The  crown  of  all  our  conquests  to  attain? 
What  should  prevent  the  deed?     What  here  our  arms 
detain?  .  .  ." 

He  ceased  :  a  hollow  hum  ensued, — but  then, 
The  primal  author  of  the  high  crusade, 
Peter  the  Seer,  who  midst  the  noblest  men 
Sat  private  in  the  council,  rose  and  said  : 
"What  Godfrey  stirs  us  to,  I  well  have  weigh'd, 
And  second  ;  room  for  reasoning  there  is  none  ; 
He  the  true  path  self-evident  has  made, 
And  through  the  whole  clear  argument  has  run  ; 
'Tis  yours  the  plan  t'  approve, — one  word,  and  I  have 
done.  .  .  . 


136  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

"  Where  one  alone  commands  not,  upon  wliom 
The  cast  of  parts  and  offices  depend, 
The  dues  of  honor  and  decrees  of  doom, 
There  still  the  helm  to  some  wrong  point  will  tend  ; 
Your  separate  rights,  then,  amicably  blend 
In  some  one  prince,  of  influence  to  restrain 
The  rest, — to  one  alone  dominion  lend. 
And  leave  him  free,  as  wisdom  will  ordain, 
A  king's  prescriptive  power  and  semblance  to  sustain." 

Here  ceased  the  Sage  :  what  thoughts,  celestial  Fire  ! 
What  hearts,  blest  Spirit !  to  thy  sweet  appeal 
Are  proof?   the  Hermit's  words  didst  thou  inspire, 
And  on  all  hearts  imprint  them  with  thy  seal. 
Ingrafted,  e'en  innate  desires,  thy  zeal — 
The  love  of  honor,  liberty  and  sway, 
Check' d  in  "subservience  to  the  public  weal ; 
So  that  the  noblest  were  the  first  to  say, 
' '  Our  Chief  let  Godfrey  be  ;  him  swear  we  to  obey  ! ' ' 

— TassO,  Translated  by  J.  H.  WiFFEN. 


GODFREY.      BOHEMOND.      TANCRED. 


RAYMOND. 


THE  IvEADERS  OF  THE  FIRST  CRUSADE. 


THE  great  conflict  for  supremacy  be- 
tween the  Cliurcli  and  State,  which 
had  been  rendered  conspicuous  in 
the  persons  of  Pope  Gregory  VII.  and 
Henry  IV.,  was  continued  between 
their  respective  successors,  Paschal 
II.  and  Henry  V.,  until  a  compro- 
mise was  effected,  which  has  since 
generally  been  accepted. 
Henry  V.  was  the  second  son  of  the  Emperor  Henry  IV. , 
by  his  second  wife,  Adelaide  of  Brandenburg,  and  was  born 
in  1081.  He  was  appointed  his  father's  successor  in  1098, 
when  his  elder  brother  Conrad  was  declared  to  have  forfeited 
his  right  to  the  throne  by  rebellion.  Conrad  died  before  his 
father,  and  in  1105,  Henry  by  most  perfidious  and  unnatural 
acts,  seized  the  crown  and  imprisoned  his  father,  who, 
however,  escaped  and  sought  refuge  in  exile.  The  papal 
party,  whose  cause  he  had  supported  against  his  father,  ex- 
pected that  the  disputes  which  had  characterized  the  former 
reign  would  cease,  and  that  harmony  would  prevail  between 
Church  and  State.  But  when  Pope  Paschal  demanded  the 
right  of  investing  the  bishops  with  the  ring  and  staff,  as  the 
insignia  of  their  office,  Henry  refused  to  relinquish  any  rights 
over  ecclesiastics  that  his  predecessors  had  ever  enjoyed,  or  to 
permit  the  ecclesiastical  lands  of  Germany  to  pass  from  under 
secular  control.  The  Imperial  Diet  at  Mentz  sustained  his 
claims ;  but  the  Papal  Council  at  Troyes  as  strenuously  as- 
serted opposite  principles,  which  were  but  a  reiteration  of  those 
so  resolutelv  and  consistentlv  maintained  by  Greeorv  VII. 

Before  the  dispute  had  reached  an  acute  form,  Henry  had 
endeavored  to  strengthen  and  extend  his  dominions  in  1107 

137 


138  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

by  an  invasion  of  Hungary,  and  again  in  1109  by  an  attempt 
to  conquer  Silesia,  then  held  by  Poland.  Neither  expedition 
was  successful.  In  mo  Henry  marched  into  Italy  with  a 
powerful  army,  in  raising  which  he  was  aided  by  a  large  sum 
paid  as  the  dower  of  his  wife  Maud,  daughter  of  Henry  I. ,  of 
England.  Pope  Paschal,  through  fear,  entered  into  a  treaty 
with  him  containing  ample  concessions  with  respect  to  inves- 
titures. In  the  following  year  Henry  set  out  once  more  for 
Rome,  at  the  head  of  a  numerous  army,  to  be  crowned.  He 
entered  the  Leonine  City  in  the  month  of  February,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  the  Church  of  St.  Peter,  where  he  was  received  by 
Paschal  with  every  possible  mark  of  respect.  The  Pope 
signed  an  agreement  that  the  prelates  should  resign  the  lands 
and  other  possessions  which  they  held  in  fief  of  the  Emperor, 
on  condition  of  the  latter' s  renouncing  the  right  of  investiture. 
When,  however,  the  conditions  of  the  treaty  were  to  be  mutu- 
ally fulfilled,  the  German  and  Italian  bishops  present  protested 
to  a  man  that  they  would  not  part  with  their  estates,  which 
the  Pope  had  no  proper  right  to  dispose  of  This  produced  a 
warm  altercation  between  the  King  and  the  Pope,  who  declared 
he  would  not  proceed  with  the  coronation  unless  Henry  imme- 
diately ratified  the  treaty.  The  Emperor  then  ordered  his 
guards  to  arrest  Paschal,  and  the  cardinals  who  were  with 
him.  Many  persons  of  rank  were  also  seized.  In  the  mean- 
time two  ecclesiastics,  having  made  their  escape  in  disguise, 
animated  the  citizens  of  Rome  to  take  up  arms  and  rescue  the 
Pope.  The  consequence  was  that  a  sanguinary  conflict  took 
place  between  the  Germans  and  Romans,  in  which  each  party 
alternately  had  the  advantage ;  and  though  the  latter  were 
finally  repulsed,  they  appeared  so  formidable,  and  so  resolutely 
bent  on  continuing  the  struggle,  that  Henry  thought  it  advis- 
able to  retire  into  the  country  of  the  Sabines,  carrying  with 
him  the  Pope,  the  cardinals,  and  several  of  the  Roman 
nobility. 

After  Paschal  had  been  imprisoned  two  months,  the  King 
ordered  that  he  should  be  brought,  with  the  other  prisoners, 
to  his  camp,  not  far  from  Rome,  and  swore,  in  the  presence 
of  his  army,  that  if  the  Pope  did  not  fulfill  the  article  of  their 
agreement,  he  would  put  him  to  death  and  all  who  were  with 


EMPEROR  HENRY  V.  1 39 

liim.  Notwithstanding  this  threatening,  the  Pope  remained 
unmoved,  till  the  cardinals  and  the  other  princes,  by  their 
earnest  and  incessant  entreaties  that  he  would  yield  for  their 
sakes,  and  to  prevent  the  calamities  which  must  otherwise 
fall  upon  the  Church,  at  length  melted  him  into  a  compliance. 
Upon  this,  the  articles  of  agreement  which  were  drawn  up 
between  Paschal  and  Henry,  were  swoni  to  on  both  sides,  and 
the  King  received  a  papal  bull,  confirming  to  him  the  right 
of  investiture.  All  things  being  thus  settled,  the  Pope  and 
Henry  entered  Rome  together,  and  proceeded  once  more  to 
the  Church  of  St.  Peter,  where  the  Emperor  was  crowned 
King  of  the  Romans  by  Paschal,  with  the  usual  solemnity. 

Henry  took  respectful  leave  of  His  Holiness,  and  returned 
into  Germany.  Soon,  however,  the  agreement  was  formally 
annulled  by  the  Council  of  Lateran  in  1112,  Paschal  disavow- 
ing his  extorted  concessions.  A  rebellion  in  Saxony  soon  fol- 
lowed ;  and  the  Emperor,  in  attempting  to  quell  it,  received 
a  great  defeat.  The  prelates  and  nobles  of  the  insurgent  party 
then  proceeded  to  issue  a  sentence  of  excommunication  against 
Henry  and  his  adherents ;  and  his  cause  would  have  been 
ruined  in  Germany,  had  it  not  been  supported  by  the  valor  of 
his  nephew,  Frederic,  Duke  of  Suabia. 

In  1 1 15,  upon  the  death  of  the  Countess  Matilda,  of  Tus- 
cany, Henry  once  more  marched  into  Italy  to  lay  claim  to  her 
territories,  as  being  the  next  of  kin.  But  this  devoted  and 
loyal  friend  of  successive  popes  had  bequeathed  her  possessions 
to  the  Holy  See,  and  the  Pope  was  not  likely  to  resign  such  a 
rich  acquisition.  Henry  marched  to  Rome,  where  he  was 
crowned  a  second  time  ;  and  upon  the  election  of  Pope  Gela- 
sius,  without  his  concurrence,  after  the  death  of  Paschal,  he 
set  up  an  Anti-pope,  Bourdin,  who  took  the  name  Gregory 
VIII.  Guy,  of  Burgundy,  had  been  unanimously  elected 
Pope,  under  the  title  of  Calixtus  II.,  by  all  the  cardinals 
except  those  of  the  Emperor's  party.  This  schism,  attended 
with  rebellions  against  Henr>^,  continued  until  1122,  when 
the  Emperor  found  himself  obliged  to  send  an  embassy  to 
Pope  Calixtus,  in  order  to  compromise  their  differences. 

By  the  Concordat  of  Worms  it  was  agreed  that  the  Emperor 
should  have  the  right  to  be  present,  personally  or  by  proxy, 


I40  HISTORIC  characte;rs  and  famous  events. 

at  every  election  of  a  prelate,  and  that  the  chosen  bishop 
should  before  consecration  receive  his  lands  and  secular 
authority  from  the  crown,  Henry  thus  relinquished  the 
rio-lit  of  investiture  :  he  also  abandoned  the  cause  of  his  Anti- 
pope  ;  and  in  return  he  received  absolution,  and  was  restored 
to  the  communion  of  the  Church. 

In  1 1 24  Henry,  at  the  instigation  of  his  father-in-law,  the 
King  of  England,  invaded  France,  but  was  soon  compelled  to 
retreat.  A  revolt  in  Holland  compelled  him  to  take  up  arms 
in  that  quarter,  and  he  met  with  some  success  in  reducing  the 
insurgents ;  but  the  flames  of  sedition  still  spreading,  he 
retired  to  Utrecht,  where  he  expired  in  11 25.  As  he  left  no 
legitimate  children,  with  him  ended  the  Franconian  dynasty. 
He  bequeathed  his  possessions  to  the  faithful  Hohenstaufen. 

Henry  V.  was  of  a  haughty  and  hasty  temperament. 
Ambition  and  the  love  of  absolute  power  led  him  into  the 
struggles  which  caused  his  life  to  be  one  of  almost  constant 
warfare.  He  was  a  bad  son,  but  a  courageous  ruler,  whom 
opposition  might  destroy,  but  could  not  bend. 

The  Dispute  About  Investitures. 

The  vigor  of  Henry's  government  ere  long  estranged  from 
him  his  late  papal  partisans  ;  the  Roman  hierarchy,  by  mak- 
ing use  of  him  as  a  tool  in  their  designs  against  his  father, 
had,  as  it  were,  morally  annihilated  him,  and  could  not  brook 
his  elevation.  A  fanatical  party,  headed  by  Guido  de  Vienne, 
Archbishop  of  Lyons,  without  asking  Pope  Paschal' s  permis- 
sion, caused  the  Emperor  to  be  excommunicated  by  a  Synod 
held  at  Vienne,  on  account  of  his  refusal  to  cede  his  right 
of  investiture,  A.  d.  1112.  The  Emperor,  without  noticing 
the  proceedings  of  this  Synod,  marched  to  Rome  and  left  the 
settlement  of  the  matter  to  his  chancellor,  Adalbert,  who  pro- 
posed the  strictest  division  between  the  power  of  the  State 
and  that  of  the  Church  ;  the  State  never  to  intermeddle  with 
ecclesiastical  affairs,  and  the  Church  to  remain  unpossessed 
of  lands  and  worldly  wealth.  A  wise,  but  impracticable, 
counsel,  for,  as  might  clearly  have  been  foreseen,  the  Church 
would  never  voluntarily  surrender  her  possessions.  The  Em- 
peror at  length  cut  the  matter  short  by  seizing  the  person 


EMPEROR   HENRY  V.  14I 

of  the  Pope,  and  compelling  liini  to  disclaim  the  right 
of  investiture.  Guido  de  Vienne  raved,  and  scarcely  had  the 
Emperor  withdrawn  from  Rome,  than  the  Pope  declared  the 
transaction  void,  the  terms  having  been  forced  upon  him,  and 
Adalbert,  to  whom  the  P^mperor  had  promised  the  Archbish- 
opric of  Mayence,  fearing  the  Pope's  refusal  to  confirm  him 
in  his  dignity,  and,  moreover,  foreseeing  that  the  Church 
would  prove  victorious,  went  over  to  Guido' s  party,  for  which 
he  was  rewarded  by  the  Pope  with  a  cardinal's  hat,  and  the 
supreme  direction  over  the  whole  of  the  German  clergy. 

A  party,  inimical  to  the  Emperor,  was,  at  the  same  time, 
formed  in  Saxony,  The  Palsgrave  Siegfried,  a  relation  of 
Lothar,  who  had  been  deprived  of  his  dignity  by  the  Emperor 
on  an  accusation  of  treason,  claimed  the  rich  inheritance 
of  the  counts  of  Orlamiind,  whose  family  had  become  extinct. 
By  the  concurrence  of  Lothar,  the  young  Henry  von  Stade, 
whose  heritage  had  been  sold  by  the  Emperor  to  his  guardian, 
Frederic,  had  also  been  reinstated,  and  the  assistance  of  the 
Saxons  against  the  Bohemians  and  the  Poles  had  been  ex- 
tremely lukewarm.  Lothar,  who  had  been  declared  by  the 
Emperor  out  of  the  ban  of  the  empire,  now  found  himself 
backed  by  almost  the  whole  of  Northern  Germany,  more  par- 
ticularly by  Wiprecht  the  elder,  and  Louis  of  Thuringia,  and 
by  the  great  ecclesiastical  party,  at  whose  head  stood  Adal- 
bert, the  Emperor's  ungrateful  chancellor.  His  capture  by 
the  Emperor,  which  shortly  afterwards  took  place,  deprived 
the  confederates  of  their  leader,  and  the  Emperor,  suddenly 
entering  Saxony,  surprised  his  opponents  near  Warnstadt. 
Hoyer's  impetuous  charge  bore  all  before  it.  Siegfried  was 
slain  ;  Wiprecht  the  elder  was  taken  prisoner  ;  A.D.  1 113. 

After  reestablishing  peace  throughout  the  North,  Henry 
solemnized  his  marriage  with  Matilda,  the  daughter  of  Henry 
I.  of  England,  with  great  splendor,  at  Mayence,  A.D.  11 14. 
It  was  here  that  Eothar  and  Eouis  of  Thuringia,  barefoot  and 
in  beggarly  attire,  threw  themselves  at  his  feet  and  begged  for 
mercy.  Louis  was  thrown  into  prison.  Henry's  unrelenting 
severity,  his  open  suppression  of  the  power  of  the  great  vassals 
of  the  empire,  and  his  assumption  of  despotic  rule,  raised  a 
fresh   conspiracy,  at  the  head  of  which  appeared   Frederic, 


142  HISTORIC  CKARACTKRS  AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

Arclibishop  of  Cologne.  This  city  was  vainly  besieged  by  the 
Emperor,  who  was  defeated  before  the  gates,  and  Berthold  III., 
of  Zahringen,  was  taken  prisoner.  This  signal  success  infused 
fresh  spirit  into  the  Saxons,  whilst  the  Emperor,  with  his 
usual  decision,  declared  the  whole  of  Saxony  out  of  the  ban 
of  the  empire,  created  Count  Hoyer  von  Mansfeld  Duke 
of  Saxony,  in  place  of  I^othar,  and  marched  in  person  with  his 
whole  force  against  the  rebels.  Hoyer,  too  impatient  to  grasp 
the  ducal  coronet,  ventured  singly  too  far  in  advance,  and  was 
killed  in  sight  of  both  armies,  by  Wiprecht  von  Groitsch  the 
younger,  in  the  battle  of  VVelfisholz,  in  the  county  of  Mans- 
feld. The  loss  of  this  commander  threw  the  imperial  army 
into  confusion,  and  the  victorious  Saxons  left  the  bodies 
of  their  fallen  opponents  unburied  on  the  field,  as  being  under 
the  interdict  of  the  Church.  The  Emperor  wandered  in  his 
flight  among  the  Hartz  Mountains.  On  the  same  day,  Otto 
von  Ballenstadt  gained  a  victory  at  Kothen  over  the  rebellious 
Wends  [a.  d.  hi 5],  and  the  Saxons  once  more  gained  the 
palm  of  glory. 

This  disastrous  day  was  fatal  to  every  hope  that  had  been 
entertained  for  the  preservation  of  the  integrity  of  the  State 
by  the  Emperor,  and  inflicted  an  almost  deadly  blow  on  the 
nation,  which  saw  itself  henceforward  doomed  to  disunion  and 
exposed  to  foreign  (papal  and  French)  influence.  Blinded  by 
the  provincial  hatred  between  the  Saxons  and  the  Franks, 
the  nation  showed  no  inclination  to  favor  the  rise  of  the 
imperial  power,  and  seemed  insensible  to  the  manner  in  which 
their  honor  and  their  most  sacred  interests  were  betrayed  to 
the  foreigner. 

It  was  exactly  at  this  period  that  the  celebrated  Countess 
Matilda  expired  in  Italy,  and  bequeathed  her  rich  possessions 
to  the  Church.  Henry's  late  defeat  by  the  Saxons,  and  the 
renewed  interdict  laid  upon  him  by  the  Pope,  rendered  the 
preservation  of  this  important  territory  to  the  State  a  task  of 
no  common  difficulty  ;  but,  with  his  usual  fertility  in  resources, 
he  dispatched  a  nobleman,  Dietrich  von  der  Aare,  by  whom 
he  had  formerly  been  beaten  before  Cologne,  but  who  had 
afterwards  become  his  friend,  to  negotiate  with  Eothar,  and 
to  represent  to  him  that  they  must  all  inevitably  become  slaves 


'      EMPEROR  HENRY  V.  I43 

to  the  Pope,  unless  they  united  for  the  preservation  of  their 
temporal  rights.  At  the  same  time,  he  set  the  imprisoned 
princes  at  liberty.  But  scarcely  was  Adalbert  of  Mayence 
free,  than,  glowing  with  revenge,  he  contrived  to  work  upon 
Lothar,  frustrated  Henry's  attempts  at  reconciliation,  and 
opened  an  assembly  of  the  princes  at  Cologne  without  the 
Emperor.  Even  the  Emperor's  ambassador,  Erlung,  Bishop 
of  Wurzburg,  went  over  to  Adalbert's  party.  Upon  this,  the 
Emperor  abandoned  Northern  Germany  for  a  while,  and, 
intrusting  Southern  German)'  to  the  guardianship  of  the  brave 
Hohenstaufen,  hastened  into  Italy, 

The  policy  pursued  by  Henry  V.  in  Italy  was  noted  for 
prudence  ;  he  everywhere  favored  the  cities  whose  love  of  inde- 
pendence caused  them  to  dread  the  supremacy  of  the  Pope, 
should  he  succeed  in  gaining  possession  of  the  lands  of  the 
Countess  Matilda.  He  consequently  met  with  a  favorable 
reception  at  Venice,  and  even  found  a  strong  party  in  his 
favor  in  Rome,  headed  by  the  Count  of  Tusculum,  to  whom 
he  gave  his  illegitimate  daughter  Bertha  in  marriage,  and  by 
the  Frangipani,  a  family  then  coming  into  note.  Paschal 
was  compelled  to  flee  ;  and  the  imperial  crown  was  placed  on 
Henry's  head  by  a  Portuguese  Archbishop,  who  chanced  to 
be  in  Rome,  the  only  prelate  who  could  be  found  to  perform 
that  ceremony  [a.  D.  1116].  The  principal  aim  for  which 
Henry  had  visited  Italy,  that  of  taking  possession  of  the  lands 
of  the  Countess  Matilda,  in  the  name  of  the  empire,  was, 
however,  gained,  and  he  prolonged  his  stay  in  that  country 
in  order  to  keep  a  watch  upon  Rome.  On  the  death  of 
Paschal,  in  11 18,  he  nominated  a  successor,  to  whom  the 
Romans  opposed  the  pope,  Gelasius  II.,  whom  they  had 
previously  elected.  This  Pope  was  treated  with  great  vio- 
lence, and  expelled  by  the  Frangipani  ;  he  expired  in  the  fol- 
lowing year.  The  papal  party  then  placed  Guido  de  Vienne, 
the  Emperor's  most  formidable  antagonist,  on  the  pontifical 
throne,  under  the  name  of  Calixtus  II.,  A.D.  11 19.  This  Pope 
instantly  renewed  the  alliance  v/ith  the  Saxons  and  Adalbert, 
and  openly  opposed  the  Emperor. 

In   Germany,    the   Hohenstaufen,    notwithstanding   their 
endeavors  to  keep  the  field  for  the  Emperor,  had  been  alone 


144  HISTORIC  CHARACTKRS  AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

successful  on  the  Rhine.  The  troops  of  Adalbert  were  de- 
feated by  them  under  the  walls  of  Mayence,  and  their  com- 
mander, Bmicho  von  Leiningen,  was  slain.  The  citizens  of 
Mayence  rebelled  against  Adalbert,  who  caused  numbers 
of  them  to  be  executed.  The  Saxons  marched  to  the  assist- 
ance of  Aschaffenburg,  his  usual  residence,  and  besieged 
Limburg,  which  was,  however,  relieved  by  Frederic  of 
Suabia,  who  continued  to  retain  the  superiority  on  the 
Rhine.  The  same  fortune  did  not  befriend  the  imperial 
party  in  Northern  Germany.  Frederic  von  Putelendorf, 
whom  Henry  had  created  Palsgrave  of  Saxony,  was  compelled 
to  make  terms  with  the  rebels  at  Naumburg,  and  the  great 
and  imperial  castle  on  the  Kyff  hauser  was  burnt  down, 

Adalbert,  emboldened  by  the  admonitions  of  Calixtus  II. , 
again  excommunicated  Henry  at  a  council  held  at  Cologne, 
and  the  project  of  electing  a  new  emperor  was  being  discussed, 
when  Henry  V.  returned,  called  a  Diet  at  Tribur,  and,  for  the 
last  time,  attempted  to  negotiate  terms  of  peace  with  the 
rebellious  party.  The  Pope  also  came  to  Rheims,  on  an  inti- 
mate and  secret  understanding  with  the  French  King,  Louis 
VI.,  who  loaded  him  with  flatter}'.  The  Emperor,  closely 
pressed  by  his  enemies,  found  himself  compelled  to  resign  the 
right  of  investiture  ;  but  scarcely  was  the  matter  concluded 
with  the  Pope,  than  a  still  greater  concession  was  required, 
the  Pope  seeking  to  include  in  the  right  of  investiture,  or 
the  right  of  being  the  sole  elector  of  the  bishops,  also  that  of 
the  impropriation  of  church  lands,  and  of  the  royal  dues, 
which  until  now  had  been  in  the  gift  of  the  Crown.  The 
cession  of  these  rights  being  steadily  refused  by  the  indignant 
Emperor,  the  treaty  was  again  broken  off,  and  Calixtus  II., 
after  once  more  excommunicating  him,  visited  the  King 
of  France  at  Paris,  and  proceeded  thence  in  triumph  to  Rome, 
whence  he  expelled  the  Anti-pope  Gregory  VIII.,  whom  he 
shortly  afterwards  took  prisoner  at  Sutri,  and  caused  to  be 
exposed  to  public  derision,  mounted  on  the  back  of  a  camel. 

Whilst  Germany  was  thus  overcome  by  the  Pope  and  his 
French  ally,  the  Germans  continued  senselessly  to  dispute, 
and  the  Emperor  was  alone  upheld  in  this  great  national 
affair  by  the  citizens  of  the  towns,  which  would  have  found 


EMPEROR  HENRY  V. 


145 


themselves  entirely  deprived  of  the  protection  ot  the  Crown, 
had  all  the  church  property,  which  included  the  episcopal 
cities,  become  papal  fiefs.  Cologne  and  Mvinster  were,  at  that 
period,  the  most  zealous  supporters  of  the  rights  of  the  State 
against  the  Church,  and  of  those  of  Germany  against  Rome. 
Cologne  opened  her  gates  to  the  Emperor  ;  Miinster  expelled 
her  bishop,  but  was  in  consequence  besieged  and  burnt  by  the 
Saxon  princes,  A.D.  1121.  The  only  one  among  the  princes 
who  returned  to  his  allegiance  to  the  Emperor  was  Wiprecht 
von  Groitsch  the  elder  ;  but  when  the  Emperor,  in  1122,  stood 
before  INIayence,  and  the  Saxons  marched  against  him  to 
Adalbert's  relief,  they  became  ashamed  of  the  opprobrium 
with  which  they  were  viewed  by  the  nation  ;  and  the  Emperor, 
on  his  side,  being  urged  by  the  fear  of  utter  destruction,  if 
fortune  again  favored  the  Saxons,  it  was  resolved  that  each 
party  should  send  twelve  representatives  to  Wiirzburg,  there 
to  negotiate  terms  of  peace  ;  and  at  length,  notwithstanding 
the  opposition  of  Adalbert,  a  reconciliation  was  accomplished. 
The  Emperor,  at  the  same  time,  made  terms  with  the  Pope, 
to  whom,  by  the  treaty  of  Worms,  he  conceded  the  impropria- 
tion of  church  property,  with  the  exception  of  the  royal  dues, 
a  point  of  great  importance  for  the  cities  and  townships.  He 
M'as  now,  for  the  first  time,  freed  from  the  interdict,  A.D. 
1122.— W.  Menzel. 


IV — 10 


HENRY  I:,  King  of  England,  surnamed 
Beauclerc,  was  the  fourth  and  youngest 
son  of  William  the  Conqueror,  by  his 
queen,  Matilda  of  Flanders,  and  was 
born  in  1068,  at  Selby  in  Yorkshire, 
being  the  only  one  of  the  sons  of  the 
Conqueror  who  was  an  Englishman  by 
birth.  Immediately  on  receiving  the 
news  of  the  death  of  his  brother  Wil- 
liam Rufus,  he  rode  to  Winchester  and 
seized  the  royal  treasures.  His  reign 
is  reckoned  from  Sunday,  the  5th  of 
August,  1100,  on  which  day  he  was 
crowned  at  Westminster  by  Maurice, 
Bishop  of  lyondon.  His  brother  Robert, 
whose  the  crown  was  by  right,  had  gone 
on  the  Crusade,  and  still  lingered  in 
Italy  on  his  homeward  journey. 

The  early  acts  of  Henr>',  like  those 
of  most  usurpers,  were  intended  to  please  the  people.  He 
granted  a  charter  of  liberties,  promising  to  abolish  the  cur- 
few and  the  Dane-geld ;  to  restore  the  Saxon  laws  of  Edward 
the  Confessor,  and  to  redress  the  grievances  under  which  the 
nation  had  groaned  since  the  Conquest.  Henry,  from  the 
first,  put  forward  his  English  birth  as  one  of  his  chief  claims 
to  acceptance  with  his  subjects,  and  he  hastened  to  strengthen 
this  title  by  an  act  which  almost  admitted  that  the  rights  of 
the  Saxon  line  were  not  extinct.  He  married  Matilda, 
daughter  of  Malcolm,  the  King  of  Scotland,  and  niece  of 
146 


HENRY   I.    OF   ENGLAND.  I47 

Edgar  Atheling,  thus  uniting  the  Norman  and  Saxon  royal 
lines.  Flambard,  the  minister  of  Rufus,  had  been  impris- 
oned in  the  Tower  of  London  by  the  new  king,  to  please  the 
English.  But  a  friend  conveyed  to  him  a  rope  hidden  in  a 
jar  of  wine,  and  Flambard,  escaping  by  a  window,  reached 
Normandy.  Robert  had  just  arrived  with  his  Italian  wife, 
and  was  easily  induced  to  invade  England.  He  was  march- 
ing on  Winchester  when  Henry  overtook  him.  The  two 
brothers  quickly  came  to  terms  ;  Robert  agreed  to  surrender 
his  claim  to  the  throne,  on  condition  of  a  yearly  tribute  of 
3,000  marks  being  paid  to  him  ;  each  brother,  by  this  treaty, 
was  to  inherit  the  dominions  of  the  other  in  case  of  death 
without  issue,  and  the  adherents  of  both  were  to  receive  full 
pardon.  Henry,  however,  when  the  danger  was  over,  made 
no  scruple  of  infringing  the  latter  part  of  the  covenant,  and 
the  ruin  of  some  great  families  was  the  consequence. 

He  now  began  to  meditate  offensive  measures,  invaded 
Normandy,  defeated  his  brother  Robert  at  the  battle  of  Ten- 
chebrai,  1106,  and  took  him  prisoner.  It  is  to  his  disgrace 
that  he  cruelly  kept  his  brother  confined  in  Cardiff"  Castle  till 
his  death,  a  long  period  of  twenty-eight  years.  The  usuipa- 
tion  of  Normandy  involved  Henry  in  continual  wars  on  the 
Continent  of  Europe,  and  was  a  source  of  much  pecuniary 
distress  among^  the  EnHish. 

During  these  wars  Henry  had  been  involved  in  a  dispute 
with  the  Church.  The  contested  points  were  the  king's 
claims  that  the  clergy  should  do  homage  for  their  lands,  and 
that  he  should  be  permitted,  like  his  predecessors,  to  invest 
new  abbots  and  prelates  with  the  ring  and  crosier  of  their 
office.  Anselm,  who  sided  with  the  Pope,  was  a  second  time 
banished  ;  but  in  the  end  Henry  gave  up  his  claims. 

The  king  and  his  son,  William,  now  aged  eighteen, 
crossed  to  Normandy,  to  receive  the  homage  of  the  barons ; 
but  on  the  return  voyage  the  prince  was  drowned.  When 
about  to  embark  with  his  father,  a  sailor,  named  Fitzstephen, 
whose  father  had  steered  the  Conqueror's  ship  to  England, 
offered  to  the  prince  the  use  of  ' '  The  White  Ship, ' '  manned 
by  fifty  skillful  rowers.  The  other  vessels  left  the  shore  early 
in  the  day;  but  the  "White  Ship"  did  not  sail  till  sunset, 


148  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

the  crew  drinking  and  feasting  on  deck.  They  set  out  by 
moonlight,  and  were  rowing  vigorously  along  to  overtake  the 
king's  ship,  when  the  vessel  struck  on  a  rock  in  the  Race  of 
Alderney  and  went  to  pieces.  William  might  have  been 
saved,  for  he  had  secured  a  boat ;  but,  hearing  his  illegiti- 
mate sister's  shrieks,  he  returned,  and  the  boat  sank  beneath 
the  crowds  that  leaped  from  the  ship's  side.  None  lived  to 
tell  the  story  but  a  butcher  of  Rouen,  who  floated  ashore  on  a 
broken  mast.  The  news  was  kept  from  Henry  for  some  days, 
when  a  page,  flinging  himself  in  tears  at  his  master's  feet,  told 
all.  It  is  said  that  the  unhappy  father  was  never  seen  to 
smile  again. 

More  than  two  years  before  Prince  William's  death,  Henry 
had  lost  his  wife  Matilda.  They  had  been  estranged  for 
twelve  years,  which  the  queen  had  spent  in  devotion  and 
charity.  Henry's  second  wife  was  a  French  princess,  Adelais, 
daughter  of  the  Duke  of  Lou  vain.  She  had  no  children. 
Of  Matilda's  two,  there  remained  only  Maud,  who  had  mar- 
ried Henry  V.,  Emperor  of  Germany. 

Henry,  having  no  son  to  inherit  his  throne,  exacted  from 
the  prelates  and  nobles  an  oath  to  support  the  claim  of  Maud, 
who  had  become  a  widow.  At  the  same  time,  to  strengthen 
his  connections  in  France,  he  caused  her  to  marry  Geoffrey 
Plantagenet,  Count  of  Anjou,  a  boy  of  sixteen, — an  alliance 
which  pleased  neither  English  nor  I'Tormans.  The  marriage 
was  not  a  happy  one,  and  the  broils  between  Maud  and  her 
husband  disturbed  the  latter  years  of  Henry's  reign. 

Henry  was  the  first  English  king  who  delivered  a  formal 
speech  from  the  throne.  During  his  reign  silver  half-pence 
and  farthings,  which  had  previously  been  formed  by  clij)ping 
the  penny  into  halves  and  quarters,  were  made  round ;  the 
coinage,  which  had  been  debased,  was  renewed,  and  severe 
laws  were  made  against  counterfeiters.  Rents  were  paid  in 
money  instead  of  in  kind.  A  standard  of  weights  and  mea- 
sures was  established,  the  ell  being  fixed  at  the  length  of  the 
kinof's  arm  ;  and  the  woolen  manufactures  were  introduced 
by  some  Flemings,  who  settled  first  on  the  Tweed,  and 
afterwards  at  Haverfordwest  in  Pembroke,  and  Worsted  in 
Norfolk. 


HENRY   I.    OF   ENGLAND.  I49 

Henry  I.  gained  his  surname  Beauclerc  or  "Fine  Scholar," 
by  translating  "^sop's  Fables."  Several  attempts  on  his 
life  made  him  suspicious.  He  frequently  changed  his  bed- 
room, and  kept  sword  and  shield  near  his  pillow.  His  great 
aim  was  to  extend  his  power  on  the  Continent ;  for  he  despised 
his  English  subjects,  and  looked  on  them  as  fit  only  to  supply 
money  for  his  schemes  of  pleasure  and  ambition.  He  died  at 
St.  Denis,  in  Normandy,  on  Sunday,  the  ist  of  December, 
1 135,  after  seven  days'  illness,  brought  on  by  eating  to  excess 
of  lampreys. 

Henry  I.  was  cruel,  faithless  and  debauched.  His  moral 
character  was  detestable  ;  but  in  policy  and  craft  he  was  a 
master.  In  the  midst  of  all  his  profligacy  and  unscrupulous 
ambition,  he  cherished  a  love  of  letters,  and  in  his  hours  of 
leisure  was  fond  of  the  society  of  learned  men.  His  govern- 
ment, though  arbitrary  and  tyrannical  in  a  high  degree, 
appears  to  have  been  an  improvement  on  that  of  his  father 
and  his  elder  brother. 

A  Saxon  Bride. 

Henry  Beauclerc,  who,  on  all  necessary  occasions,  boasted 
of  his  English  birth,  determined  to  espouse  an  English  wife 
as  soon  as  he  was  seated  on  the  throne.  The  lady  of  his 
choice  was,  to  use  the  words  of  the  Saxon  Chronicle,  ' '  Maud, 
daughter  of  ]\Ialcolm,  King  of  Scots,  and  Margaret,  the  good 
queen,  the  relation  of  King  Edward,  and  of  the  right  kingly 
kin  of  England. ' '  This  descendant  of  the  great  Alfred  had 
been  sent  from  Scotland  in  her  childhood  to  be  educated  by 
her  aunt  Christina,  Edgar  Atheling's  second  sister,  who  was 
abbess  of  Wilton  in  Wiltshire.  As  she  grew  up,  several  of 
the  Norman  captains,  who  had  become  great  lords  in  Eng- 
land, aspired  to  the  honor  of  her  hand ;  but  though  several 
matches  had  been  negotiated,  none  had  been  concluded.  It 
should  appear  that  the  Red  King  acknowledged  the  impor- 
tance of  the  fair  Saxon  of  the  ancient  royal  line,  by  prevent- 
ing his  powerful  vassal,  William  de  Garenne,  from  marrying 
her. 

Wlien  proposals  were  first  made  on  the  part  of  King 
Henr>%  ]\Iaud  showed  an  aversion  to  the  match.     But  she 


150  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

was  assailed  by  irresistible  arguments.  ' '  O  noblest  and  lair- 
est  of  women,"  said  her  Saxon  advisers,  "if  thou  wilt,  thou 
canst  restore  the  ancient  honor  of  England,  and  be  a  pledge 
of  reconciliation  and  friendship!"  When  the  fair  Saxon 
yielded,  some  of  the  Norman  nobles,  neither  liking  to  see  an 
English  woman  raised  to  be  their  queen,  nor  the  power  of 
their  king  confirmed  by  a  union  which  would  endear  him  to 
the  native  race,  and  render  him  less  dependent  on  Norman 
arms,  raised  a  new  obstacle  by  asserting  that  Maud  was  a 
nun,  and  that  she  had  been  seen  wearing  the  veil.  If  true, 
this  was  insurmountable. 

Henry  postponed  the  marriage,  and  applied  to  Anselm, 
the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  to  institute  an  inquiry.  An- 
selm, being  himself  eager  for  the  match,  and  very  friendly 
to  the  English  people,  caused  the  royal  maiden  to  be  brought 
before  him,  and  then  questioned  her  gently  with  his  own  voice. 
To  the  archbishop  Maud  denied  that  she  had  ever  taken 
the  vows,  or,  of  her  free  will  worn  the  veil ;  and  she  offered 
to  give  full  proof  of  this  before  all  the  prelates  of  England. 
"  I  must  confess,"  she  said,  "that  I  have  sometimes  appeared 
veiled  ;  but  listen  unto  the  cause :  in  my  first  youth,  when  I 
was  living  under  her  care,  my  aunt,  to  save  me,  as  she  said, 
from  the  lust  of  the  Normans,  who  attacked  all  females,  was 
accustomed  to  throw  a  piece  of  black  stuff  over  my  head  ; 
and  if  I  refused  to  cover  myself  with  it,  she  would  treat  me 
very  roughly.  In  her  presence  I  wore  that  black  covering; 
but  as  soon  as  she  was  out  of  sight  I  threw  it  on  the  ground 
and  trampled  it  under  foot  in  childish  anger. ' '  After  receiv- 
ing this  naive  explanation,  which  is  by  itself  worth  a  chapter 
of  ordinary  history,  the  learned  and  venerable  archbishop 
called  a  council  of  bishops,  abbots  and  monks,  and  summoned 
before  this  council  the  gentle  and  lovely  Maud,  and  many  of 
her  witnesses,  of  both  sexes  and  of  both  races.  Two  arch- 
deacons, who  had  expressly  visited  the  convent  in  which  the 
young  lady  had  been  brought  up,  deposed  that  public  report 
and  the  testimony  of  the  nuns  of  that  godly  house  agreed 
with  and  confirmed  the  declaration  which  Maud  had  made  to 
the  archbishop.  The  council  unanimously  decreed  that  the 
young  lady  was  free,  and  could  dispose  of  herself  in  marriage. 


HENRY  I.    OF  ENGLAND. 


151 


On  Sunday,  the  nth  of  November,  a.d.  iigg,  or  little 
more  than  three  months  after  the  accession  of  the  Beauclerc, 
the  marriage  was  celebrated,  and  the  Saxon  queen  was 
crowned  with  great  pomp  and  solemnity.  According  to  the 
chroniclers,  both  Norman  and  English,  she  proved  a  loving 
and  obedient  wife,  as  beautiful  in  mind  as  in  person,  being 
distinguished  by  a  love  of  learning  and  great  charity  to  the 
poor.  Her  elevation  to  the  throne  filled  the  hearts  of  the 
Saxon  part  of  the  nation  with  exceeding  great  joy.  No  son 
of  the  gentle  Maud  lived  to  succeed  Beauclerc,  and  through 
this  misfortune  England  was  visited  by  the  miseries  insepar- 
ably connected  with  disputed  successions  and  civil  wars. 
Yet  this  union  between  the  blood  of  the  Conqueror  and  the 
blood  of  King  Alfred  had  a  beneficial  effect  :  it  served  as  an 
example  to  some  of  the  Norman  baronage,  it  gave  the  court 
of  the  Beauclerc  more  of  an  English  or  Saxon  character,  and 
contributed  to  do  away  with  many  invidious  distinctions. 


RICHARD  I.,  King  of  England,  surnamed 
Coenr  de  Lion,  the  "Ivion-liearted,"  was  the 
second  son  of  Henry  II.,  and   Eleanor  of 
Guienne,    who   had   been  divorced    from 
lyouis  VII.  of  France.     He   was   born   at 
Oxford   in    1157,    and    succeeded    to   the 
throne  by  the  death  of  his  father  in  1189. 
His  haughty  and  rebellious  spirit  had  con- 
tributed to  lay  the  aged  king  in  his  grave, 
and  although  he  showed  some  regret  for 
the  loss  of  his  father,  he  evidently  thirsted 
too  much  for  the  exercise  of  royal  power 
and  independent  dominion,  to  feel 
real  sorrow.     He  remained  a  short 
time    on    the    Continent,    to    take 
formal  possession  of  his  foreign  ter- 
ritories, and  to  settle  the  differences 
between  the  crowns  of  France  and 
England. 
On  the  13th  of  August,  1189,  Richard   landed  at  Ports- 
mouth ;  the  chief  of  the  nobility  met  him  at  Winchester,  and 
on  the  3rd  of  September,  he  was  crowned  with  great  pomp 
and  magnificence  at  Westminster.     The  day  was,   however, 
disgraced  by  an  inhuman  massacre  of  the  Jews,  who  at  that 
period  were  the  principal  bankers.     They  had  been  protected 
by  Henry;  but  as  Philip,  the  French  King,    had  banished 
them  from   France,  they  feared  that  similar  measures  might 
be  adopted  by  Richard ;  to  obviate  which  the  Jews  had  hast- 
ened to  London  on  the  coronation-day  with  splendid  offerings. 
Their  presence  roused  the  mob,  and  the  cry  spread  that  the 
152 


RICHARD   I.  153 

king  liad  proclaimed  a  massacre.  Every  Jewish  dwelling  was 
soon  ablaze,  and  the  streets  were  slippery  with  Jewish  blood. 
But  York  Castle  was  the  scene  of  a  darker  tragedy.  Five 
hundred  Jews  had  there  taken  refuge  with  their  wives  and 
children,  and  were  besieged  by  the  citizens.  Tlic>'  oflfered 
money,  but  in  vain  ;  and,  to  baulk  those  who  thirsted  for 
their  blood,  they  hurled  their  treasures  into  the  flames,  slew 
their  dear  ones,  and  then  stabbed  one  another.  A  few  cried 
for  mercy,  and  opened  the  gates  ;  but  the  rabble  rushing  in 
put  them  to  the  sword.  It  was  in  vain  that  Richard,  by 
proclamation,  took  the  Jews  under  his  protection  ;  Lynn, 
Norwich,  Stamford,  Edmondsbury,  Lincoln,  also  echoed  the 
dying  groans  of  God's  ancient  people. 

Richard's  adventurous  spirit  sought  an  outlet  in  a  new 
Crusade.  His  earliest  measures  were  undertaken  to  raise 
money  for  this  purpose.  To  it  he  devoted  the  hoards  of  his 
father,  sold  the  honors  and  offices  in  his  own  gift,  and  even 
gave  up  for  10,000  marks  the  homage  wrested  by  his  father 
from  the  Scottish  King.  On  the  ist  of  July,  1190,  Richard 
met  Philip  Augustus  of  France  in  the  plain  of  Vezelai,  and 
agreed  upon  the  terms  of  a  mutual  expedition  to  the  Holy 
Land,  forming  the  third  Crusade.  Richard  was  then  accom- 
panied from  Marseilles  by  the  English  barons,  and  the  kings 
rejoined  company  at  Messina,  the  appointed  rendezvous  of  the 
two  armies,  numbering  altogether  100,000  men.  Here  they 
remained  during  the  winter.  Another  delay  took  place  at 
Cypress,  where  Richard  was  married  to  Berengaria  of  Navarre. 
He  stayed  to  conquer  the  island  ;  and,  having  captured  the 
King,  Isaac,  cast  him  into  prison,  loaded  with  fetters  of 
silver. 

In  the  middle  of  1191,  the  armament  arrived  before  Acre, 
which  had  already  been,  for  two  years,  besieged  by  the 
German  crusaders  under  the  Emperor  Frederic.  The  English 
monarch  immediately  became  popular  among  the  knights, 
and  took  a  leading  part  in  the  operations  of  the  siege.  Not- 
withstanding the  valiant  efforts  of  the  famous  Saladin  to  raise 
the  siege,  the  fortress  surrendered  on  the  12th  of  July.  Soon 
afterwards  Philip  Augustus  departed  for  France,  pretending 
sickness,  but  really  disgusted  with  the  supremacy  of  Richard, 


154  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

who  far  outshone  him  in  feats  of  arms.  Richard  now 
marched  from  Acre  at  the  head  of  100,000  men,  and  defeated 
Saladin  in  a  general  engagement  on  the  road  towards  Ascalon. 
This  victory  put  the  Crusaders  in  possession  of  the  principal 
towns  along  the  sea-coast,  and  furnished  such  a  basis  of  opera- 
tions that  Richard  was  enabled  to  press  forward  to  the  capture 
of  Jerusalem.  At  last  the  walls  of  that  city  rose  before  the 
soldiers  of  the  Cross;  but  their  ranks  were  so  thinned  by  war, 
hunger  and  disease,  and  their  energies  so  weakened  by  dis- 
union and  national  jealousy  that  Richard,  even  with  the  prize 
glittering  before  him,  was  forced  to  turn  away.  He  concluded 
a  truce  with  Saladin  and  embarked  for  Europe  on  the  9th  of 
October,  11 92. 

Richard,  on  taking  a  last  view  of  the  shores  of  Asia,  is 
said  to  have  exclaimed,  "  Most  holy  land,  I  commend  thee  to 
the  care  of  the  Almighty  !  May  He  grant  me  life  to  return 
and  rescue  thee  from  the  yoke  of  the  infidels!"  On  the 
passage  home  he  was  shipwrecked  near  Aquileia,  on  the  coast 
of  Italy.  Disguising  himself  as  a  merchant,  he  endeavored 
to  reach  England  by  way  of  Germany.  When  near  Vienna, 
his  real  character  was  discovered  through  the  imprudence  of  his 
page,  who  going  into  the  town  to  buy  provisions,  wore  gloves, 
then  a  mark  of  the  highest  rank.  Leopold,  Duke  of  Austria, 
caused  his  arrest,  both  in  revenge  of  his  brother-in-law,  the 
King  of  Cyprus,  and  of  the  contempt  that  Richard  had  shown 
him  at  Acre.  At  first  the  royal  prisoner  was  confined  in  the 
castle  of  Tyernstein;  but  the  Emperor,  Henry  VI.  of  Gennany, 
who  purchased  the  chained  L-ion  for  ^60,000  about  ($292,200}, 
flung  him  into  a  castle  in  the  Tyrol. 

Richard's  captivity  was  concealed  as  long  as  possible, 
and  popular  tradition  declares  that  even  after  the  fact  was 
acknowledged,  the  place  of  his  incarceration  was  still  hidden. 
At  last  the  faithful  search  of  his  devoted  servant  Blondel, 
who  wandered  as  minstrel  from  castle  to  castle,  was  rewarded 
by  the  discovery  of  his  sovereign.  Richard  was  ransomed  by 
his  subjects  at  the  price  of  100,000  marks,  and  arrived  in 
London  on  the  20th  of  March,  11 94.  His  contemptible 
brother,  John,  had  been  in  connivance  with  Philip  to  usurp 
the  kingdom,  and  that  monarch  advised  him  of  Richard's 


RICHARD   I,  155 

return  with  the  pithy  warning  to  "take  care  of  himself,  for 
the  devil  had  broke  loose."  Richard,  however,  generously 
forgave  him,  and  having  been  crowned  again  at  Winchester, 
crossed  over  to  France  to  chastise  Philip.  Hostilities  were 
interrupted  by  a  truce,  and  being  resumed  again,  a  second 
truce  was  agreed  upon. 

In  1199,  Richard  was  preparing  to  return  to  England, 
when  Vidomar,  the  Count  of  Limoges,  discovered  a  treasure, 
part  of  which  he  sent  to  Richard  as  his  feudal  suj)erior. 
Coeur-de-Lion,  who  had  been  at  great  costs  in  his  recent  wars, 
claimed  the  whole.  Provoked  at  the  refusal  of  the  Limousan, 
Richard  invested  the  castle  of  Chaluz,  and  haughtily  refusing 
all  overtures,  threatened  to  hang  the  whole  garrison  as  soon 
as  he  had  taken  the  place.  While  reconnoitering  this  strong- 
hold, he  was  shot  in  the  shoulder  with  an  arrow  by  a  cross- 
bowman,  named  Bertrand  de  Gourdon.  The  garrison  in  the 
meantime  had  been  defeated,  and  the  King  displayed  his 
usual  magnanimity  by  ordering  that  Gourdon  should  be  set  at 
liberty.  On  the  contrary,  the  hapless  man  was  flayed  alive 
and  then  hung,  by  order  of  Marchadee,  the  leader  of  the 
Brabantine  soldiers  in  Richard's  army.  The  King's  wound 
proved  mortal,  and  he  expired  on  the  i6th  of  April,  1199. 
He  was  buried  at  the  feet  of  his  father  at  Fontevrand  :  his 
heart  was  bequeathed  to  the  citizens  of  Rouen. 

Richard  I.  was  the  very  model  of  a  feudal  knight.  His 
skill  in  music,  his  accomplishments  in  the  poetry  of  the 
Troubadours,  his  daring  valor  and  great  muscular  strength 
have  made  him  a  favorite  hero  of  historians  and  novelists. 
Armed  with  a  heavy  battle-axe,  he  never  hesitated  to  rush 
single-handed  into  the  midst  of  the  enemy,  and  such  deeds 
are  recorded  of  him  as  would  be  incredible  if  they  were  not 
well  attested  by  eye-witnesses.  Out  of  his  reign  of  ten  years, 
he  spent  but  six  months  among  his  people,  and  his  brilliant 
victories  brought  only  poverty  and  distress  to  English  homes. 

Richard  Cceur-de-Lion  in  the  Holy  Land. 

On  the  loth  of  June,  1191,  an  astounding  clangor  of 
trumpets  and  drums  and  horns,  and  every  other  instrument  in 
the  Christian  camp,  hailed  the  arrival  of  Richard  and   his 


156  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

fleet  in  the  roadstead  of  Acre.  The  welcome  was  sincere,  for 
the  aid  was  opportune  and  indispensable.  Without  the  I^ion- 
heart  there  must  have  been  a  capitulation  of  the  Christians  to 
Saladin.  The  French  king  had  arrived  some  time  before, 
but  had  done  nothing.  Frederic  of  Suabia,  who  had  taken 
the  command  of  the  remnant  of  the  army  of  the  Emperor 
Frederic  Barbarossa,  and  who  had  not  been  able  to  give  a 
favorable  turn  to  the  siege  of  Acre,  had  been  for  some  time 
dead,  and  the  Duke  of  Austria,  who  assumed  command  of 
the  Imperialists,  was  a  formalist  and  a  sluggard,  being  at  the 
same  time  conceited  and  jealous. 

The  loss  of  life  among  the  Christians  had  been  fearful. 
The  sword  and  the  plague,  with  other  diseases,  had  swept 
away  six  archbishops,  twelve  bishops,  forty  earls,  and  five 
hundred  baronSj  whose  names  are  recorded  in  history,  and  one 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  of  the  "  meaner  sort."  The  siege 
had  lasted  well  nigh  two  years,  and  the  Crusaders  were  not 
only  still  outside  the  walls,  but  actually  pressed  and  hemmed 
in,  and  almost  besieged  themselves,  by  Saladin,  who  occupied 
Mount  Carmel  and  all  the  neighboring  heights  with  an 
immense  army.  But  the  arrival  of  the  English  king  put  a 
new  spirit  and  life  into  the  languishing  siege;  and  on  the  I2tli 
of  July,  only  a  mouth  and  two  da^'S  after  his  landing,  Acre 
was  taken.  The  glory  of  the  achievement  was  justly  given 
to  Cceur-de-Lion. 

The  French  and  English  soldiery  entered  fully  into  the 
piques  and  jealousies  of  their  respective  kings,  who  did  not 
agree  the  better  for  the  treaty  which  had  been  concluded 
between  them  while  in  Sicily.  Nothing  but  a  Holy  War 
could  ever  have  brought  these  two  sovereigns  to  attempt  to  act 
in  concert  with  one  another.  Philip  was  constantly  aiming 
at  the  overthrow  of  Richard's  dominions  in  France,  and 
Richard  was  resolute  to  keep  those  French  provinces,  which 
rendered  him  even  in  France  as  powerful  as  Philip.  These 
quarrels  nearly  split  the  great  confederacy  of  the  Crusaders. 
Each  king  had  his  partisans.  The  Genoese  and  Templars 
espoused  the  quarrel  of  France  ;  the  Pisans  and  Hospitallers, 
or  the  Knights  of  St.  John,  took  part  with  England ;  and,  on 
the  whole,  it  appears  that  Richard's  more  brilliant  valor,  and^ 


RICUARD    I.  157 

greater  command  of  money  and  other  means,  rendered  the 
English  faction  the  stronger  of  the  two.  The  Templars  and 
the  Hospitallers,  the  Genoese  and  the  Pisans,  were  old  rivals, 
and  had  often  fonght  against  one  another  even  in  the  Holy- 
Land,  and  when  surrounded  by  their  common  enemy,  and 
the  foe  of  all  Christians  :  they  were,  therefore,  sure  to  take 
opposite  parts ;  but  among  the  other  Crusaders,  who  were  not 
divided  by  such  rivalry  and  enmit}',  and  who  looked  ex- 
clusively to  the  triumph  of  the  Christian  cause,  the  Cceur- 
de-Lion  was  evidently  regarded  as  the  best  present  leader,  and 
as  the  most  valorous  prince  that  had  ever  taken  the  Cross  and 
adhered  to  the  vows  he  had  pledged  at  taking  it.  He  never 
showed  himself  in  the  camp  without  being  hailed  enthusi- 
astically by  the  great  body  of  the  Christian  army;  and  he  had 
not  been  a  month  in  the  country  ere  the  Saracens  began  to 
speak  of  him  with  mingled  respect  and  terror.  During  the 
siege  of  Acre  he  had  worked  like  a  common  soldier  at  the  heavy 
battering-engines ;  and  when  assailed  by  a  violent  endemic 
fever,  he  had  caused  himself  to  be  carried  to  the  trenches  on  a 
silk  pallet  or  mattress.  Even  without  his  ever  liberal  guerdon 
the  minstrels  might  have  been  animated  to  sing  his  praise, 
and  to  declare,  as  they  did,  that  if  the  Sepulchre  of  our  Lord 
were  ever  again  recovered,  it  must  be  through  King  Richard. 
All  this  gave  rise  to  fresh  jealousies  in  the  breast  of  Philip, 
who,  though  brave,  was  far  more  distinguished  as  an  adroit 
statesman  in  Europe  than  as  a  warrior  in  the  Holy  Land. 

Philip  Augustus  was  gone  for  France,  and  the  Cn^saders 
seemed  disposed  rather  to  remain  where  they  w^ere  than  to  go 
to  Jerusalem.  Having  restored  the  battered  walls  of  Acre, 
Richard  Coeur-de-Lion  prepared  to  march  ;  but  the  majority 
of  the  Christians  by  no  means  shared  in  his  impatience,  ' '  for 
the  wine  of  Cyprus  was  of  the  very  best  quality,  provisions 
were  very  abundant,  and  the  city  abounded  with  beautiful 
women  who  had  come  from  the  neighboring  islands;"  and 
the  gravest  knights  had  made  a  Capua  of  Acre.  When  a 
herald-at-arms  proclaimed  with  a  loud  voice  that  the  army 
was  going  to  begin  its  march  towards  Jaffa,  many  of  the 
pilgrims  held  down  their  heads  or  slunk  away  into  the  houses 
of  the  pleasant  town. 


158  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

The  impatient  King  of  England  went  out  of  Acre  and 
encamped  in  the  neighborhood  ;  and  when  he  had  been  there 
some  days,  and  when  the  clergy  by  their  preaching  had  re- 
called to  the  minds  of  the  Crusaders  the  sad  captivity  of 
Jerusalem,  the  flames  of  enthusiasm  were  again  lighted.  The 
pilgrims  all  went  forth  to  the  camp,  and  Richard  having  given 
the  signal  to  depart,  one  hundred  thousand  men  crossed  the 
river  Belus,  advancing  between  the  sea  and  Mount  Carmel. 
Richard  had  left  behind  him  his  sister  and  wife  at  Acre,  and 
had  strictly  prohibited  women  from  following  the  army.  It 
was  on  the  22d  of  August,  1191,  that  the  march  began. 
The  distance  between  Acre  and  Jerusalem  is  scarcely  more 
than  eighty  of  our  miles  ;  but  the  country  is  difficult,  and  was 
guarded  by  a  numerous,  brave,  and  active  enemy. 

Of  Richard's  forces  scarcely  more  than  thirty  thousand 
were  to  be  considered  as  soldiers,  and  these  were  of  all  nations. 
They  marched  in  five  divisions :  the  Knights  Templars  led 
the  van ;  the  Knights  of  St.  John  brought  up  the  rear. 
There  was  a  great  standard  car,  like  the  Lombard  Carroccio, 
and  like  that  which  had  been  used  at  Northallerton  in  the 
great  battle  of  the  Standard.  It  ran  upon  four  wheels  that 
were  sheathed  with  iron,  and  it  carried  the  standard  of  the 
Holy  War  suspended  on  a  high  mast.  During  the  fury  of 
battles,  such  of  the  wounded  as  could  be  recovered  in  the 
melee  were  brought  round  this  car  :  and  in  case  of  any  reverse 
or  retreat,  the  car  was  the  general  rallying-point  for  the 
Christian  army.  While  Richard  and  his  mixed  host  marched 
slowly  along  between  the  mountains  and  the  sea,  a  fleet  which 
carried  their  baggage,  provisions,  and  munitions  of  war, 
glided  along  the  coast  within  sight  of  the  troops.  Every  night, 
when  the  army  halted,  the  heralds  of  the  several  camps 
cried  aloud  three  times,  "Save  the  Holy  Sepulchre !  "  and 
every  soldier  bent  his  knee  and  raised  his  hands  and  eyes  to 
heaven,  and  said  "  Amen  !  "  Every  morning,  at  the  point  of 
day,  the  standard  car,  at  the  command  of  Richard,  was  put  in 
motion,  and  then  the  Crusaders  formed  in  order  of  march, 
the  priests  and  monks  chanting  a  psalm  the  while,  or  singing 
a  hymn — '''' Lignum  Criicis^  Signnm  Diicisy 

Saladin,  who  had  been  reinforced  from  all  parts,  infested 


RICHARD   I.  159 

their  marcli  every  day,  and  encamped  near  them  every  night, 
with  an  army  greatly  superior  in  numbers.  The  Crusaders 
scarcely  advanced  three  leagues  a  day :  their  roads  were  cut 
by  ravines  and  mountain  torrents  ;  there  were  many  steep  and 
intricate  defiles,  with  wood  and  underwood  ;  and  at  every 
difficult  point  there  stood  the  cunning  Paynim  to  dispute  the 
passage,  or  to  make  them  suffer  from  an  ambuscade  attack. 
These  Saracens  were  not  heavily  armed,  like  the  Christians  ; 
they  carried  only  a  bow  and  quiver,  or  a  sword,  a  dagger,  and 
a  javelin.  Some  of  them  were  only  armed  with  a  club  brist- 
ling at  one  extremity  with  sharp  steel  points,  that  went 
through  a  coat  of  mail  like  a  needle  through  a  garment  of 
cotton  or  woolen  stuff.  Many  of  them,  well  mounted  on 
Arab  horses,  kept  constantly  hovering  round  Richard's  line 
of  march,  flying  when  they  were  pursued,  and  returning  to 
the  charge  when  the  pursuit  ceased,  or  whenever  they  saw  a 
favorable  opportunity.  Their  movements  were  compared, 
now  to  the  flight  of  the  swallow,  and  now  to  that  of  an  impor- 
tunate swarm  of  summer  flies.  Their  archers  frequently  did 
great  execution,  even  without  showing  themselves,  for  they 
were  hid  behind  trees,  or  among  the  tall  growing  weeds,  or 
they  bent  their  bows  with  a  sure  aim  behind  rocks.  When- 
ever a  Crusader  fell — and  many  more  fell  by  disease  than  by 
the  arms  of  the  infidel — his  comrades  dug  him  a  shallow 
grave,  and  buried  him  on  the  spot  where  he  had  breathed  his 
last,  and  then  chanted  the  service  for  the  dead  as  they  re- 
sumed their  march. 

On  the  7th  of  September,  Richard  brought  Saladin  to  a 
general  action  near  Azotus,  the  Ashdod  of  the  Bible,  on  the 
sea-shore,  and  about  nine  miles  from  Ascalon,  The  sultan 
had  there  collected  two  hundred  thousand  men  to  oppose 
Richard's  farther  advance  ;  and,  before  the  battle  began, 
swarms  of  Bedouin  Arabs  collected  on  the  declivities  of 
mountains  upon  the  flank  of  the  Crusaders.  Richard  closed 
up  his  five  divisions  and  ordered  them  all  to  remain  on  the 
defensive.  "The  battalions  of  the  Christians,"  says  old 
Vinesauf,  "stood  in  so  solid  a  mass  that  an  apple  thrown 
anywhere  among  them  could  not  have  reached  the  ground 
without  touching  a  man  or  a  horse."     The  Saracens  charged 


l6o  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVKNTS. 

this  iron  mass.  They  might  as  well  have  charged  the  flank 
of  Mount  Carmel  or  Mount  Sion.  They  were  thrown  off 
with  great  slaughter,  and  then  the  mass  moved  slowly 
onwards,  not  deviating  in  the  slightest  degree  from  the  line 
of  advance  which  Richard  had  originally  chosen.  The 
Saracens  attacked  again  and  in  greater  force,  and  being  again 
repulsed  and  thrown  into  some  confusion,  Richard  raised  his 
battle-axe  and  gave  the  word,  and  the  great  solid  body  broke 
up  into  its  several  parts,  and  three  of  the  five  columns 
charged  among  the  Paynim.  King  Richard  showed  himself 
wherever  the  Crusaders  had  need  of  succor ;  and  wherever 
he  appeared  his  presence  was  announced  by  the  flight  of 
the  Turks.  After  a  display  of  valor  which  was  never  sur- 
passed, and  of  more  cool  conduct  and  generalship  than  might 
have  been  expected  from  him,  he  gained  a  complete  victory. 
Mourning  the  loss  of  many  thousand  men,  and  of  thirty-two 
emirs  or  chiefs  of  the  first  rank,  Saladin,  the  victor  of  many 
a  field,  retreated  in  great  disorder,  having  had,  at  one  time, 
only  seventeen  Mamelukes  near  his  person. 

Richard,  who  was  slightly  wounded  on  the  left  side, 
advanced  without  further  opposition  to  Jaffa,  the  Joppa  of 
Scripture,  of  which  he  took  possession.  Here  he  was  only 
thirty  miles  from  the  Holy  City.  As  the  country  in  advance 
of  that  position  was  as  yet  clear  of  enemies,  or  was  occupied 
only  by  disheartened  fugitives,  the  Lion-heart  would  have 
followed  up  his  advantages;  but  many  of  the  Crusaders,  less 
hardy  than  himself,  were  worn  out  by  the  climate  and  by 
fatigue,  and  the  French  barons  urged  the  necessity  of  restor- 
ing the  fortifications  of  Jaffa  before  they  advanced.  No 
sooner  had  Richard  consented  to  this  measure  than  the  Crusa- 
ders, instead  of  prosecuting  the  work  with  vigor,  abandoned 
themselves  to  luxurious  ease. 

The  English  king  was  joined  by  his  young  wife  and  sister, 
and  the  other  ladies  that  he  had  left  at  Acre,  who  came  to 
Jaffa  by  sea.  Being  impatient  to  repose,  he  had  recourse  to 
hunting  and  other  sports  of  the  field,  disregarding  the  evident 
fact  that  hordes  of  Saracens  and  Arabs  were  scouring  the 
country  in  detached  parties.  One  day  he  was  actually  sur- 
rounded in  a  wood,  and  would  have  lost  either  his  life  or  his 


RICHARD   I.  l6l 

liberty,  had  not  one  of  liis  companions,  William  de  Pratelles, 
a  kniglit  of  Provence,  cried  out  in  the  Arabic  tongue,  "  I  am 
the  king  !  Spare  my  life  !"  and  by  drawing  attention  upon 
himself,  given  Richard  the  opportunity  of  escaping.  The 
faithful  William  de  Pratelles  was  carried  off  a  prisoner  to 
Saladin;  but  Richard  soon  redeemed  him,  by  giving  in 
exchancre  ten  emirs  whom  he  had  taken.  On  another  occa- 
sion,  a  company  of  Templars,  in  quest  of  forage,  fell  into  an 
ambuscade.  The  Lion-heart  sent  the  brave  Earl  of  Leicester 
to  their  aid,  promising  that  he  would  follow  as  soon  as  he 
could  get  on  his  armor.  Before  that  rather  tedious  opera- 
tion could  be  completed,  they  told  him  the  Templars  and  the 
Earl  were  being  crushed  by  the  number  of  the  enemy.  With- 
out finishing  his  steel  toilette,  and  without  waiting  for  any 
one,  Coeur-de-Lion  leaped  on  his  war-horse,  and  galloped  to  the 
spot,  declaring  he  were  unworthy  of  the  name  of  king,  if  he 
abandoned  those  whom  he  had  promised  to  succor.  He  spurred 
into  the  thickest  of  the  fight,  and  so  laid  about  him  with  that 
tremendous  battle-axe  which  he  had  caused  to  be  forged  by 
the  best  smiths  in  England  before  he  departed  for  the  East, 
that  the  Earl  of  Leicester  and  all  the  Knights  Templars  who 
had  not  fallen  previously  to  his  arrival  were  rescued.  On 
such  onslaughts,  say  the  chroniclers,  his  cry  was  still — "St. 
George  !  St.  George  ! ' ' 

At  the  end  of  May,  1192,  the  Crusaders  once  more  set  out 
on  their  march  towards  Jerusalem,  under  the  command  of 
Richard.  The  march  now  began  on  a  Sabbath-day,  the  fight- 
ing men  being  to  all  appearance  full  of  courage,  and  the  poor 
pilgrims  who  followed  them  full  of  hope,  for  they  raised 
their  voices  and  said,  "O  Lord!  Thanks  be  unto  Thee,  for 
the  time  of  the  deliverance  of  the  Holy  City  is  now  at  hand  !  " 
The  warriors  had  ornamented  their  helmets  with  bright 
cockades  and  flowers  ;  the  flags  of  the  army  had  been  renewed, 
and  shone  splendidly  in  the  sun.  When  not  employed  in 
singing  psalms  and  canticles  of  victory,  all  tongues  spoke  the 
praise  of  the  Lion-hearted  king  who  remained  at  his  post 
when  others  had  deserted  it,  and  who  was  now  assuredly  leading 
them  to  a  final  victory.  Early  in  June  they  encamped  in  the 
valley  of  Hebron.  But  here  Richard  received  fresh  messen- 
IV— n 


l62  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

gers  from  England,  bringing  dismal  accounts  of  plots  within 
and  armed  confederacies  without  his  dominions.  Richard  now 
came  to  a  stand,  and  turned  his  heart  and  thoughts  to  the  West, 
where  his  crown  was  almost  within  the  grasp  of  his  brother 
John,  and  whither  he  was  conjured  to  return  by  his  still  able 
and  active  mother,  Eleanor,  and  by  all  such  of  his  ministers  as 
were  faithful  unto  him.  A  council  was  assembled  at  his  sug- 
gestion :  it  was  composed  of  five  knights  of  the  Temple, 
five  knights  of  St.  John,  five  barons  of  France,  and  five 
barons  or  Christian  lords,  who  held  lands  in  Palestine  ;  and 
it  deliberated  during  several  successive  days.  In  the  end,  this 
council  declared  that,  under  present  circumstances,  it  would 
be  better  to  march  to  the  south  and  besiege  Cairo,  whence 
Saladin  drew  his  main  supplies,  than  to  advance  and  besiege 
Jerusalem.  This  decision  was  perhaps  a  wise  one,  but  it  was 
adopted  far  too  late. 

As  soon  as  a  countermarch  from  the  Hebron  was  com- 
menced, all  discipline  abandoned  the  camp,  and,  after  some 
savage  quarrels  and  conflicts  of  arms  among  themselves,  the 
mass  of  the  French  and  Germans  deserted  the  Standard  of  the 
Cross  altogether.  Richard  then  leisurely  fell  back  upon  Acre. 
The  Saracens  now  descended  from  the  mountains  of  Judaea, 
pouring  through  every  pass  and  gorge  like  the  headlong  tor- 
rents in  the  winter  season :  and  Saladin  soon  took  the  town 
of  Jaffa  or  Joppa,  all  but  the  well-defended  citadel,  in  which 
Coeur-de-Lion  had  left  a  manful  garrison.  A  tremendous 
contest  ensued  between  Saladin  and  Richard. 

As  the  battle  of  Jaffa  was  the  most  brilliant,  so  also  was 
it  the  last  fought  by  the  Lion-heart  in  the  Holy  Land.  The 
Duke  of  Burgundy  had  withdrawn  to  Tyre,  and  had  refused 
to  take  any  further  part  in  the  war.  The  Germans,  com- 
manded by  the  Duke  of  Austria,  had  quitted  Palestine  for 
Europe ;  and  most  of  the  Crusaders  of  other  nations  were 
wearied  with  the  contest,  or  engaged  in  their  old  jealousies 
and  feuds.  Richard's  health,  and  the  health  of  his  great 
adversary  Saladin,  were  both  seriously  affected  ;  and  a  mutual 
admiration  and  respect  appears  to  have  forwarded  a  treaty 
which  was  concluded  shortly  after  the  battle  of  Jaffa. 

— C.  Knight. 


RICHARD  I. 


163 


THE  CAPTIVE  KING'S  COMPI^AINT. 

[Written  by  Richard  Cceur-de-I,ion  while  prisoner  in  Germany.] 

No  captive  knight,  whom  chains  confine, 
Can  tell  his  fate  and  not  repine ; 
Yet  with  a  song  he  cheers  the  gloom 
That  hangs  around  his  living  tomb. 
Shame  to  his  friends  ! — the  king  remains 
Two  years  unransomed  and  in  chains. 

Now  let  them  know,  my  brave  barons, 
English,  Normans,  and  Gascons, 
Not  a  liege-man  so  poor  have  I, 
That  I  would  not  his  freedom  buy. 
I'll  not  reproach  their  noble  line, 
But  chains  and  dungeon  still  are  mine. 

The  dead, — nor  friends  nor  kin  hav€  they  ! 
Nor  friends  nor  kin  my  ransom  pay ! 
My  wrongs  afflict  me, — yet  far  more 
For  faithless  friends  my  heart  is  sore. 
O,  what  a  blot  upon  their  name, 
If  I  should  perish  thus  in  shame  ! 

Nor  is  it  strange  I  suffer  pain. 

When  sacred  oaths  are  thus  made  vain. 

And  when  the  king  with  bloody  hands 

Spreads  war  and  pillage  through  my  lauds. 

One  only  solace  now  remains, — 

I  soon  shall  burst  these  servile  chains. 

Ye  Troubadours,  and  friends  of  mine, 

Brave  Chail,  and  noble  Pensauvine, 

Go,  tell  my  rivals,  in  your  song, 

This  heart  hath  never  done  them  wrong. 

He  infamy — not  glorj^ — gains. 

Who  strikes  a  monarch  in  his  chains. 


HE  spirit  of  chivalry  was  not  confined  to 
Western  Europe.  Christian  chivalry 
in  the  Crusades  encountered  a  similar 
Mohammedan  chivalry.  In  the  Arab, 
and  most  of  the  Asiatic  races,  there 
was  a  native  chivalry,  as  among  the 
Teutonic  nations.  However  high  Rich- 
ard Cceur-de-Lion  may  stand  in  the 
annals  of  knighthood,  he  was  surpassed,  even  in  the  judg- 
ment of  Christian  historians,  by  Saladin  in  the  true  virtues 
of  chivalry — bravery,  devotion  to  religion,  and  generosity  to 
the  weak  and  fallen. 

Saladin  was  born  a.d.  1137,  or  in  the  Mohammedan 
reckoning  a.h.  532,  in  the  castle  of  Tecrit  on  the  Tigris. 
Here  his  father  Ayub,  a  Kurd  of  the  tribe  of  Ravenduz,  was 
governor  for  the  Seljukian  sovereign  of  Persia.  Saladin' s 
name  was  Yussuf  (or  Joseph),  to  which  his  family  added 
Salah-ed-Din  (Safety  of  the  Faith)  ;  in  his  youth  to  this  was 
joined,  according  to  Oriental  custom,  Ben  Ayub  (Son  of  Job), 
and  after  the  birth  of  his  oldest  son,  this  addition  was  changed 
to  Abu  Modhafifer  (father  of  Modhaffer).  When  he  became 
King  of  Egypt  he  took  as  his  title  of  honor  Malek-en-Nasir 
(Victorious  King).  At  an  early  age  Saladin  served  under  his 
father  and  his  uncle  Shiracouh,  and  when  the  latter  was  sent 
by  the  Sultan  Noureddin  into  Egypt  to  assist  the  Fatimite 
Caliph  Adhed  against  his  vizier  Shawir,  Saladin  accompanied 
him.  After  an  entrance  had  been  effected  into  Alexandria, 
Saladin  was  left  there  in  command  of  a  strong  garrison,  and 
was  besieged  by  the  Crusaders.  On  the  death  of  Shiracouh 
164 


SALADIN.  165 

in  1 168,  Saladiu  was  chosen  to  succeed  liim  in  the  command 
of  the  Caliph's  armies. 

Before  this  Saladin  had  been  addicted  to  wine  and 
gaming  ;  but  lie  now  entirely  reformed  his  conduct,  and 
thenceforth  rigorously  observed  the  precepts  of  the  Koran. 
In  obedience  to  the  orders  of  Noureddin,  he  put  an  end  to 
the  dynasty  of  the  Fatimite  Caliphs  of  Egypt  in  1171.  The 
death  of  Adhed,  happening  at  the  same  time,  Saladin  took 
possession  of  his  treasures,  and  though  nominally  holding 
the  country  under  the  Caliph  of  Bagdad,  and  as  subordinate 
to  Noureddin,  he  resolved  to  make  himself  independent  of 
both.  A  temporary  agreement,  however,  prevented  hostilities 
between  them. 

The  death  of  Noureddin  in  11 74  removed  the  greatest 
obstacle  to  Saladin' s  ambitious  schemes.  Though  he  ac- 
knowledged Al-Malek,  the  young  son  of  Noureddin,  as  the 
lawful  heir,  the  confusion  of  the  times  enabled  Saladin  to 
seize  his  dominions,  first  under  the  pretence  of  being  his 
guardian,  and  then  openly  for  himself.  Having  secured 
Damascus  and  several  other  places  in  Syria,  he  unsuccessfully 
besieged  Al-Malek  in  Aleppo.  He  next  turned  his  arms 
against  the  Christians  in  the  maritime  provinces  of  Palestine; 
but  Baldwin  the  Leper,  King  of  Jerusalem,  inflicted  on  him  a 
severe  defeat  at  Ascalon.  Almost  the  whole  of  his  army  was 
destroyed,  and  he  himself  fled  alone  on  a  dromedary.  Al- 
Malek  died  in  1181;  and  Saladin,  two  years  later,  became 
master  of  Aleppo  by  capitulation,  so  that  he  was  now  in  full 
possession  of  Syria  as  well  as  Egypt,  to  both  of  which  prov- 
inces his  title  as  Sultan  had  been  confirmed  by  the  Caliph 
Nasir.  The  Sultan  of  Anatolia  and  the  King  of  Armenia 
were  compelled  to  make  terms  of  peace. 

Religious  zeal  and  political  ambition  now  combined  to  in- 
cite Saladin  to  expel  the  Christians  from  Palestine  and  to  re- 
cover the  city  of  Jerusalem.  His  ardor  was  further  inflamed 
by  the  desire  of  vengeance.  Arnaud  (or  Reginald)  de  Chatillon, 
an  unruly  Frankish  lord  settled  in  that  country,  had  not  only 
committed  great  ravages  on  the  Arabian  frontier,  but  had 
attacked  a  caravan  of  pilgrims  going  to  Mecca,  massacring  a 
large  number  of  them,  and  carrying  the  rest  into  captivity. 


l66  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

This  act  of  hostility  was  an  infraction  of  a  convention 
between  Saladin  and  the  Christians,  who  were  pledged  to 
allow  pilgrims  to  pass  unmolested;  he  vowed  revenge  upon 
the  perpetrator.  Similar  outrages  had  been  perpetrated  upon 
Christian  pilgrims  to  Jerusalem,  but  Saladin  refused  to  take 
notice  of  them.  After  ravaging  the  territory  of  the  Franks, 
he  fulfilled  his  threats  by  his  victory  in  the  famous  battle  on 
the  Plain  of  Tiberias  in  1187,  Guy  de  Lusignan,  the  King 
of  Jerusalem,  was  taken  prisoner,  and  received  by  the  victor 
with  royal  generosity ;  while  his  partner  in  captivity,  Reginald 
de  Chatillon,  was  decapitated,  as  a  punishment  for  his  perfidy, 
by  the  hand  of  Saladin  himself.  The  fruits  of  this  victory 
were  the  towns  of  Acre,  Seid,  Beirout,  and  several  others  on 
the  coast,  which  either  capitulated  or  were  carried  by  storm. 

Saladin  then  invested  Jerusalem  itself,  for  a  time  refusing 
all  offers  of  capitulation,  and  expressed  his  intention  of  taking 
it  by  storm  as  the  Christians  had  done.  At  length,  however, 
the  preparations  for  a  vigorous  defence  on  the  part  of  the 
besieged  induced  the  Sultan  to  listen  to  terms,  and  it  was 
aereed  that  the  Christian  inhabitants  should  evacuate  the 
city,  with  liberty  to  carry  off  their  effects,  and  that  the 
Franks  should  pay  a  certain  ransom  a  head,  or  remain  slaves 
to  the  conqueror.  Saladin  entered  the  Holy  City  with  great 
triumph,  and  finally  executed  the  conditions  of  his  treaty. 
He  thence  proceeded  to  lay  siege  to  Tyre,  but  the  destruction 
of  his  fleet  by  the  Franks  rendered  the  attempt  abortive. 

The  intelligence  of  the  loss  of  Jerusalem  excited  poignant 
grief  among  the  Christian  Powers.  The  Emperor  Frederic 
Barbarossa,  the  Kings  of  England  and  France,  with  several 
other  princes,  took  the  Cross  and  prepared  expeditions  for  the 
relief  of  the  Holy  Land.  Help  arrived  from  various  parts  of 
Europe  to  the  Christians  in  Tyre,  by  which  they  were  enabled 
in  1189,  to  undertake  the  recovery  of  Acre  from  the  Moslems. 
This  attempt  recalled  Saladin  from  the  pursuit  of  other  con- 
quests ;  and  for  two  years  the  fields  of  Acre  were  the  theatre 
of  some  of  the  fiercest  contests  recorded  by  history  between  the 
Europeans  and  the  Asiatics,  the  followers  of  Christ  and 
Mohammed.  In  one  of  the  first  conflicts,  the  Christians 
penetrated  as  far  as  the  Sultan's  tent,  and  made  great  carnage. 


SAI^ADIN.  167 

In  another  Saladin  threw  into  the  city  a  considerable  rein- 
forcement. 

The  death  of  the  Emperor  Frederic,  who  had  arrived  with 
a  large  army  in  Asia,  inspired  the  Moslems  with  hopes  which 
were  damped  by  the  news  that  the  Kings  of  England  and 
France,  Richard  Cceur-de-Iyion  and  Philip  Augustus,  were 
advancing  at  the  head  of  a  mighty  host.  Upon  their  arrival 
the  siege  was  pushed  with  so  much  vigor  that  Acre,  in  1191, 
surrendered  to  their  united  arms.  Philip,  upon  this  success, 
returned  to  Europe;  being  piqued  that  the  glory  of  the  exploit 
was  assigned  entirely  to  the  English  King.  Richard  remained 
on  the  field,  and  after  having  twice  defeated  Saladin,  took 
Caesarea  and  Jaffa,  and  spread  alarm  to  Jerusalem  itself.  His 
romantic  valor  for  a  time  eclipsed  the  glory  of  the  Sultan, 
who,  however,  employed  every  resource  of  military  skill  and 
policy  to  check  the  progress  of  his  antagonist. 

At  length  a  truce  was  made  between  the  two  sovereigns, 
by  the  terms  of  which  the  coast  from  Jaffa  to  Tyre  inclusively 
was  ceded  to  the  Christians;  Ascalon  was  left  demolished  and 
unoccupied,  and  the  rest  of  Palestine  remained  in  the  posses- 
sion of  the  Sultan.  The  departure  of  Richard  freed  Saladin 
from  his  most  formidable  foe;  but  the  Sultan's  constitution 
was  broken  by  the  constant  toil  to  which  he  had  for  many 
years  been  subjected  ;  and  a  bilious  fever  which  had  seized 
him  at  Damascus,  carried  him  oflf  after  twelve  days'  illness 
March  4th,    1192  (a.h.  589). 

Christians  and  Saracens  have  vied  with  each  other  in 
writing  panegyrics  on  the  justice,  valor,  generosity,  and 
political  wisdom,  of  this  prince,  who  possessed  the  art,  not 
simph'  of  acquiring  power,  but  of  devoting  it  to  the  good  of 
his  subjects.  His  ingratitude  to  the  family  of  his  early  bene- 
factor Noureddin,  and  the  insatiable  ambition  which  led  him 
to  despoil  so  many  minor  princes  of  his  own  faith,  are  more 
than  atoned  for  in  the  eyes  of  Orientals  by  his  exploits  in  the 
Holy  War  against  the  Frank  invaders  of  Palestine,  and  by 
the  rigid  justice  which  he  administered  impartially  to  the 
meanest  suppliant  for  redress.  His  generous  humanity  to  the 
helpless  multitude  of  captives  which  fell  into  his  hands  at  the 
capture  of  Jerusalem  may  be  favorably  contrasted  with  the 


1 68  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

massacre  of  the  garrison  of  Acre,  ordered  by  Cceur-de-Lion, 
after  its  capitulation.  "  Spill  no  blood,"  said  Saladin  to  his 
son,  "for  it  will  one  day  reach  thy  head.  Preserve  the  hearts 
of  thy  subjects  by  loving  care,  for  they  are  intrusted  to  thee 
by  God." 

The  Sieges  of  Jerusalem  and  Joppa. 

While  the  pilgrims  were  anticipating  the  recovery  of 
the  Holy  City,  in  Jerusalem  all  was  apprehension  and  des- 
pondency. The  reparation  of  the  walls,  though  far  advanced, 
was  not  completed  ;  the  Turks  who  had  been  dismissed  in 
the  winter  had  not  returned  to  the  standard  of  Saladin. 
Malek-el-Adel  and  Malek-el-Afdel  were  away  in  Mesopotamia 
with  a  large  portion  of  the  army,  the  guards  of  the  Sultan 
and  a  part  of  the  Egyptian  troops  alone  remained  for  the 
defence  of  the  Holy  City ;  and  it  is  not  at  all  improbable  that, 
as  many  of  the  pilgrims  thought,  the  city  would  have  sur- 
rendered or  been  deserted,  if  they  had  advanced  at  once  to 
lay  siege  to  it.  Saladin  himself  was  ill  in  health,  and  incapa- 
ble of  his  customary  exertions. 

The  Sultan,  expecting  an  immediate  advance  of  the  Christ- 
ian army,  when  he  heard  of  the  return  of  King  Richard  from 
his  expedition  to  Hebron  and  of  the  arrival  of  King  Henry 
with  reinforcements,  sent  urgent  entreaties  to  the  Turkish 
troops  to  come  to  his  aid,  and  at  the  same  time  he  filled  up  all 
the  cisterns  for  two  miles  round  Jerusalem,  to  deprive  the 
enemy  of  water.  In  the  council  of  war  which  he  assembled 
the  Cadi  Boha-ed-deen,  by  his  directions,  entreated  the  emirs 
to  perseverance  in  the  Holy  War  ;  he  cited  the  example  of 
the  companions  of  the  Prophet,  who  in  a  similar  time  of  peril 
had  sworn  to  fight  even  to  the  death.  "  Let  us  then,"  said 
he,  "  follow  this  glorious  example,  and  swear  unanimously  in 
the  mosque  of  the  khaleefeh  Omar  to  die  with  weapons  in  our 
hands;  it  may  be  that  this  resolution  will  give  us  a  victory 
over  the  enemy. ' '  No  one  made  answer  ;  ' '  they  were  as 
still,"  to  use  the  words  of  the  Cadi,  "as  if  birds  were  sitting 
on  their  heads. ' '  At  length  the  Sultan  spake  from  his  throne  : 
"  Praise  be  unto  God  and  a  blessing  on  the  Prophet  !  Know 
that  ye   are   now   the   only  army  of    Islam  and  its  sole  de- 


SAI<ADIN.  169 

fence,  that  the  lives  and  properties  and  children  of  the  Mos- 
lems are  committed  to  yon,  and  that  besides  you  no  Moslem 
dares  to  go  against  this  foe,  who,  if  you,  which  God  avert, 
retire,  will  roll  up  these  countries  as  the  angel  of  judgment 
rolls  up  the  book  in  which  the  actions  of  men  are  written 
down.  You  have  not  merely  undertaken  the  defence  of  these 
countries,  and  enjoy  for  so  doing  all  that  our  treasury  can 
offer  you,  but  the  IMoslems  of  other  countries  also  depend 
upon  your  protection."  Then  rose  Seif-ed-deen  IMeshtoob, 
the  brave  defender  of  Acre.  "My  lord,"  said  he,  "we  are 
thy  servants  and  slaves  ;  thou  hast  heaped  benefits  upon  us, 
hast  made  us  great  and  renowned,  and  hast  given  us  so  much 
that  nothing  is  our  own  save  our  necks,  and  these  we  give 
unto  thy  hand  ;  we  swear  by  God,  that  none  of  us  will  quit 
thee  so  long  as  we  live. ' '  All  present  assented  to  what  the 
valiant  emir  spoke,  and  Saladin  expressed  his  joy  by  giving 
a  splendid  banquet. 

But  when  his  confidential  friends  assembled  around  him 
for  the  evening  prayer,  as  they  were  wont,  they  found  him  no 
longer  cheerful.  As  they  were  going  away  he  detained  Boha- 
ed-deen,  and  told  him  that  the  IMamlooks,  when  they  had  heard 
the  resolve  of  the  emirs,  had  declared  against  standing  a  siege 
in  Jerusalem,  where  the  fate  of  the  garrison  of  Acre  perhaps 
awaited  them,  and  pronounced  it  better  to  meet  the  enemy  in 
the  open  field,  where  a  victory  would  restore  to  Islam  all  that 
it  had  lost  ;  or  in  case  of  defeat,  the  army  might  reserve  itself 
for  another  time,  and  that  the  city  of  Jerusalem,  which  Islam 
had  before  been  obliged  to  part  with,  should  be  then  aban- 
doned ;  but  that  if  the  Sultan  would  compel  his  warriors  to 
defend  the  town,  in  that  case  either  himself  or  one  of  his 
near  relatives  should  stay  to  command  them.  Boha-ed-deen 
spent  the  greater  part  of  the  night  in  comforting  and  exhort- 
ing the  Sultan,  and  when  he  returned  to  him  at  the  time  of 
morning  prayer  he  advised  him  to  seek  the  favor  and  the  pro- 
tection of  God  on  that  day  (it  was  Frida}^),  by  private  alms- 
giving, by  fervent  prayer,  and  by  twice  bowing  his  knees  in 
the  mosque  of  Omar.  When  a  few  hours  afterwards  the  Cadi 
was  performing  his  devotions  near  his  master  in  the  mosque, 
he  marked  with  delight  the  tears  of  sadness  which  rolled  down 


lyo  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

the  cheeks  of  the  Sultan  during  his  internal  prayer.  The 
confidence  of  Saladin  now  revived  ;  he  resolved  not  to  yield 
the  Holy  City  to  the  infidels,  and  he  appointed  his  kinsman, 
Maj-ed-deen  Ferukh  Shah,  the  Prince  of  Baalbek,  to  be  its 
governor. 

But  the  apprehensions  of  the  Sultan  were  groundless  ;  the 
Christian  leaders  thought  of  nothing  less  than  of  attempting 
the  recovery  of  the  Holy  City,  and  the  very  next  morning  he 
learned  that  they  were  about  to  commence  their  retreat. 

The  negotiation  was  opened  by  King  Henry's  seeking,  at 
the  desire  of  King  Richard,  peace  and  friendship  with  the  Sul- 
tan. When  this  proposal  had  been  well  received  by  Saladin, 
Richard  sent  Yussuf-el-Hajee  {pilgrini)^  a  servant  of  Seif-ed- 
deen  Meshtoob,  who  was  his  prisoner,  along  with  two  Christ- 
ians, as  it  were  to  treat  with  his  master  about  the  liberation 
of  Kara  Koosh,  who  was  still  in  captivity.  This  was  on  the 
day  that  King  Richard  encamped  at  Ranila,  and  he  desired 
the  envoy  to  tell  his  master  that  the  Mussulmans  should  not 
build  any  hopes  on  the  retreat  of  the  Christians,  that  the  ram 
retires  only  to  butt  with  the  greater  force,  and  that  the  emir 
would  do  well  to  advise  the  Sultan  to  peace.  But  Saladin  and 
his  emirs  knew  too  well  the  real  state  of  affairs  with  the 
Crusaders,  to  be  moved  by  this  fanfaronade;  and  Richard  soon 
confirmed  them  in  their  opinion,  by  lowering  his  demands 
and  almost  descending  to  entreaty.  He  now  required,  beside 
the  division  of  the  country  with  King  Henry,  to  which  Saladin 
had  already  consented,  only  the  possession  of  the  Church  of 
the  Resurrection  ;  and  as  the  Sultan  seemed  inclined  to  agree 
to  this,  Richard  sent  a  present  of  two  hawks  by  another  envoy, 
and  required  permission  for  twenty  Christians  to  reside  in  the 
castle  of  Jerusalem.  This  the  Sultan  refused  ;  he  would  only 
allow  the  Ivatins  to  visit  the  Holy  City  as  pilgrims ;  but  he 
consented  to  levy  no  tax  on  them.  He  made  a  corresponding 
return  to  the  present  of  the  English  king;  but  he  declined 
sending  an  emir,  as  Richard  had  requested,  to  the  Christian 
camp,  to  swear  in  his  name  to  the  peace  if  it  should  be 
agreed  on. 

Richard  finally  proposed  that  Christians  and  Moslems 
should  remain  as  they  then  were ;  the  former  having  posses- 


SAI^ADIN.  171 

sion  of  all  the  coast  from  Antiocli  to  Daroom,  the  three  places 
which  the  Saracens  held  ou  the  coast  being  given  up  to  them, 
and  Antioch  included  in  the  treaty.  To  this  Saladin,  after 
advising  with  his  emirs,  replied,  that  he  was  already  in  treaty 
with  the  people  of  Antioch,  and  that  his  conduct  toward  them 
would  be  regulated  by  the  answer  his  envoys  should  bring 
him  ;  that  as  King  Richard  truly  said,  the  three  towns  on  the 
coast  were  a  small  matter  to  him  ;  but  that  still  he  would  not 
give  them  up,  as  it  was  unseemly  for  ]\Ioslems  to  yield  to 
Christians  what  God  had  given  them ;  that  finally,  he  must 
insist  on  the  demolition  of  Ascalon ;  but  that  King  Richard 
might  have  the  town  of  Lidda  in  compensation  for  the  money 
which  the  rebuildiuQ;  of  that  town  had  cost  him.  This  reit- 
erated  demand  of  the  demolition  of  Ascalon  determined 
Richard  to  break  off  all  negotiation ;  he  declared  that  he 
would  not  touch  a  stone  of  that  town  ;  he  sent  three  hundred 
knights  to  demolish  Daroom,  which  he  did  not  consider  tena- 
ble, and  he  strengthened  the  garrison  of  Ascalon.  After  a 
short  stay  at  Joppa  he  went  to  Acre,  where  he  was  rejoined  by 
the  knights  (mostly  Templars  and  Hospitallers)  whom  he  had 
sent  to  Daroom. 

Saladin,  who  was  now  joined  by  the  troops  of  Aleppo, 
under  his  son  Malek-ed-Daher  {^Conquering  King)^  and  by  his 
brother  Malek-el-Adel,  found  that  he  might  retaliate  on  his 
foes  by  becoming  the  assailant  in  his  turn,  and  he  resolved  on 
the  siege  of  Joppa.  "His  army  of  twenty  thousand  horsemen 
and  a  vast  number  of  footmen  appeared  before  its  walls  on 
the  28th  of  July,  and  surrounded  it  on  the  land  side,  the  two 
winofs  resting  on  the  sea-shore.  The  Christians  in  the  town 
did  not  exceed  five  thousand,  of  whom  one-half  were  sick, 
and  the  remainder  unskilled  in  the  management  of  military 
machines ;  but  the  valor  and  heroism  with  which  they  de- 
fended themselves  excited  the  surprise  and  the  admiration  of 
the  Mussulmans.  Saladin  himself  commanded  the  centre  of 
his  army  ;  the  left  wing  was  under  Malek-el-Adel,  the  right 
under  ]\Ialek-ed-Daher.  Machines  were  erected  against  the 
walls,  and  the  miners  commenced  their  underground  opera- 
tions ;  but  the  besieged  wrought  against  them  and  chased 
them  out  of  their  galleries.     On  the  third  day  of  the  siege,  as 


172  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

a  part  of  the  walls  had  been  thrown  down,  the  besieged  offered 
to  treat,  and  the  Sultan  was  willing  to  grant  them  the  same 
conditions  which  he  had  given  to  the  people  of  Jerusalem. 
They  asked  a  truce  of  two  days  till  the  following  Saturday, 
to  see  if  they  should  be  relieved ;  but  this  the  Sultan  refused, 
and  on  the  following  day  a  general  assault  was  made  by  the 
Turkish  army.  During  the  assault,  the  east  gate  of  the  town, 
with  two  perches  of  the  wall,  was  thrown  down  by  the  miners, 
and  the  Turks  rushed  in  with  a  loud  cry  ;  but  instantly  piles 
of  wood  which  had  been  placed  there  blazed  up,  and  the  heat 
and  the  flame  together  repelled  them  ;  when  it  had  subsided, 
a  wall  of  spears  opposed  their  progress  and  forced  them  to 
retire.  The  besieged  no  longer  shut  their  gates  ;  they  harassed 
the  besiegers  with  constant  sallies,  while  the  bows  and  cross- 
bows, without  ceasing,  rained  arrows  and  bolts  from  the  walls. 

There  was,  however,  a  timid  party  in  Joppa,  among  whom 
were  the  castellan  Alberic  of  Rheims  and  several  of  the  prin- 
cipal knights,  and  they  sent  on  this  day  two  persons  to  treat 
with  Saladin,  who  agreed  to  exchange  them  against  Lloslem 
captives,  horsemen  against  horsemen,  footmen  against  foot- 
men, and  to  give  the  remainder  of  the  people  the  same  terms 
that  he  had  given  at  Jerusalem.  When  they  requested  time 
to  communicate  these  terms  to  those  who  had  sent  them,  "I 
cannot,"  said  he,  "disturb  the  Moslems  in  the  work  which 
they  have  begun  ;  but  go  to  your  companions  and  tell  them  to 
retire  into  the  castle  and  to  abandon  the  town  to  my  people." 
The  Christians  hurried  to  the  castle ;  the  Turks  rushed  in, 
slaughtered  the  sick  pilgrims  whom  they  found  in  the  houses, 
and  killed  several  of  those  who  had  not  yet  gotten  into  the 
castle ;  a  great  booty,  in  which  was  a  large  portion  of  what 
had  been  taken  at  Hebron,  was  found;  but  the  Mamlooks 
stood  at  the  gates  and  forced  the  unwilling  soldiers  to  give  up 
what  they  had  taken.  Those  in  the  castle  declared  their  readi- 
ness to  accept  the  terms  offered,  and  though  in  the  morning 
three  Christian  ships  appeared  before  the  harbor,  they  persisted 
in  their  determination  to  surrender. 

Bohad-ed-deen,  accompanied  by  three  emirs  and  a  treas- 
urer, had  already  entered  the  castle  to  take  an  inventory  of 
the  arms  and  stores ;  the  Christians  were  ready  to  go  out, 


SALADIN.  173 

when  the  emir  Gordeek  humanely  proposed  that  they  should 
not  stir  till  he  had  driven  the  plundering  Turks  out  of  the 
toNvn,  lest  they  might  rob  and  ill-treat  them.  This  humanity 
of  the  emir  lost  the  Sultan  the  town  and  the  castle.  Forty- 
nine  men  with  their  wives  and  their  horses  had  left  the  castle, 
when  the  Christian  fleet  was  seen  to  increase  to  thirty-five 
sail,  and  the  banner  of  King  Richard  was  discerned :  the 
Christians,  cheered  by  the  sight,  broke  off  the  treaty,  made 
a  sally  into  the  town,  chased  the  Turks  out  of  it,  and  returned 
to  the  castle.  Still  the  timid  party  were  anxious  to  treat;  the 
patriarch  of  Jerusalem,  the  castellan,  and  several  knights  were 
in  the  Turkish  camp,  and  Saladin  was  about  to  sign  the  treaty, 
when  Boha-ed-deen  came  with  tidings  that  King  Richard  had 
landed  from  his  red-hulled  and  red-sailed  ship ;  that  he  had 
been  followed  by  all  his  troops,  and  that  he  had  driven  the 
IVIussulmans  from  the  harbor  and  the  town.  Saladin  imme- 
diately laid  the  envoys  in  irons,  and,  leaving  behind  a  large 
portion  of  the  booty,  retired  with  his  army  to  Yasoor  on  the 
way  to  Ramla. 

King  Richard  had  been  making  preparations  for  his  de- 
parture when  messengers  came  to  inform  him  of  the  danger 
of  Joppa.  He  instantly  caused  his  herald  to  summon  the 
pilgrims  to  join  in  its  relief;  the  Pisans,  Genoese,  and  most 
of  the  other  pilgrims  obeyed  the  summons  ;  but  the  French, 
declaring  that  they  would  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  him 
set  out  for  Tyre,  where  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  fell  sick,  lost 
his  reason,  and  died  on  the  eighth  day  after  his  arrival — a 
judgment  of  God  on  him,  as  the  friends  of  King  Richard 
interpreted  the  event.  Richard,  accompanied  by  the  gallant 
Earl  of  Leicester  and  other  valiant  knights,  got  on  board  of 
his  ships  and  made  sail  for  Joppa,  while  King  Henry  led  the 
Templars,  Hospitallers,  the  Pisans,  Genoese,  and  other  pil- 
grims thither  by  land ;  but  the  fleet  was  retarded  by  adverse 
winds,  and  the  army  by  the  desultor}^  warfare  of  the  Turks. 
When  the  king  came  into  the  harbor,  and  saw  the  Turkish 
standards  on  the  walls  and  the  Turks  in  great  numbers  on  the 
shore,  he  thought  he  was  arrived  too  late,  and  he  hesitated  to 
land,  till  a  priest  jumped  down  from  the  castle-wall  on  the 
sandy  beach  of  the  harbor,  and  being  unhurt  by  his  fall  ran 


174  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS   AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

into  the  sea,  and  making  liis  way  to  the  king,  informed  him 
of  the  trne  state  of  things  ;  then,  without  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion, Richard  plunged  up  to  his  waist  into  the  sea  and  advanced 
to  the  shore.  His  knights  followed  his  example  ;  the  king 
plied  his  crossbow  stoutly,  the  Turks  fled  with  loud  outcries, 
and  Richard  had  all  the  casks,  planks,  and  pieces  of  wood 
which  could  be  got,  piled  to  form  a  bulwark  to  protect  the 
landing  of  his  men.  Having  found  a  flight  of  steps  belonging 
to  a  house  of  the  Templars  adjoining  the  wall,  he  mounted  it 
and  alone  entered  the  town,  in  which  there  were  three  thou- 
sand Turks ;  but  the  gates  were  soon  forced  by  the  pilgrims. 
The  Turks,  when  they  beheld  the  banner  of  the  King  of 
England,  fled  with  precipitation,  and  the  knights,  though 
they  had  but  three  horses,  pursued  them  for  a  space  of  two 
miles.  Richard  then  pitched  his  tent  on  the  very  spot  which 
had  been  occupied  by  that  of  Saladin.  On  the  following  day 
he  employed  himself  in  repairing  with  dry  stone  the  breaches 
of  the  walls,  and  he  was  joined  by  King  Henry,  and  a  part  of 
his  troops  who  came  by  sea,  the  greater  portion  still  remaining 
at  Csesarea. 

King  Richard's  anxiety  for  peace  was  such,  that  on  the 
very  evening  of  the  day  of  his  arrival  at  Joppa  he  sent  Aboo 
Beker,  the  chamberlain  of  Prince  Malek-el-Adel,  with  pro- 
posals to  Saladin,  representing  that  the  war  was  equally 
destructive  to  both  parties,  and  avowing  his  extreme  desire  to 
return  to  the  defence  of  his  realms  beyond  sea.  Saladin 
replied,  that  the  only  subjects  of  dispute  between  them  were 
Ascalon  and  Joppa,  and  as  the  latter  place  was  now  ruined 
and  of  no  value,  that  King  Richard  ought  to  content  himself 
with  the  coast  from  Tyre  to  Caesarea.  Richard  then  proposed 
to  hold  these  towns,  after  the  European  mode,  in  fief  of  Saladin, 
and  to  engage  to  support  him  in  all  his  wars.  The  sultan 
offered  to  divide  them,  leaving  Joppa  to  the  King  of  England. 
Richard  threatened  to  pass  the  winter  in  Syria,  if  Asca.lon 
were  not  resigned  to  him. 

King  Richard's  pride  was  wounded  by  the  cold  reception 
which  the  sultan  had  given  to  his  proposals  for  peace,  and  he 
was  soon  afterwards  exasperated  by  an  attempt  to  make  him 
prisoner  in  his  tent.     Saladin  had  formed  a  body  of  three 


SALADIN.  175 

liundred  Arabs,  whose  business  it  was  to  steal  into  the  Chris- 
tian camp  at  night,  to  kill  or  carry  away  those  who  fell  into 
their  hands,  and  to  take  off  horses,  money,  and  everything 
else  they  could  find.  During  the  siege  of  Acre,  and  after- 
wards, these  men  had  done  the  Christians  a  great  deal  of 
injury;  and  as  King  Richard  now  lay  outside  of  Joppa  with  a 
few  men,  in  only  about  ten  tents,  they  resolved  to  attempt  to 
seize  him  on  a  moonlight  night,  the  4th  of  August.  But  ere 
they  could  settle  among  themselves  who  should  go  on  foot  to 
seize  the  king,  and  who  remain  on  horseback  to  cut  off  his 
retreat  to  the  town,  day  came  and  disconcerted  their  project. 
Just  at  that  moment  a  Genoese  discerned  the  glitter  of  helmets 
on  the  verge  of  the  horizon,  and  he  gave  the  alarm ;  another 
rushed  into  the  king's  tent  crying,  "O  my  king,  we  are  all 
dead  men."  "Thou  diest  by  my  hand,"  said  the  king,  "if 
thou  art  not  silent ; ' '  and  scarcely  had  he  time  to  put  on  his 
shirt  of  mail  when  the  Turks  were  on  them,  in  seven  corps, 
each  of  a  thousand  men. 

The  forces  of  the  King  of  England  were  but  17  mounted 
knights,  and  a  thousand  other  knights  and  soldiers,  and 
neither  he  nor  his  knights  had  had  time  to  put  on  their  leg- 
armor.  He  drew  up  his  men  in  a  compact  body,  making  the 
dismounted  knights  kneel  down  on  one  knee  covered  with 
their  shields  and  protruding  their  lances ;  behind  every  two 
of  them  he  placed  a  crossbowyer  with  his  man  to  bend  and 
charge  his  crossbow.  He  exhorted  them  in  an  animated 
speech,  concluding  with  a  solemn  oath  that  he  would  strike 
off  the  head  of  the  first  man  who  turned  and  fled.  He  had 
hardly  spoken,  when  the  Turks  made  a  furious  charge;  division 
after  division  assailed  the  Christian  phalanx,  and  were  repelled. 
During  nearly  half  an  hour  the  Turks  stood  so  close  to  them 
that  the  points  of  their  lances  touched,  but  not  a  dart  was 
shot ;  and  they  only  menaced  each  other  with  swords  and 
gestures.  At  length  the  Turks  retired  ;  the  king  then  made 
the  crossbowmen  advance,  and  the  whole  body  moved  on  in 
close  order:  himself  and  his  mounted  knights  laid  their  lances 
in  the  rest  and  charged  the  heathens. 

King  Richard  enacted  prodigies  of  valor  ;  with  the  speed  of 
lightning  he  flew  from  one  part  of  the  field  to  another,  slaying 


176  HISTORIC  characte;rs  and  famous  kvknts. 

the  Turks  and  relieving  his  own  knights.  A  hundred  Turks 
surrounded  him,  but  each  as  he  ventured  to  approach  him 
paid  for  his  temerity  with  the  loss  of  his  head  or  a  limb  ;  of 
one  valiant  emir  he  smote  off  at  a  blow  the  head,  right 
shoulder  and  arm. 

Richard,  learning  that  three  thousand  Turks  had  broken 
into  the  town,  kept  his  men  in  ignorance  of  it,  and  he  took 
an  opportunity  of  going  back  with  a  few  knights  and  cross- 
bowmen;  and  such  was  the  terror  which  his  presence  inspired 
that  the  infidels  all  fled  before  him.  He  then  returned  to 
the  field  of  battle,  and  by  evening  the  rout  of  the  Turks 
was  complete.  The  Christians  had  lost  but  one  knight;  seven 
hundred  Turks  and  fifteen  hundred  horses  lay  dead  on  the 
plain.  Richard,  who  for  his  prowess  on  this  day  was  com- 
pared with  Hector,  Alexander,  Judas  Maccabseus  and  Roland, 
had  used  his  sword  so  vigorously,  that  his  right  hand  was  all 
one  blister;  his  knights  had  emulated  his  valor;  but  all  agreed 
that  it  was  only  by  the  aid  of  God  that  a  handful  of  men  had 
triumphed  over  such  numbers. 

Salad  in  at  first  sharply  rebuked  his  troops  for  their  cow- 
ardice, for  it  was  said  that  the  King  of  England  had  ridden 
through  their  ranks  from  right  to  left  without  any  one  ven- 
turing to  oppose  him,  and  had  even  dismounted  and  eaten  his 
mid-day  meal  on  the  ground  between  the  two  armies.  But 
the  noble  sultan  soon  forgave  all,  and  entertained  his  emirs  at 
a  banquet  in  the  even.  He  led  his  army  back  to  Natroon, 
and  thence  proceeded  to  Jerusalem,  where  he  was  joined  by 
the  troops  of  Mosul  and  Aleppo,  and  by  a  corps  from  Egypt. 

The  Christians  derived  no  advantage  from  their  victor}^; 
the  French,  who  were  at  Caesarea,  refused  to  advance,  the  pil- 
grims in  general  were  ill-disposed  toward  King  Richard,  and  he 
and  several  of  his  knights  fell  sick.  Saladin  again  advanced 
to  Ramla,  and  his  light  horse  extended  their  excursions  to  the 
gates  of  Joppa.  King  Richard,  having  in  vain  sought  to 
rouse  the  pilgrims  to  vigorous  measures,  determined  to  have 
peace  at  any  price ;  and  Saladin,  aware  how  tired  of  the  war 
his  Turkish  troops  were,  was  not  averse  to  an  arrangement. 
Accordingly,  on  the  King  of  England's  sending  to  request  a 
supply  of  snow  and  fruits,  they  were  sent  to  him  in  abundance, 


SALADIN. 


177 


and  Richard  took  this  occasion  of  inviting  Aboo  Beker  to  visit 
him,  with  whom  he  sent  back  a  knight  requesting  ]\Ialek-el- 
Adel  to  mediate  a  peace  between  him  and  the  sultan ;  adding 
that  Saladin  might  as  well  give  up  his  demand  of  Ascalon,  as 
after  he  was  gone  he  would  find  it  easy  to  deal  with  the  few 
Christians  who  would  remain  ;  that  he  himself  asked  nothing 
but  an  honorable  peace,  which  would  not  injure  him  in  the 
minds  of  his  fellow-Christians  ;  and  that  if  the  sultan  insisted 
on  Ascalon,  he  should  at  least  pay  him  what  the  rebuilding 
of  it  had  cost  him. 

At  length  it  was  settled  that  a  truce  for  three  years,  to 
commence  from  the  2d  of  September,  1192,  should  be  made; 
that  Ascalon  should  be  razed  at  the  joint  labor  and  expense  of 
the  Christians  and  the  ]\Ioslems  ;  that  the  country  from  Tyre 
to  Joppa,  including  Ramla  and  L,idda,  should  belong  to  the 
Christians;  that  all  the  Mohammedan  States,  particularly  that 
of  the  Assassins  on  the  one  side,  and  the  principality  of 
Antioch  and  the  lordship  of  Tiberias  on  the  other,  should  be 
included  in  the  truce  ;  that,  finally,  the  pilgrims  to  Jerusalem 
should  be  free  and  untaxed. — T.  Keightley. 


IV— 12 


ENGHIS  KHAN,  the  famous  Tartar 
conqueror,  is  said  to  have  caused  the 
destruction  of  five  millions,  or  even 
fourteen  millions  of  human  beings. 
His  private  appellation  was  Temugin ; 
his  historical  name  is  variously  written 
Zingis  Khan,  Gengis  Khan  and  Chin- 
gis  Khan,  He  was  a  son  of  a  Mongo- 
lian chief,  and  was  born  on  the  banks 
of  the  river  Onon  in  1162.  This  barbarian  never  learned  to 
read  or  write.  At  the  age  of  thirteen  he  ascended  the  throne 
on  the  death  of  his  father  Yesukai,  who  had  reigned  over 
thirteen  hordes  and  about  35,000  families.  Many  of  them 
refused  to  pay  tithes  or  obedience  to  the  boy  king,  who  there- 
fore fought  a  battle  against  his  rebellious  subjects.  The 
future  conqueror  of  Asia  was  reduced  to  fly  and  obey;  but  he 
rose  superior  to  his  fortune,  and  in  his  fortieth  year  he  had 
established  his  fame  and  dominion  over  the  circumjacent 
tribes. 

About  1206  Temugin  summoned  the  notables  of  his  king- 
dom to  an  assembly,  and  at  their  request  he  was  proclaimed 
Great  Khan,  or  Emperor  "of  the  Moguls  and  Tartars.  He 
then  assumed  the  name  of  Jenghis  Khan.  He  promulgated  a 
code  of  laws  adapted  to  the  preservation  of  domestic  peace  and 
the  exercise  of  foreign  hostility.  The  punishment  of  death 
was  inflicted  on  the  crimes  of  adultery,  murder,  perjury  and 
the  theft  of  a  horse  or  an  ox.  The  future  election  of  the 
Great  Khan  was  vested  in  the  princes  of  his  family  and  the 
heads  of  the  tribes.  The  victorious  nation  was  held  sacred 
178 


JENGHIS   KHAN.  I79 

from  all  servile  labors  which  were  abandoned  to  slaves  and 
strangers ;  every  labor  was  servile  except  the  profession  of 
arms.  The  new  laws  established  a  system  of  pure  theism  and 
perfect  toleration.  His  first  and  only  article  of  faith  was  the 
existence  of  one  God,  the  author  of  all  good.  ]\Iany  of  the 
Aloguls  and  Tartars  had  been  converted  by  the  missionaries 
of  Christ  and  of  Mohammed,  and  others  were  Pagan  idolaters. 
These  various  systems  were  taught  and  practiced  in  freedom 
and  concord  in  the  camp  of  Jenghis. 

The  nomadic  hordes  of  the  desert,  who  pitched  their  tents 
between  the  wall  of  China  and  the  Volga  were  successively 
reduced,  and  the  ]\Iogul  emperor  became  the  lord  of  many 
millions  of  shepherds  and  soldiers,  who  were  eager  to  invade 
the  mild  and  wealthy  climates  of  the  South.  In  1208  he 
defeated  Toto  and  Kushlek  on  the  Irtish.  He  meditated  the 
invasion  of  China,  and  astonished  the  Court  of  Pekin  by 
sending  ambassadors,  who  exacted  tribute  and  affected  to  treat 
the  Soil  of  Heaven  with  contempt.  The  Chinese  emperor 
returned  a  haughty  answer. 

About  1212  Jenghis  invaded  Northern  China  and  pierced 
the  feeble  rampart  of  the  Great  Wall .  Ninety  cities  of  China 
were  taken  by  storm  or  reduced  by  famine  by  the  INIoguls. 
Jenghis,  from  a  knowledge  of  the  filial  piety  of  the  Chinese, 
covered  his  vanguard  with  their  captive  parents.  This  cruel 
and  unworthy  abuse  of  the  virtue  of  his  enemies  gradually 
proved  fruitless.  The  war  was  suspended  by  a  treaty,  and 
Jenghis  was  induced  to  retire  by  giving  him  a  Chinese  prin- 
cess, three  thousand  horses,  five  hundred  young  men,  as  many 
virgins,  and  a  tribute  of  gold  and  silk.  In  his  second  expedi- 
tion Jenghis  compelled  the  Chinese  emperor  to  retire  beyonc 
Hoang  Ho,  the  Yellow  River,  to  a  more  southern  residence. 
In  1 215,  after  a  long  siege,  during  which  the  Chinese  are  said 
to  have  discharged  ingots  of  gold  and  silver  from  their  engines, 
he  captured  Pekin.  The  five  northern  provinces  of  China 
were  annexed  to  the  empire  of  Jenghis. 

The  Mogul  empire  touched  on  the  west  the  dominions  of 
]\Iohammed,  Sultan  of  Khorasmia,  who  reigned  from  the 
Persian  Gulf  to  the  borders  of  India.  A  caravan  of  three 
ambassadors  and  one  hundred  and  fifty  merchants  was  arrested 


l8o  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS   AND    FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

and  murdered  by  the  command  of  Moliammed.  Provoked  by 
this  crime,  Jenghis  invaded  Southern  Asia  in  12 18,  with  an 
army  of  about  700,000  men.  In  the  wide  plains  which  extend 
to  the  north  of  the  Sihon  or  Jaxartes,  he  encountered  400,000 
soldiers  of  the  Sultan.  In  the  first  battle,  which  was  sus- 
pended by  the  night,  160,000  Khorasmians  were  slain.  Mo- 
hammed retreated  and  distributed  his  troops  in  the  fortified 
frontier  towns.  Jenghis,  who  had  Chinese  engineers  skilled 
in  the  mechanic  arts,  besieged  and  took  Bokhara,  Samarkand, 
Herat,  Balkh,  Candahar  and  Otrav.  He  conquered  Transox- 
iana,  Khorasmia  and  Khorassan. 

After  the  death  of  Mohammed,  his  successor  Jelal-ed-Deen 
fought  many  battles  against  Jenghis,  and  his  valor  checked 
the  Moguls  in  their  victorious  career.  Jenghis  pursued  Jelal- 
ed-Deen  to  the  Indus,  and  there  he  yielded  with  reluctance  to 
the  murmurs  of  his  weary  troops,  who  sighed  for  the  enjoy- 
ment of  their  native  land.  Their  return  was  signalized  by 
the  overthrow  of  the  rebellious  or  independent  kingdoms  of 
Tartary.  Jenghis  died  in  1227,  in  the  sixty-third  year  of  his 
age,  and  with  his  last  breath  exhorted  his  sons  to  achieve  the 
conquest  of  the  Chinese  Empire.  His  son  Oktai  was  elected 
Great  Khan  or  Emperor. 

The  Mogul  Conqueror. 

From  the  spacious  highlands  between  China,  Siberia,  and 
the  Caspian  Sea,  the  tide  of  emigration  and  war  has  repeatedly 
been  poured.  These  ancient  seats  of  the  Huns  and  Turks 
were  occupied  in  the  twelfth  centur}^  by  man}^  pastoral  tribes, 
of  the  same  descent  and  similar  manners,  which  were  united 
and  (a.d.  1206-1227)  led  to  conquest  by  the  formidable  Zingis. 
In  his  ascent  to  greatness,  that  barbarian  (whose  private  ap- 
pellation was  Temugin)  had  trampled  on  the  necks  of  his 
equals.  His  birth  was  noble,  but  it  was  in  the  pride  of  victory 
that  the  prince  or  people  deduced  his  seventh  ancestor  from 
the  immaculate  conception  of  a  virgin.  His  father  had 
reigned  over  thirteen  hordes,  which  composed  about  thirty 
or  forty  thousand  families  ;  above  two-thirds  refused  to  pay 
tithes  or  obedience  to  his  infant  son,  and  at  the  age  of  thirteen 
Temugin  fought  a  battle  against  his  rebellious  subjects.    The 


JENGHIS  KHAN.  l8l 

future  conqueror  of  Asia  was  reduced  to  fly  and  to  obey,  but 
he  rose  superior  to  his  fortune,  and  in  his  fortieth  year  he  had 
established  his  fame  and  dominion  over  the  circumjacent 
tribes.  In  a  state  of  society  in  which  policy  is  rude  and  valor 
is  universal,  the  ascendancy  of  one  man  must  be  founded  on  his 
power  and  resolution  to  punish  his  enemies  and  recompense 
his  friends.  His  first  military  league  was  ratified  by  the 
simple  rites  of  sacrificing  a  horse  and  tasting  of  a  running 
stream  ;  Temugin  pledged  himself  to  divide  with  his  followers 
the  sweets  and  the  bitters  of  life,  and,  when  he  had  shared 
among  them  his  horses  and  apparel,  he  was  rich  in  their 
gratitude  and  his  own  hopes.  After  his  first  victory,  he 
placed  seventy  caldrons  on  the  fire,  and  seventy  of  the  most 
guilty  rebels  were  cast  headlong  into  the  boiling  water.  The 
sphere  of  his  attraction  was  continually  enlarged  by  the  ruin 
of  the  proud  and  the  submission  of  the  prudent  ;  and  the 
boldest  chieftains  might  tremble  when  they  beheld,  enchased 
in  silver,  the  skull  of  the  Khan  of  the  Keraites,  who,  under 
the  name  of  Prester  John,  had  corresponded  with  the  Roman 
Pontiff  and  the  princes  of  Europe.  The  ambition  of  Temugin 
condescended  to  employ  the  arts  of  superstition,  and  it  was 
from  a  naked  prophet  who  could  ascend  to  heaven  on  a  white 
horse  that  he  accepted  the  title  of  Zingis,  the  77iost  gi^eat^  and 
a  divine  right  to  the  conquest  and  dominion  of  the  earth.  In 
a  general  couroultai^  or  Diet,  he  was  seated  on  a  felt,  which 
was  long  afterward  revered  as  a  relic,  and  solemnly  proclaimed 
Great  Khan,  or  Emperor,  of  the  Moguls  and  Tartars.  Of 
these  kindred,  though  rival,  names,  the  former  had  given 
birth  to  the  imperial  race,  and  the  latter  had  been  extended, 
by  accident  or  error,  over  the  spacious  wilderness  of  the 
North. 

The  code  of  laws  which  Zingis  dictated  to  his  subjects  was 
adapted  to  the.preservation  of  domestic  peace  and  the  exercise 
of  foreign  hostility.  The  punishment  of  death  was  inflicted 
on  the  crimes  of  adultery,  murder,  perjury,  and  the  capital 
thefts  of  a  horse  or  an  ox  ;  and  the  fiercest  of  men  were  mild 
and  just  in  their  intercourse  with  each  other.  The  future 
election  of  the  great  Khan  was  vested  in  the  princes  of  his 
family  and  the  heads  of  the  tribes,  and  the  regulations  of  the 


1 82  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND  FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

cliase  were  essential  to  the  pleasures  and  plenty  of  a  Tartar 
camp.  The  service  and  discipline  of  the  troops,  who  were 
armed  with  bows,  cimeters,  and  iron  maces,  and  divided  by 
hundreds,  thousands,  and  ten  thousands,  were  the  institutions 
of  a  veteran  commander.  Each  officer  and  soldier  was  made 
responsible,  under  pain  of  death,  for  the  safety  and  honor 
of  his  companions  ;  and  the  spirit  of  conquest  breathed  in  the 
law  that  peace  should  never  be  granted  unless  to  a  vanquished 
and  suppliant  enemy. 

But  it  is  the  religion  of  Zingis  that  best  deserves  our  won- 
der and  applause.  This  barbarian  anticijjated  the  lessons  of 
philosophy,  and  established  by  his  laws  a  system  of  pure 
theism  and  perfect  toleration.  His  first  and  only  article 
of  faith  was  the  existence  of  one  God,  the  author  of  all  good, 
who  fills  by  His  presence  the  heavens  and  earth,  which  He  has 
created  by  His  power.  The  Tartars  and  Moguls  were  addicted 
to  the  idols  of  their  peculiar  tribes,  and  many  of  them  had 
been  converted  by  the  foreign  missionaries  to  the  religions 
of  Moses,  of  Mahomet,  and  of  Christ.  These  various  sys- 
tems, in  freedom  and  concord,  were  taught  and  practiced 
within  the  precincts  of  the  same  camp,  and  the  bonze,  the 
imaum,  the  rabbi,  the  Nestorian  and  the  Latin  priest  enjoyed 
the  same  honorable  exemption  from  service  and  tribute.  In 
the  Mosque  of  Bokhara,  the  insolent  victor  might  trample 
the  Koran  under  his  horse's  feet ;  but  the  calm  legislator 
respected  the  prophets  and  pontiffs  of  the  most  hostile  sects. 
The  reason  of  Zingis  was  not  informed  by  books — the  Khan 
could  neither  read  nor  write — and,  except  the  tribe  of  the 
Igours,  the  greatest  part  of  the  Moguls  and  Tartars  were  as 
illiterate  as  their  sovereign.  The  memory  of  their  exploits 
was  preserved  by  tradition  ;  sixty-eight  years  after  the  death 
of  Zingis,  these  traditions  were  collected  and  transcribed.  The 
brevity  of  their  domestic  annals  may  be  supplied  by  the  Chi- 
nese, Persians,  Armenians,  Syrians,  Arabians,  Greeks,  Rus- 
sians, Poles,  Hungarians,  and  Latins  ;  and  each  nation  will 
deserve  credit  in  the  relation  of  their  own  disasters  and 
defeats. 

The  arms  of  Zingis  and  his  lieutenants  successively  re- 
duced  the   hordes   of   the   desert,    who   pitched   their   tents 


JENGHIS   KHAN.  1 83 

between  the  wall  of  China  and  the  Volga  ;  and  the  Mogul 
Emperor  became  the  monarch  of  the  pastoral  world,  the  lord 
of  many  millions  of  shepherds  and  soldiers,  who  felt  their 
united  strength,  and  who  were  impatient  to  rush  on  the  mild 
and  wealthy  climates  of  the  South.  His  ancestors  had  been 
the  tributaries  of  the  Chinese  Emperors,  and  Temugin  him- 
self had  been  disgraced  by  a  title  of  honor  and  servitude. 
The  Court  of  Pekin  was  astonished  by  an  embassy  from  its 
former  vassal,  who,  in  the  tone  of  the  King  of  nations,  exacted 
the  tribute  and  obedience  which  he  had  paid,  and  who  affected 
to  treat  the  Son  of  Heaven  as  the  most  contemptible  of  man- 
kind. A  haughty  answer  disguised  their  secret  apprehensions, 
and  their  fears  were  soon  justified  by  the  march  of  innumer- 
able squadrons,  who  pierced  on  all  sides  the  feeble  rampart 
of  the  great  wall.  Ninety  cities  were  stormed,  or  starved,  by 
the  IVIoguls  ;  ten  only  escaped  ;  and  Zingis,  from  a  knowledge 
of  the  filial  piety  of  the  Chinese,  covered  his  vanguard  with 
their  captive  parents — an  unworthy,  and  by  degrees  a  fruit- 
less, abuse  of  the  virtue  of  his  enemies.  His  invasion  was 
supported  by  the  revolt  of  one  hundred  thousand  Khitans  who 
guarded  the  frontier,  yet  he  listened  to  a  treaty,  and  a  princess 
of  China,  three  thousand  horses,  five  hundred  youths  and  as 
many  virgins,  and  a  tribute  of  gold  and  silk,  were  the  price 
of  his  retreat.  In  his  second  expedition,  he  compelled  the 
Chinese  Emperor  to  retire  beyond  the  Yellow  River  to  a  more 
southern  residence.  The  siege  of  Pekin  was  long  and  labo- 
rious ;  the  inhabitants  were  reduced  by  famine  to  decimate 
and  devour  their  fellow-citizens  ;  when  their  ammunition  was 
spent,  they  discharged  ingots  of  gold  and  silver  from  their 
engines  ;  but  the  IMoguls  introduced  a  mine  to  the  centre  of 
the  capital,  and  the  conflagration  of  the  palace  burned  above 
thirty  days.  China  was  desolated  by  Tartar  war  and  domestic 
faction,  and  the  five  northern  provinces  were  added  to  the 
empire  of  Zingis. 

In  the  West  he  touched  the  dominions  of  Mohammed, 
Sultan  of  Carizme,  who  reigned  from  the  Persian  Gulf  to  the 
borders  of  India  and  Turkestan,  and  who,  in  the  proud  imita- 
tion of  Alexander  the  Great,  forgot  the  servitude  and  ingrati- 
tude of  his  fathers  to  the  house  of  Seljuk.     It  was  the  wish  of 


1 84 


HISTORIC   CHARACTERS   AND   FAMOUS   ElVENTS. 


Zingis  to  establish  a  friendly  and  commercial  intercourse  with 
the  most  j^owerful  of  the  Moslem  princes  ;  nor  could  he  be 
tempted  by  the  secret  solicitations  of  the  Caliph  of  Bagdad, 
who  sacrificed  to  his  personal  wrongs  the  safety  of  the  Church 
and  State.  A  rash  and  inhuman  deed  provoked  and  justified 
the  Tartar  arms  in  the  invasion  of  Southern  Asia.  A  cara- 
van of  three  ambassadors  and  one  hundred  and  fifty  merchants 
was  arrested  and  murdered  at  Otrar,  by  the  command  of  Mo- 
hammed ;  nor  was  it  till  after  a  demand  and  denial  of  justice, 
till  he  had  prayed  and  fasted  three  nights  on  a  mountain,  that 
the  Mogul  emperor  appealed  to  the  judgment  of  God  and  his 
sword.  Our  European  battles,  says  a  philosophic  writer,  are 
petty  skirmishes,  if  compared  to  the  numbers  that  have  fought 
and  fallen  in  the  fields  of  Asia.  Seven  hundred  thousand 
Moguls  and  Tartars  are  said  to  have  marched  under  the  stan- 
dard  of  Zingis  and  his  four  sons.  In  the  vast  plains  that  ex- 
tend to  the  north  of  the  Sihon  or  Jaxartes,  they  were  encoun- 
tered by  four  hundred  thousand  soldiers  of  the  Sultan,  and  in 
the  first  battle,  which  was  suspended  by  the  night,  one  hun- 
dred and  sixty  thousand  Carizmians  were  slain. — E.  Gibbon. 


^^ilDJij'^j^^ 


TIMUR,    the    famous    Tartar 
conqueror,     is    commonly- 
called  in  English  Tamerlane, 
which  is  a  modified  form  of 
Timur  i  Leng,  "Timur  the 
Lame."     His  birth  was  cast 
in   one   of  those   periods   of 
anarchy  which   open  a  new 
field   to   adventurous    ambi- 
tion.    In  the  government  of 
his   vast   Asiatic   empire   he 
rose  to  absolute  sovereignty, 
without  a  rebel  to  oppose  his  power,  or  a  favorite  to  seduce 
his  affections.    He  w^as  a  Moslem  in  religion,  but  was  regarded 
by  his  devoted  subjects  almost  as  a  deity. 

Timur  was  born  in  April,  1336,  near  Kesh,  "the  green 
city, ' '  about  fifty  miles  south  of  Samarcand,  in  Transoxiana 
or  Turkestan.  His  father,  Teragai,  was  the  head  of  the  tribe 
of  Berlas,  and  was  descended  from  the  chief  general  of  Jenghis 
Khan.  Teragai  was  the  first  of  his  tribe  to  embrace  Moham- 
medanism, and  though  entitled  by  birth  to  high  military  rank, 
preferred  a  quiet  life,  devoted  to  study  of  the  Koran.  He 
trained  his  son  Timur  carefully  in  the  same  pursuit,  but  did 
not  prevent  him  from  becoming  a  proficient  in  martial  exer- 
cises. At  the  early  age  of  fifteen  Timur  was  permitted  to 
take  part  in  the  government  of  his  tribe  ;  but  for  many  years 
he  experienced  hardships  and  trials  which  would  have  broken 
a  less  determined  spirit.  At  last,  in  1358,  he  was  the  leader 
of  an  army  which  defeated  the  Jagatai  Turks,  and  drove  them 
from  Transoxiana.     ' '  At  the  age  of  twenty-five, ' '  says  Gibbon, 

185 


l86  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS   AND    FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

"he  stood  forth  as  the  deliverer  of  his  country;  and  the  eyes 
and  wishes  of  the  people  were  turned  towards  a  hero  who  had 
suffered  in  their  cause. ' ' 

When  Tughlak  Timur,  a  descendant  of  Jenghis  Khan, 
invaded  Transoxiana,  Tamerlane  secured  his  favor  and  was 
made  governor  of  that  province.  But  on  a  second  invasion 
the  conqueror  transferred  the  appointment  to  his  own  son, 
whom  Tamerlane  soon  defeated.  Timur  and  his  brother-in- 
law,  Husein,  who  had  been  united  during  the  time  of  invasion, 
afterwards  became  rivals.  In  1369  Husein  was  assassinated, 
and  in  the  next  year  Tamerlane  was  invested  with  imperial 
command  and  ascended  the  throne  at  Samarcand,  which  was 
henceforth  the  capital  of  his  dominions.  After  confirming 
his  power  by  the  overthrow  of  domestic  enemies,  he  began  a 
systematic  conquest  of  neighboring  kingdoms  and  tribes.  He 
subdued  the  Mongols  from  the  Caspian  Sea  to  the  Ural  and 
Volga  Rivers. 

Tamerlane  next  directed  his  attention  to  Persia  or  Iran, 
which  was  oppressed  by  several  petty  tyrants,  whom  he  de- 
feated and  dethroned.  His  army  advanced  to  the  Persian 
gulf,  and  he  exacted  from  the  ruler  of  Ormuz  an  annual  tribute 
of  600,000  dinars  of  gold.  The  whole  course  of  the  Euphrates 
and  Tigris  was  reduced  to  his  domination.  He  also  invaded 
and  subdued  the  kingdom  of  Cash  gar,  and  he  annexed 
Candahar  to  his  dominions. 

Toctamish,  a  fugitive  prince  of  Kipzak  or  Western  Tartary, 
had  been  protected  by  Tamerlane,  whose  army  restored  him 
about  1377,  and  established  him  in  the  Mogul  empire  of  the 
North.  After  a  reign  of  ten  years,  the  ungrateful  Toctamish 
invaded  Persia  with  90,000  horse  and  innumerable  forces  of 
Kipzak,  Circassia,  etc.  He  burned  the  palaces  of  Timur, 
and  compelled  him  to  contend  for  Samarcand.  Timur, 
having  gained  a  victory,  resolved  on  revenge.  "He  twice 
invaded  Kipzak  with  such  mighty  armies  that  thirteen  miles 
were  measured  from  his  right  to  his  left  wing."  Tamerlane 
routed  the  army  of  Toctamish  and  pursued  him  into  Russia, 
nearly  to  Moscow. 

The  conquest  and  monarchy  of  the  world  had  now  become 
the  object  of  Tamerlane's  ambition.     In  order  that  he  might 


TAMERLANE.  1 87 

live  in  the  memory  of  distant  ages,  he  caused  all  his  civil  and 
military  transactions  to  be  carefully  recorded.  After  being  suc- 
cessful in  thirty-five  campaigns,  he  invaded  India  with  92,000 
horse  besides  infantry.  Crossing  the  Indus  at  the  ordinary 
passage  of  Attok,  he  traversed,  in  the  footsteps  of  Alexander, 
the  Punjab^  or  land  of  the  five  eastern  branches  of  the  Indus. 
He  advanced  to  the  great  city  of  Delhi,  then  the  capital  of 
India.  The  siege  of  the  castle  of  Delhi  might  have  been  a 
work  of  time;  but  he  tempted  the  Sultan  Mahmood  to  descend 
into  the  plain  with  a  large  ami}',  and  one  hundred  and  twenty 
elephants,  and  soon  gained  a  decisive  victor)'.  Before  he 
entered  the  city,  Timur,  on  the  31st  of  December,  1398,  per- 
petrated one  of  the  most  appalling  massacres  that  stain  the 
pages  of  Eastern  history.  Oppressed  with  the  multitude  of 
captives  in  his  camp,  he  ordered  that  all  above  the  age  of  fif- 
teen should  be  put  to  death.  This  dreadful  slaughter  was 
soon  followed  by  the  pillage  of  the  city  of  Delhi.  -He  after- 
ward marched  northeastward,  crossed  the  Ganges,  and  in  one 
month  is  said  to  have  gained  twenty-seven  battles. 

On  the  banks  of  the  Ganges  tJie  victorious  Tamerlane  was 
informed  by  messengers  of  the  disturbances  which  had  arisen 
on  the  western  borders  of  his  empire,  on  the  confines  of  Ana- 
tolia and  Georgia,  and  of  the  ambitious  designs  of  Bajazet, 
the  Turkish  Sultan,  who  announced  his  determination  to 
extend  the  IMoslem  domination  throughout  Asia.  After  a 
rapid  campaign  of  one  year,  Timur  returned  to  Samarcand, 
where  he  enjoyed  a  few  tranquil  months  in  his  palace.  He 
then  proclaimed  a  new  expedition  of  seven  years  into  the 
western  countries  of  Asia.  He  first  attacked  and  subdued  the 
revolted  Christians  of  Georgia.  On  his  descent  from  the 
highlands  of  Georgia,  he  received  the  ambassadors  of  Baja- 
zet, and  opened  the  hostile  correspondence  of  complaints  and 
menaces,  which  fermented  two  years  before  the  final  explo- 
sion. The  conquests  of  the  Tartar  and  the  Ottoman  now 
touched  each  other  near  the  Euphrates,  and  the  boundary 
between  them  was  disputed.  But  Tamerlane  seemed  to  ap- 
prove as  a  pious  enterprise  the  Turkish  Sultan's  blockade  of 
Constantinople,  and  therefore  turned  aside  to  the  invasion  of 
Syria.     After  he  had  defeated  the  Syrians  in  battle,  he  cap- 


1 88  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS   AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

tilled  and  pillaged  Aleppo  in  November,  1400.  In  the  follow- 
ing Jannary  he  sacked  Damascus  and  massacred  the  inhabit- 
ants ;  and  in  July  of  that  year  he  sacked  Bagdad,  and  erected 
on  its  ruins  a  pyramid  of  ninety  thousand  heads. 

Tamerlane  now  proclaimed  his  resolution  to  march  against 
the  Turkish  Sultan,  who  had  had  two  years  to  collect  his 
forces,  and  had  gathered  about  400,000  men.  Yet  it  is  evident 
that  the  Tartars  were  the  more  numerous.  Their  superiority 
consisted  in  their  missile  weapons,  and  the  rapid  evolutions  of 
their  numerous  cavalry.  Bajazet  advanced  nearly  to  his 
eastern  frontier ;  but  Tamerlane,  who  wished  to  fight  in  the 
heart  of  the  Ottoman  kingdom,  in  Asia  Minor,  turned  aside, 
crossed  the  Salt  Desert  and  the  river  Halys,  and  invested 
Angora.  In  July,  1402,  the  armies  met  on  the  plains  round 
Angora,  where  Bajazet  was  completely  defeated  and  was 
taken  prisoner.  According  to  tradition  the  unfortunate  Sultan 
was  imprisoned  in  an  iron  cage  by  the  savage  victor. 

Tamerlane  was  now  master  of  Asia  from  the  Ganges  to 
Damascus  and  the  vEgean  Sea,  and  from  the  Irtish  to  the 
Persian  Gulf;  but  his  ambition  was  not  satisfied.  He  was 
prevented  from  invading  Europe  by  want  of  ships.  The  Bos- 
phorus  and  Hellespont  were  guarded  by  the  ships  and  forts  of 
his  enemies.  He  therefore  prepared  to  invade  China,  in  which 
he  proposed  to  expiate  the  torrents  of  Mussulman  blood  which 
he  had  shed  by  the  massacre  of  infidels.  While  on  his  march 
toward  China,  he  died  at  Otrar,  on  the  banks  of  the  Sihon 
River,  on  the  17th  of  February,  1405,  in  the  seventieth  year 
of  his  age. 

Timur  or  Tamerlane  is  described  as  tall  and  corpulent, 
with  a  large  head  and  ample  forehead.  He  had  a  fair  com- 
plexion, long  beard,  strong  limbs,  broad  shoulders,  thick 
fingers  and  long  legs.  But  he  was  maimed  in  one  hand  and 
lame  in  one  leg.  It  is  said  that  when  the  captive  Bajazet  was 
brought  before  Timur,  the  latter  perceiving  that  the  Sultan 
was  blind  of  one  eye,  burst  out  laughing.  Bajazet  reproved 
him,  saying,  "You  laugh  at  my  disgrace;  but  remember,  it 
might  have  happened  to  you  as  well  as  to  myself.  God  is 
the  disposer  of  events  and  of  our  lot. "  "  I  do  not  doubt  it, ' ' 
replied  Timur,  "I  laugh  not  at  your  misfortune,  but  at  the 


TAMERLANE.  1 89 

thought,  how  little  important  can  kingdoms  be  in  God's  eyes, 
since  it  is  His  will  that  a  lame  man  should  enjoy  what  He 
had  given  to  a  blind  man." 

Tamerlane  has  been  a  favorite  subject  with  historical 
romance-writers  and  dramatists ;  but  has  been  presented  in 
entirely  different  characters,  sometimes  as  a  model  of  valor 
and  virtue,  but  more  frequently  as  a  blood-thirsty  conqueror. 
The  Oriental  and  Mohammedan  accounts  of  him  differ  as 
widely  in  regard  to  his  character  as  do  the  English  and 
French.  He  had  evidently  been  hardened  by  his  years  of 
incessant  warfare,  and  became  more  fierce  and  truculent  in  his 
old  age  than  in  his  vouth. 


"?>' 


Timur's  Capture  of  Damascus. 

Timur,  having  conquered  Persia,  Mesopotamia,  and  the 
greater  part  of  Asia  INIinor,  turned  to  Syria.  Aleppo,  Hamah, 
Hums,  and  Ba'albek  fell  in  quick  succession  before  him  ;  and 
his  victorious  soldiers  then  encamped  in  the  beautiful  plain 
of  the  Ghutah,  before  the  walls  of  Damascus.  His  camp  was 
first  pitched  on  the  western  side  of  the  city,  extending  from 
the  banks  of  the  Barada  to  the  village  of  Katana.  From  the 
side  of  the  Kubbet-es-Seiyar,  on  tlie  summit  of  the  Jebel 
Kasyun,  Timur  examined  the  position  of  the  city  and  the  fea- 
tures of  the  vast  plain  around  it  ;  and  there  was  not,  perhaps, 
in  his  wide  dominions,  a  scene  of  such  exquisite  beauty  as 
then  lay  before  him. 

The  ]\Iamluke  prince,  distrusting  the  strength  of  his  arms, 
resolved  to  destro}*  the  t}Tant  conqueror  by  assassination.  He 
dispatched  a  trusty  messenger,  in  the  garb  of  a  derivish^  with 
two  assistants,  to  accomplish  his  base  design  with  poisoned 
daggers.  They  obtained  an  audience,  and  were  permitted  to 
approach  to  the  very  side  of  the  unconscious  Timur ;  but  fear 
or  a  better  principle  restrained  their  hands.  Once  and  again 
were  they  allowed  to  enter,  until  at  last  their  mingled  hesita- 
tion and  importunity  excited  suspicions,  and  they  were  seized. 
The  chief  was  slain  with  the  dagger  intended  for  the  King, 
and  his  body  burned  to  ashes  in  the  presence  of  his  two  asso- 
ciates, who  were  then  fearfully  mutilated  and  dispatched  to 
carry  back  the  news  of  their  success  to  their  royal  master. 


I  go  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

Timur  proposed  conditions  to  the  Damascenes  :  that  he 
should  be  acknowledged  as  sovereign,  and  the  money  coined 
in  his  name.  The  trembling  citizens,  who  had  heard  the 
thrilling  tales  of  Aleppo,  Hums,  and  Ba'albek,  threw  them- 
selves on  his  mercy.  A  few  days  afterwards,  however,  whilst 
he  was  in  the  act  of  removing  his  army  to  a  better  position, 
on  the  east  side  of  the  city,  Faraj,  the  Mamluke  Sultan, 
adopted  a  fatal  resolution  to  attack  him  with  the  whole  of  his 
forces,  thinking  to  take  him  by  surprise.  But  Timur  was  too 
experienced  a  general,  and  his  veteran  soldiers  were  too  well 
accustomed  to  the  chances  of  war,  to  be  thus  conquered. 
Making  a  hurried  barrier  of  the  camp  furniture  and  equipage 
to  check  the  first  fury  of  the  assailants,  they  formed  their 
lines  behind  it,  and  then,  sweeping  round,  charged  the 
entangled  foe  on  both  flanks.  They  were  unable  to  stand 
the  shock,  and  fled  in  disorder  back  to  the  city,  leaving  thou- 
sands dead  on  the  battle-field  (a.  H.  803 — that  is,  A.  D.  1401). 

Faraj  fled  from  the  city  in  the  night,  with  a  portion  of  his 
army,  and  the  inhabitants  surrendered,  merely  begging  for 
their  lives.  This  was  granted  on  condition  that  every  man 
should  pay  the  price  set  upon  his  head.  Six  of  the  city  gates 
were  shut  up,  and  at  the  seventh,  Bab  el-Faradis,  sat  the 
conqueror  to  collect  the  redemption-money  from  each  indi- 
vidual, as  he  passed  by  at  the  command  of  the  soldiers. 

The  citadel,  a  building  of  great  strength  and  extent,  was 
still  in  the  hands  of  the  resident  governor,  and  he  refused 
to  surrender.  It  is  described  in  glowing  terms  by  Sherif 
ed-Din  'Aly,  the  Persian  historian  of  Timur.  He  represents 
it  as  one  of  the  most  celebrated  fortresses  in  the  world.  The 
walls  were  of  large  blocks  of  hewn  stone,  built  with  great 
regularity,  and  were  of  astonishing  height  and  thickness. 
Around  them  ran  a  deep  and  wide  moat,  filled  with  water 
from  the  river.  There  was  besides  a  large  garrison,  supplied 
with  all  the  munitions  of  war.  Huge  stones  and  gigantic 
arrows  were  discharged  on  the  assailants  by  engines  placed 
upon  the  battlements.  A  species  of  arrow,  having  a  hollow 
head  of  hard  black  pottery,  filled  with  the  Greek  fire,  was  like- 
wise much  used,  and  did  great  damage  both  to  the  persons 
and  property  of  the  besiegers. 


TAMERLANE.  I9I 

After  almost  Incredible  labor  and  immense  sacrifice  of  life, 
the  besiegers  succeeded  in  filling  up  a  portion  of  the  moat  and 
in  undermining  the  walls  of  the  keep — a  massive  and  lofty- 
square  tower,  on  the  north-eastern  angle.  It  fell  at  last  with 
a  fearful  crash,  burying  beneath  its  ruins  hundreds  of  its 
brave  defenders,  and  not  a  few  of  its  persevering  assailants. 
It  was  vain  to  attempt  to  hold  out  longer,  and  so  the  gallant 
governor  threw  open  the  gates  and  delivered  the  keys  to  the 
conqueror.  Such  a  noble  defence  might  well  have  excited 
the  admiration  of  any  soldier  or  patriot ;  but  Timur  was  a 
remorseless  tyrant,  incapable  alike  of  appreciating  and  ac- 
knowledging patriotism.  The  governor  was  murdered  in 
cold  blood,  and  his  gallant  band  of  veterans,  with  their  wives, 
children,  and  aged  parents,  met  a  worse  fate,  being  sold  into 
slavery. 

Immense  treasures  were  found  in  the  castle,  and  at  once 
seized  :  but,  with  that  strange  inconsistency  which  is  a  pecu- 
liar characteristic  of  IMohammedanism,  while  private  property 
was  taken,  some  valuable  stores  laid  aside  for  the  use  of  the 
Haj  pilgrimage  and  the  people  of  Mecca  were  left  untouched. 
Timur,  whose  hands  were  yet  reeking  with  the  blood  of  his 
murdered  victims,  and  his  ears  ringing  with  the  cry  of  orphan 
children  and  widowed  mothers,  whom  his  soldiers  were  driv- 
ing to  slavery,  reproached  the  Damascenes  for  their  want 
of  piety  in  neglecting  to  erect  monuments  over  the  graves 
of  two  of  the  prophet's  wives  !  And  now  he  expended  a  por- 
tion of  the  treasures  he  had  accumulated  by  pillage  and 
murder  in  rearing  marble  mausoleums  in  honor  of  these  ven- 
erated matrons. 

But  the  fearful  conclusion  of  the  tragedy  was  yet  to  come. 
The  wretched  inhabitants  who  had  escaped  the  first  onset 
of  the  Tartars,  and  who  had  afterwards  redeemed  their  lives 
with  gold,  retired  to  their  homes  again,  as  they  believed,  in 
peace.  Timur,  filled  with  holy  zeal,  pondered  what  new 
evidence  of  his  piety  he  could  exhibit,  and  his  mind,  ever 
fertile  in  such  expedients,  soon  devised  a  plan  whereby  his 
faith  would  be  manifested  and  his  revenge  satiated.  Sum- 
moning his  generals  round  him,  he  addressed  them  in  the  fol- 
lowing words  :  "I  am  informed,"  he  said,  "  that,  in  the  wars 


192  HISTOEIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVKNTS. 

of  tlie  Khalifs  of  the  house  of  Oineiyah  with  the  descendants 
of  Mohammed,  and  especially  with  'Aly,  the  rightful  son  and 
heir  of  the  Prophet,  and  in  which  they  perpetrated  every  act 
of  cruelty  they  could  invent,  the  Syrians  aided  them  in  their 
sacrilegious  and  bloody  deeds.  This,  to  me,  is  strange  beyond 
conception  ;  for  how  any  nation  could  pretend  to  receive  the 
doctrine  of  the  Prophet,  and  to  have  been  raised  by  the  light 
of  his  revelation  from  the  abyss  of  error  and  infidelity,  and  yet 
become  the  enemy  of  his  kindred  and  family  to  such  a  degree 
as  to  unite  with  his  bitterest  foes  in  exercising  toward  them 
every  species  of  injustice,  I  cannot  comprehend  !  Yet  I  enter- 
tain no  doubt  this  day  that  these  traditions  are  true  ;  for  had 
they  been  false,  and  had  the  people  of  this  land  been  innocent, 
a  judgment  so  fearful  as  that  now  inflicted  upon  them  would 
never  have  emanated  from  the  tribunal  of  Divine  justice  !" 

After  these  extraordinary  words  he  was  silent.  He  uttered 
no  command  ;  he  expressed  no  wish.  But  his  chiefs  could 
interpret  the  will  of  their  lord,  and  the  consequences  of  his 
speech  are  thus  recorded  by  his  biographer  and  admirer  :  "On 
the  first  of  the  month  Shaban  (a.  h.  803)  the  excited  soldiers 
rushed  upon  the  devoted  and  helpless  city,  and  commenced  a 
scene  of  wanton  outrage  and  slaughter  such  as  it  is  impossible 
to  imagine.  Houses  were  stripped  of  every  valuable,  and 
their  inmates  exposed  to  every  outrage  which  cruelty  could 
devise  or  lust  suggest.  Neither  age  nor  sex  was  spared  ;  but 
those  that  escaped  the  sword,  or  survived  the  atrocious  indig- 
nities of  a  ruffian  soldiery,  were  dragged  from  their  homes 
and  sold  into  slavery.  Such  vast  masses  of  treasures  and 
valuables  were  collected  by  the  army  that  they  could  not,  with 
all  their  available  baggage-animals,  carry  them  away.  The 
carnage  lasted  for  ten  days,  and  then  it  was  consummated  by 
the  burning  of  the  city.  Timur,"  adds  his  historian,  "whose 
piety  was  without  a  parallel,  used  every  effort  to  save  the 
Mosque  of  the  Omeiyades,  but  in  vain,  for  the  roof  caught  the 
flames,  and  the  eastern  minaret  fell  to  the  ground." 

Never  had  this  ancient  city,  during  the  long  ages  through 
which  it  stood,  and  the  many  dynasties  and  nations  to  which 
it  had  been  forced  to  submit,  so  fearfully  experienced  the 
horrors  of  conquest  as  now.     Its  vast  wealth  was  dissipated 


TAMERLANE. 


193 


ill  a  day  ;  its  stores  of  antique  gems  and  gorgeous  fabrics  were 
seized  by  those  who  had  neither  the  taste  to  appreciate  nor 
the  knowledge  to  discern  their  real  value  ;  its  spacious  palaces, 
with  their  marble  halls,  and  inlaid  fountains,  and  walls  and 
ceilings  of  arabesque,  and  divans  of  richest  silk,  embroidered 
with  gold  and  sparkling  with  jewels,  were  all  pillaged  and 
left  in  ashes  ;  its  great  libraries,  filled  with  the  literature 
patronized  by  the  later  Khalifs,  and  cultivated  by  native 
savans — stored,  too,  with  the  carefully-preserved  writings  of 
the  fathers  of  the  Eastern  Church — were  almost  wholly  de- 
stro}-ed.  Tradition  records  that  of  the  large  Christian  popu- 
lation only  one  family  escaped  the  desolation  of  the  Tartars. 
Their  descendants  still  exist,  and  I  have  heard  from  their  lips 
the  fearful  tales  of  the  sufferings  of  their  ancestors,  which 
have  been  carefully  transmitted  from  sire  to  son. 

After  devastating  Syria  with  fire  and  sword,  Timur  returned 
to  his  native  land.  On  his  arrival,  prompted  by  caprice,  per- 
haps by  some  better  principle,  he  gave  orders  for  the  release 
of  all  the  captives,  of  ever}'  age  and  sex,  that  had  been  taken 
in  Syria.  His  command  was  strictly  obeyed,  and  the  motley 
crowd  that  had  belonged  to  this  city  were  brought  back  in 
safety  to  the  plain  of  the  Ghutah.  It  must  have  been  a  heart- 
rending sight  to  behold  these  destitute  and  houseless  people 
assembling  round  the  blackened  walls  and  smouldering  ruins 
of  this  ancient  city,  and  mourning  in  their  miseiy  and  help- 
lessness over  the  wreck  of  fortune,  the  desolation  of  country, 
and  the  murder  of  kindred  and  friends. — J.  L.  PORTER. 


IV— 13 


ETER  or  Pedro  I.,  King  of  Castile,  is  a 
notable  instance  of  those  sovereiens 
whose  characters  have  been  stigmatized 
in  history  by  the  epithet  attached  to 
their  names.  His  whole  career  justifies 
the  verdict  of  history  expressed  in  the 
word  "cruel." 

Pedro  was  born  at  Burgos  on  the  30th 
of  August,  1333.  He  was  the  only  le- 
gitimate son  left  by  Alphonso  XL,  whom 
he  succeeded  at  the  age  of  sixteen.  Pedro  had  been  badly 
brought  up  in  retirement  by  his  mother,  Donna  Maria,  of 
Portugal,  and  remained  for  a  time  under  her  influence.  To 
her  is  to  be  attributed  the  treacherous  execution  of  Leonora 
de  Guzman,  the  beautiful  mistress  of  the  late  king,  by  whom 
he  had  three  sons,  who  had  accompanied  their  father  in  many 
campaigns.  Pedro  soon  displayed  a  disposition  equally  per- 
fidious and  sanguinary.  He  caused  the  objects  of  his  dis- 
pleasure to  be  murdered  without  trial,  and  scrupled  no  means 
to  get  into  his  power  those  whom  he  feared  or  suspected. 

Don  Juan  Alonzo  de  x\lbuquerque,  who  had  been  his 
father's  chancellor  and  prime  minister,  with  a  view  of  con- 
firming his  own    authority,  introduced  the  young  king  in 

1352  to  the  beautiful  Maria  de  Padilla,  a  lady  of  noble  birth, 
of  whom  he  became  so  much  enamored  that  her  influence 
over  him  was  attributed  by  the  superstitious  to  witchcraft. 
At  the  same  time  a  marriage  was  negotiating  for  him  with 
Blanca,  daughter  of  the  Duke  of  Bourbon.     It  took  place  in 

1353  ;  but  Pedro  remained  with  his  bride  only  three  days,  and 

194 


§ 

I 


§ 

is 

SI 


PETER  THE  CRUEL.  1 95 

then  returned  to  his  mistress.  Albuquerque  remonstrated 
against  this  scandalous  conduct ;  but  the  only  result  was  the 
withdrawal  of  the  king's  favor  from  himself.  After  Albu- 
querque's retirement  to  his  estates,  Peter  caused  his  wife  to 
be  imprisoned,  and  then  divorced  her,  in  order  to  marry 
Joanna  de  Castro,  whom  he  also  abandoned  after  a  short 
cohabitation.  Donna  Blanca  was  sent  to  Toledo,  the  citizens 
of  which  revolted  in  her  favor.  They  were  joined  by  Henry, 
Count  of  Trastamare,  and  Frederic,  both  natural  brothers  of 
the  king,  and  by  other  nobles,  who  had  with  Albuquerque 
formed  a  confederacy  to  reduce  Peter  to  reason.  The  King, 
however,  by  means  of  fair  promises,  got  admission  with  his 
troops  into  Toledo,  where  he  caused  several  noblemen  and 
citizens  to  be  executed.  So  strong,  however,  was  the  national 
feeling  against  his  course  that  for  a  time  the  public  officials 
were  all  of  his  enemies'  choosing,  and  he  was  virtually  a 
prisoner.  But  when  he  escaped  he  got  possession  of  Toro,  in 
which  his  own  mother  had  taken  refuge  from  his  violence; 
and  he  villainously  obliged  her  to  be  present  at  the  massacre 
of  a  number  of  her  adherents. 

In  1356  a  trifling  quarrel  produced  a  war  between  him  and 
his  namesake  Peter  IV.,  King  of  Aragon,  in  which  Henry 
of  Trastamare,  who  had  fled  from  his  brother  into  France, 
had  a  command  under  the  latter  sovereign.  His  wife,  who 
was  left  in  the  power  of  Peter,  was  fortunately  rescued  from 
his  vengeance.  But  her  escape  so  much  excited  his  rage  and 
suspicion,  that  he  caused  his  natural  brother,  Frederic,  to  be 
murdered  in  his  presence,  and  showed  his  savage  disposition 
by  dining  in  the  same  apartment  before  the  body  was  removed. 
He  afterwards  put  to  death  his  cousin,  Don  Juan,  of  Aragon, 
and  poisoned  his  widow,  and  his  own  aunt,  the  Queen-dowager 
of  Aragon.  His  cruelties  having  driven  many  of  the  disaf- 
fected nobles  to  take  refuge  in  Portugal,  he  entered  into  a 
negotiation  with  the  king  of  that  countr}',  who  has  also  been 
stigmatized  as  another  Peter  the  Cruel,  to  deliver  up  these 
nobles  upon  condition  that  he  himself  should  surrender  those 
Portuguese  who  had  been  concerned  in  the  death  of  Ines  de 
Castro.  This  was  punctually  performed  on  both  sides,  and 
was  the  cause  of  many  bloody  executions. 


196  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS   AND    FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

But  another  side  of  Pedro's  dominions  furnishes  an  inter- 
esting history.  To  the  south  of  Castile  lay  the  Moorish 
kingdom  of  Granada,  a  perpetvial  menace  to  Christian  Spain. 
Here  there  had  been  a  contention  for  the  throne  very  similar 
to  that  in  Castile.  King  Muhamad  had  on  his  accession 
treated  his  brother  Ismail  most  generously ;  yet  the  latter, 
instigated  by  his  mother,  who  wished  to  retain  the  royal 
power  in  her  own  hands,  formed  a  conspiracy  and  sent  a 
hundred  daring  men  to  scale  the  palace  walls  at  midnight 
and  slay  the  king.  The  murder  was  not  effected,  but  Mu- 
hamad was  driven  from  his  throne  and  Ismail  reigned  in  his 
stead.  Both  claimants  at  once  sought  the  alliance  of  Pedro 
of  Castile ;  but  while  that  king,  kept  busy  in  his  own  domin-. 
ions,  delayed  to  interfere,  Muhamad  departed  for  Africa, 
seeking  other  aid.  Troops  were  sent  thence  to  assist  him, 
but  soon  recalled  on  the  death  of  their  own  king.  Meantime 
a  new  conspiracy  was  formed  against  the  usurper  Ismail  by 
Abu  Said,  who  had  been  most  active  in  placing  him  on  the 
throne.  The  general  discontent  of  the  people  gave  success  to 
this  movement,  and  Ismail  was  imprisoned  and  assassinated. 

Pedro  of  Castile  was  now  at  liberty  to  turn  his  arms 
toward  the  south,  and  declared  in  favor  of  Muhamad,  the 
rig-htful  sovereign  of  Granada.  He  assembled  on  the  bank 
of  the  Guadalquivir  a  large  army  of  infantr}'  and  cavalry  and 
engines  of  war.  His  invasion  of  Moorish  territory  was  regarded 
by  the  Christians  as  a  new  Crusade,  and  drew  to  his  banner 
the  chivalry  of  Spain.  Several  battles  were  fought,  castles 
and  cities  were  captured,  and  the  invaders  were  approaching 
the  capital,  Granada,  when  Muhamad,  somewhat  dismayed  at 
the  turn  of  affairs,  and  fearing  to  prolong  the  war,  requested 
his  Christian  ally  to  withdraw  from  the  Moslem  territory, 
professing  to  be  content  with  part  of  his  hereditary  dominions. 
Pedro  retired,  but  declared  his  readiness  to  return  whenever 
called  upon. 

Abu  Said  still  continued  war  against  the  neighboring 
Christians,  and  in  one  of  his  battles  captured,  among  other 
nobles,  a  brother  of  Maria  de  Padilla,  but  released  them  all 
after  obtaining  a  promise  of  their  help  in  securing  for  him 
the  good  will  of  their  sovereign.     Abu  Said  found  his  power 


PETER  THE  CRUEI,.  1 97 

weakened  by  continual  defections,  and  finally  resolved  to 
repair  in  person  to  Seville  and  win  Pedro's  support  by  hand- 
some presents.  Though  he  was  received  with  great  honor,  the 
council  of  the  Christian  king  soon  resolved  that  no  faith  was 
to  be  kept  with  infidels,  and  that  Abu  Said  should  be  put  to 
death  as  a  usurper.  This  act  of  treachery  was  performed, 
and  Abu  Said's  head  was  sent  in  a  casket  to  Muhamad,  who 
acknowledged  the  favor  by  sending  in  return  twenty-five  of 
his  finest  horses,  splendidly  caparisoned. 

In  1 361  the  blood-thirsty  Pedro  completed  the  measure 
of  his  domestic  cruelties  by  the  murder  of  his  first  Queen, 
Donna  Blanca,  then  confined  in  the  fortress  of  Xeres.  She 
is  represented  by  Spanish  writers  as  a  model  of  piety  and 
virtue.  In  the  same  year  Pedro  obliged  the  States  of  his  king- 
dom to  recognize,  as  his  lawful  successors,  his  children  by 
Maria  de  Padilla,  whom  he  declared  he  had  married  previously 
to  any  other  espousals.  Pedro  showed  no  regard  for  the 
Church.  The  Archbishop  of  Toledo,  who  ventured  to  re- 
buke his  flagrant  crimes,  narrowly  escaped  being  put  to  death, 
and  was  obliged  to  take  refuge  in  Portugal. 

The  King's  persistent  enormities  at  length  caused  him  to 
be  excommunicated  by  Pope  Urban  V.  This  was  followed  by 
a  confederacy  against  him  between  the  Kings  of  Aragon  and 
Navarre,  and  Henry  of  Trastamare,  at  the  head  of  the  Cas- 
tilian  nobility.  Peter,  though  ignorant,  vicious  and  cruel, 
was  by  no  means  deficient  in  vigor  or  success  in  carrying  on 
the  war  against  the  King  of  Aragon,  and  his  deposition  was 
therefore  much  desired  by  that  monarch,  who,  in  fact,  was 
little  less  perfidious  and  sanguinary  than  himself.  A  band  of 
mercenaries,  ready  to  fight  in  any  cause,  was  brought  out  of 
France  under  the  command  of  the  famous  Bertrand  du  Gues- 
clin,  and  other  leaders.  Henry  entering  Castile  at  the  head 
of  these  "free  companies,"  was  admitted  into  Calahorra, 
and  proclaimed  king.  Advancing  to  Burgos,  he  received  the 
homage  of  the  nobles  of  Castile,  and  was  solemnly  inaugurated, 
whilst  Peter,  driven  from  his  throne,  retired  into  Portugal, 
and  thence  to  Guienne,  to  the  court  of  Edward  the  Black 
Prince.  The  treasures  he  carried  with  him  made  him  wel- 
come to  that  prince  and  his  barons  ;  and  the  tempting  offer  of 


198  HISTORIC  characte;rs  and  famous  events. 

the  Province  of  Biscay,  together  with  the  notion  of  the  duty 
of  assisting  a  rightful  sovereign  against  a  usurper,  induced 
the  gallant  Edward  to  undertake  his  restoration.  This  he 
effected  by  the  utter  defeat  which  he  inflicted  on  Henry  and  his 
forces  at  the  battle  of  Navarretta,  on  the  13th  of  April,  1367. 
Peter  would  gladly  have  put  to  death  his  natural  brother, 
Sancho,  and  all  his  prisoners,  on  this  occasion ;  but  was 
restrained  by  the  humanity  of  the  Prince  of  Wales. 

Peter's  promise  of  recompense  to  his  victorious  allies  was 
ill  observed  ;  and  after  resuming  his  crown  he  indulged  the 
severity  of  his  disposition  by  numerous  executions.  Henry, 
however,  was  not  disheartened  by  his  misfortunes  ;  but,  after 
the  departure  of  the  English,  collected  forces,  and  again 
engaged  the  assistance  of  Du  Guesclin  and  his  men-at-arms. 
He  entered  Spain  and  advanced  to  the  Plains  of  Montiel, 
where,  on  the  13th  of  March,  1369,  he  met  Peter,  at  the  head 
of  a  more  numerous  army,  but  composed  of  a  motley  assem- 
blage of  Jews  and  Moors.  A  battle  ensued,  in  which  Peter 
exerted  himself  valiantly  ;  his  troops,  however,  were  com- 
pletely defeated,  and  he  was  obliged  to  take  refuge  in  the 
Castle  of  Montiel.  Finding  that  it  could  not  be  held  for  want 
of  provisions,  he  quitted  it  at  midnight,  with  eleven  compan- 
ions, but  was  stopped  in  his  retreat,  and  carried  to  the  tent  of 
his  captor.  His  brother  Henry  soon  arriving,  words  of  re- 
proach passed  between  them,  and  (according  to  Froissart)  Peter 
caught  Henry  in  his  arms  and  threw  him  to  the  ground,  and 
then  attempted  to  draw  his  dagger.  In  this  he  was  prevented 
by  the  bystanders,  who  drew  him  off  from  his  rival,  upon 
which  Henry  plunged  his  poniard  into  Peter's  body,  and  his 
attendants  assisted  in  dispatching  him.  Thus  died  Peter  the 
Cruel,  in  1 369,  in  the  thirty-sixth  year  of  his  age.  His  two 
surviving  daughters  were  married  to  two  brothers  of  the 
Black  Prince — John  of  Gaunt,  Duke  of  Lancaster,  and  Ed- 
mund Langley,  Duke  of  York. 

While  Peter's  reign  is  a  frightful  record  of  perfidy  and 
bloodshed  so  far  as  his  relatives  and  rivals  and  the  Spanish 
nobility  are  concerned,  there  is  proof  that  he  relieved  the 
common  people  of  much  oppression.  He  endeavored  to 
establish  uniform  laws  in  all  the  provinces,  and  to  make  all 


PETER  THE  CRUEL.  I99 

his  subjects  equally  ameuable  to  them.  For  these  efforts  he 
was  rewarded  by  auother  epithet,  being  called  also  Peter  the 
Justiciary. 

The  Battle  of  Navarretta. 

Provisions  had  become  so  scarce  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Vittoria  where  the  Black  Prince  and  his  army  were,  that  they 
resolved  to  decamp  and  cross  the  Ebro  into  a  country  better 
able  to  support  them.  King  Henry  immediately  followed, 
and  the  Prince,  on  hearing  of  his  approach,  summoned  a 
council,  with  whose  advice  he  returned  an  answer  to  the 
letter  which  some  da}'S  since  King  Henry  had  sent  him. 
The  answer  began  in  the  following  terms  :  "  Edward,  by  the 
grace  of  God,  Prince  of  Wales,  and  of  Aquitaine,  to  the 
renowned  Henry,  Earl  of  Trastamare,  who  calls  himself 
Kine  of  Castille."  The  letter  then  went  on  to  state  that  he 
was  prepared  to  assert  the  right  of  his  cousin,  Don  Pedro,  to 
the  kingdom  of  Castille,  and  that  Henry  must  give  up  all 
pretensions  to  the  crown  of  that  realm,  as  well  as  to  its 
inheritance.  Upon  receipt  of  this,  Henry  w?s  much  enraged, 
and  resolved  that  nothing  should  prevent  a  battle.  Don  Tello 
and  Don  Sancho  accordingly  drew  up  their  men  in  proper 
order,  and  busied  themselves  in  getting  everything  ready. 
On  Friday,  the  2nd  of  April,  the  Prince  and  his  army  arrived 
before  the  town  of  Navarretta,  -where  they  took  up  their 
quarters.  By  means  of  the  scouts,  the  two  armies  gained 
information  of  each  other's  condition,  and  formed  their 
arrangements  accordingly. 

It  was  a  beautiful  sight  to  see  them  approach  with  their 
brilliant  armor  glittering  with  the  sunbeams.  The  Prince, 
with  a  few  attendants,  mounted  a  small  hill,  and  saw  very 
clearly  the  enemy  marching  straight  towards  them.  Upon 
descending  this  hill,  he  extended  his  line  of  battle  in  the 
plain  and  then  halted.  The  Spaniards,  seeing  the  English 
had  halted,  did  the  same  in  order  of  battle  ;  then  each  man 
tightened  his  armor,  and  made  ready  as  for  instant  combat. 
Sir  John  Chandos  advanced  in  front  of  the  battalions  with 
his  banner  uncased  in  his  hand.  He  presented  it  to  the  Prince, 
saying,   "  My  lord,  here  is  my  banner  :    I  present  it  to  you. 


200  HISTORIC    CHARACTERS   AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

that  I  may  display  it  in  whatever  manner  shall  be  most  agree- 
able to  you  ;  for,  thanks  to  God,  I  have  now  sufficient  lands 
to  enable  me  to  do  so,  and  maintain  the  rank  which  it  ought 
to  hold."  The  Prince,  Don  Pedro  being  present,  took  the 
banner,  which  was  blazoned  with  a  sharp  stake  gules  on  a 
field  argent,  in  his  hands  ;  and,  after  having  cut  off  the  tail 
to  make  the  square,  he  displayed  it,  and  returning  it  to  him 
by  the  handle,  said,  "  Sir  John,  I  return  you  your  banner. 
God  give  you  strength  and  honor  to  preserve  it." 

Sir  John  left  the  Prince,  went  back  to  his  men  with  the 
banner  in  his  hand,  and  said  to  them,  "Gentlemen,  behold 
my  banner,  and  yours  :  you  will  therefore  guard  it  as  it 
becomes  you."  His  companions  taking  the  banner,  replied 
with  much  cheerfulness,  that,  "if  it  pleased  God  and  St. 
George,  they  would  defend  it  well,  and  act  worthily  of  it,  to 
the  utmost  of  their  abilities."  The  banner  was  put  into  the 
hands  of  a  worthy  English  squire,  called  William  AUestry, 
who  bore  it  with  honor  that  day,  and  loyally  acquitted  him- 
self in  the  service.  The  English  and  Gascons  soon  after 
dismounted  on  the  heath,  and  assembled  very  orderly  together, 
each  lord  under  his  banner  or  pennon,  in  the  same  battle 
array  as  when  they  passed  the  mountains. 

It  was  delightful  to  see  and  examine  these  banners  and 
pennons,  with  the  noble  army  that  was  under  them.  The 
two  armies  began  to  move  a  little  and  to  approach  nearer 
each  other  ;  but  before  they  met,  the  Prince  of  Wales,  with 
eyes  and  hands  uplifted  towards  heaven,  exclaimed,  "God  of 
truth,  the  Father  of  Jesus  Christ,  who  hast  made  and  fashioned 
me,  condescend,  through  thy  benign  grace,  that  the  success  of 
the  battle  of  this  day  may  be  for  me  and  my  army  ;  for  thou 
knowest  that  in  truth  I  have  been  solely  emboldened  to 
undertake  it  in  the  support  of  justice  and  reason,  to  reinstate 
this  king  upon  his  throne,  who  has  been  disinherited,  and 
driven  from  it,  as  well  as  from  his  country."  After  these 
words,  he  extended  his  right  arm,  took  hold  of  Don  Pedro's 
hand,  who  was  by  his  side,  and  added,  "  Sir  king,  you  shall 
this  day  know  whether  you  will  have  anything  in  the  kingdom 
of  Castille,  or  not. ' '  He  then  cried  out,  ' '  Advance  banners, 
in  the  name  of  God  and  St.  George  ! ' ' 


PETKR   THE   CRUEIv.  20I 

As  lie  said  this,  the  Duke  of  Lancaster  and  Sir  John 
Chaudos  came  up  and  attacked  Sir  Bertrand  du  Guesclin  and 
the  IMarshal  d'Andreghen,  who  had  under  them  4,000  men- 
at-arms.  At  first  there  was  a  terrible  medley  of  spears  and 
shields  ;  and  it  was  some  time  before  they  could  make  any 
opening  into  each  other.  As  soon  as  these  began  to  engage, 
the  other  divisions  were  not  willing  to  remain  idle,  but 
advanced  with  eagerness  to  the  combat.  The  fight  was  now 
entered  upon  in  earnest  on  all  sides ;  the  Spaniards  and 
Castillians  had  slings,  from  which  they  threw  stones  with  such 
force  as  to  break  the  helmets  and  skull-caps  of  their 
opponents ;  and  the  English  archers,  according  to  their  cus- 
tom, shot  sharply  with  their  bows,  to  the  great  annoyance 
and  destruction  of  the  Spaniards — on  one  side  there  were 
shouts  of  "  Castille  for  King  Henry;"  on  the  other,  "St. 
George  for  Guienne. ' ' 

It  was  early  in  the  morning,  on  a  Saturday,  when  this 
severe  and  bloody  battle  was  fought  between  Najarra  and 
Navarretta.  The  loss  was  immense  on  both  sides,  and  the 
mighty  deeds  which  were  done  there  are  too  numerous  to  be 
told.  The  Prince  shone  pre-eminently,  and  proved  well  his 
noble  birth,  and  the  gallantry  of  his  knighthood,  by  his  eager- 
ness to  fight  the  enemy ;  on  the  other  side.  King  Henry 
acquitted  himself  right  valiantly  in  every  situation.  However, 
after  a  most  severe  struggle,  victory  inclined  to  the  side  of 
the  Prince,  and  the  Spaniards  took  to  flight.  When  the  battle 
was  over,  the  Prince  of  Wales  ordered  his  banner  to  be  fixed 
in  a  bush  on  a  slight  eminence,  as  a  rallying  point  for  his 
men  on  their  return  from  the  pursuit  of  the  enemy.  ]\Iany 
noble  lords  assembled  about  it,  and  among  them  the  king, 
Don  Pedro,  who  when  he  saw  the  Prince  would  have  thrown 
himself  on  his  knees  before  him  to  return  thanks ;  but  the 
Prince  took  him  by  the  hand,  and  would  not  suffer  it,  upon 
which  Don  Pedro  said,  "Dear  and  fair  cousin,  I  owe  you 
many  thanks  and  praises  for  the  happy  event  of  this  day." 
The  Prince  replied,  ' '  Sir,  return  thanks  to  God  ;  for  to  him 
alone  belongs  the  praise  ;  the  victory  comes  from  him,  and 
not  from  me." 

This  Saturday  night  the  Prince  and  his  army  reposed  at 


202  HISTORIC  CHARACTE;RS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

their  ease  in  the  midst  of  plenty  of  provisions  and  wine,  and 
the  next  day,  which  was  Palm  Sunday,  remained  where  they 
were  to  refresh  themselves.  Don  Pedro  wished  to  have  shown 
his  vengeance  by  putting  all  the  Spanish  prisoners  to  death  ; 
but  the  Prince  interceded  for  them,  and  pointed  out  to  him 
that  kindness  and  generosity  would  do  more  towards  gaining 
for  him  a  friendly  reception  in  his  kingdom  than  any  other 
means.  Much  against  his  will,  therefore,  he  forgave  Don 
Sancho  and  all  the  other  prisoners,  on  condition  that  they 
would  swear  fealty  and  homage,  and  acknowledge  him  as  their 
lord.  Burgos,  Villorado,  and  many  other  places  then  surren- 
dered, and  after  meeting  with  this  success  Don  Pedro  went  to 
Seville,  with  the  intention  of  procuring  money  for  payment 
of  the  forces,  while  the  Prince  fixed  his  quarters  at  Valladolid. 
The  news  of  the  defeat  of  King  Henry  soon  spread  through 
France,  England,  and  Germany  ;  and  wherever  true  valor 
and  deeds  of  arms  were  esteemed  the  Prince  rose  in  admiration 
and  honor.  The  Germans,  Flemings,  and  English  declared 
that  he  was  the  mirror  of  knighthood — that  having  gained 
three  glorious  victories,  the  first  at  Cressy,  the  second  at 
Poitiers  ten  years  afterwards,  and  the  third  in  Spain,  at  Nav- 
arretta,  he  was  worthy  of  governing  the  whole  world.  In 
France,  however,  there  was  much  lamentation,  for  many 
knights  of  that  kingdom  had  been  captured  and  many  slain. 

King  Henry,  after  the  battle,  escaped  with  his  wife  and 
children  as  quickly  as  he  was  able  to  the  King  of  Aragon  at 
Valencia,  to  whom  he  related  his  ill  success  ;  from  Valencia 
he  went  to  Montpellier  to  the  Duke  of  Anjou,  who  cordially 
loved  him,  and  as  cordially  hated  the  English,  though  he  was 
not  at  war  with  them  at  the  time  ;  thence  the  unfortunate 
monarch  paid  a  visit  to  Pope  Urban  ;  and  afterwards,  having 
bought  or  borrowed  of  the  Duke  of  Anjou  a  castle  called 
Roquemaure,  he  there  collected  about  300  men,  and  finding 
his  forces  increase,  made  an  incursion  into  Aquitaine,  doing 
much  damage  to  the  country.  The  Prince  of  Wales 
waited  at  Valladolid  for  the  return  of  Don  Pedro,  who 
never  came,  nor  could  he  for  some  time  learn  any  certain 
tidings  of  him.  It  was  now  the  feast  of  St.  John  the  Baptist, 
and  his  council  advised  him  to  send  two  or  three  knights  to 


PETER  THE  CRUEL.  203 

remonstrate  witli  Don  Pedro  on  his  conduct.  The  knights 
found  him  at  Seville,  and  received  from  him  some  paltry 
excuses,  which  they  reported  to  the  Prince,  who  on  hearing 
them  was  so  much  displeased  that  he  determined  to  withdraw 
his  forces  from  Spain,  declaring  that  Don  Pedro  had  shame- 
fully and  dishonorably  failed  in  his  engagements.  Orders 
were  immediately  given  to  that  effect,  and  all  prepared  for 
departure  except  the  King  of  Majorca,  who  was  so  ill  that  he 
could  not  be  moved.  Nothing  of  importance  occurred  on 
their  way  back;  but  as  they  approached  Bordeaux  great 
preparations  were  made  to  receive  them  ;  the  Princess  of 
Wales,  accompanied  by  her  eldest  son,  Edward,  who  was  then 
about  three  years  old,  went  out  to  meet  her  husband,  and  in 
the  city,  on  the  occasion,  there  were  great  rejoicings.  The 
Prince,  immediately  on  his  return,  disbanded  his  forces,  hav- 
ing satisfied  them  with  money  as  far  as  he  was  able,  for  he 
said,  that  "Although  Don  Pedro  had  not  kept  his  engage- 
ments, it  was  not  becoming  of  him  to  act  in  like  manner  to 
those  who  had  so  well  served  him." — Sir  J.  Froissart. 


THE  DEATH  OF  QUEEN  BI.ANCHE. 

"  Maria  de  Padilla,  be  not  thus  of  dismal  mood, 

For  if  I  twice  have  wedded  me,  it  all  was  for  tli}^  good  ; 

But  if  upon  Queen  Blanche  ye  will  that  I  some  scorn  should  show, 

For  a  banner  to  Medina  my  messenger  shall  go  ; 

The  work   shall  be  of  Blanche's  tears,  of  Blanche's  blood  the 

ground 
Such  pennon  shall  they  weave  for  thee,  such  sacrifice  be  found." 

Then  to  the  Lord  of  Ortis,  that  excellent  baron, 
He  said,  "  Now  hear  me,  Ynigo,  forthwith  for  this  begone." 
Then  answer  made  Don  Ynigo,  "Such  gift  I  ne'er  will  bring. 
For  he  that  harmeth  Lady  Blanche  doth  harm  my  lord  the  king." 
Then  Pedro  to  his  chamber  went,  his  cheek  was  burning  red, 
And  to  a  bowman  of  his  guard  the  dark  command  he  said. 

The  bowman  to  Medina  passed  ;  when  the  Queen  beheld  him  near, 
"  Alas  !"  she  said,  "  my  maidens,  he  brings  my  death,  I  fear." 


204 


HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 


Then  said  the  archer,  bending  low,  "The  King's  commandment 

take, 
And  see  thy  soul  be  ordered  well  with  God  that  did  it  make  ; 
For  lo  !  thine  hour  is  come,  therefore  no  refuge  may  there  be ; " 
Then  gently  spake  the  I^ady  Blanche,  ' '  My  friend,  I  pardon  thee ; 

Do  what  thou  wilt,  so  be  the  king  hath  his  commandment  given, 
Deny  me  not  confession, — if  so,  forgive  ye  Heaven." 
Much  grieved  the  bowman  for  her  tears,  and  for  her  beauty's  sake; 
While  thus  Queen  Blanche  of  Bourbon  her  last  complaint  did 

make: 
' '  O  France !  my  noble  country — O  blood  of  high  Bourbon  ! 
Not  eighteen  years  have  I  seen  out  before  my  life  is  gone. 

' '  The  king  hath  never  known  me ;  a  virgin  true  I  die, 
Whate'er  I've  done  to  proud  Castille,  no  treason  e'er  did  I. 
The  crown  they  put  upon  my  head  was  a  crown  of  blood  and  sighs, 
God  grant  me  soon  another  crown  more  precious  in  the  skies." 
These  words  she  spake,  then  down  she  knelt,  and  took  the  bow- 
man's blow; 
Her  tender  neck  was  cut  in  twain,  and  out  the  blood  did  flow. 

— Spanish  Bali^ad,  Translated  by '^.  G.  LockharT. 


\ENRY  II.,  of  Castile,  known  also  as  the 
Count  of  Trastamare,  was  born  in  Jan- 
uary, 1333.  He  was  the  natural  son  of 
Alfonso  XI.,  and  thus  brother  of  Peter 
the  Cruel,  in  the  account  of  whom  may- 
be found  part  of  Henry's  career.  Peter, 
on  becoming  king,  showed  him  much 
kindness,  called  him  and  his  mother  to 
court,  and  made  him  Count  of  Trastamare.  The  Count, 
however,  had  reason  to  suspect  his  brother's  enmity,  and 
sought  to  take  advantage  of  the  discontent  against  him, 
which  the  severity  and  cruelty  of  Peter  had  provoked. 

The  deaths  of  the  Queen  and  the  mother  of  Henry  were 
openly  charged  on  Peter,  and  made  the  occasion  of  revolt. 
This  insurrection  was  suppressed,  and  Henry  fled  to  Portugal ; 
he  then  joined  the  King  of  Aragon  in  an  attack  on  Castile, 
was  again  beaten,  and  fled  to  France.  Here  he  raised  a  con- 
siderable body  of  troops,  with  Bertraud  du  Guesclin  as  com- 
mander. With  the  aid  of  this  leader  Henry  was  so  far  successful 
that  he  was  crowned  at  Burgos;  but  Edward,  the  Black 
Prince,  coming  to  the  assistance  of  Peter,  totally  defeated 
Henry  at  the  battle  of  Navarretta,  and  took  Du  Guesclin 
prisoner. 

Henry  again  fled  to  France ;  but  the  cruelties  of  Peter 
excited  fresh  discontent,  of  which  Henry  took  advantage. 
He  obtained  a  declaration  of  his  legitimacy  from  Pope  Urban 
v.,  money  from  Charles  V.  of  Fiance,  with  which  he  ran- 
somed Du  Guesclin,  raised  fresh  troops,  and  again  invaded 

205 


206  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

Castile.  Peter,  now  unsupported  by  the  English  prince,  was 
beaten,  and  fled  to  Montiel,  where,  in  an  interview  after  his 
capture,  Henry  slew  him  with  his  own  hand. 

Henry  was  the  second  and  last  monarch  of  illegitimate 
birth  that  ever  reigned  in  Castile  and  Leon.  The  only  lawful 
heir  to  the  Castilian  crown,  according  to  the  right  of  succes- 
sion, was  Fernando,  King  of  Portugal,  grandson  of  the 
Princess  Beatrix,  daughter  of  Sancho  the  Brave,  King  of 
Castile,  who  was  married  to  Alfonso  IV.,  of  Portugal.  To 
the  sober-judging  Castilians,  the  right  of  that  prince  seemed 
so  clear  that  not  a  few  of  the  nobility  hastened  to  do  homage 
to  him  as  their  lawful  sovereign,  and  several  cities  of  Leon, 
as  well  as  of  Galicia,  declared  for  him.  The  encouragement 
thus  given  to  his  just  pretensions  caused  him  to  assume  the 
title  of  King  of  Castile  and  Leon,  in  addition  to  that  of 
Portugal,  and  to  prepare  considerable  armaments  for  the  pur- 
pose of  enforcing  them.  But  the  opportunity  of  forever 
uniting  the  two  countries  was  lost  through  national  preju- 
dices, rendered  inveterate. 

The  difficulties  with  which  Henry  had  to  contend  were  of 
no  common  order.  The  Kings  of  Portugal,  Navarre  and 
Aragon  were  arrayed  against  him.  But  Henry  had  great 
courage,  and  he  resolutely  prepared  to  vindicate  his  authority. 
After  an  ineffectual  attempt  to  procure  the  submission  of 
Carmona,  he  assembled  his  troops  at  Toledo,  reduced  Requena 
by  means  of  his  generals,  and  with  a  considerable  force 
marched  on  Zamora,  which  he  also  hoped  to  reduce.  Hear- 
ing, however,  that  Fernando  was  advancing  on  Corunna,  he 
marched  towards  Galicia ;  but  as  the  Portuguese,  on  hearing 
of  his  approach,  hastily  retreated,  he  turned  aside  into  that 
kingdoin,  took  Bruga  and  some  minor  fortresses  and  returned. 
No  sooner  had  he  retired,  than  detached  bands  of  Portuguese 
penetrated  into  Estremadura  and  committed  destructive  rav- 
ages. Henry  managed,  however,  to  preserve  his  frontier 
strongholds,  both  on  the  side  of  Portugal  and  of  Aragon. 
Early  in  1370  he  had  the  still  greater  good  fortune  of  defeat- 
ing a  powerful  fleet  at  sea,  which  Fernando  had  dispatched  to 
the  mouth  of  the  Guadalquivir  river. 

In  1 37 1  Henry  prosecuted  with  vigor  the  siege  of  Carmona, 


HENRY  OP  TRASTAMARE.  207 

whicli  liad  been  for  some  time  invested,  and  was  beginning  to 
suffer  from  want  of  provisions.  In  an  attempt  to  escalade  the 
walls,  some  of  liis  soldiers  were  taken  prisoners  and  put  to 
death  by  the  governor,  Martin  Lopez,  who  had  also  the  guar- 
dianship of  Peter's  children,  and  who  was  faithfully  attached 
to  the  memory  of  that  prince.  This  greatly  irritated  Henry, 
who  resolved  on  a  perfidious  revenge.  After  a  long  and 
heroic  defence,  Don  Martin  proposed  to  capitulate,  on  condi- 
tion of  his  life  and  liberty  being  guaranteed ;  a  condition 
which  the  King  took  a  solemn  oath  to  fulfill.  No  sooner, 
however,  was  the  latter  in  possession  of  the  place,  than  he 
sent  that  brave  ofi&cer,  together  with  the  old  chancellor  of 
Peter,  to  Seville,  where  both  were  speedily  beheaded  by  his 
order. 

Through  the  interference  of  the  Papal  Legate,  Henry 
obtained  peace  from  Portugal,  and  recovered  two  places  from 
the  Kinof  of  Navarre.  No  less  fortunate  was  it  for  him  that 
Pedro  of  Aragon  was  too  much  occupied  in  domestic  affairs  to 
disturb  his  tranquillity.  At  sea,  too,  his  fleet  was  victorious 
over  an  English  squadron  which  advanced  against  his  ally, 
the  French  king.  It  was  to  repair  this  check,  as  well  as  to 
gratify  his  ambition,  that  the  English  Duke  of  Lancaster,  John 
of  Gaunt,  who  had  just  married  Constanza,  daugliter  of  Peter 
the  Cruel,  assumed  the  title  of  King  of  Castile,  and  prepared 
to  invade  the  kingdom.  The  strangest  circumstance  of  all 
this  is,  that,  in  1372,  Fernando  of  Portugal,  whose  pretensions 
were  so  superior,  should  league  himself  with  the  English 
duke.  The  obscure,  though  continued,  hostilities  which  fol- 
lowed, deserve  little  attention ;  the  advantages  of  one  day 
being  neutralized  by  the  reverses  of  the  next.  In  1373,  in- 
deed, Henry  penetrated  as  far  as  Lisbon  ;  but  he  reduced  no 
place  of  consequence  ;  and  he  soon  returned  to  his  dominions 
with  the  barren  glory  of  having  insulted  his  royal  enemy. 
The  same  year,  after  an  unimportant  advantage  over  the 
Portuguese  in  Galicia,  the  two  kings,  through  the  mediation 
of  the  Pope,  the  unceasing  friend  of  peace,  were  persuaded  to 
end,  if  not  their  animosity,  their  open  opposition,  and  even 
to  agree  on  a  double  matrimonial  alliance. 

But  the  Duke  of  Lancaster  was  not  so  easily  pacified ;  in 


208  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS   AND   FAMOUS   EVEJNTS.' 

alliance  sometimes  witli  Navarre,  and  always  at  variance  with 
France  and  Castile,  this  Prince  was  actuated,  both  by  public 
and  personal  considerations,  to  persevere  in  his  hostilities. 
He  soon  found  that  little  reliance  was  to  be  placed  on  his 
Peninsular  allies,  who  veered  from  one  side  to  the  other  with 
every  wind ;  though  he  was  constant  to  his  great  project,  that 
of  dethroning  Henry  of  Trastamare,  he  was  long  unable  even 
to  attempt  its  execution.  His  forces  were  always  required  in 
France  :  it  was,  indeed,  the  great  object  of  Henry  to  keep  the 
English  occupied  in  that  country ;  -  and,  with  this  view,  he 
frequently  dispatched  aid  to  the  French  King.  The  Castilian 
succeeded,  during  his  own  life,  in  averting  from  his  kingdom 
the  scourge  of  foreign  invasion  ;  but,  after  his  death,  his  son 
suffered  from  it. 

In  the  schism  which  afflicted  the  Church,  from  the  rival 
pretensions  of  Urban  VI. ,  and  the  Anti-pope  Clement,  Henry 
declared  for  neither  ;  doubtless  to  gratify  his  avarice  by  with- 
holding the  customary  contributions  to  the  Holy  See.  He 
expired  on  the  29th  of  May,  1379. 

Henry  II.  was  in  character  as  cruel  as  Peter,  as  loose  in 
morals,  and  scarcely  inferior  as  a  tyrant ;  but  he  was  truly 
courageous,  and  proved  a  fortunate  ruler.  Either  by  bribes 
or  force,  he  reduced  Galicia  to  obedience,  recovered  several 
places  from  the  King  of  Navarre,  whose  capital  he  at  one  time 
invested,  and  overawed  his  neighbors  of  Portugal  and  Aragon. 
His  reign,  though  abounding  in  warfare,  was  not  marked  by 
any  of  the  usual  exploits  against  the  Moors. 


THE  ROYAI,  FRATRICIDE. 

Henry  and  King  Pedro  clasping, 
Hold  in  straining  arms  each  other ; 

Tugging  hard,  and  closely  grasping, 

Brother  proves  his  strength  with  brother. 

Harmless  pastime,  sport  fraternal 
Blends  not  thus  their  limbs  in  strife ; 

Either  aims  with  rage  infernal 
Naked  dagger,  sharpened  knife. 


HENRY  OF  TRASTAMARE.  209 

Close  Don  Heiity  grapples  Pedro, 

Pedro  holds  Don  Henry  straight, 
Breathing,  this,  triumphant  fury, 

That,  despair  and  mortal  hate. 

Sole  spectator  of  the  struggle 

Stands  Don  Henry's  page  afar. 
In  the  chase  who  bore  his  bugle. 

And  who  bore  his  sword  in  war. 

Down  they  go  in  deadly  wrestle, 

Down  upon  the  earth  they  go ; 
Thrice  Don  Pedro  has  the  vantage, 

Stout  Don  Henry  falls  below. 

Marking  then  the  fatal  crisis, 

Up  the  page  of  Henry  ran  ; 
B}^  the  waist  he  caught  Don  Pedro, 

Aiding  thus  the  fallen  man. 

King  to  place,  or  to  depose  him, 

Dwelleth  not  in  his  desire, 
But  the  duty  which  he  owes  him 

To  his  master  pays  the  squire. 

Now  Don  Henry  has  the  upmost, 

Now  King  Pedro  lies  beneath ; 
In  his  heart  his  brother's  poniard 

Instant  finds  its  bloody  sheath. 

Thus  with  mortal  gash  and  quiver. 

While  the  blood  in  bubbles  welled, 
Fled  the  fiercest  soul  that  ever 

In  a  Christian  bosom  swelled. 

— Spanish  Bali^ad,  Translated  by  Sir  W.  Scott. 


IV— 14 


m 

BERTRAND  DU  GUESCLIN  was 
the  most  famous  French  warrior  of 
the  fourteenth  century.  His  career 
marks  to  some  extent  the  decline  of 
chivalry  and  the  turning  of  knights 
who  fought  for  honor  into  soldiers 
who  fight  for  pay.  He  was  born  at 
the  Castle  of  Motte  Broon,  near 
Rennes,  France,  about  13 14.  His 
family  was  long  established  in 
Brittany,  but  not  distinguished.  So 
much  did  young  Du  Guesclin  neglect 
such  advantages  of  education  as 
were  afforded  him,  that  he  was  never  able  to  read  or  write. 
He  received,  however,  that  military  training  which  was  usually 
given  to  the  nobles  of  his  time.  His  disposition  was  wholly 
adverse  to  literary  discipline,  and  he  was  continually  engaged 
in  quarrels  and  fights  with  his  associates.  He  grew  up  stout 
and  vigorous,  but  so  disagreeable  in  looks  that  a  poet  of  the 
times  says,  "There  was  not  a  child  so  ugly  from  Rennes  to 
Dinant.  He  was  fiat-nosed  and  black,  unmannerly  and 
slovenly."  His  mother  said,  "There  never  was  a  more  un- 
lucky boy  in  the  world  than  my  son.  He  is  always  getting 
wounded ;  his  face  is  always  full  of  scars.  He  is  constantly 
beating,  and  being  beaten. "  Bertrand  himself  used  to  remark, 
"  I  am  very  ugly  and  shall  never  please  the  ladies  ;  but  I  shall 
make  myself  feared  by  the  enemies  of  my  king."  At  the 
age  of  seventeen  he  carried  off  the  prize  at  a  tournament  in 
Rennes,  held  to  celebrate  the  marriage  of  Charles  of  Blois. 
He  had  gone  to  this  contest  without  his  father's  knowledge, 
210 


DU   GUESCIvIN.  211 

upon  a  horse  borrowed  from  a  miller,  and  afterwards  obtained 
a  more  snitable  steed  and  armor  from  a  relative  who  had 
retired  from  the  contest. 

To  sncli  a  youth  the  profession  of  arms  was  natural.  Du 
Guesclin  followed  it  with  great  success,  and  in  the  conflict  of 
Charles  of  Blois  with  John  de  Montfort,  he  obtained  several 
advantages  over  the  English  in  Brittany.  Having  no  vassals 
of  his  own,  he  put  himself  at  the  head  of  a  band  of  adven- 
turers, won  reputation  by  his  brilliant  exploits,  and  was  made 
a  knight.  After  the  battle  of  Poitiers  in  1356,  in  which  King 
John  of  France  became  the  captive  of  the  formidable  Black 
Prince,  Du  Guesclin  flew  to  the  succor  of  the  Regent  Charles, 
heir  to  the  throne,  and  aided  him  to  recover  Melun  and 
several  other  places.  Shortly  after  the  accession  of  Charles  V. , 
in  1364,  the  gallant  warrior  was  intrusted  with  the  command 
of  the  royal  army,  and  gained  a  victory  at  Cocherel  over  the 
troops  of  the  King  of  Navarre,  for  which  service  he  was 
rewarded  with  the  office  of  Marshal  of  Normandy,  and 
created  Count  de  Longueville.  He  afterwards  returned  to  the 
assistance  of  Charles  of  Blois,  who  was  competing  for  the 
Duchy  of  Brittany  against  ]\Iontfort.  Charles,  rashly  engag- 
ing against  his  advice,  was  killed  at  the  battle  of  Auray,  and 
Du  Guesclin,  covered  with  wounds,  was  made  a  prisoner  by 
the  English  commander.  Sir  John  Chandos. 

A  great  number  of  soldiers  who  were  disbanded  on  the 
conclusion  of  peace,  as  well  as  many  nobles  of  various  nations, 
had  united  under  several  leaders,  under  the  name  of  the  "grand 
companies,"  and  were  oppressing  the  country.  In  order  to  free 
France  from  these  mercenaries,  it  was  proposed  to  send  them 
to  the  assistance  of  Henry  de  Trastamare  against  Peter  the 
Cruel,  King  of  Castile.  Du  Guesclin  was  ransomed  for 
100,000  francs,  and  placed  at  their  head.  He  persuaded  many 
of  these  adventurers,  who  had  formerly  served  under  his  com- 
mand, to  accompany  him  to  Spain  in  order  to  fight,  as  he  said, 
against  the  Saracens.  He  gave  them  200,000  florins,  and 
promised  that  they  would  meet  somebody  on  the  road  who 
would  give  them  an  equal  sum.  The  "  companies"  followed 
him  with  the  greatest  enthusiasm.  They  marched  on  Avignon, 
which  at  that  time  was  the  residence  of  the  Pope,  who  had 


212  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS   AND    FAMOUS    EVKNTS- 

excommunicated  the  "companies."  They  now  asked  for  abso- 
lution, and  demanded  200,000  florins.  The  absolution  was 
granted,  but  the  money  refused.  They  then  commenced  to 
ravage  the  environs,  and  even  threatened  the  city  itself.  Pope 
Urban  V.,  becoming  thoroughly  alarmed,  at  last  paid  them 
half  the  amount  demanded  in  order  to  be  rid  of  them. 

Du  Guesclin  then  led  them  into  Spain  against  Peter  the 
Cruel,  who  was  driven  from  his  throne,  while  Henry  was 
established  in  his  place.  Du  Guesclin  was  rewarded  with 
wealth  and  honors  by  Henry,  who  made  him  Constable  of 
Castile,  and  created  him  Duke  of  Molina  and  Count  of  Burgos. 
He  now  went  back  to  France ;  but  Peter,  having  obtained 
assistance  at  Bourdeaux  from  the  Black  Prince,  returned  with 
a  formidable  army  led  by  his  ally.  Du  Guesclin  at  once 
hastened  to  the  assistance  of  Henry,  but  was  defeated  and 
made  prisoner  at  the  battle  of  Navarretta,  in  1367.  He  re- 
mained for  some  time  in  custody  at  Bourdeaux,  but  was  ran- 
somed on  the  payment  of  100,000  francs  by  his  friends,  the 
Kings  of  Castile  and  France. 

On  his  release,  Du  Guesclin  again  joined  Henry  against 
Peter  the  Cruel,  who,  in  spite  of  the  assistance  given  to  him 
by  the  Moorish  kings  of  Spain,  was  defeated  and  put  to  death, 
while  his  rival  was  established  on  the  throne  of  Castile.  On 
the  subsequent  rupture  between  the  French  and  the  English, 
Du  Guesclin  returned  to  the  assistance  of  his  own  king,  who 
in  1370  rewarded  him  with  the  high  office  of  Constable  of 
France.  By  activity  and  enterprise,  tempered  with  prudence, 
he  was  successful  in  nearly  every  engagement  against  the 
English.  He  recovered  all  Poitou,  Anjou,  and  Saintonge. 
He  attacked  Montfort,  Duke  of  Brittany,  and  forced  him  to  take 
refuge  in  England.  When  this  Duke  was  afterwards  restored 
to  his  dominions,  and  suspicions  were  thrown  upon  the  Con- 
stable as  having  favored  him,  Du  Guesclin  felt  the  calumny 
so  deeply  that  he  resigned  his  command,  and  resolved  to  retire 
to  Spain  in  order  to  spend  the  remainder  of  his  life  with  Henry 
of  Trastamare,  whom  he  had  established  on  the  throne  of 
Castile.  The  King  of  France,  however,  became  sensible  of 
the  injustice  done  him,  and  the  Dukes  of  Bourbon  and  Anjou 
were  sent  to  bring  him  to  Court. 


DU   GUESCI.IN.  213 

Dii  Guesclin  was  placed  again  at  the  head  of  an  expedition 
which  was  ordered  to  the  southern  provinces,  where  the  English 
had  rallied  their  forces.  Whilst  besieging  the  Chateau  Neuf  de 
Rendan,  in  Auvergne,  with  his  friend  John  de  Bueil,  Count  of 
Sancerre,  he  was  taken  seriously  ill.  Feeling  the  approach  of 
death,  he  caused  the  principal  officers  to  be  summoned  to  his 
bedside  and  strongly  exhorted  them  never  to  treat  as  enemies 
laborers,  women,  children  and  old  men  ;  at  the  same  time  ex- 
pressing his  deep  regret  at  not  having  himself  always  observed 
this  rule.  He  expired  in  July,  1380,  in  the  sixty-sixth  year  of  his 
age.  His  body  was  conveyed  to  St.  Denis  with  all  the  ceremonies 
used  at  the  funeral  of  a  sovereign,  and  deposited  in  the  tomb 
next  to  that  of  the  king.  His  greatest  captains  refused  to 
take  the  sword  of  Constable  after  it  had  been  borne  by  such  a 
hero.  A  brave  soldier,  a  valiant  foe,  Bertrand  Du  Guesclin 
died  respected  by  his  life-long  enemies,  the  English,  and  deeply 
mourned  by  his  countrymen.  More  than  five  centuries  have 
elapsed  since  his  death ;  yet  he  continues  to  be  one  of  the  most 
popular  heroes  of  France. 

The  Troublesome  Free  Companies. 

France  was  nominally  at  peace  with  ever\'body ;  but  the 
internal  disorder  which  seemed  to  be  destroying  her  appeared 
only  to  increase  in  intensity.  Most  of  the  troops  who  had 
been  serving  either  side  in  Brittany,  even  the  English  Hugh 
Calverly,  the  old  chief  known  as  the  Archpriest,  and  a  brother 
of  the  Count  of  Auxerre,  who  assumed  the  title  of  "  the  green 
knight,"  the  followers  of  Du  Guesclin,  and  all  those  who  had 
served  the  King  of  Navarre,  went  to  join  the  companies, 
whose  numbers  w^ere  thus  vastly  increased,  and  with  them 
their  presumption  also. 

Their  chief  haunt  was  in  the  rich  districts  in  the  centre 
of  France,  which  they  called  their  "chamber,"  for  so  large  a 
number  of  them  were  either  English,  or  Gascons,  or  men  who 
had  received  English  pay  and  felt  a  sort  of  attachment  to  the 
Prince  of  Wales,  that  they  avoided  the  English  territories  in 
the  South.  Many  of  the  "good  people  of  the  kingdom  of 
France,"  Froissart  tells  us,  murmured  grievously  against  the 
King  of  England,  because  he  did  not  interfere  to  compel  these 


214  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND  FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

companies,  who  were  popularly  confounded  together  under 
the  name  of  English,  to  desist  from  their  ravages.  Hardly  a 
district  of  France  was  now  free  from  them,  and  they  every- 
where occupied  villages  and  mansions,  out  of  which  they  had 
expelled  the  rightful  inhabitants,  in  order  to  turn  them  into 
dens  of  plunderers. 

The  only  hope  of  riddance  from  these  fearful  guests  lay  in 
drawing  them  into  some  distant  expedition,  and  it  happened 
at  this  moment  that  the  Hungarians  were  engaged  in  fierce 
warfare  with  the  Turks.  The  Emperor  of  Germany,  whose 
own  dominions  were  in  danger  if  the  Hungarians  succumbed, 
proposed  to  take  the  companies  into  his  pay  and  send  them 
into  Hungary,  and  in  consequence  of  a  treaty  between  the 
Emperor  and  the  King  of  France,  a  considerable  number 
of  them,  led  by  the  Archpriest,  began  their  march  towards 
Germany.  In  their  way,  they  plundered  and  laid  waste 
Champagne  and  Lorraine ;  and  the  reports  of  their  atrocities, 
which  preceded  them,  were  such  that  when  they  reached  the 
territory  of  the  Empire  they  found  the  whole  population  in 
arms  to  resist  them,  and  met  with  so  rough  a  reception  that 
they  refused  to  go  any  further.  Not  long  afterwards,  the 
"Archpriest"  was  put  to  death  by  his  own  followers. 

The  first  attempt  to  send  away  the  companies  had  thus 
failed ;  but  there  were  still  two  quarters  in  which  they  might 
be  employed.  The  King  of  Cyprus,  who  had  visited  Avignon 
to  engage  the  Pope  and  King  Jean  in  a  crusade,  had  returned 
to  the  East,  had  invaded  Egypt  in  the  autumn  of  this  year 
(1365),  and  had  taken  and  plundered  Alexandria;  but  he  was 
in  want  of  troops  to  carry  on  the  war  against  the  infidels.  On 
another  side,  Pedro,  King  of  Castile,  known  by  the  title  of 
Pedro  the  Cruel,  had  so  exasperated  his  subjects  by  his  tyranny 
that  they  invited  to  their  assistance  his  illegitimate  brother, 
Don  Enrique,  who  had  himself  lived  as  an  exile  in  Languedoc, 
in  association  with  the  chiefs  of  the  companies,  and  now 
applied  to  the  Pope  and  to  the  King  of  France  for  their  assist- 
ance in  inducing  the  companies  to  follow  his  standard.  Either 
expedition  held  out  hopes  of  rich  booty ;  but  the  difficulty 
consisted  in  finding  a  man  capable  of  gaining  the  confidence 
of  the  companies. 


DU  GUESCLIN.  215 

Charles  V.  immediately  fixed  liis  eyes  upon  Du  Guesclin, 
who  is  said  to  have  promised,  at  the  time  he  received  the 
county  of  Longueville  from  the  King,  that  he  would  take  the 
companies  out  of  the  kingdom.  But  Du  Guesclin  was  still  a 
prisoner  in  the  hands  of  the  English,  who  demanded  for  his 
ransom  the  then  enormous  sum  of  a  hundred  thousand  francs, 
for  the  payment  of  which  it  is  said  that  the  King  of  France, 
the  Pope,  and  Don  Enrique,  each  contributed  his  share.  Thus 
set  at  liberty,  Du  Guesclin  undertook  willingly  the  task  im- 
posed upon  him,  and  the  way  in  which  he  executed  it,  as  told 
by  his  metrical  biographer,  is  characteristic  of  the  man  and 
of  the  time. 

Bertrand  dispatched  his  messenger  to  the  "grand  com- 
pany," which  had  at  this  time  its  headquarters  at  Chalon-sur- 
Saone,  and  when  he  arrived  there  he  was  introduced  at  once  to 
the  chiefs,  the  "Green  Knight,"  Hugh  Calverly,  Matthew  de 
Gournai  (another  English  chief),  and  many  others,  who  were 
all  seated  at  table,  for  it  was  their  hour  of  dinner.  It  was 
"a  very  rich  hostel  and  of  much  worth,"  which  the  captains 
occupied  ;  "they  had  taken  possession  of  it,  as  I  heard  tell, 
and  turned  out  the  host,  and  they  were  drinking  good  wine, 
which  they  had  tapped  for  themselves."  The  messenger 
of  Du  Guesclin,  who  was  known  at  once  by  his  livery,  was 
welcomed  among  the  company,  and  when  he  demanded  a 
safe-conduct  for  his  lord  to  come  and  consult  with  them,  they 
gave  it  him  immediately  and  joyfully. 

Armed  with  this  protection,  Bertrand  mounted  his  horse, 
till  he  reached  the  headquarters  of  the  ' '  grand  company. ' ' 
He  rode  into  the  midst  of  the  host,  and,  saluting  the  chiefs, 
said:  "May  God  have  in  His  keeping  the  companions  I  see 
here!"  The  "companions"  returned  his  salutation  with 
profound  respect.  "  If  God  will,"  said  he,  "and  you  will 
believe  me,  I  am  now  come  to  make  you  all  rich  in  a  very 
short  time."  "  Sir,"  they  all  cried,  "  you  are  welcome  here, 
in  good  truth  ;  we  are  ready  to  do  all  you  please,  without 
hesitation."  Then  he  was  presented  to  the  knights,  and 
Hugh  Calverly,  stepping  forward,  embraced  him,  and  cour- 
teously addressed  him  by  the  titles  of  friend  and  companion. 
"Nay,"  said  Bertrand  du  Guesclin,  "no  one  is  a  companion 


2l6  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

of  mine,  unless  he  will  do  whatever  I  ask  him."  "  Ber- 
trand,"  said  Calverly,  "by  that  God  who  created  the  world, 
my  body  shall  make  you  good  company  in  whatever  manner 
you  direct,  and  wherever  you  choose  to  go,  on  this  side  of  the 
sea  or  the  other,  to  make  war  upon  everybody,  except  the 
Prince  of  Wales ;  but  I  will  not  go  against  him,  for  I  am 
bound  by  an  oath,  so  soon  as  I  see  him,  to  range  myself  under 
his  banner." 

Bertrand  then  proceeded  to  unfold  to  them  the  object  of  his 
journey.  He  told  them  that  the  King  of  France  had  sent 
him  to  lead  them  against  the  Saracens  in  the  East,  or  against 
the  infidels  and  the  renegade  Pedro  in  Spain  ;  told  them  that 
some  of  the  great  barons  of  France  were  ready  to  accompany 
them,  and  explained  to  them  the  profit  and  glory  they  would 
gain  in  either  expedition,  and  how  much  better  it  would  be 
to  make  war  upon  infidels  and  renegades,  and  cease  persecut- 
ing and  ruining  their  fellow-Christians.  ' '  If  you  agree  to 
this,"  he  said,  "  I  will  pay  you,  on  the  part  of  the  King,  two 
hundred  thousand  florins  ;  I  will  then  lead  you  to  Avignon, 
where  I  will  obtain  for  you  the  Pope's  absolution  of  all  the 
crimes  you  have  committed,  and  make  him  pay  you  hand- 
somely from  his  treasures  ;  and  after  that  we  will  continue 
our  journey  together." 

The  great  chiefs  were  unanimous  in  accepting  Ber- 
trand's  offer,  and  they  proceeded,  under  a  safe-conduct,  to 
Paris,  to  complete  the  treaty.  When  this  agreement  was 
written  and  sealed,  the  twenty-five  chiefs  delivered  up  their 
fortresses  to  the  king's  officers,  and  the  companions  began 
their  march  along  the  Saone  and  the  Rhone  towards  Avignon. 
They  were  joined  on  the  way  by  the  Marshal  Arnoul  d'Au- 
deneham,  and  many  others  of  the  great  lords  of  P^'rance,  and 
King  Charles  gave  them,  as  their  nominal  commander,  the 
young  Prince  Louis  of  Bourbon,  Count  of  La  Marche,  the 
son  of  Jacques  of  Bourbon,  who  had  been  slain  by  them  in 
battle  at  Brignais ;  but  Bertrand  du  Guesclin  had  the  direc- 
tion of  everything. 

When  they  approached  Avignon,  the  Pope,  in  great  alarm, 
sent  a  cardinal  to  learn  what  they  wanted,  with  a  threat  of 
excommunication,  unless  they  went  elsewhere.    He  was  intro- 


DU  GUESCI.IN.  217 

duccd  to  Arnoul  d'Audeneliam  and  Bertrand  dii  Guescliii,  the 
former  of  whom  told  the  cardinal  that  the  host  of  the  com- 
panions had  resolved  to  expiate  their  crimes  by  a  crusade 
against  the  infidels,  and  that  they  had  come  to  ask  the  Pope's 
absolution  and  to  obtain  from  him  a  contribution  of  two  hun- 
dred thousand  francs  in  aid  of  the  inidertaking.  The  cardinal 
was  ready  to  promise  absolution,  but  he  hesitated  at  the  de- 
mand for  money,  upon  which  Bertrand  took  him  aside  and 
recommended  him  not  to  overlook  this  more  substantial  part 
of  the  demand.  "I  can  tell  you  for  truth,"  he  said,  "that 
tliere  are  a  great  proportion  of  them  who  care  little  about  the 
absolution,  but  would  much  rather  have  the  monev.  We  are 
making  honest  men  of  them  much  against  their  wills,  and  we 
are  leading  them  all  far  away  from  France,  in  order  that  they 
may  no  longer  tyrannize  over  Christian  people.  Explain 
clearly  to  the  Pope  the  necessity  of  compliance,  for  otherwise 
we  cannot  get  them  away  ;  and  even  when  they  have  received 
the  money  in  abundance,  it  will  be  difficult  enough  to  keep 
them  from  mischief ' ' 

The  cardinal  returned  to  the  Pope  in  Avignon,  and  told 
him  what  he  had  seen  and  heard,  and  how  the  companions 
were  going  "  to  save  their  souls."  "  They  have  done  in  the 
kingdom  much  slaughter,  and  I  am  the  bearer  of  their  con- 
fession ;  they  have  burnt  many  a  monastery  and  many  a  fair 
castle  ;  slain  women  and  children  in  great  multitudes,  violated 
maidens  and  dames  of  great  name ;  stolen  and  pillaged  cows, 
horses,  and  poultry ;  drunk  wine  without  paying  for  it,  and 
driven  away  sheep  ;  stolen  with  wrong  and  violence  many  a 
jewel,  even  chalices  from  churches,  of  silver,  copper,  and 
latten  ;  uttered  many  a  speech  full  of  blasphemy  ;  done  all  the 
most  diabolical  evils  that  could  be  done,  more  than  one  could 
enumerate  in  book  or  in  song ;  and  now  they  cry  mercy,  and 
seek  from  you  God' s  pardon,  and  beg  you  will  give  them  true 
absolution."  "They  shall  have  it,"  said  the  Pope;  "  I  will 
give  it  them  at  once ;  but  will  they  thereupon  quit  the 
country?"  "No,"  said  the  cardinal,  "that  they  will  not  do, 
unless  you  give  them  two  hundred  thousand  francs. "  "  Nay, ' ' 
replied  the  Pope ;  "it  is  the  custom  in  the  city  of  Avignon 
for  people  to  give  us  money  and  abundant  gifts  to  obtain  their 


21 8  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

own  absolution ;  and  these  would  have  us  absolve  them  and 
give  them  money,  too  !    In  truth,  they  are  very  unreasonable. ' ' 

As  the  Pope  delayed  his  answer,  the  companions  began  to 
ravage  the  country  around  with  their  usual  ferocity,  and  the 
pontiflf  might  see  the  smoke  of  the  burning  villages  from  the 
walls  of  his  palace.  He  again  consulted  his  cardinal,  who 
suggested  to  him  that,  as  it  was  not  right  to  diminish  the  rich 
hoards  of  the  sacred  treasury  to  distribute  among  such  worth- 
less people,  he  might  raise  the  money  by  levying  it  as  a  tax 
upon  the  good  city  of  Avignon ;  and,  accordingly,  all  the 
inhabitants,  rich  or  poor,  were  obliged  to  contribute  their 
share.  Bertrand,  however,  received  secret  information  of  this 
proceeding,  and  when  the  provost  of  Avignon  came  to  him  at 
Villeneuve,  where  he  was  lodged,  to  pay  the  money  in  the 
pope's  name,  he  demanded  in  a  tone  which  showed  that  he 
was  not  to  be  deceived,  whether  it  had  been  taken  out  of  the 
pope's  own  treasury.  "No,  sire,"  said  the  provost,  "the 
debt  has  been  paid  by  the  commune  of  Avignon,  each  inhab- 
itant contributing  his  part. ' '  Then  said  Bertrand  du  Guesclin, 
"Provost,  I  pledge  you  my  faith,  we  will  not  take  a  penny  of 
it  as  long  as  we  live,  unless  it  comes  from  the  goods  of  the 
clergy;  take  back  this  tax,  and  let  it  be  all  repaid;  see  that  no 
man  fall  short  of  all  he  has  given."  "Sire,"  exclaimed  the 
provost,  ' '  may  God  give  you  good  life  !  you  will  have  given  the 
poor  people  great  cause  of  joy. ' '  The  Holy  Father  was  obliged 
to  yield  ;  the  money  was  taken  out  of  the  papal  treasury  ;  and 
the  companies  continued  their  march  towards  Montpellier. 

The  relations  of  Froissart  and  the  other  writers  show  that 
the  outlines  of  this  narrative  are  true.  In  the  December  of 
1365,  the  united  bands  of  the  companies,  amounting  together 
to  about  thirty  thousand  men,  crossed  the  Eastern  Pyrenees 
into  Catalonia,  were  met  by  Don  Enrique  on  the  way,  and 
conducted  him  in  triumph  into  Castile.  Their  arrival  became 
the  signal  for  a  general  revolt  against  Pedro,  who  fled  to  Bay- 
onne,  while  his  rival  was  proclaimed  king  in  his  place.  As 
soon  as  this  easy  and  rapid  success  had  been  achieved,  the 
companies,  well  paid  for  their  services  by  the  new  king  of 
Castile,  took  the  way  back  to  France,  to  the  no  small  mortifi- 
cation of  Charles  V.  and  his  subjects. 


DU   GUESCLIN. 


219 


Fifteen  hundred  men-at-arms  alone  remained  with  Du 
Guesclin,  whom  Don  Enrique  had  created  Count  of  Trastamar 
and  Constable  of  Castile ;  while  all  the  English  and  Gascons, 
although  loaded  with  the  gifts  of  Enrique,  hurried  to  range 
themselves  under  the  banners  of  the  Prince  of  Wales,  who  had 
announced  his  intention  of  marching  into  Spain  to  expel 
Enrique  and  restore  Pedro.  The  Duke  of  Anjou,  the  son  of 
King  Jean,  who  had  broken  his  faith  as  a  knight  when  he 
had  escaped  from  his  captivity,  and  who  commanded  for  his 
brother  Charles  in  Eanguedoc,  determined  to  stop  them. 
The  three  seneschals  of  Toulouse,  Carcassonne,  and  Beaucaire, 
were  accordingly  sent  with  a  force  of  five  hundred  lances 
and  about  four  thousand  men,  to  attack  a  body  of  three  thou- 
sand of  the  companions  commanded  by  Perduccas  d'Albret, 
who  had  entered  by  way  of  Foix  into  the  territory  of  Toulouse; 
and  they  pursued  and  attacked  them,  on  the  14th  of  August, 
1366,  under  the  walls  of  IMontauban.  The  burghers  of  Mon- 
tauban,  who  were  subjects  of  the  Duchy  of  Aquitaine,  which 
was  at  this  time  one  of  the  English  provinces,  took  part  with 
the  companions,  who  gained  a  complete  victory,  and  made 
prisoners  the  three  seneschals,  the  Count  of  Uzes  and  the  Vis- 
count of  Narbonne,  with  about  a  hundred  other  knights,  and 
many  gentlemen  and  rich  inhabitants  of  Toulouse  and  Mont- 
pellier.  On  this  occasion  the  companions  set  their  prisoners 
at  liberty  on  parole ;  but  they  made  a  base  return  for  the 
courtesy  of  their  conquerors,  for,  instead  of  paying  their  ran- 
soms, they  obtained  a  dispensation  from  the  pope  to  break 
their  oaths. — T.  Wright. 


IN  the  period  of  transition  from 
feudalism  to  monarchy,  which 
marked  the  first  step  in  the  de- 
velopment of  royal  France,  Louis 
XL  played  a  part  that  resulted 
in  eventual  good  despite  himself 
and  his  times.  The  grandeur  of 
France  among  European  nations 
was  attained  under  pure  abso- 
lutism ;  the  element  of  popu- 
lar representation  in  legislative 
council  being  wanting.  Louis  XL,  that  "universal  spider," 
subdued  the  feudal  spirit,  but  at  the  same  time  extinguished 
whatever  sparks  of  constitutional  life  may  have  been  present. 
It  is  wonderful  to  see  what  grand  results  were  arrived  at  in 
France,  during  that  eventful  fifteenth  century,  with  so  much 
small ness  of  soul. 

Louis  XL  was  born  July  3d,  1423,  at  Bourges,  being  the 
oldest  son  of  Charles  VII.  In  his  youth,  we  are  told,  he  was 
intelligent,  sensible  and  generous.  But  his  ambitious  and  rest- 
less nature  soon  asserted  itself.  He  was  married  at  the  age  of 
thirteen  to  Margaret,  daughter  of  James  I.  of  Scotland,  who 
died  nine  years  later,  broken-hearted,  at  the  age  of  twenty- 
one.  However,  the  unlovable  qualities  of  the  young  prince 
asserted  themselves  first  in  his  restlessness,  jealousy  and  im- 
pulsiveness, for  his  cold,  crafty  nature  did  not  develop  itself 
until  later  on.  His  father's  mistress,  Agnes  Sorel,  early 
aroused  a  spirit  of  opposition  in  him,  which  extended  to  his 
parent.  For  in  1439  he  revolted  openly  against  the  king,  as 
leader  of  the  ' '  Praguerie, ' '  the  league  of  the  nobles.  On  the 
failure  of  the  movement  in  the  following  year,  he  gained  his 
220 


ENTRY  OF  LOUIS  XI  INTO  PARIS. 


I^OUIS  XI.  221 

father's  pardon,  and  was  given  the  government  of  Daiiphiny. 
For  some  time  he  governed  his  province  well,  it  appears,  and 
also  took  part  in  varions  military  expeditions.  But  soon 
complaints  regarding  his  arbitrary  conduct  were  made  to  the 
king,  whom  he  had  already  displeased  greatly  by  marrying 
Charlotte  of  Savoy,  and  who  seems  to  have  grown  very  sus- 
picious of  his  son's  intriguing  character,  while  the  latter 
feared  the  king's  counsellors.  All  negotiation  came  to 
naught,  and  the  king  marched  with  an  army  into  Dauphiny 
in  1456.  Louis,  realizing  that  resistance  was  useless,  fled  to 
his  uncle,  Duke  Philip  of  Burgundy,  was  well  received,  and 
settled  at  Geneppe,  where  he  and  his  spouse  lived  for  five  years, 
and  where  his  society  was  not  always  the  choicest. 

Charles  VII.  died  July  22,  1461,  and  his  son  was  crowned 
at  Rheims  as  Louis  XI.  the  next  month.  His  entry  into 
Paris  on  the  30th  of  August  was  marked  by  one  of  those 
splendid  public  shows  in  which  the  gay  Parisians,  then  as 
now,  delighted  and  excelled.  Piloty's  picture  of  the  scene 
gives  ns  a  striking  presentation  of  mediaeval  life. 

Louis  began  his  reign  by  acts  which  show  that  he  had 
still  not  acquired  the  subtlety  of  his  later  years.  Haste  and 
rashness  marked  his  doings  :  the  Burgundian  lords  who  came 
to  his  consecration  at  Rheims  and  to  Paris  were  sent  empty 
away;  his  father's  ministers  and  friends  were  dismissed;  the 
government  of  Guyenne  was  taken  from  the  Duke  of  Bour- 
bon ;  the  Duke  of  Alen^on  and  the  Count  of  Armagnac,  who 
had  been  imprisoned  by  his  father,  were  set  free,  a  rash  act, 
for  they  immediately  joined  the  dissatisfied  nobles.  Louis 
further  alienated  and  offended,  not  only  the  nobility,  but  the 
clergy  as  well,  by  negotiating  with  the  Pope  regarding  the 
abolition  of  the  Pragmatic  Sanction  of  Bourges.  Further- 
more, he  aided  King  John  of  Aragon,  who  proved  ungrateful, 
imposed  arbitrary  taxes,  and  dabbled  in  English  politics  by 
espousing  the  cause  of  Margaret  of  Anjou  against  Edward 
IV.  of  England  (1462),  by  which  he  gained  the  enmity  of  the 
House  of  York. 

In  accordance  with  the  stipulation  of  a  previous  treaty, 
Louis,  in  1463,  persuaded  Philip  the  Good  of  Burgundy  to  re- 
store, on  payment  of  400,000  crowns  of  gold,  the  towns  in  the 


222  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

district  of  the  river  Somme,  This  act,  patriotic  though  it  was, 
further  increased  the  antagonism  of  the  Duke's  son,  Charles 
of  Charolais  (later  Charles  the  Bold),  whose  enmity  he  had 
already  incurred  by  his  intriguing  while  under  the  protection 
of  Philip  at  the  Burgundian  court.  When,  in  1464,  Louis 
attacked  the  hunting  privileges  of  the  nobles,  he  offered  the 
proverbial  last  straw.  Rapidly-growing  discontent  now 
broke  out  into  open  war.  The  nobles,  banded  together 
against  the  king  by  their  common  interests,  formed  the  pow- 
erful confederacy  known  as  the  "League  of  the  Public 
Weal."  Their  plan  of  action  was  simple,  and  born  of  the 
position  of  their  dominions — an  advance  on  all  sides  upon  the 
king,  who  would  be  crushed  by  their  converging  armies.  The 
odds  against  Louis,  great  as  they  were,  left  him  undismayed. 
Disposing,  as  well  as  he  could,  of  the  limited  and  doubtful 
forces  at  his  command,  he  first  attacked  the  Duke  of  Bourbon, 
but  the  danger  in  which  Paris  stood  compelled  him  to  move 
northwards,  leaving  his  work  but  half  done.  The  royal 
army  met  Charolais,  who  was  intending  to  join  the  Dukes  of 
Berry  and  Brittany,  at  Montleheri,  and  a  queer  battle  ensued, 
a  battle  in  which  both  sides  beat  a  hasty  retreat,  Charles 
eventually  claiming  the  victory,  because  the  king  withdrew  to 
Corbeil,  and  thence  to  Paris  (1465).  Louis's  enemies,  whose 
combined  forces  were  closing  in  on  him,  had  numerous  sym- 
pathizers within  the  city  walls.  However,  he  made  every 
effort  to  secure  Paris:  taxes  were  lowered,  privileges  restored, 
and  enthusiasm  aroused  by  fine  phrases.  The  city  was  well 
supplied  with  food,  the  want  of  which  was  sorely  felt  by  the 
besieging  forces;  yet  Louis  eventually  thought  it  best  to  treat 
with  his  foes. 

The  treaty  of  Conflans,  which  was  duly  signed  October 
5,  1465,  gave  Normandy  to  Charles,  Duke  of  Berry  (who 
resigned  the  latter  Duchy  to  his  brother,  the  king),  the 
Somme  towns,  Guines  and  Boulogne  to  the  Count  of  Charo- 
lais, the  constable's  sword  to  St.  Pol,  and  so  on,  each  one  get- 
ting his  share  of  the  spoils.  The  contented  and  apparently 
victorious  princes  now  disbanded  their  armies  and  went  home. 
But  their  joy  was  short-lived,  for  Louis  was  soon  plotting 
against  them.     The  newly-made  Duke  of  Normandy  speedily 


LOUIS  XI.  223 

fell  to  quarreling  with  the  Duke  of  Brittany,  whereupon  Louis 
immediately  swooped  down  upon  the  former  province,  which 
received  him  with  open  arms,  to  the  chagrin  of  Charles  of 
Charolais,  and  the  other  members  of  the  now  completely  dis- 
organized League,  By  the  death  of  the  old  Duke  of  Bur- 
gundy, in  1467,  the  government  devolved  on  his  son  Charles, 
later  known  as  Charles  the  Bold,  "the  imperial  dreamer,"  a 
man  distinguished  from  his  rival  Louis  by  many  noble  quali- 
ties, open  to  all  better  influences,  but  unfortunately  afflicted 
with  two  weaknesses,  pride  and  anger,  which  had  much  to 
do  with  his  eventual  ruin,  and  prevented  the  realization  of 
his  dream  of  a  grand  "  Empire  of  the  Rhine." 

And  now  began  the  second  period  of  the  reign  of  Louis. 
The  first,  1461-67,  had  been  occupied  by  his  strife  with  the 
lords  ;  after  that,  to  about  1476,  he  was  engaged  in  ceaseless 
rivalr)'  with  Charles  the  Bold.  While  the  latter  threatened 
France,  Louis  was  compelled  to  fight,  but  when  Charles 
turned  his  attention  to  the  Rhine,  the  king  relinquished  the 
sword  for  his  favorite  weapon — intrigue — which  he  handled 
with  skill  and  success.  At  the  time  of  the  accession  of 
Charles,  a  league  of  princes,  embracing  England,  Burgundy, 
Brittany,  Aragon  and  Castile,  had  been  formed  against  Louis. 
The  latter  made  every  effort  in  his  power,  further  conciliated 
Paris,  removed  traitors  in  his  own  ranks,  convoked  the  States 
General  at  Tours  in  1468,  and  then,  having  gained  the  sym- 
pathy of  his  people,  began  to  attack  the  coalition.  Finally 
Brittany  and  Burgundy  only  remained.  The  former  he  sub- 
dued, but  the  latter  was  to  prepare  a  most  bitter  humiliation 
for  him. 

Louis  conceived  the  rash  idea  of  treating  in  person 
with  Charles  the  Bold,  at  Peronne,  depending  on  his  skill  in 
dealing  with  men  (1468).  But  the  Duke  held  him  prisoner 
for  some  time,  made  him  sign  a  treaty  of  peace  based  on  that 
of  Conflans,  and  forced  him  to  accompany  him  on  an  expedi- 
tion to  punish  the  citizens  of  Liege,  who,  as  once  before, 
had  been  incited  to  revolt  by  the  .agency  of  the  king  himself 
(1469).  His  disgrace  and  degradation  were  thus  complete. 
Louis  was  then  permitted  to  return  to  Paris,  where  an  assem- 
bly of  notables,  summoned  and  appointed  by  the  king  him- 


224  HISTORIC  characte;rs  and  famous  e;vents. 

self,  speedily  declared  that  Charles  had  broken  the  treaty  of 
Peroiiue.  Therefore  a  small  border  warfare  was  beg-un, 
which  greatly  harassed  the  duke,  who  made  a  truce  with 
Louis  at  Amiens,  April  loth,  1471.  But  Charles  the  Bold 
the  following  year  broke  his  truce  with  the  king  and  invaded 
France,  ravaging  the  country  on  his  way.  At  Beauvais, 
however,  the  desperate  valor  of  the  citizens,  greatly  aided  by 
the  women,  stayed  his  advance,  and  he,  finding  that  the  Duke 
of  Brittany  had  already  been  crushed  into  submission  by  the 
king,  abandoned  the  unequal  contest  and  signed  a  truce  with 
the  king  at  Senlis,  October  23d  [November  3d],  1472.  His 
attention  was  thenceforth  turned  to  the  East,  with  an  eye  to 
lordship  in  Germany  and  possibly  the  throne,  eventually,  of 
the  Holy  Roman  Empire.  He  speedily  met  his  ruin,  Louis 
maliciously  undermining  his  projects  whenever  possible. 
With  Charles's  death  before  the  walls  of  Nanci  (January  4th, 
1477),  ends  the  second  period  of  King  Louis  XL's  reign. 

In  the  third  and  last  period  (1477-83)  we  find  Louis,  as  one 
writer  has  put  it,  "triumphant  and  miserable."  At  the  time 
of  Charles  the  Bold's  death,  he  had  succeeded  in  subduing  all 
the  great  nobles  of  France  but  one  ;  Brittany  alone  held  out, 
though  not  in  its  former  strength.  The  Duchy  of  Burgundy 
was  claimed  by  right  of  devolution,  and  Franche  Compte 
also  submitted,  although  that  county  was  under  the  empire, 
and  not  under  the  kingdom.  The  king's  army  overran  a 
large  portion  of  Burgundy,  and  the  course  of  events  having 
made  an  alliance  of  Charles  the  Dauphin  with  the  Duchess 
Mary  of  Burgundy  impossible,  the  latter  rejected  her  many 
other  suitors  in  favor  of  Maximilian  of  Austria  (1477).  And 
thus  the  domains  of  the  House  of  Burgundy  passed  over  to 
the  House  of  Austria,  a  transfer  of  a  far-reaching  and  long- 
lasting  effect ;  not  only  did  it  produce  rivalry  between  Austria 
and  France,  but  it  modified  the  political  system  of  all  Europe. 
Louis  was  quick  to  obtain  a  truce  from  his  strong  opponent, 
Maximilian,  and  to  organize  a  mercenary  force  which  was 
eventually  to  supplant  the  system  of  "free-archers."  A  battle 
with  Maximilian,  which  took  place  in  1479,  at  Guinegate, 
near  Therouenne,  was  lost  to  the  French,  through  an  ill-ad- 
vised cavalry  attack  by  Crevecoeur,  the  commander.     Another 


i^ouis  XI.  225 

truce  was  agreed  to  in  1480,  and  two  years  later  peace  was 
definitely  concluded  at  Arras  between  Maximilian  and 
Louis. 

Louis,  in  these  last  years  of  his  life,  grew  exceedingly 
suspicious.  He  shut  himself  up  in  the  Castle  of  Plessis-les- 
Tours,  where  he  lived  in  strict  seclusion,  hedged  in  by  strong 
and  well-manned  walls,  seeing  few  people,  a  "walking  skele- 
ton," fearing  death,  and  yet  bearing  himself  with  patience 
and  wisdom  when  the  end  came.  He  passed  away  quietly  on 
the  last  day  of  August,  1483,  leaving  the  government  to  his 
son,  Charles  VIH. 

"  He  died,"  says  one  writer,  "leaving  France  still  sunk  in 
darkness  and  distress.  There  she  sat,  one  of  the  fairest  of  the 
European  nations,  oppressed  and  a  captive,  while  all  around 
her  the  world  was  being  touched  with  the  light  of  the  new  day 
now  breaking  over  Europe.  The  literary  life  of  Italy,  even 
of  Germany,  had  scarcely  touched  her ;  the  annals  of  learning 
are  a  blank  for  France  during  the  reign  of  Louis  XL"  The 
baneful  influence  of  Italian  ideas  made  itself  strongly  felt 
in  French  politics  during  his  reign  ;  he  was  nnscrupulous 
and  treacherous.  And  yet  he  undoubtedly  contributed  much 
to  the  advance  of  his  country ;  he  centralized  the  administra- 
tion of  the  kingdom,  fostered  commerce  and  industry  (founding 
the  silk  manufacture,  for  instance) ;  he  founded  the  University 
of  Bourges,  and  in  other  ways  endeavored  to  strengthen  his 
kingdom,  though  his  system  bred  absolutism.  "His  reign," 
as  Thierry  says,  "was  a  daily  battle  in  the  cause  of  unity  of 
power  and  a  social  leveling,  a  battle  carried  on  in  the  manner 
of  savages,  by  astuteness  and  cruelty,  without  courtesy  and 
without  mercy.  Thence  comes  the  mixture  of  interest  and 
repugnance  induced  in  us  by  this  strangely  original  char- 
acter. ' ' 

Take  him  for  all  in  all,  measuring  him  by  the  epoch  at 
which  he  lived,  and  by  his  contemporaries,  does  Philip  de 
Comines  appear  so  very  extravagant  in  his  deliberate  judg- 
ment? "God  had  made  him  more  sage,  liberal  and  virtuous," 
says  that  court  chronicler,  "than  the  princes  that  reigned 
with  him  and  in  his  time." 

IV— 15 


226  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS   AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

Louis  XL  visits  Charles  the  Bold. 

lyouis  did  not  despair  of  winning  over  his  arcli-enemy. 
For  this  end  he  needed  no  intermediary.  It  was  requisite 
that  they  should  see  and  hear  each  other.  With  representa- 
tives, who  cannot  but  feel  their  responsibility,  and  be  full  of 
hesitation,  all  becomes  difficult;  with  men  who  transact  their 
own  business  themselves,  one  word  will  often  smooth  every- 
thing. Besides,  if  one  of  the  two  must  be  the  gainer,  it  was 
apparently  the  king,  far  deeper  than  the  other,  and  who,  by 
reviving  the  former  familiarity  of  their  younger  days,  might 
get  him  to  talk,  perhaps,  by  egging  him  on  a  little;  might 
draw  from  him,  violent  as  he  was,  precisely  those  very  things 
which  he  wished  least  to  say. 

As  to  the  danger  which  some  apprehended  from  the  inter- 
view, the  king  only  laughed  at  it.  He  remembered,  no 
doubt,  that  in  the  days  of  the  Public  Good^  the  Count  of 
Charolais,  when  walking  and  chatting  with  him  between 
Paris  and  Charenton,  had  not  feared  at  times  to  trust  himself 
far  from  his  own  people;  and,  indeed,  had  once  been  so 
absorbed,  as  to  find  himself  within  the  barriers. 

The  influential  servants  of  the  two  princes  do  not  seem  to 
have  been  averse  to  the  interview.  On  the  one  side,  the 
duke's  sommeler,  on  the  other,  Balue,  busied  themselves 
exceedingly  to  expedite  the  business.  Saint-Pol  at  first 
opposed  it ;  and  yet  it  seems  that  the  king  was  determined, 
by  a  letter  of  his,  to  take  the  decisive  step. 

Everything  induces  the  belief  that  the  duke  entertained 
no  idea  of  entrapping  the  king.  According  to  Comines,  he 
cared  little  to  see  him;  others,  on  the  contrary,  represent  him 
to  have  been  extremely  eager  for  it.  I  incline  to  credit  both. 
He  did  not  himself  know,  perhaps,  whether  he  wished  it 
or  not.  In  dark  beginning,  one  ever  experiences  great 
temptations. 

However  this  be,  the  king  did  not  hazard  himself  lightly. 
He  got  the  duke  to  accept  half  of  the  sum  offered,  and  did 
not  set  out  until  he  saw  the  agreement  which  had  been  con- 
cluded in  the  way  of  being  executed.  He  received  the  most 
satisfactory  assurances  with  regard  to  his  going  and  returning. 


LOUIS   XI.  227 

Nothing  can  be  more  explicit  than  the  terms  of  the  letter  and 
the  safe-conduct  sent  him  by  the  Duke  of  Burgundy.  The 
letter  runs,  "You  may  surely  come,  go,  and  return  .  .  .  " 
And  the  safe-conduct,  "You  may  come  here,  remain,  and 
sojourn;  and  you  may  surely  return  to  Chauny  and  Noyon  at 
your  good  pleasure,  as  often  as  you  shall  please,  without  any 
hindrance  being  given  to  you,  for  any  reason  whatsoever^  or 
zvhatever  may  happen.''''  (October  8th,  1468.)  These  last 
words  rendered  all  double  dealing  impossible,  even  if  anything 
had  to  be  feared  from  a  prince  who  piqued  himself  on  being  a 
knight  of  the  antique  stamp,  and  who  haughtily  plumed 
himself  on  the  inviolability  of  his  word,  boasting  that  he 
kept  it  better  than  his  enemies  desired.  Every  one  knew 
that  this  was  his  weak  side,  the  one  on  which  he  was  to  be 
gained.  In  the  affair  of  the  Public  Good^  when  he  had  carried 
out  his  threat  before  the  expiry  of  the  year,  the  king,  by  way 
of  flattering  him,  had  said  to  him,  ' '  My  brother,  I  clearly  see 
that  you  are  a  gentleman,  and  of  the  house  of  France." 

As  a  gentleman,  then,  and  as  visiting  a  gentleman,  the 
king  arrived  alone,  or  nearly  so.  Respectfully  received  by 
his  host,  the  king  held  him  twice  in  a  long  embrace,  and 
entered  Peronne  with  him,  with  his  hand  on  his  shoulder, 
like  old  friends.  This  frankness  suffered  a  shock  when  he 
learned  that  at  the  very  same  moment  his  most  dangerous 
enemies  were  entering  by  the  opposite  gate,  Philippe  de 
Bresse,  Prince  of  Savoy,  whom  he  had  kept  three  years  in 
prison,  and  whose  sister  he  had  just  given  in  marriage  in 
opposition  to  his  wishes;  and  the  Marshal  of  Burgundy,  the 
Sire  de  Neufchatel  whom  the  king  had  deprived  of  Epinal 
after  first  bestowing  it  upon  him;  two  impetuous  men,  of 
great  influence  with  the  duke,  and  who  brought  him  rein- 
forcements. 

The  worst  is,  that  there  came  along  with  them  men 
singularly  interested  in  the  king's  destruction,  and  very 
capable  of  hazarding  a  blow.  One  of  these  was  a  certain 
Poncet  de  la  Reviere,  whom  the  king  intrusted  with  the 
leading  of  his  household  troops  at  Montbery,  and  who,  in 
conjunction  with  Breze,  precipitated  the  battle,  in  order  to 
ruin  all.     The  other  was  Du  Lau,  Sire  de  Chateauneuf,  the 


228  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS   AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

friend  of  the  king's  youth  in  Dauphiny,  and  who,  in  those 
his  days  of  exile,  had  been  trusted  with  all  his  secrets,  and 
had  sold  them ;  nay,  had  attempted  to  sell  the  king  himself, 
and  have  him  taken ;  but  the  king,  on  the  contrary,  took  him. 
This  very  year,  fearing  that  his  escape  would  be  managed, 
lyouis  XL  had  with  his  own  hand  designed  an  iron  cage  for 
him.  Du  Ivan,  apprized  of  this,  and  in  great  alarm,  found 
means  to  fly.  His  escape  cost  all  those  who  were  charged  to 
guard  him  their  lives,  and,  unhappily,  cost  Charles  de  Melun 
his ;  for  the  king  hurried  on  his  trial,  fearing  a  similar 
adventure. 

And  lo !  this  runaway  prisoner,  who  had  so  narrowly 
missed  the  cage,  this  Du  Lau,  boldly  meets  the  king  along 
with  Poncet  and  with  d'Urfe,  all  styling  themselves  the 
servants  and  subjects  of  his  brother,  and  exceedingly 
interested  in  having  this  brother  succeed  him  as  quickly  as 
possible. 

The  king  was  alarmed.  That  the  duke  should  have 
allowed  these  men  to  come,  that  he  should  welcome  these 
traitors  to  him,  the  king,  at  the  very  time  that  he  was  receiv- 
ing himself,  was  of  sinister  augury,  and  called  to  mind  the 

bridge  of  Montereau He  conceived  himself  to  be  in 

little  safety  within  the  town,  and  therefore  asked  to  take  up 
his  abode  in  the  castle,  an  old  and  gloomy  fortress,  rather  a 
prison  than  a  castle.  But  then  it  was  the  duke's  castle,  his 
house,  his  home ;  and  he  became  so  much  the  more  respon- 
sible for  whatever  might  happen. 

So  the  king  was  put  in  prison  at  his  own  request.  And 
yet  Louis  XL,  who  was  well  read  in  history,  knew  perfectly 
well  that  kings  in  prison  can  seldom  be  guarded  (there  is  no 
tower  strong  enough).  Even  though  anxious  to  guard  him, 
it  is  not  always  in  one's  power — witness  Richard  IL  at  Pom- 
fret  ;  had  Lancaster  wished  to  let  him  live,  he  would  have 
been  unable.  To  guard  is  difficult,  to  set  at  liberty  dangerous. 
' '  So  great  a  prince  a  prisoner, ' '  says  Comines,  ' '  hardly  gets 
free." 

Louis  XL  did  not  give  himself  up.  He  had  always  money 
by  him  for  his  little  negotiations.  He  gave  out  fifty  thousand 
gold  crowns  for  distribution.     But  his  ruin  was  considered  so 


LOUIS  XI.  229 

certain,  and  so  little  was  he  already  feared,  that  the  person  to 
whom  he  gave  it  kept  the  greater  share. 

Another  thing  served  him  more.  Those  who  were  most 
eager  to  destroy  him  were  known  to  be  adherents  of  his 
brother's,  and  already  styled  themselves  "the  servants  of  the 
Duke  of  Normandy."  The  men  who  were  really  attached  to 
the  Duke  of  Burgundy,  his  chancellor,  De  Goux,  and  his 
chamberlain,  Comines,  who  slept  in  his  room,  and  who 
watched  him  throughout  this  tempest  of  three  days'  duration, 
it  is  likely  gave  him  to  understand  that  he  had  no  great 
interest  in  conferring  the  crown  on  his  brother,  who  had  so 
long  been  a  resident  in  Brittany. 

There  was  a  better  course ;  and  this  was  not  to  make  a 
kinof,  but  rather  unmake  one,  to  turn  him  to  the  best  advan- 
tag-e,  to  lower  and  lessen  him,  and  to  make  him  in  all  men's 
esteem  so  little,  wretched,  and  impotent,  that  to  have  killed 
him  would  have  been  less  a  death  than  this. 

This  was  the  course  on  which  the  duke  decided  after  long 
struggles,  and,  accordingly,  he  repaired  to  the  castle : — 
"When  the  duke  came  into  his  presence  his  voice  trembled, 
so  moved  was  he,  and  ready  to  give  way  to  his  wrath.  He 
humbly  inclined  his  body  ;  but  his  speech  and  gesture  were 
harsh  as  he  asked  the  king  whether  he  would  keep  to  the 

treaty  of  peace "     The  king  "was  unable  to  conceal 

his  fear,"  and  signed  a  renunciation  of  all  that  had  been 
formerly  in  dispute  between  the  kings  and  dukes.  Next  he 
was  made  to  promise  to  give  his  brother,  not  Normandy  now, 
but  La  Brie,  which  brought  the  duke  close  to  Paris,  and 
Champagne,  which  completed  the  circle  of  the  duke's  posses- 
sions, and  gave  him  every  facility  for  going  to  and  fro  between 
the  Low  Countries  and  Burgundy. 

On  the  king's  pledging  himself  to  this  effect,  the  duke 
went  on  to  say  to  him,  "Will  you  not  be  pleased  to  accom- 
pany me  to  Liege,  to  take  vengeance  of  the  Liegers  for  their 
treason  to  me,  through  you?  The  bishop  is  your  relative, 
being  of  the  House  of  Bourbon."  The  presence  of  the  Duke 
of  Bourbon,  who  was  with  him,  seemed  to  support  this 
request;  which,  indeed,  in  the  king's  situation,  was  equiva- 
lent to  an  order. 


230  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND  FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

Great,  and  terrible,  and  well-deserved  punishment  for  the 
perfidious  game  Louis  XI.  had  played  with  Liege,  showing 
her  as  a  bugbear,  agitating,  inciting  her,  and  then  drawing 
back  his  hand.  .  .  .  Well  it  behooved  that  now  this  dis- 
loyal hand,  taken  in  flagrant  delict,  should  be  seen  by  the 
whole  world  slaughtering  those  whom  it  had  pushed  on,  that 
it  should  tear  in  pieces  its  own  fleurs-de-lis  raised  as  their 
standard  by  the  Liegers,  and  that  Louis  XL  should  drag  in 
the  mud  the  banner  of  t?ie  king  of  France.  .  .  .  After  this, 
the  man,  accursed,  detested,  and  infamous,  might  be  let  go 
whither  he  list — to  France  or  elsewhere.  Only,  in  order  to 
be  qualified  to  make  these  great  examples,  and  to  constitute 
one's  self  on  this  wise  minister  of  God's  justice,  one  must  not 
steal  the  thief  from  the  gibbet.  .  .  .  This  was  precisely  what 
was  attempted. 

The  King's  safety  depended  mostly  upon  one  thing; 
namely,  that  he  was  not  wholly  a  prisoner.  Though  im- 
prisoned at  Peronne,  he  was  at  large  elsewhere,  in  his 
capital  army,  and  in  his  other  self,  Dammartin.  His  visible 
interest  was,  that  Dammartin  should  take  no  overt  step,  but 
should  remain  under  arms  and  keep  up  a  menacing  aspect. 
Now,  Dammartin  received,  post  after  post,  two  letters  from 
the  king,  one  ordering  him  to  disband  his  army,  the  other  to 
dispatch  it  to  the  Pyrenees,  by  way  of  reassuring  the  Bur- 
gundians,  and  leaving  the  frontier  ungarrisoned,  so  that  they 
might  be  free  to  enter  if  they  chose,  after  their  inroad  upon 
Liege.  The  first  letter  is  probably  a  forgery,  or,  at  least, 
drawing  the  inference  from  its  false  date,  its  heavy  and  use- 
less preface,  and  its  prolixity,  was  dictated  to  the  prisoner. 
Nothing  can  be  further  removed  from  the  familiar  vivacity  of 
the  letters  of  Louis  XI.  The  second  is  his  own,  as  is  proved 
by  the  style.  Among  other  things,  the  king  says,  in  order  to 
determine  Dammartin  to  remove  the  army  to  a  distance, 
"  Hold  for  certain,  that  I  never  proceeded  so  willingly  on  any 
journey  as  on  this.  .  .  .  My  lord  of  Burgundy  will  press  me 
to  set  out  as  soon  as  he  shall  have  done  at  Liege ;  desiring  my 
return  more  than  I  do  myself."  What  gave  this  letter  the  lie, 
and  divested  it  of  all  credit,  was,  that  the  king's  messenger 
who  bore  it,  was  kept  within  sight  by  an  emissary  of  the 


LOUIS  XI.  231 

duke's,  for  fear  of  liis  speaking.  The  snare  was  gross ; 
Daniniartin  cried  shame  on  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  for  it,  and 
swore  that  if  he  did  not  dismiss  the  king  home,  the  whole 
kingdom  would  go  and  bring  him  back. 

Liege  was  now  without  the  walls,  fosses,  money,  artillery, 
or  men-at-arms,  to  oppose  to  the  enemy.  There  was  but  one 
thing  left  her, — the  fleurs-de-lis^  the  name  of  the  King  of 
France.  The  exiles,  on  their  entry,  shouted  "  Long  live  the 
king  !"....  That  the  king  should  be  coming  to  fight 
against  himself,  against  those  who  were  fighting  for  him, 
appeared  so  strange,  so  absurd,  and  mad  a  report,  that  no  one 

would  at  first  credit  it Or  if  any  credit  were  given 

it,  it  was  by  heightening  the  report  by  still  greater  absurdi- 
ties and  sillier  dreams ;  for  instance,  that  the  king  was  con- 
ducting the  duke  to  Aix-la-Chapelle,  to  have  him  crowned 
emperor. 

No  longer  knowing  what  to  credit,  and  maddened  with 
rage,  four  thousand  citizens  sallied  forth  against  forty  thousand 
Burguudians.  Though  beaten,  they  nevertheless  made  a 
stand  in  the  faubourg  against  the  enemy's  vanguard,  which 
had  hurried  forward  in  order  to  secure  the  plunder  for  itself, 
and  which  only  gained  blows. 

The  legate  saved  the  bishop,  and  strove  to  save  the  city. 
He  persuaded  the  populace  that  they  ought  to  let  the  bishop 
go,  by  way  of  proving  that  they  did  not  keep  him  prisoner. 
He  then  hastened  to  throw  himself  at  the  duke's  feet,  and  to 
sue  for  grace  in  the  Pope's  name,  offering  all  save  life.  But 
it  was  life  which  was  now  coveted 

For  so  large  an  army,  and  two  such  great  princes,  to  busy 
themselves  about  forcing  a  city  unfortified,  already  deserted, 
and  without  hope  of  succor,  was  a  work  of  supererogation ; 
at  least,  so  the  Burguudians  thought,  for  they  deemed  them- 
selves too  strong  by  half,  and  so  kept  careless  watch 

Accordingly,  one  night  the  camp  is  forced,  and  both  the  king's 
and  the  duke's  quarters  beaten  up.  No  one  was  armed  ;  the 
archers  were  playing  at  dice ;  and  it  was  a  chance  that  there 
was  any  one  to  bar  the  duke's  door.  He  arms  himself, 
descends,  and  finds  some  cry  out,  "Long  live  Burgundy!" 
others,  "Long  live  the  king,  and  kill!"  ....  Whom  was 


232  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

the  king  for?     No  one  yet  knew His  men  fired  from 

the  windows,  and  killed  more  Burgundians  than  Liegers. 

However,  it  was  a  body  of  six  hundred  men  only  (accord- 
ing to  others,  three  hundred),  that  gave  this  alarm, — men  of 
Franchimont,  rugged  men  from  the  woods,  wood-cutters,  or 
charcoal-burners,  as  they  all  are  indeed  ;  and  who  had  thrown 
themselves  into  Liege  when  every  one  else  was  deserting  it. 
Unaccustomed  to  confinement,  their  first  impulse  was  to 
wander  forth,  and  mountaineers  and  ready  cragsmen  as  they 
were,  they  began  scaling  by  night  the  rocks  which  command 
Liege,  and  thought  it  a  mere  matter  of  course,  though  num- 
bering only  three  hundred,  to  enter  a  camp  of  forty  thousand 
men,  and  proceed  to  wake  up  the  two  princes  with  blows  of 

their  pikes And  assuredly  this  they  would  have  done, 

if,  instead  of  preserving  silence,  they  had  not,  like  true 
Liegers,  burst  out  into  loud  cries,  raised  "  a  great  Huf''  .  .  . 
And  these  charcoal-burners  of  the  Ardennes  slew  valets, 
missed  the  princes,  and  were  themselves  slain,  unconscious 
that  they  had  done  more  than  the  Greeks  at  Thermopylae. 

The  duke,  in  high  dudgeon  at  such  a  reveille,  was  for 
giving  the  assault.  The  king  was  for  further  delay  ;  but  the 
duke  told  him  that  if  he  did  not  relish  the  assault,  he  might 
go  to  Namur.  This  permission  to  leave  at  the  moment  of 
danger,  did  not  suit  the  king,  who  fancied  that  advantage 
would  be  taken  of  it  to  sink  him  still  lower,  and  charge  him 

with  having  shown  the  white  feather He  conceived  his 

honor  to  be  staked  on  his  sharing  in  the  barbarous  execution 
of  Liege. 

He  seemed  to  be  bent  on  having  it  believed  that  he  was 
not  forced,  that  he  was  there  for  his  pleasure,  and  through 
pure  friendship  for  the  duke.  On  the  occasion  of  a  first 
alarm,  two  or  three  days  before,  as  the  duke  appeared  to  be 
embarrassed,  the  king  had  looked  to  everything,  and  given  all 
the  orders.  The  Burgundians,  in  their  amazement,  no  longer 
knew  whether  it  were  the  king  or  the  duke  who  was  leading 
them  to  the  destruction  of  Liege. 

He  would  have  been  the  first  at  the  assault,  had  not  the 
duke  stayed  him.  As  the  Liegers  bore  the  arms  of  France, 
he,  King  of  France,  is  said  to  have  worn  the  cross  of  Bur- 


LOUIS  XI.  233 

gundy  ;  and,  to  wind  up  this  melancholy  farce,  he  was  heard 
shouting  in  the  great  square  of  Liege,  "Long  live  Burgundy! " 
....   High  treason  of  the  king  against  the  king. 

Not  the  slightest  resistance  was  offered.  The  caj^tains 
had  started  in  the  morning,  leaving  the  innocent  burgesses 
on  guard.  They  had  kept  watch  for  eight  days,  and  were 
worn  out ;  and  besides,  did  not  dream  of  being  attacked  on 
this  day,  for  it  was  Sunday.  However,  in  the  morning  the 
duke  orders  his  bombard  and  two  serpents  to  be  fired  by  way 
of  signal ;  the  trumpets  sound,  and  the  troops  march  to  the 
assault.  .  .  .  There  were  only  two  or  three  sentinels  at  their 
posts;  the  rest  were  gone  to  dinner.  "We  found  the  cloth 
laid,"  says  Comines,  "in  every  house." 

The  army,  entering  the  town  at  either  end,  met  and 
formed  in  the  public  square,  and  then  separated  into  four 
divisions,  each  taking  a  distinct  quarter  of  the  town  for 
plunder.  All  this  occupied  two  hours,  so  that  many  had  time 
to  escape.  Meanwhile  the  duke,  after  conducting  the  king 
to  the  palace,  repaired  to  St.  Lambert's,  which  the  plunderers 
were  about  to  force  ;  so  little  did  they  heed  him,  that  he  was 
obliged  to  draw  his  sword,  and  he  slew  one  of  them  with  his 
own  hand. 

About  noon  the  whole  city  was  in  the  hands  of  the  Bur- 
gundians,  and  a  prey  to  pillage.  Such  was  the  festival  in  the 
midst  of  the  tumult  of  which  the  king  took  his  dinner, 
testifying  the  liveliest  joy,  and  never  weary  of  lauding  the 
valor  of  his  good  brother.  It  was  a  marv^el,  and  a  thing  to 
be  repeated  to  the  duke,  how  heartily  he  sung  his  praises. 

The  duke  waited  upon  him  to  ask,  "What  shall  we  do 
with  Liege?"  A  hard  question,  this,  for  anyone  else,  and 
which  every  man  with  a  heart  would  have  hesitated  before 
answering.  Louis  XL  replied  with  a  smile,  and  in  the  style 
of  the  Cent  Noiivelles :  ' '  There  was  a  large  tree  close  to  my 
father's  palace,  in  which  rooks  built  their  nests.  As  they 
annoyed  him,  he  had  the  nests  pulled  down,  two  or  three 
times ;  but  the  rooks  always  built  them  again  the  next  )'ear. 
i\Iy  father  then  ordered  the  tree  to  be  rooted  up,  and  after- 
wards slept  all  the  better." 

The  horrid  feature  in  this  destruction  of  a  whole  people 


234  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND  FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

is,  that  it  was  not  a  carnage  committed  in  the  fury  of  assault, 
and  when  the  victors  were  heated,  but  a  long  execution, 
which  lasted  for  months.  The  townsfolk  found  in  the  houses 
were  kept  and  reserved,  and  then  flung  into  the  Meuse  in  an 
orderly  and  methodical  manner.  Three  months  afterwards, 
the  drownings  were  still  going  on. 

Even  the  few  that  were  j^ut  to  the  sword  on  the  first  day 
(about  two  hundred  in  number)  were  killed  in  cold  blood. 
The  plunderers  who  cut  the  throats,  in  the  Franciscan  convent, 
of  twenty  hapless  beings  who  were  on  their  knees  hearing 
Mass,  waited  until  the  priest  had  consecrated  and  drunk 
before  they  tore  the  chalice  from  him. 

The  city  was  burned  down  methodically ;  fire  being  first 
set  to  it,  by  the  duke's  orders,  on  Saint  Hubert's  day,  the 
anniversary  of  the  foundation  of  Liege.  The  work  was 
intrusted  to  a  knight  of  the  neighborhood,  in  conjunction 
with  the  men  of  Limbourg ;  and  those  of  Maestricht  and  of 
Huy,  like  good  neighbors,  came  to  bear  a  hand,  and  under- 
took the  demolition  of  the  bridges.  To  destroy  the  popula- 
tion was  a  work  of  greater  difficulty  ;  for  the  inhabitants  had 
for  the  most  part  fled  to  the  mountains.  The  duke  reserved 
for  himself  the  pleasure  of  hunting  them  down.  He  started 
the  day  on  which  fire  was  first  set  to  Liege,  and  could  mark 
as  he  rode  in  the  distance  the  rise  and  spread  of  the  flames. 
....  He  scoured  Franchimont,  burning  the  villages  and 
searching  the  woods.  Their  leafless  state,  and  the  fearful 
cold  of  the  winter,  exposed  the  prey  to  him.  Wine  was 
frozen,  men  as  well  ;  some  lost  a  foot,  others  their  fingers. 
If  the  pursuers  suffered  to  this  degree,  what  must  the  fugi- 
tives, especially  women  and  children,  have  done  ? 

The  king  had  left  a  little  before  the  duke,  but  without 
betraying  any  hurry,  and  only  four  or  five  days  after  the 
taking  of  Liege.  He  had  first  sounded  the  duke  by  the  inter- 
vention of  friends,  and  then  observed  to  him,  "If  you  have 
nothing  more  to  do,  I  should  like  to  go  to  Paris  to  publish 

our  agreement  in  Parliament Don't  spare  me,  when 

you  have  need  of  me.  Next  summer,  if  you  choose,  I  will 
visit  you  in  Burgundy.  We  will  be  a  month  together,  and 
will    make    good    cheer."      The    duke    consented,    though 


L,ouis  xr.  235 


(< 


always  murmuring  a  little,"  made  him  re-peruse  the  treaty, 
inquired  if  he  regretted  anything  in  it,  saying  he  was  free  to 
accept  or  not,  and  "offering  a  faint  excuse  for  having  brought 
him  there."  So  the  king  departed  at  his  pleasure,  happy 
and  astonished,  no  doubt,  at  finding  himself  on  his  road 
home,  shaking  himself  to  know  whether  it  were  really  he, 
and  thinking  it  a  miracle  that  he  was  safe  and  sound,  with 
the  exception,  perhaps,  of  his  honor  at  the  furthest.  Yet  I 
do  not  believe  him  to  have  been  totally  insensible,  since  he 
fell  sick  shortly  after.  The  fact  is,  he  had  suffered  in  a  very 
delicate  point ;  in  the  opinion  he  had  himself  entertained  of 
his  own  ability.  After  having  twice  recovered  Normandy  so 
quickly  and  so  subtly,  to  have  then  committed  himself  like 
an  embryo  statesman !  To  have  shown  such  simplicity,  to 
have  reposed  such  naive  faith  in  promises,  was  enough  to 
humble  him  forever!  Could  he,  could  Louis  XL,  master  in 
the  art  of  forswearing,  have  suffered  himself  to  be  entrapped? 
The  farce  of  Peronne  had  ended  like  that  of  Patelin.  The 
craftiest  of  the  crafty  was  duped  by  Agnelet.  All  laughed, 
young,  old,  children  ;  what  do  I  say  ! — the  very  jays,  magpies, 
and  starlings  talked  of  nothing  else ;  they  were  taught  only 
one  word — Perette  (the  name  of  the  king's  mistress,  but  sug- 
gesting also  the  place  of  his  imprisonment). 

If  Louis  had  a  consolation  in  his  miser}^,  it  was  probably 
the  secret  reflection  and  whispered  thought,  that  though  he  had 
played  the  simpleton,  the  other  had  been  a  greater  simpleton 
still  for  allowing  him  to  depart.  What !  could  the  duke 
fancy  that  when  the  safe-conduct  had  been  of  no  value,  the 
treaty  would  hold  good?  He  detained  him,  contrary  to  his 
word,  and  he  lets  him  go  on  the  faith  of  a  word  ! 

—J.  MiCHELET. 


THE  JOYLESS   KING. 

Our  aged  king,  whose  name  we  breathe  in  dread, 
Louis,  the  tenant  of  j^on  drear>^  pile, 

Designs,  in  this  fair  prime  of  flowers,  'tis  said. 
To  view  our  sports,  and  tr>^  if  he  can  smile. 


236  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND  FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

While  laughter,  love,  and  song  are  here  abroad, 
His  jealous  fears  imprison  Louis  there ; 

He  dreads  his  peers,  his  people, — ay,  his  God ; 
But  more  than  all,  the  mention  of  his  heir. 

Look  there  !  a  thousand  lances  gleam  afar. 
In  the  warm  sunlight  of  this  gentle  spring  ! 

And,  'midst  the  clang  of  bolts,  that  grate  and  jar, 
Heard  ye  the  warden's  challenge  sharply  ring  ? 

He  comes  !  he  comes  !     Alas  !  this  mighty  king 
With  envy  well  the  hovel's  peace  may  view ; 

See  where  he  stands,  a  pale  and  spectral  thing, 
And  glares  askance  the  serried  halberds  through  ! 

Beside  our  cottage  hearths,  how  bright  and  grand 
Were  all  our  visions  of  a  monarch's  air  ! 

What !  is  his  sceptre  but  that  trembling  hand  ? 
Is  that  his  crown, — a  forehead  seamed  by  care? 

In  vain  we  sing ;  at  yonder  distant  chime. 

Shivering,  he  starts  ! — 'twas  but  the  village  bell ! 

But  evermore  the  sound  that  notes  the  time 
Strikes  to  his  ear  an  omen  of  his  knell ! 

Alas  !  our  joys  some  dark  distrust  inspires  ! 

He  flies,  attended  by  his  chosen  slave : 
Beware  his  hate ;  and  say,  "  Our  gracious  sire 

A  loving  smile  to  greet  his  children  gave." 

— P.  J.  Beranger. 


i^^4^^4-44^-4^ 


%\i^^.::^ 


CJ-l-t-C 


JOHN  SOBIESKI. 


:^  ^ 


•'i'-  ''I;   ,      ,"  ':   ■  '  '■';!!':      TillUli   ,'..:ili'''   ■  'J;,! I  .,11,     ll!,ilir||;i:lil,lllvl     \V     ■,'1 


U 


^fe^^Sj^^ST'^'ss:^ 


THE  history  of  Poland  illustrates 
the  thoroughly  vicious  and  imprac- 
ticable character  of  a  decentralized 
aristocratic  government,  yet  it  also 
presents  numerous  instances  of 
heroic  characters  and  splendid 
achievements.  No  name  in  its 
annals  is  more  celebrated  than  that 
of  Sobieski,  who  saved  Central^ 
Europe  from  Turkish  invasion 
near  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century. 

John  Sobieski  was  born  in  1629,  in  the  district  of  Olesko, 
in  the  present  Galicia,  or  Austrian  Poland,  near  the  sources 
of  the  Bug  and  the  Bog,  on  the  feudal  estate  of  his  ancestors. 
His  father,  Jacob  (or  James),  was  castellan  of  Cracow,  and 
acquired  military  distinction  in  the  Polish  army,  in  the 
troublous  times  of  the  kings,  Casimir  V.  and  Michael,  who 
struggled  vainly  with  their  turbulent  nobles.  John  was 
carefully  brought  up,  and  was  sent  with  his  elder  brother, 
IMark,  to  finish  his  education  in  Paris.  Here  John  served  for 
some  time  in  the  body-guard  of  Louis  XIV. ,  and  afterwards 
travelled  in  the  East  with  his  brother.  Wliilst  they  were  at 
Constantinople,  in  1648,  they  received  news  of  a  rising  of 
the  Cossacks,  who  were  joined  by  the  Polish  serfs.  All  Polish 
Russia  was  overrun,  and  they  compelled  all  Catholic  monks 
and  nuns  whom  they  could  get  hold  of  to  marry.  The  insur- 
gents were  at  length  defeated  at  Zamosc,  and  a  peace  was 
made.  Hostilities,  however,  were  soon  renewed.  Several 
engagements  were  fought  in  which  the  Poles  were  defeated; 

237 


238  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

but  in  the  battle  of  Beresteczko,  in  165 1,  Jolm  Sobieski  won 
distinction.     Soon  afterward  Mark  Sobieski  was  killed. 

Charles  Gustavus  of  Sweden  now  invaded  Poland,  and 
the  wretched  country  seemed  doomed  to  perish,  but  Frederic 
William  of  Brandenburg,  who  fought  at  first  on  the  Swedish 
side,  passed  over  to  the  other.  Sobieski  distinguished  himself 
in  fighting  against  the  Swedes,  and,  in  1660,  he  gained  a 
complete  victory  over  the  Russians,  who  were  led  by  General 
Sheremetoff.  For  his  services  Sobieski  was  raised  to  the 
dignities  of  grand  marshal  and  grand  hetman  of  Poland.  In 
1667,  with  only  20,000  men,  he  defeated  an  army  of  Cossacks 
and  Tartars  five  times  as  numerous,  in  a  series  of  battles  last- 
ing seventeen  days.  They  left  as  many  dead  on  the  field  as 
the  whole  number  of  Sobieski' s  troops.  The  victorious  hero 
now  married  Mary  Casimira  de  la  Grange,  daughter  of  the 
captain  of  the  guard  of  Philip  d' Orleans,  the  brother  of 
Louis  XIV.  Casimir  abdicated  the  throne  of  Poland  the 
year  following,  and  retired  to  a  monastery  in  France. 

Sobieski  gave  his  influence  in  behalf  of  the  Prince  of 
Conde  as  his  successor;  but  Michael  Wisniowiecki  was  chosen 
by  the  Polish  Diet.  A  desolating  civil  war  was  now  immi- 
nent, as  the  adherents  of  Sobieski  and  of  Michael  were 
encamped  against  each  other;  but  a  new  danger  was  suddenly 
threatened  by  an  invasion  of  the  Turks,  numbering  150,000 
men,  under  Mahomet  IV.  At  this  crisis  Michael  and  his 
army  took  to  flight;  but  the  partisans  of  Sobieski,  iipon 
whose  head  a  price  had  been  fixed,  swore  to  defend  him. 
Michael  concluded  the  shameful  treaty  of  Budcharz,  by 
which  he  bartered  away  a  part  of  his  dominions  on  condition  of 
being  supported  in  arms  against  his  rebellious  general. 
Against  this  treaty  Sobieski  appealed  to  the  Diet,  and  falling 
upon  the  Turks  once  more,  defeated  them  in  the  great  battle 
of  Kotzin  in  1674.  He  took  the  fortress,  till  then  deemed 
impregnable,  at  a  loss  to  the  enemy  of  20,000  men,  and  set 
80,000  prisoners  free.     On   the   day  of  this  battle   Michael 

breathed  his  last. 

1 

The  Diet  assembled  to  name  a  successor.  There  were 
several  candidates.  Charles  of  Lorraine  was  countenanced* by 
Austria,  and  Philip  of  Neuburg  by  Louis  XIV.     Sobieski, 


JOHN  SOBIESKI.  239 

fresh  from  his  glorious  victory,  proposed  the  Prince  of  Conde; 
but  the  palatine,  Stanislaus  Jablonowski,  having  stated  in  an 
eloquent  speech  his  objections  to  those  candidates,  concluded 
by  saying :  "Let  a  Pole  reign  over  Poland,"  and  he  proposed 
the  conqueror  of  Kotzin,  John  Sobieski.  All  the  Polish  and 
Lithuanian  nobles  shouted  "Long  live  John  III.,"  and  the 
gallant  Sobieski  was  proclaimed  king.  He  had  hardly  felt 
the  weight  of  the  crown  before  a  new  invasion  of  200,000 
Turks  and  Tartars  summoned  him  to  the  field.  Once  more 
he  led  his  brave  Polanders  against  this  redoubtable  enemy, 
whom  he  charged  with  the  inspiring  battle-cry,  "Christ  for- 
ever!" His  success,  however,  produced  no  better  result  than 
an  honorable  treaty  of  peace,  which  had  little  more  effect 
than  a  truce. 

A  few  years  of  peace  followed,  at  least  external  peace,  for 
Poland  was  seldom,  if  ever,  at  peace  within  herself  The 
king's  authority  was  set  at  naught  by  the "  factious  nobles, 
who  would  not  listen  to  reform  or  redress  of  grievances,  and 
by  their  remarkable  custom  of  the  ^'^ liberiim  veto''''  dissolved 
every  diet  in  which  the  attempt  was  made.  His  own  domes- 
tic life  was  not  altogether  a  happy  one.  His  French  wife  was 
ambitious  and  domineering,  and  she  made  his  existence  some- 
times a  real  misery.  After  becoming  king,  Sobieski  endeav- 
ored to  raise  supplies  for  an  army  to  reconquer  the  provinces 
which  Russia  had  appropriated;  but  his  efforts  were  frustrated 
by  the  selfishness  of  the  nobles.  In  1683,  the  Turks,  coun- 
tenanced by  Louis  XIV.,  invaded  Austria,  whose  power  the 
French  monarch  desired  to  humble.  Their  vast  army  of 
300,000  men  was  led  by  the  Grand  Vizier,  Kara  Mustapha. 
In  July,  the  Turks,  after  sweeping  over  Hungary,  invested 
Vienna,  from  which  city  Leopold  and  his  family  had  fled. 
The  capital  of  the  Austrian  empire  had  no  prospect  but  sub- 
mission to  the  dreaded  IMoslems.  At  this  crisis,  Sobieski, 
yielding  magnanimously  to  the  entreaties  of  a  sovereign  who 
had  refused  him  the  title  of  "Majesty,"  placed  himself  at  the 
head  of  a  small  but  devoted  army  of  less  than  20,000  men,  and, 
by  forced  marches,  hastened  to  the  seat  of  war.  On  his  way 
he  was  joined  by  some  of  the  German  princes,  and  when  he 
united  his  troops  with  those  of  Prince  Charles  of  Lorraine, 


240  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS   AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

wlio  had  been  competitor  with  him  for  the  Polish  crown,  the 
total  number  was  about  77,000  men. 

On  the  I2tli  of  September,  after  Mass,  Sobieski  descended 
from  the  ridge  of  Kalemberg  to  the  dense  host  of  the  Mos- 
lems in  the  plains.  He  appeared  with  his  head  partly  shaven 
in  the  Polish  fashion,  and  in  plain  dress,  while  his  attendants 
were  brilliantly  arrayed.  On  his  left  was  his  son,  James,  and 
on  his  right  Charles  of  lyorraine.  Before  the  battle  he 
knighted  his  son,  and  made  an  inspiriting  address  to  his 
troops,  urging  that  their  contest  was  not  for  Vienna  alone, 
but  for  Christendom ;  not  for  an  earthly  sovereign,  but  for 
the  King  of  kings.  The  shouts  of  the  soldiers  bore  to  the 
enemy  the  dreaded  name  of  Sobieski,  already  made  familiar 
on  many  a  well-fought  field.  But  the  Turkish  commander, 
Kara  Mustapha,  continued  tranquilly  taking  coffee  in  a 
splendid  tent,  until  Sobieski  gave  the  signal  for  attack. 

The  assault  was  made  simultaneously  along  the  whole 
line.  At  5  p.m.  the  Polish  hussars  cleared  the  ditch  and 
rode  into  the  camp,  and,  after  a  rude  shock,  the  Ottomans 
were  driven  in  a  confused  mass  toward  the  tent  of  the  vizier, 
v/ho  attempted  to  make  a  stand,  but  in  vain.  At  last  the 
Turks  were  in  full  retreat,  and  Sobieski  remained  master  of 
the  whole  camp,  artillery,  baggage  and  immense  booty. 

The  inhabitants  of  Vienna  received  their  deliverer  with 
the  most  lively  demonstrations  of  gratitude  ;  and  exclama- 
tions of  joy  accompanied  him  to  the  very  threshold  of  the 
cathedral,  whither  he  went  to  return  thanks  to  the  God  of 
battles  for  the  success  of  his  arms.  When  the  Te  Dewn  was 
chanted,  he  joined  cordially  in  the  service.  A  sermon  was 
delivered  on  the  occasion  from  the  text :  "There  was  a  man 
sent  from  God,  whose  name  was  John."  Sobieski  pursued 
the  Turks  into  Hungary,  and  he  experienced  defeat  at  Par- 
any,  where  he  was  exposed  to  great  personal  danger ;  but  he 
defeated  them  again  at  Strigonia,  and  at  last  cleared  the 
whole  country  of  them.  But  the  joy  which  Sobieski  must 
have  felt  in  having  performed  so  important  a  service  to  Chris- 
tendom, and  in  receiving  the  congratulations  of  the  people  of 
Austria,  was  marred  by  the  ingratitude  of  the  Emperor  Leo- 
pold and  by  the  selfishness  of  many  of  his  own  subjects.     In 


JOHN  SOBIESKI.  24 1 

this  foreign  expedition  the  Poles  found  that  their  treasnry 
had  been  drained,  and  that  many  of  their  countrymen  had 
perished  ;  while  as  a  compensation  for  these  evils,  no  sub- 
stantial advantage  to  the  republic  had  resulted,  or  could  be 
expected.  Sobieski  himself  was  charged  with  avarice,  and 
with  giving  too  much  attention  to  the  ambitious  schemes  of 
his  wife. 

Sobieski' s  wish  to  make  the  crown  hereditary  in  his  own 
family  exasperated  and  disaffected  the  nobles ;  and  after  his 
death  his  children  were  ungratefully  excluded  from  the* 
throne.  Another  cause  of  his  unpopularity  was  the  cession 
of  certain  lands  to  Russia  ;  for  which,  however,  in  return,  he 
was  promised  assistance  in  the  meditated  conquest  of  Molda- 
via and  Wallachia.  But  a  new  turn  of  affairs  made  it 
impossible  to  prosecute  these  schemes.  He  died  at  Warsaw, 
June  17th,  1696.  Years  afterwards,  the  great  Swedish  war- 
rior, Charles  XII.,  paused  in  his  headlong  career  to  visit  the 
tomb  of  the  defender  of  Christendom. 

The  widowed  Queen  Mary  Cassimira  removed  to  Rome  in 
1698,  and  afterwards  to  Blois,  in  France,  where  she  died  in 
1716.  Her  eldest  granddaughter,  Maria  Clementina,  in  1719 
was  married  to  the  son  of  King  James  I.  of  England,  known 
as  the  first  Pretender.  She  was  the  mother  of  the  second 
Pretender  and  of  Cardinal  York. 

John  Sobieski  was  endowed  with  great  strength  of  body, 
and  vigor  of  mind.  He  was  skilled  in  the  laws,  the  consti- 
tution, and  political  relations  of  his  country.  Eloquent  and 
wise  in  council,  enterprising  and  enthusiastic  in  the  field,  he 
possessed  all  the  virtues  and  qualities  necessary  for  a  great 
warrior  or  an  accomplished  monarch.  He  possessed  a  pecu- 
liar art  of  profiting  by  the  least  advantage,  and  was  charac- 
terized by  a  sure  and  quick  sagacity  of  foreseeing  and  pre- 
venting danger.  Enthusiasm  was  a  predominant  feature 
in  his  character.  When  taking  his  departure  from  Warsaw 
in  his  campaign  against  the  Turks,  he  said  emphatically  to 
the  ambassadors  at  his  court:  "Tell  your  master  that  you 
have  seen  me  mount  my  horse,  and  that  Vienna  is  safe!"  The 
nobleness  and  elevation  of  his  mind  were  clearly  shadowed 
forth  in  the  lineaments  of  his  countenance  and  the  dignity 
IV — 16 


242  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND  FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

of  his  personal  appearance.  But  the  inherent  vice  of  the 
Polish  national  constitution  prevented  his  accomplishing  the 
great  results  for  his  country  which  his  genius  had  seemed  to 
guarantee. 

The  Turks  Driven  From  Vienna. 

The  despotic  rule  of  the  Emperor  of  Germany  had  created 
such  disgust  in  his  Christian  subjects  of  Hungary,  that  in 
utter  despair  they  solicited  aid  from  the  Turk  against  their 
Imperial  oppressor ;  and  even  the  Protestants,  irritated  by  the 
attempts  of  the  emperor  to  elude  the  fulfillment  of  his  prom- 
ises in  regard  to  their  religion,  took  part  against  him.  The 
King  of  France  incessantly  incited  the  Sultan,  by  means  of 
his  embassy  at  Constantinople,  to  fall  upon  the  rear  of  the 
empire,  and  at  length  succeeded  in  bringing  this  object  about 
in  1683;  but  it  was  preceded  by  a  manifesto  from  the  insur- 
gent chief  Tekeli,  offering  the  protection  of  the  Sultan  to 
their  religion,  property  and  privileges.  While  240,000  men 
under  Kara  Mustafa,  the  Grand  Vizier,  invaded  Hungar}^,  an 
Imperial  army  under  Duke  Charles  of  Lorraine  vainly 
attempted  to  stem  the  invasion.  Such  was  the  apathy  of  the 
Emperor's  Government,  and  such  the  tardiness  of  German 
succor,  that  scarcely  40,000  men  could  be  collected  when  the 
campaign  opened  on  the  7th  of  May.  The  terror  of  such  a 
formidable  force  heralded  the  Turkish  van,  and  the  retreat  of 
the  Germans  became  a  disorderly  flight. 

The  Turks  reached  the  gates  of  Vienna  unopposed  on  the 
14th  of  July.  The  Emperor  Leopold  fled.  Rudiger  Count 
Von  Stahremberg,  the  intrepid  and  skillful  governor,  held  the 
capital,  which  he  placed  in  a  posture  of  defence  by  the 
destruction  of  a  suburb,  and  a  hasty  repair  of  the  works;  so 
that  for  two  months,  with  a  garrison  of  10,000  men,  he  suc- 
cessfully resisted  the  furious  attacks  of  the  besiegers,  by 
whom  the  whole  surrounding  country  was  ravaged  and  con- 
verted into  an  absolute  desert,  while  the  inhabitants  of  the 
land  were  dragged  into  captivity  ;  60,000  of  the  inhabitants 
of  the  city  had  fled  at  the  first  appearance  of  the  Infidel,  who 
completed  the  investment  in  a  few  days.  The  Turkish 
miners  blew  up  the  strongest  part  of  the  outward  defences, 


JOHN  SOBIESKI.  243 

and  the  city  was  siirrouuded  with  ruins  and  heaps  of  rubbish. 
Still  Count  Stahremberg,  unshaken  by  the  wild  cries,  the 
furious  attacks,  and  immense  numbers  of  the  enemy,  defended 
the  Imperial  city,  and  trained  the  citizens  and  students  to  act 
in  concert  with  the  garrison,  and,  though  severely  wounded, 
the  Governor  was  carried  daily  round  to  cheer  the  citizens 
and  to  give  his  orders.  But  the  strength  of  the  garrison  daily 
diminished — the  spirits  of  the  defenders  were  worn  out  by 
incessant  duty,  and  it  became  even  requisite  to  punish  the 
drowsy  sentinels  with  death,  lest  the  dreaded  foe  should  get 
inside.  Famine  soon  began  to  add  accumulating  horrors, 
and  the  besieged  were  driven  to  the  last  extremity  for  want 
of  provisions,  when  lo!  during  the  night  of  the  nth  of  July, 
a  girandole  of  rockets  discharged  from  the  tower  of  St. 
Stephen's  Cathedral  was  answered  by  a  signal  of  three  can- 
nons, that  spoke  the  comforting  assurance  that  efficient  aid 
was  close  at  hand. 

John  Sobieski,  the  chivalric  King  of  Poland,  had  brought 
up  his  auxiliary  force  of  iS,ooo  men  from  the  North,  and 
had  been  met  on  his  march  by  Charles,  Duke  of  Lorraine 
with  11,000  Germans,  and  by  the  Electors  of  Bavaria  and 
Saxony  with  their  contingents,  and  these  were  already  ascend- 
ing the  ridge  of  the  Calemberg,  which  overlooks  the  Imperial 
capital,  combining  a  force  of  70,000  Christian  men.  The 
Confederated  German  Princes  resolved  on  the  overthrow  of  the 
^Mussulman,  but  agreed  to  cede  to  the  King  of  Poland  the 
chief  command  of  these  troops  of  many  races.  It  had  re- 
quired all  the  prestige  of  Sobieski' s  name,  and  that  force  of 
character  which  attaches  to  all  great  commanders,  to  lead  up 
such  a  force  by  a  fatiguing  march  across  mountains,  over 
which  they  could  only  bring  up  their  artillery  by  manual 
labor;  and  even  now  they  had  only  succeeded  in  bringing  up 
twenty-eight  pieces  to  oppose  the  300  cannon  of  the  enemy. 
From  the  top  of  the  Calemberg  the  King  of  Poland  could  see 
the  plain  of  the  Danube  and  all  its  many  islands  covered 
with  Turkish  pavilions,  and  every  space  occupied  by  horses, 
camels,  buffaloes,  and  swarms  of  Tartars.  But  his  acute  and 
practiced  eye  detected  the  errors  of  the  Turkish  general. 
"This  man,"  said  he,  "is  badly  encamped.     He  can  know 


244  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS   AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

nothing  of  war  in  practice  ;  and  we  shall  certainly  beat  him. 
Which  of  you  at  the  head  of  such  an  army  would  have  suf- 
fered his  enemy  to  throw  that  bridge ' '  (which  Prince  Charles 
had  been  suffered  to  hold  at  Tulu  over  the  Danube)  ' '  within 
five  leagues  of  his  camp  ?  ' ' 

On  July  7th,  Kara  Mustafa  mustered  all  his  troops,  in 
order  to  test  the  losses  he  had  already  sustained  in  the  siege ; 
and,  from  a  paper  afterwards  found  in  the  Grand  Vizier' s  tent, 
the  loss  in  the  trenches  up  to  that  day  attained  the  incredible 
amount  of  48, 344  men,  amongst  whom  were  344  Pashas  and 
leaders,  and  10,000  Janissaries.  Kara  Mustafa  on  the  8th 
ordered  them  to  urge  forward  their  work  without  intermission. 
The  besieged,  however,  had  the  good  fortune  by  their  counter- 
mines to  come  across  and  to  unload  a  most  dangerous  culvert, 
which  had  been  stored  with  twenty-four  tons  of  powder,  the 
springing  of  which  would  have  opened  out  such  a  gap  in  the 
defences,  as  must  have  led  to  the  surrender  of  the  city.  But 
this  happy  incident  did  not  avert  the  serious  danger  continu- 
ally accruing  to  the  besieged  on  every  side,  and  on  every  side 
of  the  city  the  cannonading  was  incessant.  Partial  storms 
were  of  constant  recurrence,  which  deranged  the  troops  and 
obliged  Stahremberg  to  redouble  his  exertions  to  keep  alive 
the  defence.  On  the  9th  the  Turks  had  destroyed  a  large 
portion  of  the  Lobel-bastion  ;  but  the  defenders  repulsed  an 
attempt  to  carry  it  by  storm.  On  the  loth  the  enemy  had 
greatly  enlarged  the  breach  of  the  Burg-bastion,  but  no 
attempt  was  made  to  storm  it,  and  thus  matters  stood  when 
relief  arrived. 

At  last  the  Christian  army  was  encamped  in  sight  of  the 
walls  in  all  its  grandeur ;  }et  the  works  of  the  assailant  in 
the  trenches  continued  active,  although  no  attempt  at  a  storm 
was  made.  Kara  Mustafa,  despising  the  diminutive  numbers 
of  the  allies,  left  it  with  the  Tartar  light  cavalry  to  deal  with 
them  ;  while  with  his  Janissaries  and  his  artillery  he  gave  his 
undivided  attention  to  the  trenches,  in  momentary  expecta- 
tion of  seeing  the  white  flag  for  a  capitulation  hung  out. 
His  orders  had  been  given  to  keep  up  as  heavy  a  fire  as  could 
be  upon  the  besieged,  with  a  view  to  scare  them  unto  sub- 
mission.    This   was  done  with  unexampled   energy  by  the 


JOHN  SOBIESKI.  245 

Pasha  of  Damascus,  who  then  took  the  command  of  the  siege  ; 
while  the  tower  of  St.  Stephen's  continued  to  evidence  to  the 
liberators  by  repeated  signals  that  the  alarm  in  the  terrified 
city  continued  at  its  height.  At  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon 
the  Polish  infantry,  which  had  been  retarded  in  the  march, 
came  up,  and  the  entire  force  at  once  went  into  action.  The 
two  annies  now  met  in  the  most  dreadful  conflict,  and,  as 
soon  as  it  took  an  unfavorable  turn  for  the  enemy,  the  Janis- 
saries fled  out  from  the  trenches,  which  were  immediately 
filled  by  the  Saxon  and  Austrian  dragoons  under  Prince 
Louis  of  Bavaria.  The  Count  Stahremberg  now  went  forth 
to  join  his  deliverers,  amidst  such  a  heap  of  ruins  as  may  be 
imagined  after  sixty  days  of  continued  cannonading,  and  the 
explosion  of  more  than  fifty  mines. 

Sobieski  had  exercised  much  military  judgment  in  his 
advance  to  the  relief  of  the  besieged.  He  was  sensible  of  the 
immense  numerical  superiority  of  the  besiegers,  but  he  was 
scarcely  prepared  for  the  foolhardy  indifference  evinced  by 
Kara  Mustafa  at  the  approach  of  his  better  disciplined  oppo- 
nents. The  Turks  took  no  precautionary  measures  in  the 
occupation  of  the  heights;  and  by  continuing  to  carry  on  the 
siege  from  the  trenches  in  spite  of  the  army  in  the  field,  as 
above  related,  the  IVIussulmen  lost  the  momentum  of  their 
large  body  of  men  ;  so  that  when  Sobieski  pushed  on  with 
his  accustomed  daring  at  the  head  of  an  imposing  force  of 
cavalry,  and  came  upon  a  troop  of  20,000  Turkish  horse,  the 
superiority  was  inverted, — fear  came  upon  them  and  shook 
them,  while  the  indecision  of  their  movements  betrayed  their 
formation,  and  Sobieski  fell  upon  them,  and  routed  them 
with  signal  success.  A  partial  eclipse  of  the  sun  added  to 
their  terror,  for  they  thought  the  Poles  must  be  in  league 
with  the  powers  of  darkness  to  obtain  such  aid ;  so  that 
Sobieski  pushed  on,  and  never  drew  bit  in  the  pursuit  till  he 
had  driven  them  back  into  the  very  camp  of  Kara  IMustafa. 

The  Polish  King  is  said  to  have  himself  espied  the  Grand 
Vizier  sitting  at  the  entrance  of  his  gorgeous  pavilion,  sip- 
ping his  coffee,  with  his  two  sons  beside  him,  as  he  galloped 
along;  but  it  was  told  him  that,  notwithstanding  the  afiected 
composure  of  the  infidel,  the  order  had  gone  forth  from  him 


246  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

for  the  murder  of  30,000  Christian  prisoners.  Provoked  by 
this  appearance  of  indifference  and  unconcern  on  the  part  of 
Kara  Mustafa,  and  enraged  at  the  reported  cruelty  of  an  act 
of  butchery,  Sobieski  commanded  an  immediate  attack,  and 
entered  the  camp  with  his  entire  army.  The  Ottomans,  con- 
gregated in  a  confused  mass,  assembled  round  the  tent  of  the 
Vizier,  who  did  all  that  brute  bravery  could  do  to  make  an 
effective  stand  ;  but  in  vain,  for  what  with  the  enthusiasm  of 
the  Christian  soldiers  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  contradictory 
orders  that  bewildered  the  Turks  on  the  other,  the  latter 
knew  not  whom  to  obey,  and  wildly  fled  from  the  field.  The 
Grand  Vizier's  tent,  and  an  immense  treasure,  including  all 
the  Turkish  artillery  in  the  camp  and  in  the  trenches,  fell 
into  the  hands  of  the  King. 

Kara  Mustafa  succeeded  in  mounting  a  fleet  dromedary, 
on  which  he  made  his  escape  to  Constantinople,  where  he 
could  not  satisfy  his  master  of  the  causes  of  failure,  and 
according  to  Oriental  practice,  was  strangled  by  order  of  the 
Sultan  Mahomet  IV.  It  is  said  that  the  Grand  Vizier  had, 
early  in  the  day,  threatened  the  good  Bishop  Kalonitsel,  who 
had  most  zealously  fulfilled  his  Christian  duties  in  the  siege, 
that  his  head  should  pay  the  forfeit  of  the  earnest  accomplish- 
ment of  his  pious  actions ;  so  that  now,  with  savage  irony, 
the  head  of  Kara  Mustafa  was  sent  by  order  of  the  Sultan  to 
the  bishop.  But  the  ecclesiastic,  not  deeming  it  a  fitting 
relic  for  his  chapel,  sent  it  to  the  arsenal  of  Vienna,  where  it 
is  said  the  relic  may  still  be  seen  in  a  crystal  shrine,  adorned 
with  silver  plates. 

On  the  following  day — 13th  September — the  Polish  King 
entered  Vienna  on  horseback  in  great  state ;  crowds  of  the 
liberated  inhabitants  of  the  city  clung  around  his  horse,  and 
kissed  devoutly  the  very  metal  of  his  stirrup.  Greatly 
touched  by  this  act  of  devotion,  Sobieski  could  not  refrain 
from  tears,  remarking,  "Never  did  a  crown  yield  greater 
pleasure  than  this."  His  first  object  was  to  repair  to  the 
great  Cathedral  of  St.  Stephen,  to  return  thanks  for  his  suc- 
cess, which  had  been  gained  at  no  greater  loss  than  600  men. 
All  Europe  resounded  with  the  praises  of  the  conqueror  who 
had  delivered  the  capital  of  the  Holy  Roman  Empire  from 


JOHN   SOBIESKI.  247 

the  sword  of  the  Infidel,  and  from  all  the  calamities  that  had 
been  dreaded  from  an  irrnption  of  the  Mussulman  upon 
Christian  Europe.  ^ 

But  there  was  one  absentee  from  this  triumphal  ceremo- 
nial who  should  have  been  the  foremost  to  express  his  thank- 
fulness for  preservation  from  greatly  dreaded  dangers.  The 
Emperor  LrCopold  had  not  }^et  made  his  appearance ;  he 
required  time  to  consider  in  what  manner  it  became  his  Impe- 
rial dignity  to  receive  an  elected  King  in  the  capital  of  the 
Caesars.  He  felt  that  he  stood  in  the  sight  of  his  subjects  as 
an  inferior  in  the  presence  of  Sobieski — the  real  victor  and 
hero — and  he  could  not  make  up  his  mind  even  to  offer  to  the 
Polish  King  the  right  hand  of  fellowship.  At  length  he 
appeared  at  the  rencontre.  The  warmhearted  Sobieski 
spurred  his  horse  to  a  gallop,  and  touched  his  hat,  which 
civility  was  returned  at  the  same  moment,  and  both  Sov- 
ereigns spoke  in  Latin.  "Brother,"  said  the  Polish  King, 
"I  am  glad  to  have  done  you  some  small  service."  But 
Leopold,  who  was  also  on  horseback,  after  forcing  himself 
to  a  few  words  of  greeting  to  his  deliverer,  remained  stiffly 
seated  in  his  saddle ;  nor  would  he  lay  aside  his  constrained 
deportment  when  the  son  of  Sobieski,  attended  by  many 
Polish  nobles,  kissed  his  hand. 

This  littleness  of  mind  chilled  the  soldiers  ;  and  when 
the  delivering  army  found  that  they  were  altogether  for- 
gotten, and  at  the  same  time  left  so  ill  provided  for  with 
common  necessaries  and  comforts,  they  would  have  gone 
back  to  their  own  country  in  disgust,  had  not  Sobieski 
declared  that  if  they  deserted  him  to  a  single  man,  he  would 
himself  remain  as  long  as  a  single  Turk  continued  on  the 
soil  of  Germany.  He  therefore  carried  away  his  army  forth- 
with in  pursuit  of  the  Vizier,  after  staying  only  two  days  in 
Vienna.  He  came  up  with  him  at  Paranay  in  Hungary,  and 
again  at  Strigonia,  where,  on  the  6th  October,  after  exposing 
himself  to  great  personal  danger,  he  succeeded  in  obtaining 
another  great  victory  over  the  Turks,  and  cleared  the  empire 
of  the  Infidel.  He  now  returned  to  his  kingdom,  and  arrived 
at  Cracow  on  the  26th  December.  Among  the  trophies  of 
his  victories  that  he  brought  with  him  was  the  great  standard 


248  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND  FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

of  Mahomet,  wliicli  the  conqueror   sent   to   the   Pope  with 
these  words,  ' '  I  came,  I  saw :  God  hath  conquered. ' ' 

— Sir  E.  Cust. 


THE  SIEGE  OF  VIENNA. 

How  long,  O  lyord,  shall  vengeance  sleep, 
And  impious  pride  defy  Thy  rod  ? 

How  long  Thy  faithful  servants  weep, 

Scourged  by  the  fierce  barbaric  host? 
Where,  where,  of  Thine  Almighty  arm,  O  God, 

Where  is  the  ancient  boast  ? 
While  Tartar  brands  are  drawn  to  steep 

Thy  fairest  plains  in  Christian  gore, 
Why  slumbers  Thy  devouring  wrath. 
Nor  sweeps  the  offender  from  Thy  path? 

And  wilt  Thou  hear  Thy  sons  deplore 

Thy  temples  rifled — shrines  no  more — 
Nor  burst  their  galling  chains  asunder. 
And  arm  Thee  with  avenging  thunder? 

See  the  black  cloud  on  Austria  lower, 
Big  with  terror,  death  and  woe  ! 

Behold  the  wild  barbarians  pour 
In  rushing  torrents  o'er  the  land ! 
lyO  !  host  on  host,  the  infidel  foe 
Sweep  along  the  Danube's  strand. 
And  darkly-serried  spears  the  light  of  day  o'erpower ! 

There  the  innumerable  swords, 
The  banners  of  the  East  unite  ; 
All  Asia  girds  her  loins  for  fight : 

The  Don's  barbaric  lords, 

Sarmatia's  haughty  hordes, 
Warriors  from  Thrace,  and  many  a  swarthy  file 
Banded  on  Syria's  plains  or  by  the  Nile. 

Mark  the  tide  of  blood  that  flows 
Within  Vienna's  proud  imperial  walls! 

Beneath  a  thousand  deadly  blows, 
Dismayed,  enfeebled,  sunk,  subdued, 


JOHN  SOBIESKI.  249 

Austria's  queen  of  cities  falls. 
Vain  are  her  lofty  ramparts  to  elude 

The  fatal  triumph  of  her  foes ; 
IfO,  her  earth-fast  battlements 

Quiver  and  shake ;  hark  to  the  thrilling  cry 

Of  war  that  rends  the  sky, 
The  groans  of  death,  the  wild  laments. 
The  sob  of  trembling  innocents, 
Of  wildered  matrons,  pressing  to  their  breast 
All  which  they  feared  for  most  and  loved  the  best ! 


Thine  everlasting  hand 
Exalt,  O  Lord,  that  impious  man  may  learn 

How  frail  their  armor  to  withstand 
Th}'  power  —  the  power  of  God  supreme ! 
Let  Thy  consuming  vengeance  burn 
The  guilty  nations  with  its  beam  ! 

Bind  them  in  slavery's  iron  band, 
Or  as  the  scattered  dust  in  summer  flies 
Chased  by  the  raging  blast  of  heaven, 
Before  Thee  be  the  Thracians  driven  ! 

Let  trophied  columns  by  the  Danube  rise, 

And  bear  the  inscription  to  the  skies  : 
**  Warring  against  the  Christian  Jove  in  vain, 
Here  was  the  Ottoman  Typhoeus  slain  ! "  .  .  , 


If  Destiny  decree, 
If  Fate's  eternal  leaves  declare, 

That  Germany  shall  bend  the  knee 
Before  a  Turkish  despot's  nod. 
And  Ital}^  the  Moslem  yoke  shall  bear, 

I  bow  in  meek  humility, 
And  kiss  the  holy  rod. 

Conquer — if  such  Thy  will — 
Conquer  the  Scythian,  while  he  drains 
The  noblest  blood  from  Europe's  veins, 

And  Havoc  drinks  her  fill. 

We  yield  Thee  trembling  homage  still ; 
We  rest  in  Thy  command  secure  ; 
For  Thou  alone  art  just,  and  wise,  and  pure. 


250  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND  FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

But  shall  I  live  to  see  the  day 
When  Tartar  ploughs  Germanic  soil  divide, 

And  Arab  herdsmen  fearless  stray, 

And  watch  their  flocks  along  the  Rhine, 
Where  princely  cities  now  o'erlook  his  tide? 

The  Danube's  towers  no  longer  shine, 
For  hostile  flame  has  given  them  to  decay  : 

Shall  devastation  wider  spread 
Where  the  proud  ramparts  of  Vienna  swell, 
Shall  solitary  echo  dwell, 

And  human  footsteps  cease  to  tread  ? 

O  God,  avert  the  omen  dread  ! 
If  Heaven  the  sentence  did  record, 
Oh,  let  Thy  mercy  blot  the  fatal  word ! 


Hark  to  the  votive  hymn  resounding 
Through  the  temple's  cloistered  aisles  ! 

See,  the  sacred  shrine  surrounding. 

Perfumed  clouds  of  incense  rise ! 
The  Pontiff  opes  the  stately  piles 

Where  many  a  buried  treasure  lies ; 
With  liberal  hand,  rich,  full,  abounding. 

He  pours  abroad  the  gold  of  Rome ; 
He  summons  every  Christian  king 
Against  the  Moslem  in  to  bring 

Their  forces  leagued  for  Christendom : 

The  brave  Teutonic  nations  come, 
And  warlike  Poles  like  thunderbolts  descend. 
Moved  by  his  voice  their  brethren  to  defend. 


He  stands  upon  the  Esquiline, 
And  lifts  to  heaven  his  holy  arm, 

lyike  Moses,  clothed  in  power  divine. 

While  faith  and  hope  his  strength  sustain. 
Merciful  God !  has  prayer  no  charm 

Thy  rage  to  soothe,  Thy  love  to  gain  ? 
The  pious  king  of  Judah's  line 

Beneath  Thine  anger  lowly  bended. 
And  Thou  didst  give  him  added  years  ; 
The  Assyrian  Nineveh  shed  tears 


JOHN  SOBIESKI,  25 1 

Of  humbled  pride  when  death  impended, 

And  thus  the  fatal  curse  forefended  : 
And  wilt  Thou  turn  away  Thy  face 
When  Heaven's  vicegerent  seeks  Thy  grace? 

Sacred  fury  fires  my  breast, 
And  fills  my  laboring  soul. 

Ye  who  hold  the  lance  in  rest, 

And  gird  j'ou  for  the  holy  wars, 
On,  on,  like  ocean  waves  to  conquest  roll, 

Christ  and  the  Cross  your  leading  star ! 
Already  He  proclaims  your  prowess  blest : 

Sound  the  loud  trump  of  victory  ! 
Rush  to  the  combat,  soldiers  of  the  Cross ! 
High  let  5'our  banners  triumphantly  toss : 

For  the  heathen  shall  perish,  and  songs  of  the  free 

Ring  through  the  heavens  in  jubilee  ! 
Why  delay  ye  ?     Buckle  on  the  sword  and  the  targe. 
And  charge,  victorious  champions,  charge  ! 

— V.    DA   FiLICAJA. 


STANISLAUS  PONIATOWSKI, 
who  became  the  last  King  of  Po- 
land, was  born  at  Wolczyn,  an 
estate  in  Lithuania,  in  1732.  He 
was  the  third  son  of  Count  Stanis- 
laus Poniatowski,  and  of  the  Prin- 
cess Czartoryska.  He  received  an 
excellent  education,  and  improved 
the  advantages  obtained  from  it 
by  his  subsequent  travels  in  the 
principal  parts  of  Europe.  Sir 
Hanbury  Williams,  English  min- 
ister to  the  Court  of  Poland,  be- 
came a  warm  friend  of  this  young  nobleman,  and,  when 
appointed  British  minister  to  the  Court  of  Russia,  persuaded 
Poniatowski  to  accompany  him  to  St.  Petersburg.  Here  the 
accomplished  gallant  won  the  favor  of  the  licentious  Grand- 
duchess  of  Russia,  afterwards  Catherine  IL ,  and  the  English 
minister  promoted  the  liaison.  This  circumstance,  and  the 
influence  of  the  Czartoryskis,  secured  the  appointment  of  Po- 
niatowski as  Polish  Ambassador  at  St.  Petersburg,  where  he 
continued  his  intrigue  with  the  Grand-duchess. 

Poland,  in  its  degeneracy,  had  been  for  some  time  regarded 
by  Russia  as  a  tributary  province.  On  the  death  of  Augustus 
II.,  in  1764,  the  Grand-duchess,  who  was  now  the  Empress 
Catherine  II.,  compelled  the  Diet  to  elect  Stanislaus  Ponia- 
towski as  king,  under  the  title  of  Stanislaus  Augustus.  The 
plan  for  the  dismemberment  of  Poland  was  first  suggested  by 
Catherine ;  but  Prussia  and  Austria  readily  enough  embraced 
it,  though  all  these  kingdoms,  at  different  periods,  owed  much 
252 


PONIATOWSKI.  253 

of  their  g:lory,  and  even  their  very  existence,  to  the  country 
which  they  thus  resolved  to  destroy.  A  great  proportion 
of  Poland  was  appropriated  by  these  sovereign  robbers,  and  a 
treaty  to  this  effect  was  signed  by  their  plenipotentiaries  at 
St.  Petersburg,  in  February,  1772.  The  partitioning  powers 
having  forced  the  Poles  to  call  a  meeting  of  the  Diet,  threat- 
ened, if  the  treaty  of  dismemberment  was  not  unanimously 
sanctioned,  as  the  Polish  Constitution  required  for  all  impor- 
tant acts,  that  the  whole  kingdom  should  immediately  be  laid 
under  martial  law,  and  be  treated  as  a  conquered  State.  The 
glory  of  Poland  was  past ;  and  though  some  of  the  nobles, 
rather  than  be  the  instruments  of  bringing  their  country  to 
ruin,  chose  to  spend  their  days  in  exile  and  poverty,  the  mea- 
sure was  at  length  agreed  to.  Stanislaus  himself,  after  being 
threatened  with  deposition  and  imprisonment,  was  prevailed 
upon  to  sanction  it. 

A  large  portion  of  the  eastern  provinces  was  seized  by 
Russia  ;  Austria  appropriated  a  fertile  tract  on  the  south-west ; 
while  Prussia  acquired  a  commercial  district  in  the  north- 
west, including  the  lower  parts  of  the  Vistula.  Poland  was 
thus  robbed  of  70,000  square  miles,  or  about  a  fourth  of  her 
whole  territory.  Stanislaus,  thus  deprived  of  a  great  part  of 
his  dominions,  did  not,  however,  give  way  to  unavailing  sor- 
row ;  he  exerted  himself  strenuously  to  promote  the  happiness 
and  prosperity  of  that  portion  which  was  left  him.  Poland 
had  been  too  long  the  scene  of  anarchy  and  opposition  to  be 
easily  reduced  to  obedience  and  tranquillity.  A  few  of  the 
nobles,  irritated  by  his  requiring  the  sacrifice  of  some  of  their 
excessive  privileges,  repaired  to  the  Court  of  St.  Petersburg. 
Their  representations  concurred  with  the  ambitious  views 
of  the  Empress,  and  she  immediately  dispatched  an  army 
into  Poland,  under  the  pretext  of  guaranteeing  the  Consti- 
tution as  established  in  1772.  A  fierce  struggle  ensued.  In 
vain.  Prince  Poniatowski,  general  of  the  army  and  nephew 
of  the  King,  supported  by  the  intrepid  Kosciusko,  performed 
prodigies  of  valor.  Catherine  was  almost  everywhere  trium- 
phant. Stanislaus  received  a  letter  from  her,  threatening  to 
double  or  triple  her  forces,  unless  he  yielded,  and  this  induced 
that  weak  monarch,  who  had  little  control  of  his  own  fate  or 


254  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

of  that  of  his  country,  to  surrender  at  discretion.  He  was 
removed  to  Grodno,  to  await  the  determination  of  the 
Empress. 

Russia  and  Prussia  issued  a  manifesto,  declaring  that,  to 
remove  from  their  respective  frontiers  the  dangerous  influence 
of  the  anarchical  principles  recently  proclaimed  in  Poland, 
they  had  resolved  to  unite  to  their  dominions  several  of  the 
provinces  of  that  kingdom.  The  Constitution  of  1791  was 
ordered  to  be  annulled,  and  every  paper  relative  to  it  to  be 
delivered  up.  These  orders  the  Council  hesitated  to  obey. 
Russia  at  once  ordered  them  to  reduce  their  military  force  to 
16,000  men.  The  army  was  as  inflexible  and  patriotic  as  the 
Council.  The  sword  was  again  imsheathed.  The  gallant 
Madalinsky  and  the  brave  Kosciusko  successively  led  the 
Poles;  but  on  the  19th  of  October,  1794,  the  Russians  gained 
a  signal  victory,  Kosciusko  himself  being  dreadfully  wounded 
and  taken  prisoner. 

Stanislaus,  who  had  all  this  while  remained  in  his  capital, 
was  at  length  removed  to  Grodno  a  second  time,  where  he 
signed  the  abdication  of  his  throne,  which  step  he  is  said  to 
have  been  induced  to  adopt  by  the  promise  of  the  payment 
of  his  private  debts.  From  Grodno  he  was  removed  to  St. 
Petersburg,  and  a  large  pension  was  assigned  him  by  the  Czar 
Paul,  who  treated  him  with  great  kindness  in  many  respects, 
but  required  him  to  assist  at  his  coronation  at  Moscow.  He 
died  at  St.  Petersburg  in  February,  1798,  and  was  buried  in 
the  Roman  Catholic  Church  of  that  capital. 

The  Last  King  of  Poland. 

The  young  Count  Poniatowski  saw  himself  raised  to  the 
throne  by  a  powerful  protection  ;  he  had  had  the  good  fortune, 
being  in  Petersburg,  to  gain  the  favor  of  Catharina  II.,  who 
resolved  absolutely  that  he  should  be  elected  King  of  Poland. 
But  it  was  not  merely  her  protege  that  she  had  in  view ; 
she  proposed  to  herself  to  have  an  influence  in  the  affairs 
of  Poland  conjointly  with  Prussia,  and  by  her  dangerous 
mediation  to  draw  a  great  party  in  her  train.  Catharina  made 
an  offer  to  the  Count  Poniatowski  of  one  hundred  thousand 


PONIATOWSKI.  255 

ducats,  wlilcli  were  delivered   by  lier  envoy  extraordinary, 
Prince  Repnin. 

All  was  under  arms  in  Poland,  and  the  country  was 
covered  with  foreign  troops.  Forty  thousand  Prussians  bor- 
dered the  frontiers,  and  ten  thousand  Russians,  divided  into 
two  bodies,  held  the  most  advantageous  posts  on  both  sides 
of  Warsaw.  Whilst  such  neighbors  spread  consternation 
there,  a  treasure  of  more  than  two  millions  of  Polish  guilders 
arrived  publicly  under  a  numerous  escort.  All  means  were 
combined,  money,  troops,  menaces,  promises,  intrigues  of 
every  kind,  all  in  this  cause  constantly  advanced  towards  a 
fixed  object.  On  the  contrary,  the  defenders  of  the  republic 
could  form  no  plan  ;  but  the  more  the  danger  increased,  the 
more  the  courage  of  those  who  wished  to  oppose  oppression 
appeared  to  take  new  energy.  The  Great  General  Czarto- 
ryiski  advanced  towards  Warsaw  with  a  numerous  military 
retinue,  which  might  be  considered  as  a  corps  of  the  army, 
among  which  were  three  hundred  Tartars  of  approved  bravery, 
whom  he  had  taken  into  his  service  in  the  last  war.  He 
abandoned  his  own  residence,  the  asylum  of  his  old  age,  as 
well  as  all  his  fortune,  to  pillage,  and  came  with  all  his  forces, 
resolved  to  bury  himself  under  the  ruins  of  the  republic, 
rather  than  to  permit  the  Russians  to  give  her  laws,  notwith- 
standinof  his  whole  familv  was  in  alliance  with  the  favorite 
of  Catharina.  He  hoped,  in  the  very  sight  of  the  foreign 
troops,  either  to  obtain  a  legitimate  Diet  or  to  prevent  any  to 
be  held,  and  by  his  resistance  to  give  an  opportunity  to  such 
of  the  European  powers  as  might  be  willing  to  oppose  the 
despotism  of  Russia.  He  was  attended  by  his  consort,  the 
sister  of  the  Count  Poniatowski.  A  cautious  prudence  guided 
the  difficult  course  that  she  had  to  pursue  ;  bound  by  tender- 
ness and  duty  to  the  two  parties  conspired  against  each  other, 
she  never  fell  under  the  suspicion  of  either. 

On  the  7th  of  May,  1764,  the  day  fixed  for  the  opening 
of  the  Diet  of  Convocation,  the  Russians,  at  the  break  of  day, 
rano-ed  themselves  in  order  of  battle  without  the  city ;  five 
hundred  grenadiers  were  under  arms  in  the  court  of  the  am- 
bassador of  Russia,  another  detachment  in  the  court  of  the 
Prince  Repnin,  a  body  of  cavalry  occupied  the  public  places, 


256  HISTORIC  CHARACTKRS  AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

sentinels  and  videttes  were  placed  in  all  the  cross-ways.  Po- 
niatowski  had  caused  to  be  made  some  embrasures  in  the  walls 
of  his  palace,  and  had  furnished  all  the  windows  with  soldiers. 
He  was  escorted  to  the  palace  of  the  republic  by  a  company 
of  guards.  More  than  two  thousand  men  of  the  troops  of  the 
house  of  Czartoryski  escorted  in  like  manner  the  principal 
chiefs,  his  partisans  and  allies ;  and  all  that  body,  in  order  to 
distinguish  themselves,  wore  a  cockade  of  the  color  of  this 
house. 

The  hall  of  the  Senators  and  that  of  the  Representatives 
were  both  filled  with  soldiers ;  some  were  placed  at  the  gates, 
others  in  the  public  gallery,  and  on  the  benches  designed  for 
the  Representatives.  By  this  formidable  preparation  they 
pretended  that  the  Diet  would  be  free.  They  invited  all  the 
Representatives  to  repair  thither ;  their  secret  agents  promised 
on  their  part  that  no  violence  should  be  committed,  and  that 
all  those  soldiers  were  present  only  for  the  safety  of  the  Count 
Poniatowski.  Notwithstanding  this  assurance,  their  party 
was  the  only  one  which  repaired  to  this  assembly.  Only 
eight  Senators  out  of  fifty  who  were  in  Warsaw  were  counted 
there. 

The  old  Count  Malachowski,  Marshal  of  the  preceding 
Diets,  was  to  open  the  sitting.  A  deputation,  which  they 
sent  to  him,  came  back  with  a  message  that  he  would  not 
delay.  Poniatowski,  impatient,  pretended  that  he  was  author- 
ized, in  the  absence  of  the  Marshal,  to  open  the  Diet ;  but  the 
ancient  usages  found  some  defenders.  They  represented  that 
they  could  not  inflict  on  this  virtuous  old  man,  who  had  so 
many  times  presided  over  the  national  assemblies,  such  an 
injury  as  not  to  wait  for  him.  During  this  interval,  General 
Mokranowski  took  upon  himself  the  regulation  of  the  public 
acts.  Mokranowski  was  counted  in  the  number  of  the  bravest 
Polanders.  This  general,  of  a  tall  stature  and  noble  figure, 
was  brought  up  in  the  violent  exercises  to  which  the  prodi- 
gious strength  of  the  King  Augustus  II.  had  accustomed  the 
young  nobility ;  he  could  strike  off  the  head  of  a  bull  by  a 
single  blow,  or  twist  in  his  finger  a  rod  of  iron.  In  the  cir- 
cumstances in  which  he  was  placed,  he  passed  alone  through 
the  whole  armed  multitude  that  surrounded  the  Diet ;  and  in 


PONIATOWSKI.  257 

the  castle  where  it  was  assembled,  he  recorded  with  his 
own  hand  a  manifesto  which  by  the  law  annulled  all  that 
violence  was  going  to  enact.  Having  finished  the  record,  he 
passed  a  second  time  through  that  crowd  of  soldiers ;  and  he 
went  to  look  for  the  old  Count  Malachowski,  in  order  to  bring 
him  to  the  Diet. 

During  this  time  an  envoy  from  the  Khan  of  Tartary  sur- 
veyed the  streets  and  suburbs  of  Warsaw  ;  he  saw  all  the  posts 
occupied  by  the  Russian  troops  ;  then  he  came  to  have  a 
public  audience  with  the  great  general,  at  which  all  the  oppo- 
nents of  the  ruling  parties  were  assembled,  "There  is  in 
Crimea,"  said  he,  "a  Russian  deputy  who  swears,  in  the 
name  of  his  sovereign,  that  Russia  has  not  a  single  soldier  in 
Poland.  I  have  been  sent  to  Poland  in  order  to  ascertain 
whether  that  assertion  is  true.  I  have  found  it  wholly  false. 
I  declare  to  you  that  my  master  has  a  hundred  thousand 
men,  and  more,  if  it  is  necessary,  for  the  service  of  the 
republic,  and  that  he  desires  that  she  may  remain  free  and 
undisturbed." 

Whilst  the  republicans  made  this  formal  opposition,  and 
it  gave  them  some  hope  against  the  actual  force  of  their 
adversaries,  these  last,  eager  to  begin  the  Diet,  after  waiting 
a  long  time,  saw  at  length  the  Marshal  appear,  accompanied 
by  Mokranowski,  Representative  of  Cracow,  both  of  whom 
were  respected  even  by  their  enemies.  The  Marshal,  vener- 
able for  his  great  age  and  his  virtue,  advanced  into  the  midst 
of  the  assembly,  stood  upright  there,  having  in  his  hand  the 
staff  of  his  dignity,  which  it  was  necessary  to  lift  up  for  open- 
ing the  Diet.  He  kept  it  reversed.  Mokranowski  having 
arrived  at  the  place  which  he  was  to  occupy  as  Representative, 
elevating  his  voice,  said  to  him:  "The  wise  foresight  of 
twenty-two  Senators  and  fort>'-five  Representatives  has  in- 
formed us  that  we  cannot  deliberate  upon  the  public  afiairs  ; 
here  is  their  manifesto,"  exhibiting  it  at  the  same  time.  "I 
beg  you,  then,  not  to  raise  the  staff,  seeing  that  the  Russian 
troops  are  in  the  kingdom,  and  surround  us ;  and  I  stop  the 
proceedings  of  the  Diet." 

At  these  words  the  multitude  of  soldiers  who  were  scat- 
tered in  the  hall  drew  their  sabres  and  rushed  towards  Mokra- 
IV— 17 


258  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND  FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

nowski.  Every  one  in  this  tumult  armed  himself  for  his 
own  defence,  and  this  movement  communicating  itself  with 
rapidity  in  the  hall,  in  the  courts,  and  in  the  streets,  caused 
everybody  to  arm  himself  with  sabre  or  pistols.  The  whole 
city,  uncertain  about  the  event,  and  in  expectation  of  a  mas- 
sacre, was  filled  with  horror. 

Already  the  lancers  who  guarded  the  four  gates  of  the  hall 
where  the  Diet  was  in  session,  had  closed  them,  whether  from 
fear  that  Mokranowski  might  be  assisted,  or  for  fear  that  the 
Representatives  might  disperse,  and  that  the  Diet  might  be 
broken  up.  All  the  chiefs  of  this  party  threw  themselves  before 
him,  in  order  to  retain  him  in  the  Diet,  and  to  form  around 
him  a  rampart  against  the  soldiery.  Whilst  they  with  diffi- 
culty succeeded  in  appeasing  the  tumult,  Mokranowski,  whose 
first  movement  had  been  to  draw  his  sabre  for  his  defence,  was 
the  first  to  replace  it  in  the  scabbard.  In  this  moment  of 
silence,  perceiving  some  Representatives  wearing  cockades, 
he  said  to  them  :  "  How  now,  gentlemen?  You  are  deputies 
of  your  country,  and  you  raise  the  flag  of  a  party." 

As  soon  as  this  tumult  was  appeased,  the  old  Malachowski, 
standing  in  the  midst  of  the  hall,  exclaimed:  "Gentlemen, 
seeing  that  liberty  is  no  more  among  us,  I  take  away  this 
staff,  and  I  will  not  lift  it  up  until  the  republic  shall  be  deliv- 
ered from  its  danger."  A  new  tumult  was  raised;  hundreds 
of  voices  cried  to  him  with  fury  to  elevate  the  staff  Mokra- 
nowski, with  a  voice  still  louder,  addressed  them  in  these 
words  :  "  You  cannot  open  the  Diet  in  presence  of  the  Rus- 
sians and  so  many  soldiers,  who  here  fill  the  place  of  our  bro- 
thers."  At  these  words,  all  the  soldiers,  with  drawn  swords, 
rushed  a  second  time  towards  him.  Some  from  the  height 
of  the  galleries  seemed  to  be  intent  on  piercing  him  ;  others 
endeavored  to  waylay  him  and  to  stab  him  in  the  crowd 
which  surrounded  him.  Those  who  protected  him  were  no 
longer  in  a  condition  to  defend  him,  and  sword-thrusts  passed 
between  them. 

The  chiefs  who  were  opposed  to  him  cried:  "Mokra- 
nowski, fall  back;  we  are  no  longer  masters — you  will 
perish!"  He  crossed  his  arms,  and,  looking  at  them  with 
tranquillity,  replied :  "  If  it  is  necessary  for  you  to  have  a 


PONIATOWSEI.  259 

victim — strike;  but  I  will  at  least  die  free,  as  I  have  lived." 
These  furious  soldiers  stood  astouished,  with  arms  hanging 
down.  Nature,  at  this  instant,  had  some  power  over  him,  and, 
seized  with  the  thought  that  he  was  going  to  be  torn  to  pieces, 
without  being  killed  on  the  spot,  he  exclaimed:  "Make 
haste — dispatch!"  But  whilst  the  horror  of  the  situation 
could  have  no  other  effect  upon  his  soul  than  to  make  him 
desire  a  speedy  death,  the  chiefs  of  the  Russian  party  trembled 
to  render  their  government  forever  odious  by  commencing  it 
with  the  massacre  of  a  republican  so  justly  esteemed.  They 
increased  their  efforts,  and,  all  joining  again,  succeeded  in 
appeasing  this  tumult. 

They  immediately  placed  themselves  at  the  side  of  the 
Marshal,  and  cried  out  to  him  to  deliver  up  the  staff,  seeing 
that  he  would  not  lift  it  up.  This  man,  of  such  an  advanced 
age  (he  was  eighty  years  old),  immovable  in  the  midst  of  this 
crowd,  said  to  them:  "You  may  cut  off  my  hand,  or  take 
my  life  ;  but  I  am  ^Marshal,  elected  by  a  free  people — I  cannot 
be  deposed  but  by  the  same.  I  will  retire. ' '  They  surrounded 
him ;  they  opposed  his  passage.  Mokranowski,  observing 
that  he  was  detained  by  violence,  cried  to  them,  "Gentlemen, 
respect  this  old  man  ;  let  him  go  out.  If  you  need  a  victim, 
here  am  I;  respect  old  age  and  virtue."  Then,  pushing  vio- 
lently those  by  whom  he  was  surrounded,  he  threw  himself 
into  another  crowd,  forced  it  to  give  way,  hurried  away  with 
him  those  who  resisted,  and  so  conducted  the  Marshal 
towards  one  of  the  gates.  The  soldiers  who  held  it  closed 
refused  to  let  them  pass,  but  their  chiefs  made  a  sign  to  them 
to  open  it.  Mokranowski  stopped  upon  the  threshold  and 
turned  towards  the  assembly,  sa}'ing  :  ' '  Your  people,  who  go 
to  see  the  IMarshal  carr>'  away  the  staff,  will  massacre  him." 
One  of  the  chiefs  resolved  to  accompany  him.  Mokranowski 
followed  them. 

As  they  advanced  to  the  midst  of  the  troops  by  which  the 
Diet  was  surrounded,  a  murmur  of  astonishment  and  rage 
arose  around  them.  The  rumor  of  their  actions  preceded 
them,  and  the  danger  became  as  great  as  in  the  Diet.  But  a 
young  man,  going  out  from  the  crowd,  put  himself  behind 
Mokranowski,  and,  tr}'ing  to  deceive  the  multitude,  called 


26o  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS   AND    FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

him  several  times  General  Gadomski — "Gentlemen,  tliis  is 
the  General  Gadomski ;  make  way  for  him,"  and  all  the  people 
to  whom  the  face  of  this  virtuous  citizen  was  unknown,  let 
him  pass  under  this  false  name.  He  passed  with  Maluski 
many  Russian  detachments,  in  order  to  arrive  at  the  palace 
of  the  great  general,  and  the  whole  city,  seeing  them  carry 
the  Marshal's  staff",  learned  that  the  Diet  was  broken  up. 

The  Chamber  of  Deputies  remained  in  astonishment  and 
silence.  The  couragfe  of  two  men  had  rendered  useless  all  this 
formidable  preparation.  According  to  the  ancient  custom, 
the  Diet  was  really  dissolved,  and,  although  all  the  deputies 
present  were  devoted  to  the  Czartoryski,  that  is  to  say,  rela- 
tions of  the  Count  Poniatowski,  or  connections  and  proteges 
of  his  family,  at  that  very  instant  eight  of  them  left  this 
assembly ;  all  the  others  were  plunged  into  a  melancholy 
grief.  Anxiety  on  account  of  what  they  had  just  done  secretly 
agitated  their  spirits.  They  feared  to  violate  that  ancient 
usage,  which  all  had  regarded  from  their  infancy,  as  their 
most  excellent  prerogative.  They  saw  that  all  the  provinces 
might  disown  the  authority  of  a  Diet  become  illegal,  and 
everybody  in  irresolution  waited  for  the  opinion  and  example 
of  those  to  whom  he  had  pledged  his  own  conscience  and 
voice. 

At  last  Poniatowski  called  on  the  deputies  who  were 
obliged  to  speak  first  to  give  their  votes  for  the  election  of  a 
Marshal.  They  named,  as  it  had  been  agreed  on  by  them, 
the  Prince  Adam  Czartoyski ;  and  this  assembly,  composed 
of  the  same  party,  announced,  at  this  first  sitting,  a  resolution 
that  the  Diet  was  not  by  any  means  to  be  regarded  as  broken 
up.  The  day  was  too  far  advanced  to  allow  the  Polish  repub- 
licans to  follow  the  project  which  they  had  formed  of  quitting 
Warsaw  that  very  evening.  The  night  passed  with  mutual 
precautions  ;  each  of  the  two  parties  watched  with  vigi- 
lance, the  republicans  preparing  themselves  to  set  out  at  day- 
break, and  the  Russians,  shutting  the  city  on  all  parts,  to 
prevent  their  departure.  The  next  day,  the  republicans 
being  assembled,  their  troops,  united  with  the  nobility,  formed 
about  three  thousand  men.  Their  opponents  wished  to  hin- 
der their  departure  ;  but  there  was  not  any  authority  in  the 


PONIATOWSKI.  261 

republic  which  was  able  to  oppose  it,  and  the  Russians  were 
ordered  to  avoid  everything  that  could  lead  to  a  battle. 
They  resolved  to  examine  the  determination  of  the  rej^ubli- 
cans,  and  to  try  if  it  would  suffice  (in  order  to  prevent  their 
departure),  to  raise  up  some  obstructions,  and  by  that  means 
to  show  them  their  unavoidable  danger.  The  agent  of  Russia 
came  to  beg  the  great  general  not  to  pass  in  sight  of  the  Rus- 
sian camp,  nor  within  the  reach  of  their  cannon. 

The  great  general  replied  that  he  would  not  inquire  where 
the  Russians  were,  and  that  he  would  pass  by  the  ordinary 
way.  Mokranowski  went  alone  to  the  Russian  ambassador, 
to  demand  an  explanation  of  this  message.  He  declared  to 
him  that  if  they  would  not  allow  the  Poles  to  pass,  whose 
design  was  to  retire,  they  would  force  the  passage  ;  and  he 
pledged  his  word  of  honor  that,  except  in  that  case,  they 
would  not  commit  any  hostility.  He  went  afterwards,  also 
alone,  to  the  camp  of  the  Russians  to  speak  to  the  Prince 
Repnin.  At  length,  the  word  being  given,  the  most  wise  pre- 
cautions were  taken  on  both  sides ;  no  one  of  Czartoryski's 
party  showed  himself ;  not  a  cockade  of  their  color  appeared 
on  this  road.  The  Russians  bordered  the  front  of  their  camp, 
and  held  themselves  under  arms,  their  generals  at  their  head, 
and  the  Count  Poniatowski  among  them.  The  troops  did  not 
salute  each  other  ;  the  Polish  and  the  Russian  pride  each  pre- 
serv^ed  its  character.  Poniatowski  could  not  restrain  his  tears, 
seeing  from  this  hostile  camp  his  sister,  the  Countess  Branicka, 
pass  before  him,  who  abandoned  the  metropolis  where  he  was 
going  to  reign,  under  the  protection  of  the  enemies  of  the 
country,  and  who  followed  her  husband,  the  generous  defender 
of  the  laws. 

The  Diet  continued  to  assemble  together,  and  very  much 
dissatisfied  with  the  party  which  was  opposed  to  it,  passed  a 
great  number  of  proscriptions.  Poniatowski  affected  to  be 
grieved  by  them.  In  a  very  crafty  speech,  he  complained 
that  the  republic  was  obliged  to  employ  force  in  this  manner 
against  her  chief  members.  He  went  so  far  as  to  lament  that 
the  capital  was  surrounded  and  filled  with  foreign  troops  ;  he 
said  that  the  good  citizens  might  be  alarmed,  but,  throwing 
himself  immediately  upon  the  virtues  of  the  Empress  of  Russia 


262  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS   AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

(Catharina  II.),  he  assured  them  that  her  troops  were  come  to 
maintain  peace,  to  restore  order,  to  hinder  the  citizens  from 
massacring  one  another ;  that  one  could  see  already,  in  the 
union  which  prevailed  in  that  assembly,  the  good  which 
resulted  from  their  presence  ;  he  proposed  that  the  Diet  should 
write  to  the  Empress,  to  return  thanks  to  this  princess  for  the 
service  which  she  had  rendered  to  the  republic.  This  propo- 
sition was  accepted  by  some  with  acclamations  of  flattery,  and 
by  others  with  a  fearful  submission. 

The  election  of  Poniatowski,  whose  project  had  an  appear- 
ance almost  chimerical,  being  on  the  point  of  accomplishment, 
all  obstacles  were  removed.  Finally,  on  the  /th  of  September, 
1764,  in  the  midst  of  all  the  ceremonies  prescribed  by  usage 
and  law,  the  Count  Poniatowski,  on  the  plain  of  Wola,  three 
miles  from  Warsaw,  was  elected  King  of  Poland  and  Grand 
Duke  of  Lithuania,  with  a  unanimous  voice,  by  the  nobility 
who  were  present  in  the  electoral  camp.  He  commenced  his 
reign  under  the  name  of  Stanislaus  Augustus,  at  the  age 
of  thirty-two  years.  He  was  crowned  the  26th  of  November, 
1764.  The  law  required  that  he  should  be  crowned  in  the 
Polish  dress,  but  this  law  was  infringed  by  Stanislaus  at  the 
very  time  of  the  ceremony  ;  it  was  necessary  to  have  the  head 
shaved,  according  to  the  ancient  usages  of  the  nation  ;  he  was 
required  to  make  a  sacrifice  of  his  long  black  hair,  which  he 
had  preserved  even  to  that  time  by  aid  of  the  French  dress 
which  had  been  admitted  at  the  court  under  the  last  reigns  ; 
but  even  the  reception  of  a  crown  could  not  induce  him  to 
make  such  a  sacrifice.  He  fancied  a  kind  of  theatrical  dress. 
He  dressed  his  head  with  a  helmet,  put  on  buskins,  and  in 
this  manner  presented  himself  for  the  august  ceremony  of  his 
coronation. 

This  nomination  and  this  result,  although  foreseen  for  a 
ofreat  while,  excited  in  Warsaw  an  almost  universal  discon- 
tent  and  violent  murmurs.  Many  palatines,  irritated  at  see- 
ing a  young  man  so  little  conspicuous  by  descent,  and  whose 
election  was  neither  justified  by  brilliant  actions  nor  by  great 
virtues,  asked  each  other  what  services  Poniatowski  had  ren- 
dered to  the  country  to  obtain  from  her  so  glorious  a  recom- 
pense.    He  had  qualities  better  suited  to  gain  for  him  the 


PONIATOWSKI. 


263 


friendship  of  a  queen  than  to  render  him  worthy  of  the  sceptre. 
Large,  well  made,  endowed  with  a  figure  altogether  imposing 
and  full  of  pleasantness,  he  spoke  and  wrote  the  seven  prin- 
cipal languages  of  Europe  with  much  facility  and  grace  ;  but 
he  had  only  a  slight  knowledge  of  affairs.  His  eloquence  was 
vague ;  his  presumption  was  disgusting.  Rather  prodigal 
than  generous,  he  could  easily  impose  upon  the  unreflecting, 
but  could  not  persuade  well-informed  men.  He  was  formed 
rather  to  allow  himself  to  be  governed  than  to  govern  himself 
In  the  meantime,  sustained  by  the  influence  and  arms  of 
Russia,  and  not  having  any  obstacle  to  fear  from  other  powers, 
his  triumph  was  not  long  doubtful.  The  selfishness  of  Catha- 
rina  was  concerned  in  this  triumph,  and  her  policy  was  ap- 
plauded by  it  still  more.  The  Empress  profited  by  her  ascen- 
dancy over  the  feeble  and  inconstant  spirit  of  this  new 
monarch  so  as  to  give  laws  to  the  Poles. 

Never  did  a  prince  ascend  the  throne  in  circumstances 
more  difficult  and  more  unhappy  than  those  in  which  Stanis- 
laus Augustus  began  to  reign.  Elected  king  against  the 
wish  of  a  greater  part  of  his  nation  ;  menaced  by  the  Turks, 
who  had  not  recognized  his  election  ;  a  foreign  army,  which 
was  his  only  support,  scattered  in  all  the  provinces  of  his 
kingdom,  could  receive  from  him  no  order,  although  seem- 
ingly bound  to  defend  him.  The  despotism  of  Catharina 
excited  the  Polish  nobility  and  provoked  some  seditious  move- 
ments ;  the  King,  placed  between  the  duty  which  he  owed  to 
his  subjects  and  the  obligation  which  he  had  contracted 
towards  his  benefactress,  sought  ineffectually  to  calm  these 
troubles  ;  shortly  after  he  saw  himself  the  object  of  hatred  to 
the  confederated  palatines  and  of  contempt  to  the  Cabinet  of 
St.  Petersburg. — J.  N.  Kryczynski. 


%^s 


JEAN  BAPTISTE  POQUE- 
LIN  was  born  in  Paris,  in 
1622,  where  his  father  was  a 
tapissier,"  or  upholsterer, 
holding  also  an  appointment 
as  valet-de-chambre  in  the 
royal  household.  Designed 
for  his  father's  trade,  he  was 
but  poorly  educated  until  he 
reached  the  age  of  fourteen  ; 
after  which,  having  been  in- 
spired by  his  grandfather  with  a  love  both  for  reading  and  for 
plays,  he  obtained  from  his  parents,  with  difficulty,  the  means 
of  studying  in  the  Jesuit  College  of  Clermont,  He  there 
attended  lectures  in  philosophy,  given  by  Pierre  Gassendi,  one 
of  the  most  learned  philosophers  of  the  time.  But  his 
father  becoming  infirm,  he,  in  his  nineteenth  year,  was 
obliged  to  officiate  for  him  in  the  royal  household,  and  he  at- 
tended lyouis  XIII.  to  Narbonne.  His  taste  for  the  drama 
was  now  confirmed  by  the  fashion  which  had  been  set  by 
Cardinal  Richelieu. 

On  his  return  to  Paris,  Poquelin  associated  with  a  company 
of  young  men,  who  played  in  the  suburbs  of  St.  Germain. 
Assuming  the  name  of  Moliere,  he  composed  several  short 
pieces  and  took  part  in  the  presentation  of  them  on  the  stage. 
At  length  he  joined  La  Bejart,  a  provincial  actress,  and  they 
formed  a  company,  which,  in  1653,  played  at  Lyons  his  first 
regular  comedy,  in  verse,  "  L'Etourdi."  This  proved  a  great 
success,  and  was  followed  by  "  Le  Depit  Amoureux,"  and 
' '  Les  Precieuses  Ridicules, ' '  first  exhibited  at  Beziers,  where 
264 


O 


MOLI^RE.  265 

MoHere  was  very  favorably  received  by  the  Prince  of  Conde, 
who  was  holding  the  States  of  Langnedoc.  He  next  visited 
Grenoble  and  Ronen,  and  from  the  latter  place  came  to  Paris 
under  the  protection  of  Gaston,  Duke  of  Orleans,  who  intro- 
duced him  to  Louis  XIV.  and  the  queen. 

Moliere  obtained  permission  to  open  a  theatre  in  the 
metropolis,  and  the  guard-room  in  the  old  palace  of  the 
Louvre  was  first  allotted  him  for  that  purpose.  In  1660  it 
was  changed  for  that  in  the  Palais  Rpyal,  and  in  1665  he  was 
placed  in  the  service  of  the  king.  He  continued  to  rise  in 
reputation  as  a  writer.  The  new  pieces  which  he  presented 
to  the  public  became  more  perfect  as  he  advanced  in  experi- 
ence and  observation.  By  the  general  consent  of  Europe,  he 
is  placed  at  the  head  of  that  genuine  comedy  which  has  for 
its  subject  the  ridiculous  in  character  and  manners.  His 
more  serious  compositions,  and  those  written  in  verse,  are,  by 
his  countr}'men,  esteemed  his  masterpieces,  especially  the  '  'Mis- 
anthrope," and  the  "  Tartu ffe."  The  latter  is  a  masterly 
exposure  of  religious  hypocrisy,  which  brought  upon  him 
great  clamor  from  the  courtly  pretenders  to  devotion,  who 
had  interest  sufficient  to  procure  from  the  Parliament  a  pro- 
hibition of  its  second  representation.  Some  time  after,  the 
Italian  comedians  having  performed  a  very  licentious  farce, 
entitled  "  Scaramouche  Hermite,"  Louis,  who  had  been  a 
spectator  of  it  with  the  Prince  of  Conde,  remarked,  "I  should 
be  glad  to  know  the  reason  why  those  who  are  so  much  scan- 
dalized with  Moliere' s  play  take  no  notice  of  this  'Scara- 
mouche.' "  "  Because,"  answered  Conde,  "the  latter  offends 
God  alone;  but  the  former  ofiends  the  hypocrites."  This 
temporary  prohibition  could  not  prevent  the  "Tartufife"  from 
taking  its  permanent  place  as  one  of  the  great  ornaments  of 
the  French  stage. 

Some  of  Moliere's  comedies,  such  as  "Le  Malade  Imagi- 
naire,"  "Le  Medecin  Malgre  Lui,"  "Le  Bourgeois  Gentil- 
homnie"  and  "  George  Dandin, "  notwithstanding  their  liveli- 
ness, are  chargeable  with  degenerating  into  broad  farce.  But 
his  comedies,  as  a  whole,  though  they  do  not  support  his  fame  at 
the  extravagant  height  to  which  his  countrymen  have  raised 
it,  are  yet  fully  sufficient  to  justify  his  rank  as  at  once  one  of 


266  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

the  most  brilliant  and  skillful  of  comic  dramatists,  and  as  the 
best  that  has  written  comedies  on  the  formal  French  model. 
Such  praise  especially  belongs  to  "L'Ecole  des  Femmes,"  in 
which  is  his  favorite  character  of  Agnes  ;  "  Le  Misanthrope  " 
and  "  L,e  TartufFe,"  already  mentioned;  "  Les  Femmes 
Savantes,"  in  which  groundless  pretensions  to  learning  are 
ridiculed  with  great  force  of  humor. 

In  1662  Moliere  married  the  daughter  of  the  actress  Bejart, 
who  followed  the  same  profession,  and  was  but  seventeen  years 
of  age.  Her  light-minded  coquetry  embittered  his  comfort, 
and  he  is  said  to  have  incurred  the  same  ridicule  that  he  so 
plentifully  bestowed  upon  poor  husbands  in  his  comedies.  It  is 
remarkable  that  his  death  was  the  immediate  consequence  of  his 
acting  the  principal  part  in  his  "  Le  Malade  Imaginaire." 
He  was  laboring  under  a  pulmonary  complaint,  and  was 
strongly  urged  by  his  wife,  and  Baron,  the  actor,  to  defer  the 
performance.  "What,"  exclaimed  Moliere,  "  must  then  be- 
come of  so  many  poor  people  who  depend  upon  it  for  their 
bread  ?  I  should  reproach  myself  for  having  neglected  a  sin- 
gle day  to  supply  them  with  necessaries."  He  exerted 
himself  on  the  stage  with  unusual  spirit,  and  his  efforts 
brought  on  the  rupture  of  a  blood-vessel,  by  which  he  was 
suffocated.  This  happened  in  February,  1673,  when  he  was 
fifty-one  years  of  age. 

Harlai,  the  Archbishop  of  Paris,  a  man  of  loose  morals, 
but  desirous  of  pleasing  the  rigorists  of  the  Church,  refused 
the  playwright  and  actor  Christian  burial,  and  the  King's 
authority  was  requisite  to  procure  him  private  interment  in  a 
chapel  of  the  church  of  St.  Eustache.  The  bigotry  of  the 
populace  impeded  even  this  obscure  ceremonial;  for  they  col- 
lected in  great  crowds  before  the  door  of  his  house  and 
would  not  suffer  the  funeral  to  proceed  till  money  had  been 
thrown  among  them.  Such  was  the  treatment  of  a  man  who 
was  an  honor  to  his  country,  and  who  will  ever  rank  among 
the  principal  ornaments  of  the  age  in  which  he  lived.  No 
one  was  more  sensible  of  his  merits  than  the  great  Conde,  who 
said  to  a  miserable  rhymer,  who  brought  him  an  epitaph  on 
Moliere,  "Would  to  heaven  he  had  presented  me  with 
thine!"      Five  years  later   the    French   Academy  erected 


MOLliiRE.  267 

IMoliere's  bust,  with  tlie  appropriate  line  from  Saurin : 
' '  Rieti  lie  manque  a  sa  gloire ;  il  maiiqiiait  a  la  notre. ' ' 
"  Nothing  is  wanting  to  his  glory  ;  he  was  wanting  to  ours." 
Moliere's  private  character  was,  in  many  respects,  estima- 
ble. He  was  kind,  obliging  and  generous.  Various  instances 
of  his  liberality  are  mentioned,  of  which  the  following  is, 
perhaps,  a  fair  example.  Having  one  day  given  to  a  beggar, 
by  mistake,  a  piece  of  gold,  which  was  at  once  returned  to 
him  by  the  poor  man,  "In  what  hole,"  said  the  poet,  "is 
virtue  going  to  hide  herself?  Here,  my  friend,  here  is  another 
for  your  honesty  !  "  ]\Ioliere  numbered  among  his  personal 
friends  not  only  men  of  wit,  but  some  of  the  greatest  courtiers 
of  France.  No  one  ever  united  more  pleasantry  in  dialogue 
and  incident  with  more  good  sense  and  penetration  in  select- 
ing just  subjects  for  comic  satire,  and  seizing  the  true  point  of 
the  ludicrous.  In  his  department  of  the  drama  he  was  not 
only  unsurpassed,  but  even  unapproached. 

"Tartuffe"  and  "The  Misanthrope." 

"Le  Tartuffe"  has  always  been  considered  the  masterpiece 
of  IMoliere.  In  this  play  the  author  had  undertaken  a  very 
difficult  and  delicate  task  ;  that  of  exposing  the  hypocrisy  of 
those  dangerous  impostors  who  would  make  use  of  the  out- 
ward forms  of  piety  and  religion  to  advance  their  fortunes  in 
the  world, — whose  vindictive  malice  is  the  more  to  be  feared 
in  that  they  fight  with  weapons  which  in  themselves  com- 
mand respect.  Of  such  men  there  were  but  too  many  at  the 
Court  of  Louis  XIV. ;  and  the  time  was  to  come  when  the 
king  himself  would  give  ear  to  the  false  teachers  on  whose 
tonmies  the  words  "les  interets  du  ciel"  were  a  formula  under 
which  they  worked  out  their  own  evil  designs  of  bigotry,  in- 
tolerance and  pride.  The  confounding  of  appearance  with 
reality,  the  circulation  of  the  false  coinage  of  cant,  for  the  true 
money  of  honest  striving  after  virtue  in  life  and  action — fanat- 
icism and  hypocrisy  quoting  Scripture  for  a  purpose,  and  pur- 
suing vile  and  selfish  ends  under  the  cloak  of  holiness — such 
was  the  vice  that  Moliere  dared  to  drag  into  the  daylight  in 
this  his  greatest  work. 


268  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVKNTS. 

The  first  three  acts  were  written  early  in  1664,  and  first 
played  in  May  of  that  year ;  and  so  startling  was  the  effect, 
and  so  many  were  the  remonstrances  addressed  to  the  king 
himself,  on  what  was  considered  by  the  Tartuffes  of  the  day  the 
unwarrantable  license  of  the  writer,  that  Louis  thought  it  best 
to  avoid  scandal  by  prohibiting  the  piece,  which  was  accord- 
ingly "shelved"  for  a  time.  In  another  piece,  "Le  Festin 
de  Pierre,"  the  plot  of  which  was  afterwards  used  for  Mozart's 
"Don  Giovanni,"  Moliere  takes  occasion  to  speak  his  mind 
against  the  hypocrites  who  moved  heaven  and  earth  to  prevent 
the  theatrical  exposure  they  feared.  "At  the  present  day," 
says  Don  Juan,  the  cynical  hero  of  the  "Festin  de  Pierre," 
"the  profession  of  a  hypocrite  has  marvelous  advantages.  It 
is  an  art  whose  imposture  is  always  respected;  and  though  it 
may  be  found  out,  no  one  dares  say  anything  against  it.  All 
other  vices  of  mankind  are  exposed  to  censure,  and  every  one 
has  full  license  to  attack  them  boldly  ;  but  hypocrisy  is  a 
privileged  vice,  whose  hand  shuts  every  one's  mouth,  and 
which  therefore  enjoys  a  sovereign  impunity." 

In  the  same  year  the  piece  was  privately  played  before  the 
king  and  several  of  the  royal  family  at  the  Prince  de  Conde's. 
Louis  had  far  too  much  discernment  not  to  see  through  the 
selfishness  that  animated  the  violent  faction  against  the  piece 
and  its  author.  Gradually  the  interdiction  was  removed,  after 
several  appeals  by  the  author  to  the  prince,  and  the  opponents 
of  the  piece  had  the  mortification  to  find,  when  the  "Tartuffe  " 
was  at  length  represented  in  public,  in  1667,  that  the  delay, 
and  the  difficulties  they  had  thrown  in  the  way,  had  only 
made  the  Parisians  more  eager  than  ever  to  see  it. 

"Tartuffe,"  or  the  "Impostor,"  brings  before  us  a  group 
of  thoroughly  lifelike  personages.  There  is  the  cheat  him- 
self, supple,  wary,  and  sanctimonious  ;  sour  and  starched  of 
aspect  towards  the  dependents  such  as  Dorine,  on  whom  he 
thinks  he  can  easily  make  an  impression  ;  but  assuming  an 
appearance  of  pious  resignation  and  unmerited  suffering  in 
the  presence  of  his  patron,  Orgon,  whom  he  dupes  most  egre- 
giously.  "  I  must  needs  mortify  myself,"  is  his  pious  ejacu- 
lation, when  he  is  called  upon  to  accept  the  nomination  as 
heir  to  all  his  patron's  property;  the  son  of  Orgon,  Damis, 


MOLIERE.  269 

having  been  disinherited  through  his  means.  To  Elmire,  the 
cool-headed  and  sensible  wife  of  Orgon,  he  appears  in  a  dif- 
ferent character.  Here  he  seems  to  know  that  all  his  art  will 
be  required  to  "make  the  worse  appear  the  better  reason,"  and 
pours  his  poisoned  sophistries  into  her  ear  with  the  subtlety 
of  Belial  himself.  "All  was  false  and  hollow,  for  his  thoughts 
were  low."  And  when  his  disguise  will  avail  him  no  longer, 
but  he  stands  detected  for  what  he  is,  he  flings  it  off  as  a  man 
would  drop  a  cloak,  and  stands  forth  in  his  true  colors,  brazen, 
vindictive  and  a  reprobate.  Then  at  the  very  last,  when 
justice  has  overtaken  him,  and  he  is  to  be  carried  off  to  prison, 
he  accepts  his  fate  without  a  word,  like  the  astute  rascal  he  is. 
He  has  played  his  miserable  game  to  the  end,  has  lost  it,  and 
has  doubtless  too  often  contemplated  the  penalty,  to  be  sur- 
prised into  outcry  when  it  comes. 

The  other  characters  are  drawn  with  wonderful  skill  and 
truth.  There  is  Madame  Pernelle,  the  old  mother  of  Orgon, 
opinionated  and  obstinate,  a  thick-and-thin  supporter  of  Tar- 
tuffe,  her  partisanship  sharpened  by  the  difficulty  she  finds  in 
replying  to  the  scornful  remonstrances  with  which  her  injudi- 
cious praise  of  her  hero  is  met  by  those  about  her.  There  is 
Orgon,  the  dupe,  so  infatuated  with  the  shameless  impostor, 
who  speaks  of  him  in  private  as  "a  man  to  be  led  by  the 
nose,"  that  the  coarsest  imposture  of  Tartuffe  is  received  by 
him  with  admiring  and  unquestioning  belief;  this  same  Orgon, 
too,  most  characteristically  declaring,  when  at  last  he  has  been 
convinced  of  his  error  by  the  evidence  of  his  own  eyes  and 
ears,  that  he  will  henceforth  and  forever  be  the  implacable  foe 
of  "all  religious  people" — thus  falling,  as  such  unreason- 
ing people  always  do,  from  one  extreme  into  the  other.  Then 
there  are  Elmire,  the  sensible  wife  of  Orgon,  quiet,  self-pos- 
sessed, with  woman's  wit  sufficiently  sharp  to  cut  through 
the  meshes  of  Tartuffe' s  net  of  falsehood,  without  any  un- 
necessary excitement  or  demonstration  of  anger ;  Damis,  the 
son  of  Orgon,  rash  and  impetuous,  proposing  to  counteract 
Tartuffe' s  schemes  of  vengeance  by  cutting  off  that  astute 
gentleman's  ears;  Valere  and  Marianne,  the  two  lovers,  who 
quarrel  and  make  friends  as  lovers  always  have  done  and 
always  will  do;  Dorine,  the  sharj),  loquacious  attendant,  who, 


270  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

hating  and  despising  Tartnffe,  takes  a  pleasure  in  shocking 
the  oily  knave's  sensibilities;  and  last,  not  least,  Cleante, 
Orgon's  brother-in-law,  with  his  honest,  manly  good  sense, 
and  his  quiet  but  eloquent  protest  against  the  shallow  pre- 
tenders who  would  build  up  a  reputation  and  a  fortune  for 
themselves  on  a  foundation  of  vain  words.  No  wonder  the 
hypocrites  fought  tooth  and  nail  against  the  representation  of 
the  play.  Never  had  the  mirror  been  held  up  to  nature  with 
better  effect ;  never  had  scorn  beheld  her  own  image  more 
completely. 

Before  the  play  of  "  The  Misanthrope  "  was  permitted  to 
rouse  the  laughter  and  admiration  of  the  capital,  Moliere's 
reputation  had  been  increased  by  other  works,  and  his  influence 
established  by  new  tokens  of  the  king's  favor.  His  company 
was  now  called  the  ' '  Troupe  du  roi, "  and  the  poet  and  his  chief 
actors  were  pensioned.  It  was  also  understood  that  whoever 
showed  any  superciliousness  or  scorn  with  regard  to  Moliere 
stood  a  good  chance  of  incurring  the  displeasure  of  his  master  ; 
and  the  Court  of  Louis  XIV.  was  not  so  unlike  other  courts  of 
all  times  and  countries  as  to  fail  in  courtesy  and  offers  of  service 
to  one  whom  the  monarch  had  distinguished  by  his  especial 
notice.  It  was  under  very  favorable  circumstances  that  "Le 
Misanthrope,"  Moliere's  chief  work  in  1665,  was  produced 
early  in  the  next  year. 

In  this  admirable  comedy  the  author  gives  us,  in  the  chief 
character,  a  man  who,  thoroughly  honest  and  straightforward, 
incapable  of  subterfuge  or  deceit,  falls  into  the  error  of  expect- 
ing too  much  from  poor  human  nature.  Though  he  might 
in  one  sense  say  with  Timon,  "I  am  misanthropos,  and  hate 
mankind,"  Alceste,  the  hero,  is  a  man-hater  of  the  most  pol- 
ished type — a  finished  gentleman  ;  indeed,  like  all  the  chief 
characters  in  the  play,  he  is  to  a  certain  extent  drawn  from 
the  life.  He  is  in  a  continual  state  of  disgust  and  anger  at 
the  duplicity  and  false-heartedness  of  the  fine  gentlemen  and 
ladies  who  surround  him;  and  with  the  petulance  of  an  angry 
man  sets  up  an  impossible  ideal,  insisting  that  a  man  of  honor 
ought,  on  each  and  every  occasion,  to  say  exactly  what  he 
means,  and  lay  bare  his  innermost  thoughts;  that  the  conven- 
tional language  of  compliment  prevalent  in  polite  society  is 


MOUERE.  271 

SO  much  deception  and  fraud,  against  wliicli  every  honest  man 
should  steadily  set  his  face.  He  has  a  lawsuit  pending,  but 
will  take  no  steps  to  procure  a  favorable  verdict.  No — his 
cause  is  good,  and  should  therefore  recommend  itself  to  every 
just  judge,  without  external  aid ;  if  judgment  goes  against 
him,  so  much  the  worse  for  those  degraded  beings  who  fail  to 
see  that  his  opponents  are  rogues.  His  friend  Philinte  laugh- 
ingly suggests  that  it  may  be  sometimes  highly  inconvenient 
to  speak  out  one's  thoughts  without  reserve;  but  Alceste  will 
not  allow  a  cause  for  reticence  anywhere.  "Would  you  tell 
old  Eniilie  that  she's  too  old  to  play  the  pretty  girl,  and  that 
she  paints  her  face  till  she  makes  herself  ridiculous?"  "Yes." 
"Would  you  tell  Dorilas  that  he's  a  bore,  and  tires  everybody 
with  his  long  stories  about  the  glory  of  his  ancestors?" 
"Decidedly." 

But,  alas  for  human  virtue  and  determination !  Alceste, 
the  frigid  stickler  for  frankness  and  sincerity,  is  fascinated  by 
the  beauty  and  grace  of  Celimene,  a  young  widow  who  has 
the  very  faults  against  which  he  is  most  bitter.  She  is  a 
coquette,  extravagantly  fond  of  admiration,  quite  unworthy 
of  the  honest  gentleman  whom  she  has  entangled — she  must 
have  been  very  like  Armande  Bejart,  the  poet's  young  wife;  but 
Alceste  cannot  escape  from  her  influence.  "It  is  for  my  sins 
that  I  love  you  thus,"  he  angrily  exclaims,  chafing  at  his  own 
weakness;  but  she  makes  him  do  as  she  likes.  He  declares 
he  will  have  an  explanation  with  her,  and  she  laughs  at  him; 
he  threatens  to  leave  her,  and  she  commands  him  to  stay 
where  he  is ;  he  persists,  and  she  tells  him  he  may  go;  where- 
upon he  stops. 

Philinte,  the  good-natured  philosopher,  is  a  capital  foil  to 
Alceste,  with  whom  he  expostulates  with  admirable  patience. 
"I  take  pleasantly  men  as  they  are,"  is  his  very  sensible 
motto.  He  is  exceedingly  tolerant,  and  considers  it  just  as 
natural  that  men  should  be  selfish  and  unjust,  as  that  apes 
should  be  mischievous,  vultures  hungry,  and  wolves  savage 
and  wild.  Sometimes,  certainly,  he  goes  too  far  in  his  spirit 
of  toleration,  as,  for  instance,  where  he  compliments  the  con- 
ceited Oronte  upon  a  sonnet  which  Alceste,  whose  opinion  is 
asked  by  the  self-sufi5cient  author,  feels  compelled  to  pro- 


272  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS   AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

nounce  trashy  and  bad.  This  Oronte  is  another  capital  char- 
acter; a  man  of  the  world  and  a  courtier,  profuse  of  words  that 
mean  nothing,  greedy  of  praise,  and  unable  to  endure  the 
frankness  of  a  man  whom  he  has  himself  exhorted  to  speak 
out.  Two  coxcombs  of  marquises — Moliere  was  somewhat 
given  to  poke  fun  at  the  marquises — help  to  carry  off  the  dia- 
logue, which  is  sparkling  and  brilliant  throughout ;  and  not 
the  least  successful  among  the  character  sketches  is  that  of 
Arsinoe,  the  prude,  who  comes  to  Celimene  with  a  budget  of 
good  advice  and  a  heart  full  of  envy  and  spite,  and  is  utterly 
routed  and  put  to  confusion  by  that  saucy  beauty.  The  read- 
ing of  a  letter  in  which  the  satirical  Celimene  has  turned  her 
various  admirers  severally  into  ridicule  in  a  manner  which 
causes  her  to  lose  them  all,  appropriately  concludes  the  play. 
Moliere  considered  "Le  Misanthrope"  as  one  of  his  best 
productions,  and  refused  to  alter  a  passage  even  at  the  siigges- 
tion  of  a  royal  princess.  His  dedications  to  the  King  and  his 
other  lofty  patrons  were  sometimes  obsequious,  according  to 
the  fashion  of  the  time;  but  his  work  was  more  to  him  than 
even  the  royal  favor,  and  where  he  felt  he  was  right  he  main- 
tained his  opinion  valiantly. — H.  W.  Dulcken. 

Extracts  from  Tartuffe. 

I.     The;  Dupe. 

Cleante, — Was  ever  such  a  whim  heard  of  before?  Is  it 
possible  that  you  should  be  so  infatuated  with  a  man  as  to 
forget  everything  for  him?  And,  after  having  saved  him 
from  want,  that  you  should  come  to 

Orgon. — Not  a  word  more,  brother,  for  you  do  not  know 
the  man  you  are  speaking  of 

Cle. — I  do  not  know  him,  if  you  like,  but  in  order  to  see 
what  kind  of  a  man  he  is 

Org. — Brother,  you  would  be  delighted  with  him  if  you 
knew  him,  and  you  would  never  get  over  your  wonder.  He 
is  a  man  who  ...  ah  !  a  man  ...  in  short,  a  man.  Who- 
ever carefully  follows  his  precepts  lives  in  a  most  profound 
peace,  and  all  the  rest  of  the  world  is  but  dross  to  him.  Yes, 
I  am  quite  another  man  since  I  became  acquainted  with  him. 
He  teaches  me  to  have  no  affection  for  anybody ;  he  detaches 


MOLIERE.  273 

my  heart  from  all  the  ties  of  this  world  ;  and  I  should  see  my 
brother,  children,  mother,  and  wife  die,  without  caring 
about  it. 

CIL — Humane  feelings  these,  brother  ! 

Org. — Ah !  if  you  had  only  seen  him  when  I  first  met 
him,  }'ou  would  feel  for  him  the  same  love  that  I  have.  He 
came  every  day  to  church,  and  with  gentle  looks  knelt  down 
straight  before  me  on  both  his  knees.  He  attracted  the  atten- 
tion of  the  whole  congregation  by  the  ardor  with  which, 
wrapped  in  saintly  ecstasy,  he  sent  up  his  prayer  to  Heaven. 
He  sighed  deeply,  and  every  moment  humbly  kissed  the 
ground.  When  I  went  out,  he  would  steal  quickly  before  me 
to  offer  me  holy  water  at  the  door.  Having  heard  through 
his  servant,  who  imitates  him  in  everything,  of  his  poverty 
and  who  he  is,  I  made  him  small  presents ;  but  he,  with  the 
greatest  modesty,  always  returned  me  part  of  it.  "It  is  too 
much,"  he  would  say,  "too  much  by  half;  I  do  not  deserve 
your  pity;"  and  when  I  refused  to  take  it  back  again,  he 
went,  before  my  eyes,  to  distribute  it  to  the  poor.  At  last 
Heaven  moved  me  to  take  him  into  my  house,  and  since  then 
everything  has  been  prospering  here.  I  see  that  he  reproves 
everything,  and,  with  regard  to  my  wife,  takes  extreme  care 
of  my  honor.  He  warns  me  of  the  people  who  cast  loving 
eyes  upon  her,  and  is  a  dozen  times  more  jealous  of  her  than 
I  am.  You  would  never  believe  how  far  he  carries  his  pious 
zeal.  He  accuses  himself  of  sin  for  the  smallest  thing  im- 
aginable ;  a  mere  trifle  is  enough  to  shock  him ;  so  much  so, 
that  the  other  day  he  blamed  himself  for  having  caught  a  flea 
while  at  his  prayers,  and  for  having  killed  it  with  too  much 
wrath. 

Cle. — You  are  crazy,  brother,  I  believe  !  Are  you  mocking 
me  with  such  stuff? 

2.    Poor  Man. 

Organ. — Well,  Dorine,  has  ever^^thing  been  going  on  as  it 
should  do  these  two  days  ?  How  do  they  all  do  ?  And  what 
have  they  been  about  ? 

Dorine. — My  mistress  was  ill  the  day  before  yesterday  with 
a  fever.     She  had  a  headache  quite  dreadful  to  think  of. 
IV— 18 


274  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

Orjr.— And  TartufFe  ? 

Dor. — Tartuflfe  !  Oh  he  is  wonderfully  well  ;  fat  and 
hearty,  with  a  fresh  complexion,  and  a  mouth  as  red  as  a  rose. 

Org, — Poor  man  ! 

Dor. — In  the  evening  my  mistress  was  taken  ill,  and 
couldn't  touch  a  bit  at  supper,  her  head  was  so  bad. 

Or^.— And  Tartu  fife  ? 

Dor. — Oh,  seeing  she  couldn't  eat,  he  ate  by  himself ;  and 
very  devoutly  swallowed  two  partridges,  with  a  good  half  of 
a  hashed  leg  of  mutton. 

Org. — Poor  man  ! 

Dor. — My  mistress  didn't  shut  her  eyes  all  night.  The 
fever  hindered  her  from  getting  a  wink  of  sleep  ;  so  that  we 
were  obliged  to  watch  by  her  till  morning. 

Or^.— And  Tartufife  ? 

Dor. — Tartufife,  happy  gentleman,  with  a  comfortable 
yawn,  goes  right  from  the  table  to  bed,  where  he  plunges  into 
his  warm  nest,  and  sleeps  soundly  till  morning. 

Org. — Poor  man. 

Dor. — At  last  we  prevailed  upon  Madame  to  be  bled,  which 
gave  her  great  relief. 

Org.—kxi^  Tartufife  ? 

Dor. — Monsieur  Tartuflfe  was  very  much  relieved  also.  He 
found  himself  charming  ;  and  to  repair  the  loss  of  blood  which 
Madame  had  sustained,  took  four  good  swigs  of  wine  with  his 
breakfast. 

Org. — Poor  man. 

Dor. — In  short,  they  are  both  very  well  now  ;  so  I'll  go 
and  tell  my  mistress  you  are  coming,  and  how  happy  you  are  to 
hear  she  is  recovered. 

3.    The  Villain, 

Tartiiffe. — May  Heaven,  in  its  mighty  goodness,  forever 
bestow  upon  you  health,  both  of  soul  and  body ;  and  bless 
yoiir  days  as  much  as  the  humblest  of  its  votaries  desires. 

Elmine. — I  am  much  obliged  for  this  pious  wish.  But  let 
me  take  a  seat,  to  be  more  at  ease. 

Tar. — Are  you  quite  recovered  of  your  indisposition? 

Ehn. — Quite  ;  that  fever  has  now  left  me. 


moivIEre;.  275 

Tar. — My  prayers  are  not  deserving  enough  to  have  drawn 
this  grace  from  above  ;  but  not  one  of  them  ascended  to 
Heaven  that  had  not  your  recovery  for  its  object. 

Elm. — You  are  too  anxious  in  your  zeal  for  me. 

Tar. — We  cannot  cherish  your  dear  health  too  much,  and 
to  re-establish  }-ours  I  would  have  given  mine. 

Elm. — That  is  pushing  Christian  charity  very  far,  and  I 
feel  much  indebted  to  you  for  all  this  kindness. 

Tar. — I  do  much  less  for  you  than  you  deserve. 

Elm. — I  wished  to  speak  to  you  in  private  about  a  certain 
matter,  and  I  am  glad  that  no  one  is  here  to  observe  us. 

Tar. — I  am  equally  delighted,  and  no  doubt  it  is  very 
pleasant,  IMadam,  to  fmd  myself  alone  with  you.  I  have 
often  asked  opportunity  from  Heaven,  but  till  now  in  vain. 

Elm. — What  I  wish  is  a  few  words  upon  a  small  matter,  in 
which  3'ou  must  lay  bare  your  heart,  and  conceal  nothing 
from  me. 

{Damts^  who  had  concealed  himself  in  a  closet^  half  opens 
the  door  and  liste7is. ) 

Tar. — And  I  will  also,  in  return  for  this  rare  favor,  un- 
bosom myself  entirely  to  you  ;  but  rather  from  a  passionate 
zeal  which  carries  me  away,  and  out  of  a  pure  motive. 

Elm. — That  is  how  I  take  it.  I  think  it  is  for  my  good 
that  you  trouble  yourself  so  much. 

[Tartiiffe  takes  her  hajid.) 

Elm. — Oh  !     You  squeeze  me  too  hard  ! 
Tar. — It   is   through   excess   of  zeal,     I   never  had  any 
intention  of  hurting  you,  and  would  sooner 

(fie places  his  hand  oti  her  knee.) 

Elm. — What  does  your  hand  there? 

Tar. — I  am  only  feeling  your  dress  ;  the  stuff  is  very  soft. 

Elm. — Oh  !  please  leave  off.     I  am  very  ticklish. 

{fie  puts  his  hand  to  her  collar.) 

Tar. — Bless  me  !  how  wonderful  is  the  workmanship 
of  this  lace  !  They  work  in  a  miraculous  manner  now-a- 
days.     Never  was  anything  so  beautifully  made. 

Ehn. — It  is  true.     But  let  us  have  some  talk  about  our 


276  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS   AND    FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

affair.     I  have  been  told  that  my  husband  wishes  to  retract 
his  promise,  and  give  you  his  daughter.    Is  it  true?    Tell  me. 

Tar. — He  has  hinted  something  to  me  ;  but,  to  tell  you 
the  truth.  Madam,  that  is  not  the  hapj^iness  for  which  I  am 
siofhinof.  I  behold  elsewhere  the  marvellous  attractions  of  that 
bliss  which  forms  the  height  of  my  wishes. 

Elm. — That  is  because  you  have  no  love  for  earthly 
things. 

Tar. — My  breast  does  not  contain  a  heart  of  flint. 

Elm. — I  believe  that  all  your  sighs  tend  towards  Heaven, 
and  that  nothing  here  below  rouses  your  desires. 

Tar.  — The  love  which  attaches  us  to  eternal  beauties  does 
not  stifle  in  us  the  love  of  earthly  things  ;  our  senses  may 
easily  be  charmed  by  the  perfect  works  which  Heaven  has 
created.  Its  reflected  loveliness  shines  forth  in  such  as  you  ; 
but  in  you  alone  it  displays  its  choicest  wonders.  It  has  dif- 
fused on  your  face  such  beauty  that  it  dazzles  the  eyes  and 
transports  the  heart  ;  nor  could  I  behold  you,  perfect  creature, 
without  admiring  in  you  Nature's  Author,  and  feeling  my 
heart  smitten  with  an  ardent  love  for  the  most  beautiful  of 
portraits,  wherein  He  has  represented  Himself  At  first  I 
feared  that  this  secret  ardor  might  be  nothing  but  a  cunning 
snare  of  the  foul  fiend,  and  my  heart  even  resolved  to  fly  your 
presence,  thinking  you  might  be  an  obstacle  to  my  salvation. 
But  at  last  I  found,  O  most  lovely  beauty,  that  my  passion 
could  not  be  blamable  ;  that  I  could  reconcile  it  with  modesty, 
and  this  made  me  freely  indulge  it.  It  is,  I  confess,  a  great 
presumption  in  me  to  dare  to  offer  you  this  heart ;  but  I 
expect  in  my  affections  everything  from  your  kindness,  and 
nothing  from  the  vain  efforts  of  my  own  weakness.  In  you 
is  my  hope,  my  happiness,  my  peace  ;  on  you  depends  my 
torment  or  my  bliss  ;  and  it  is  by  your  decision  solely  that  I 
must  be  happy  if  you  wish  it,  or  miserable  if  it  pleases  you. 

Elm. — Your  declaration  is  extremely  gallant ;  but  it  is,  to 
speak  truly,  rather  a  little  surprising.  Methinks  you  ought 
to  arm  your  heart  better,  and  to  reflect  a  little  upon  such  a 
design.  A  pious  man  like  you,  one  who  is  everywhere 
spoken  of 

Tar. — Ah  !  although  I  am  a  pious  man,  I  am  not  the  less 


MOLIKRE.  277 

a  man  ;  and  when  one  beholds  your  heavenly  charms,   the 
heart  surrenders,  and  reasons  no  longer. 

Eh)i. — But,  sir 

Tar. — I  know  that  such  discourse  from  me  must  appear 
strange.  But,  after  all,  Madam,  I  am  not  an  angel  ;  and  if 
my  confession  be  condemned  by  you,  you  must  blame  your 
own  attractions  for  it.  As  soon  as  I  beheld  this  more  than 
human  loveliness,  you  became  the  queen  of  my  soul.  The 
ineffable  sweetness  of  your  divine  glances  broke  down  the 
resistance  of  my  obstinate  heart ;  it  overcame  everything — 
fastings,  pra}-ers,  tears — and  led  all  my  desires  to  your  charms. 
My  looks  and  my  sighs  have  told  you  so  a  thousand  times, 
and  the  better  to  explain  myself,  I  now  make  use  of  words. 
If  you  should  graciously  contemplate  the  tribulations  of  your 
unworthy  slave  ;  if  your  kindness  would  console  me,  and  will 
condescend  to  my  insignificant  self,  I  shall  ever  entertain  for 
you,  O  miracle  of  sweetness,  an  unexampled  devotion.  Your 
honor  runs  not  the  slightest  risk  with  me,  and  need  not  fear 
the  least  disgrace  on  my  account.  All  these  court  gallants, 
of  whom  women  are  so  fond,  are  noisy  in  their  doings,  and 
vain  in  their  talk ;  they  are  incessantly  pluming  themselves 
on  their  successes,  and  they  receive  no  favors  which  they  do 
not  divulge.  Their  indiscreet  tongues,  in  which  people  con- 
fide, desecrate  the  altar  on  which  their  hearts  sacrifice.  But 
men  of  our  stamp  love  discreetly,  and  with  them  a  secret  is 
always  kept.  The  care  which  we  take  of  our  own  reputations 
is  a  sufficient  guarantee  for  the  object  of  our  love  ;  and  it  is 
only  with  us,  when  they  accept  our  hearts,  that  they  find  love 
without  scandal  and  pleasure  without  fear. 

Elm. — I  have  listened  to  what  3'ou  say,  and  your  rhetoric 
explains  itself  in  sufficiently  strong  terms  to  me.  But  are  you 
not  afraid  that  the  fancy  may  take  me  to  tell  my  husband  of 
this  gallant  ardor,  and  that  the  prompt  knowledge  of  such  an 
amour  might  well  change  the  friendship  which  he  bears  you  ? 

Tar. — I  know  that  you  are  too  gracious,  and  will  pardon 
my  boldness ;  that  you  will  excuse  the  violent  transports  of  a 
passion  which  offends  you  ;  and  consider,  by  looking  at  your- 
self, that  people  are  not  blind,  and  men  are  made  of  flesh  and 
blood. 


278  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND  FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

Ehn. — Others  would,  perhaps,  take  it  in  a  different  fashion ; 
but  I  shall  show  my  discretion.  I  shall  not  tell  the  matter  to 
my  husband.  But  in  return  I  require  something  of  you  :  that 
is  to  forward  honestly,  and  without  quibbling — the  union  of 
Valere  with  Mariane  ;  renounce  the  unjust  power  which  would 
enrich  you  with  what  belongs  to  another  and 

{Daniis  conies  out.) 

Damis. — No,  Madam,  no  ;  this  shall  be  made  public.  I 
was  in  there,  where  I  overheard  it  all  ;  and  Providence  seems 
to  have  conducted  me  thither  to  abash  the  pride  of  a  wretch 
who  wrongs  me  ;  to  point  out  a  way  to  take  vengeance  on  his 
hypocrisy  and  insolence  ;  to  undeceive  my  father,  and  to  show 
him  plainly  the  heart  of  a  villain  who  talks  to  you  of  love. 

Elm. — No,  Damis.  It  sufiices  that  he  reforms,  and  en- 
deavors to  deserve  my  indulgence.  Since  I  have  promised 
him,  do  not  make  me  break  my  word.  I  have  no  wish  to 
provoke  a  scandal.  A  woman  laughs  at  such  follies,  and 
never  troubles  her  husband's  ears  with  them. 

Dam. — You  have  your  reason  for  acting  in  that  way.  I 
have  mine  for  behaving  differently.  It's  a  farce  to  wish  to 
spare  him,  and  the  insolent  pride  of  his  bigotry  has  already 
trampled  too  much  over  my  just  anger,  and  caused  too  much 
disorder  amongst  us.  The  scoundrel  has  governed  my  father 
too  long,  and  plotted  against  my  affections  as  well  as  Valere' s. 
My  father  must  be  undeceived  about  this  perfidious  wretch, 
and  Heaven  offers  me  an  easy  means.  I  am  indebted  to  it  for 
this  opportunity,  and  it  is  too  favorable  to  be  neglected.  I 
should  deserve  to  have  it  snatched  away  from  me,  did  I  not 
make  use  of  it,  now  that  I  have  it  in  hand. 

Elm. — Damis 

Dam. — No  ;  by  your  leave,  I  will  use  my  own  judgment. 
I  am  highly  delighted,  and  all  you  can  say  will  be  in  vain  to 
make  me  forego  the  pleasure  of  revenge.  I  shall  settle  this 
affair  without  delay,  and  here  is  just  the  opportunity. 

{Enter  Orgoji.) 

Dam. — We  will  enliven  your  arrival,  father,  with  an  alto- 
gether fresh  incident  that  wnll  surprise  you  much.  You  are 
well  repaid  for  all  your  caresses,  and  this  gentleman  rewards 


MOLIERE.  279 

you  handsomely.  His  great  zeal  for  you  lias  just  sliown  itself. 
He  aims  at  nothing  less  than  dishonoring  you,  and  I  have  just 
surprised  him  making  to  your  wife  an  insulting  proposal  of  a 
guilty  passion.  Her  sweet  disposition  and  her  too  discreet 
feelings  would  by  all  means  have  kept  the  secret  from  you. 
But  I  cannot  encourage  such  insolence,  and  I  think  that  to 
have  been  silent  about  it  would  have  been  to  do  you  an 
injury. 

Elm. — Yes,  I  am  of  opinion  that  we  ought  never  to  trouble 
our  husband's  peace  with  all  these  silly  stories  ;  that  our  honor 
does  not  depend  upon  that,  and  that  it  is  enough  for  us  to  be 
able  to  defend  ourselves.  These  are  my  sentiments,  and  you 
would  have  said  nothing,  Daniis,  if  I  had  possessed  any  influ- 
ence with  you. 

Orgon. — What  have  I  heard  !    Oh,  Heavens  !  is  it  possible? 

Tar. — Yes,  brother,  I  am  a  guilty,  wretched  sinner,  full 
of  iniquity  :  the  greatest  villain  that  ever  existed.  Each  mo- 
ment of  my  life  is  replete  with  pollutions  :  it  is  but  a  mass 
of  crime  and  corruption  ;  and  I  see  that  Heaven,  to  chastise 
me,  intends  to  mortify  me  on  this  occasion.  Whatever  great 
crime  may  be  laid  to  my  charge,  I  have  neither  the  wish  nor 
the  pride  to  deny  it.  Believe  what  you  are  told ;  arm  your 
anger,  and  drive  me  like  a  criminal  from  your  house.  What- 
ever shame  you  may  heap  upon  me,  I  deserve  still  more. 

Org. — [To  his  so?i) — What!  wretch!  dare  you  by  this 
falsehood  tarnish  the  purity  of  his  virtue  ? 

Dam. — What !  shall  the  pretended  gentleness  of  this  hypo- 
crite make  you  believe 

Org. — Peace,  cursed  plague  ! 

Tar. — Ah  !  let  him  speak.  You  accuse  him  wrongly,  and 
you  had  much  better  believe  in  his  story.  Why  will  you  be 
so  favorable  to  me,  after  hearing  of  such  a  fact  ?  Are  you 
after  all  aware  of  what  I  am  capable  ?  Why  tnist  to  my  exte- 
rior, brother  ?  And  why,  despite  all  that  is  seen,  believe  me 
to  be  better  than  I  am  ?  No,  no,  you  allow  yourself  to  be 
deceived  by  appearances,  and  I  am,  alas  !  nothing  less  than 
what  they  think  me.  Every  one  takes  me  to  be  a  good  man, 
but  the  real  truth  is  that  I  am  very  worthless.  {To  Damis.) 
Yes,  my  dear  child,  say  on  ;  call  me  a  perfidious,  infamous, 


28o  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

lost  wretch,  a  thief,  a  murderer.  Load  me  with  still  more 
detestable  names  ;  I  shall  not  contradict  you.  I  have  deserved 
them,  and  am  willing  on  my  knees  to  sufifer  ignominy,  as  a 
disgrace  due  to  the  crimes  of  my  life. 

Org. — This  is  too  much,  brother.  {To  his  son.)  Does  not 
your  heart  relent,  wretch  ? 

Dani. — What !  shall  his  words  deceive  you  so  far  as  to — 

Org. — Hold  your  tongue,  you  hangdog  !  {To  Tartitffe.) 
Rise,  brother,  I  beseech  you.    {To  his  sou.)    Infamous  wretch  ! 

Daju. — He  cannot 

Org. — Hold  your  tongue  ! 

Dam. — I  am  bursting  with  rage.     What !    am  I  looked 


upon  as 

Org. — Say  another  word,  and  I  will  break  your  bones. 

Tar. — In  Heaven's  name,  brother,  don't  forget  yourself! 
I  would  rather  suffer  the  greatest  torments  than  that  he  should 
receive  the  slightest  hurt  for  my  sake. 

Org. — ( To  his  son. ) — Ungrateful  monster  ! 

Tar. — Leave  him  in  peace.  If  I  must  on  both  knees 
beseech  you  to  pardon  him 

Org. — Alas!  You  are  in  jest.  {To  his  soji.)  Behold  his 
goodness,  scoundrel  1 

Dam. — Thus 

Org. — Cease  I 

/?«;«.— What  !  I 


Org. — Peace,  I  tell  you  ;  I  know  too  well  the  motives 
of  your  attack.  You  all  hate  him  ;  and  I  now  perceive  wife, 
children,  and  servants,  all  let  loose  against  him.  Every  trick 
is  impudently  resorted  to,  to  remove  this  pious  person  from 
my  house ;  but  the  more  eflforts  they  put  forth  to  banish  him, 
the  more  shall  I  employ  to  keep  him.  And  I  shall  hasten  to 
give  him  my  daughter,  to  abash  the  pride  of  my  whole  family. 

Dam. — Do  you  mean  to  compel  her  to  accept  him? 

Otg. — Yes,  wretch  1  And  to  enrage  you — this  very  even- 
ing. I  defy  you  all,  and  shall  let  you  know  that  I  am  the 
master,  and  I  will  be  obeyed.  Come,  retract ;  throw  yourself 
at  his  feet  immediately,  you  scoundrel,  and  beg  his  pardon. 

Dam. — What  !  I  at  the  feet  of  this  rascal,  who,  by  his 
impostures 


MOLIiCRE.  281 

Org. — What !  you  resist,  you  beggar  !  and  insult  liim 
besides  !  {To  Tariuffe.)  A  cudgel  !  a  cudgel  !  Do  not  hold 
me  back  !  {To  his  son.)  Out  of  my  house  this  miuute,  and 
never  dare  to  come  back  to  it  ! 

JDain. — Yes,  I  shall  go  ;  but 

Org. — Quick  !  leave  the  place  !  I  disinherit  you,  you 
hangdog,  and  give  you  my  curse  besides. 

{Exit  Damis. ) 

Org. — To  offend  a  saintly  person  in  that  way ! 

Tar. — Forgive  him,  O  Heaven  !  the  pang  he  causes  me. 
Could  you  but  know  my  grief  at  seeing  myself  blackened  in 
my  brother's  sight 

Org. — Alas  ! 

Tar. — The  XQvy  thought  of  his  ingratitude  tortures  my 
soul  to  that  extent.  The  horror  I  conceive  of  it.  My  heart  is 
so  oppressed  that  I  cannot  speak,  and  I  believe  it  will  be  my 
death. 

Org. — {RiisJiing  to  the  door  by  which  his  so?i  had  disap- 
peared.)— Scoundrel  !  I  am  sorry  my  hand  has  spared  you, 
and  not  knocked  you  down  on  the  spot.  {To  Tartiiffe.) — 
Compose  yourself,  brother,  and  do  not  grieve. 

Tar. — Let  us  put  an  end  to  these  sad  disputes.  I  perceive 
what  troubles  I  cause  in  this  house,  and  think  it  necessary, 
brother,  that  I  should  leave  it. 

Org. — What  !     You  are  jesting,  surely. 

Tar. — They  hate  me  !  and  I  find  that  they  are  trying  to 
make  you  suspect  my  integrity. 

Org. — What  does  it  matter?     Do  you  think  that  in  my 
heart  I  listen  to  them  ? 

Tar. — They  will  not  fail  to  continue,  you  may  be  sure  ; 
and  these  self-same  stories  which  you  now  reject  may  perhaps 
be  listened  to  at  another  time. 

Org. — No,  brother,  never. 

Tar. — iVh  !  brother,  a  wife  may  easily  impose  upon  a 
husband. 

Org. — No,  no. 

Tar. — Allow  me,  by  removing  myself  promptly,  to  deprive 
them  of  all  subject  of  attack. 

Org. — No,  you  shall  remain  ;  my  life  depends  upon  it. 


282 


HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 


Tar. — Well,  then,  I  must  mortify  myself.  If,  however, 
you  would 

O/-^.— Ah  ! 

Tar. — Be  it  so  ;  let  us  say  no  more  about  it.  But  I  know 
how  to  manage  in  this.  Honor  is  a  tender  thing,  and  friend- 
ship enjoins  me  to  prevent  reports  and  causes  for  suspicion. 
I  shall  shun  your  wife,  and  you  shall  not  see  me 

Org. — No.  In  spite  of  all,  you  shall  frequently  be  with 
her.  To  annoy  the  world  is  my  greatest  delight,  and  I  wish 
you  to  be  seen  with  her  at  all  times.  Nor  is  this  all.  I  will 
have  no  other  here  but  you,  and  I  am  going  forthwith  to  exe- 
cute a  formal  deed  of  gift  of  all  my  property  to  you.  A 
faithful  and  honest  friend,  whom  I  take  for  son-in-law,  is 
dearer  to  me  than  son,  wife,  and  kindred.  Will  you  not 
accept  what  I  propose  ? 

Tar. — The  will  of  Heaven  be  done  in  all  things  ! 

Org. — Poor  fellow  !  Quick  !  let  us  get  the  deed  drawn 
up,  and  then  let  envy  burst  itself  with  spite. 


■C^-, 


MIRABEAU. 


'wM///////m 


MIRABEAU  was  the  greatest 
statesman  of  the  French  Revo- 
hitionary  period.  He  presented 
the  only  plan  by  which  it  was 
possible  to  preserve  the  mon- 
archy, and  had  it  not  been  for 
the  blind  obstinacy  of  Marie 
Antoinette,  who  inherited  the 
soul  of  Maria  Theresa,  he  might 
have  been  able  to  repress  the 
rising  democracy  by  securing 
for  the  peoj)le  constitutional 
liberty  and  freedom  from  feudal  oppression. 

Honore  Gabriel  de  Riquetti,  Count  of  Mirabeau,  was  one 
of  the  greatest  orators  and  statesmen  France  has  ever  pro- 
duced. He  was  the  elder  surviving  son  of  Victor  Riquetti, 
Marquis  de  Mirabeau,  and  was  born  at  Bignon,  near  Nemours, 
March  9,  1749.  His  father  was  a  man  of  powerful  intellect 
and  violent  passions,  whose  hobby  was  political  economy. 
The  face  of  Honore  Gabriel  in  his  infancy  was  forever  dis- 
figured by  a  virulent  attack  of  small-pox.  His  early  education 
was  directed  by  his  father,  whose  peculiar  notions  of  strict 
discipline  caused  him  to  treat  his  son  with  extreme  and  per- 
sistent severity.  The  son  inherited  this  stormy,  passionate 
nature,  and  frank  and  ardent  temper.  The  perverse  educa- 
tional methods  of  his  father  were  most  pernicious.  To  use 
the  words  of  Carlyle,  ' '  Candid  history  will  say,  that  whatso- 
ever of  worst  it  was  in  the  power  of  art  to  do  against  this 
young  Gabriel  Honore,  was  done. ' ' 

283 


284  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS   EVKNTS. 

When  the  boy  was  about  fifteen  years  old,  his  whimsical 
father  changed  his  name  to  Pierre  Buffiere,  and  sent  him  to  a 
military  boarding-school  in  Paris.  In  this  school,  which  had 
Lagrange  for  its  professor  of  mathematics,  the  lad  studied 
ancient  and  modern  languages,  mathematics,  music,  fencing, 
and  other  accomplishments.  Leaving  school  in  1767,  young 
Mirabeau  entered  the  army  in  compliance  with  his  father's 
will.  He  soon  offended  the  colonel  of  his  regiment  by  gain- 
ing the  favor  of  a  lady  whom  the  colonel  courted.  For  such 
offences  his  domineering  father,  according  to  a  queer  custom 
of  the  times,  caused  him  to  be  imprisoned  in  the  Isle  of  Rhe 
by  a  lettre-de-cachet  in  1768.  This  amorous  intrigue  was  only 
the  first  of  a  series,  which  form  quite  a  voluminous  history. 

In  the  next  year  young  Mirabeau  obtained  liberty  to  serve 
against  Paoli,  in  Corsica,  where  he  gained  golden  opinions 
from  men  and  women ,  He  also  began  some  literary  work,  and 
for  his  services  was  made  a  captain  of  dragoons.  He  returned 
in  1770  to  France.  It  puzzled  the  Marquis  to  find  a  proper 
position  for  his  son,  whom  he  characterized  as  "a  library 
turned  topsy-turvy,"  a  whirlwind,  one  who  had  "snuffed  up 
all  formulas."  Yet  the  son,  obeying  the  wish  of  his  father, 
married  in  1772  Marie  Emilie  de  Covet,  a  daughter  of  the 
Marquis  de  Marignan,  and  became  a  resident  of  Aix.  Then 
when  he  again  provoked  the  ire  of  his  father,  the  young  man 
was  banished  to  Manosque  by  another  lettre-de-cachet.  Here 
he  wrote  his  earliest  extant  work,  an  "  Essay  on  Despotism." 
But  the  vexatious  tyranny  of  his  father  was  not  yet  ended  ;  to 
punish  some  venial  error,  the  son  was,  in  June,  1774,  confined 
in  the  castle  of  If,  on  the  Mediterranean.  In  the  spring  of 
1775,  he  was  removed  to  the  castle  of  Joux,  where  he  had 
liberty  to  walk  out  on  parole.  Here  he  conceived  a  violent 
passion  for  Sophie  Mounier,  unhappily  married  to  a  man 
thrice  as  old  as  herself.  In  1776  Mirabeau  eloped  with  Sophie 
to  Holland,  where  he  supported  himself  by  literary  work  for 
booksellers.  A  French  court  indicted  him  for  abduction  and 
robbery,  and  sentenced  him  to  death.  In  May,  1777,  he  was 
seized  by  the  French  police,  and  imprisoned  in  the  castle  of 
Vincennes,  near  Paris,  where  he  remained  three  years  and  six 
months,  outwardly  and  conventionally  ruined,  but  still   am- 


MIRABEAU.  285 

bitioiis  and  indomitable,  and  stimnlated  by  the  consciousness 
of  grand  powers  and  faculties,  which  awaited  opportunity  for 
development. 

Having  been  released  in  1781,  Mirabeau  pleaded  his  cause 
before  the  court  which  had  condemned  him,  with  such  power 
that  the  sentence  of  death  was  annulled.  This  repeal  was 
soon  followed  by  a  divorce  from  his  wife,  who  was  unable  to 
endure  his  stormy  temper.  As  the  old  Marquis  refused  to 
grant  pecuniary  help,  the  son's  extravagant  expenses  often 
involved  him  in  debt.  For  several  years  he  led  a  wandering 
life  in  Holland,  Germany  and  England,  teeming  with  grand 
projects  and  depending  on  his  wits  for  revenue.  Yet,  as  has 
been  said,  "  he  seldom  traveled  without  a  wife  (let  us  call  her), 
engaged  by  the  year  or  during  mutual  satisfaction. ' '  His 
character  was  meliorated  and  his  passions  moderated  by  his 
connection  with  Madame  de  Nehra,  a  Dutch  lady  of  a  higher 
type  than  Sophie,  and  more  cultured. 

INIisled  by  erroneous  reports  of  the  society  formed  by 
Washington  and  the  generals  of  the  American  Revolution 
when  about  to  separate  at  the  close  of  the  war  for  Indepen- 
dence, INIirabeau  published  an  eloquent  essay,  "  On  the  Order 
of  Cincinnatus  "  ( 1 784).  Though  of  little  practical  importance, 
it  proved  his  ardent  love  of  liberty.  In  England  he  formed 
an  intimate  friendship  with  Sir  Samuel  Romilly,  who  describes 
him  as  the  declared  enemy  of  every  species  of  tyranny  and 
oppression,  and  says  his  ambition  was  of  the  noblest  kind. 

In  1786,  the  French  minister,  Vergennes,  found  employ- 
ment for  Mirabeau,  in  a  secret  mission  to  Berlin,  where  he 
saw  Frederic  the  Great.  On  his  return  to  Paris,  he  published 
an  important  work,  entitled,  "The  Prussian  Monarchy" 
(1778),  which  procured  for  him  a  high  reputation  for  historical 
learning. 

The  States-General,  summoned  for  May,  1789,  oflfered  to 
him  the  first  suitable  arena  in  which  to  develop  his  grand 
qualities  as  an  orator  and  a  statesman.  Here  this  high-born 
champion  of  liberty  antagonized  the  system  of  organized 
iniquity  and  robbery  which  for  centuries  had  afflicted  France. 
The  voters  of  Aix  and  of  Marseilles  having  elected  him  to 
represent   them  in   the    Tiers  Etat^   he   chose   to   represent 


286  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  INVENTS. 

Aix.  His  abilities  caused  liim  soon  to  be  recognized  as  a 
leader.  He  knew  his  own  mind,  and  was  ready  for  emergen- 
cies. His  brief  and  pithy  sentences  became  the  watchwords 
of  the  reformers  and  the  popular  party.  He  saved  the  existence 
of  the  Constituent  Assembly  and  turned  the  whole  tide  of 
events,  when  the  King,  on  June  23,  1789,  ordered  them  to  dis- 
perse and  to  meet  as  a  separate  Third  Estate.  To  the  King's 
usher  who  reminded  them  that  the  King  had  ordered  them  to 
disperse,  Mirabeau  made  this  famous  reply,  "We  have  heard 
what  the  King  has  been  advised  to  say  ;  and  you  who  cannot 
be  interpreter  of  his  meaning  to  the  States-General — you, 
who  have  neither  vote  nor  seat  nor  right  of  speech  here — you 
are  not  the  person  to  remind  us  of  it.  Go  tell  those  who  sent 
you,  that  we  are  here  by  the  will  of  the  nation  ;  and  that 
nothing  but  the  power  of  bayonets  can  drive  us  hence."  The 
usher  backed  out,  and  the  Assembly  remained  in  session. 

As  a  legislator,  Mirabeau  soared  above  the  intrigues  of 
party,  and  paid  little  attention  to  the  ideal  abstractions  and 
wild  theories  which  captivated  many  reformers.  He  advocated 
the  spoliation  of  the  church,  which  then  owned  a  large  part 
of  the  land  of  France  ;  he  aimed  at  the  abolition  of  feudalism, 
privilege  and  aristocracy  ;  and  he  affirmed  the  necessity  of  a 
strong  executive.  Yet  he  was  more  conservative  than  most  of 
the  leaders  of  the  Revolutionists ;  there  was  something 
gigantic  in  his  thoughts,  energies  and  actions.  His  impe- 
rious eloquence  is  not  ornate  and  florid,  but  is  the  gift  of 
impassioned  reasoning.  According  to  his  view,  the  best 
interests  of  France  required  a  constitutional  monarchy,  and  he 
demanded  for  the  King  an  absolute  veto  and  the  initiative 
in  making  war  and  peace.  The  Mcmoire  which  he  presented 
to  the  King  in  October,  1789,  gives  a  good  idea  of  his  politi- 
cal sagacity.  In  this  state  paper  he  says,  "  The  King  is  not 
free  in  Paris  ;  he  must  therefore  leave  Paris  and  appeal  to 
France.  But  whither  must  he  go  ?  To  remove  to  Metz  or 
other  frontier  city,  would  be  to  declare  war  against  the  nation 
and  abdicate  the  throne.  He  must  then  go  to  a  provincial 
capital  in  the  interior  of  France,  and  there  he  must  appeal  to 
the  people,  and  summon  a  great  convention.  When  this  con- 
vention meets,  he  must  show  that  he  is  ready  to  recognize 


MIRABEAU.  287 

that  feudalism  and  absolutism  have  forever  disappeared,  and 
that  a  new  relation  has  arisen  between  the  king  and  people. 
It  is  certain  that  we  need  a  great  revolution  to  save  the  kingdom; 
that  the  nation  has  rights,  and  it  is  on  the  way  to  recover  them 
all."  The  queen,  Marie  Antoinette,  refused  to  accept  this 
program,  which  was  the  only  practicable  method  of  preserving 
royalty. 

IMirabeau  had  attempted  to  make  a  coalition  with  Lafay- 
ette, but  without  success.  From  May,  1790,  until  his  death, 
he  remained  in  close  alliance  with  the  court  or  ministers,  for 
whom  he  wrote  many  valuable  state-papers.  The  court  paid 
him  for  these  services  ;  but  it  would  not  be  proper  to  say  that 
he  was  bribed,  for  the  money  he  received  never  caused  him  to 
deviate  from  his  political  principles. 

In  July,  1790,  IMirabeau  was  elected  reporter  or  chairman 
of  the  comite  diplomatique  of  the  National  Assembly,  which 
gave  him  much  influence  in  foreign  affairs.  In  financial  affairs 
he  wisely  opposed  Necker's  Caisse  d'' esconipte^  which  was  to 
have  entire  control  of  the  taxes ;  and  he  approved  the  policy 
of  issuing  assignats,  with  the  reservation  that  they  should  only 
be  issued  to  the  extent  of  one-half  the  value  of  the  lands  to 
be  sold. 

During  his  alliance  with  the  court,  his  influence  was 
directed  to  keep  foreign  monarchs  from  interfering  with  the 
Revolution  or  with  French  aflfairs.  To  prevent  such  inter- 
ference, or  to  give  no  pretext  for  it,  was  the  dominant  idea  of 
his  foreign  policy.  He  entered  into  almost  daily  communica- 
tion with  IMontmorin,  foreign  secretary,  gave  him  advice,  and 
dictated  to  him  the  policy  which  he  afterwards  advocated  in 
the  National  Assembly.  The  harmony  thus  produced  between 
the  Assembly  and  the  minister  checked  or  postponed  the  in- 
tervention of  foreign  powers.  In  January,  1791,  Mirabeau 
was  chosen  President  of  the  National  Assembly.  His  few 
remaining  months  were  a  gallant  struggle  against  a  hopeless 
fate.  His  strong  constitution  had  been  ruined  by  the  excesses 
of  his  youth  and  by  their  inevitable  punishment.  He  died 
April  2,  1791.  Among  his  last  words  were,  "All  that  can 
now  be  done  is  to  envelop  me  with  perfume,  and  crown  me 
with  flowers,  that  I  may  pass  away  into  everlasting  sleep," 


288  HISTOEIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

Mirabeaii  had  that  true  mark  of  nobility  of  soul,  the 
power  of  attracting  love  and  winning  true  and  constant 
friends.  He  had  also  the  art  of  enlisting  men  of  much  ability 
in  his  service,  and  appropriating  their  work,  on  which  he 
impressed  the  stamp  of  his  originality.  Among  the  per- 
sons who  thus  assisted  him  were  Dumont,  Duroverai, 
Pellenc  and  Reybaz.  Referring  to  the  trio  of  great  actors 
in  the  French  Revolution — Danton,  Mirabeau  and  Napo- 
leon— Carlyle  says,  "The  far  most  interesting,  best-gifted, 
of  this  questionable  trio,  is  Mirabeau,  a  man  of  much  finer 
nature  than  either  of  the  others  ;  of  a  genuis  equal  in 
strength,  we  will  say,  to  Napoleon's  ;  but  a  much  humaner 
genius,  almost  a  poetic  one.  With  wider  sympathies  of  his 
own,  he  appeals  far  more  persuasively  to  the  sympathy  of 
men."  Madame  De  Stael,  who  had  heard  him,  said,  "Noth- 
ing was  more  impressive  than  his  voice."  His  gestures  also 
were  an  important  part  of  his  eloquence.  It  has  been  said 
that  his  gestures  were  commands  ;  his  motions  were  coups  d'' 
Hat.  Many  volumes  of  his  letters,  orations  and  other  works 
have  been  published,  and  sustain  his  reputation  as  a  master  of 
French  style. 

The  Young  Mirabeau. 

(Described  by  his  father  in  letters  to  his  brother.) 

Afarch^  I'j'ji. — My  son  is  three  days  a  week  at  Versailles ; 
he  usurps  nothing  and  attains  everything ;  gains  entrance 
everywhere.  And  really,  as  he  is  a  man  who  must  be  doing 
something,  it  is  better  he  bestir  himself  there  than  here. 
Everybody  is  related  to  him — the  Guemenees,  the  Carignans, 
the  Noailles,  and  I  do  not  know  how  many  others,  are  inti- 
mate with  him ;  he  astonishes  even  those  who  have  grown 
old  in  flirtation  at  Versailles.  They  all  think  him  as  mad  as 
a  young  dog.  Madame  de  Durfort  says  that  he  would  take 
down  the  dignity  of  every  court  in  existence,  or  that  ever 
will  exist ;  but  they  find  out  that  he  has  more  wit  than  all  of 
them,  which  does  not  show  much  tact  on  his  part. 

I  do  not  at  all  intend  that  he  should  live  there  and  follow 
with  the  rest  the  trade  of  pilfering  the  king,  dabbling  in  the 
mire  of  intrigue,  skating  on  the  ice  of  favor ;  but  even  for  my 


MIRABEAU.  289 

own  purposes,  he  must  see  what  is  going  on  there ;  and  as  for 
the  rest,  when  they  ask  me  how  I,  who  never  wished  to  have 
anything  to  do  with  Versailles,  let  him  go  there  so  young,  I 
reply  that  he  is  made  of  different  stuff  from  me,  a  wild  bird 
born  between  four  turrets ;  that  he  will  only  play  the  fool 
there  in  what  calls  itself  good  company ;  that  as  long  as  I 
saw  him  to  be  gauche  I  left  him  out  of  sight,  but  that  as  soon 
as  I  find  him  to  be  adroit,  I  give  him  his  rights.  For  the 
rest,  since  for  five  hundred  years  they  have  always  put  up 
with  Mirabeaus,  who  have  never  been  like  other  people,  they 
will  put  up  with  one  more,  who,  I  promise  them,  will  not 
disgrace  the  name. 

May,  lyyi. — Providence  has  mocked  me  by  making  me 
the  progenitor  of  a  youngster  who  was  at  first,  and  for  a  long 
time,  a  bird  of  prey,  and  who  now  turns  himself  into  a  tame 
duck  of  the  poultry  yard,  that  dabbles  and  chatters,  screams, 
and  swims  after  flies.  This  animal  has  constituted  himself  a 
contriver  of  feasts. 

This  very  day  he  has  led  me  to  High  Mass  through  a  dis- 
charge of  musketry  to  hear  a  Te  Detim,  then  to  see  fireworks 
and  illuminations,  and  now,  while  I  am  writing,  all  the  parish 
is  eatine  in  the  court  without  forks.  Note  that  these  are  not 
coarse  peasants,  nor  paupers,  and  my  parish  is  the  only  one  of 
its  kind  in  the  country.  Just  now,  though  I  do  not  say  so,  I 
feel  this  joke  a  little  too  strong ;  but  it  shows  a  good  disposi- 
tion. So  I  entreat  you  to  be  so  good  on  your  part  as  to  take 
this  young  rattlebrain  imder  your  protection,  whom  I  do  not 
spoil,  but  who  gets  spoiled  somehow,  nevertheless,  and  takes 
advantage  of  my  easiness. — Marquis  de  Mirabeau. 

The  Leader  of  the  National  Assembly. 

Which  of  these  six  hundred  individuals,  in  plain  white 
cravat,  that  have  come  up  to  regenerate  France,  might  one 
guess  would  become  their  king.  For  a  king  or  leader  they, 
as  all  bodies  of  men,  must  have  ;  be  their  work  what  it  may, 
there  is  one  man  there  who,  by  character,  faculty,  position, 
is  fittest  of  all  to  do  it  ;  that  man,  as  future  not  yet  elected 
king,  walks  there  among  the  rest.  He  with  the  thick  black 
IV— 19 


290  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

locks,  will  it  be?  With  the  Jmre^  as  himself  calls  it,  or  black 
boards-head^  fit  to  be  "shaken"  as  a  senatorial  portent? 
Through  whose  shaggy  beetle-brows,  and  rongh-hewed, 
seamed,  carbuncled  face,  there  look  natural  ugliness,  small- 
pox, incontinence,  bankruptcy — and  burning  fire  of  genius  ; 
like  comet-fire  glaring  fuliginous  through  murkiest  confu- 
sions ?  It  is  Gabriel  Honore  Riquetti  de  Mirabeatiy  the  world- 
compeller  ;  man-ruling  deputy  of  Aix  !  According  to  the 
Baroness  de  Stael,  he  steps  proudly  along,  though  looked  at 
askance  here  ;  and  shakes  his  black  chevelure^  or  lion's-mane, 
as  if  prophetic  of  great  deeds. 

Yes,  reader,  that  is  the  type-Frenchman  of  this  epoch  ; 
as  Voltaire  was  of  the  last.  He  is  French  in  his  aspirations, 
acquisitions,  in  his  virtues,  in  his  vices;  perhaps  more  French 
than  any  other  man — and  intrinsically  such  a  mass  of  man- 
hood too.  Mark  him  well.  The  National  Assembly  were 
all  different  without  that  one  ;  nay,  he  might  say  with  the  old 
despot :  ' '  The  National  Assembly  !  I  am  that. ' ' 

Of  a  southern  climate,  of  wild  southern  blood  ;  for  the 
Riquettis,  or  Arrighettis,  had  to  fly  from  Florence  and  the 
Guelfs,  long  centuries  ago,  and  settled  in  Provence,  where 
from  generation  to  generation  they  have  ever  approved  them- 
selves a  peculiar  kindred  ;  irascible,  indomitable,  sharp- 
cutting,  true,  like  the  steel  they  wore  ;  of  an  intensity  and 
activity  that  sometimes  verged  towards  madness,  yet  it  did  not 
reach  it.  One  ancient  Riquetti,  in  mad  fulfillment  of  a  mad 
vow,  chains  two  mountains  together  ;  and  the  chain,  with  its 
' '  iron  star  of  five  rays, ' '  is  still  to  be  seen.  May  not  a  mod- 
ern Riquetti  ?^;zchain  so  much,  and  set  it  drifting — which  also 
shall  be  seen  ? 

Destiny  has  work  for  that  swart  burly-headed  Mirabeau; 
Destiny  has  watched  over  him,  prepared  him  from  afar.  Did 
not  his  grandfather,  stout  Col-d^  Argent  (Silver-Stock,  so 
they  named  him),  shattered  and  slashed  by  seven-and-twenty 
wounds  in  one  fell  day,  lie  sunk  together  on  the  bridge  at 
Casano ;  while  Prince  Eugene's  cavalry  galloped  and  regal- 
loped  over  him — only  the  flying  sergeant  had  thrown  a  camp- 
kettle  over  that  loved  head  ;  and  Vendome,  dropping  his  spy- 
glass, moaned  out,  "Mirabeau  is  dead^  then!"    Nevertheless 


MIRABEAU.  291 

he  was  not  dead :  he  awoke  to  breath,  and  miraculous  surgery 
— for  Gabriel  was  yet  to  be.  With  his  silver-stock  he  kept 
his  scarred  head  erect,  through  long  years,  and  wedded ;  and 
produced  tough  INIarquis  Victor,  the  Friend  of  Men.  Whereby 
at  last  in  the  appointed  year,  1749,  this  long-expected  rough- 
hewed  Gabriel  Honore  did  likewise  see  the  light ;  roughest 
lion's  whelp  ever  littered  of  that  rough  breed.  How  the  old 
lion  (for  our  old  marquis  too  was  lion-like,  most  unconquer- 
able, kingly-genial,  most  perverse)  gazed  wondering  on  his 
offspring,  and  determined  to  train  him  as  no  lion  had  yet 
been  !  It  is  in  vain,  oh  Marquis !  This  cub,  though  thou 
sla}'  him  and  flay  him,  will  not  learn  to  draw  in  dogcart  of 
political  economy,  and  be  a.  Friend  0/  Men ;  he  will  not  be 
thou,  but  must  and  will  be  himself,  another  than  thou. 
Divorce  lawsuits,  "whole  family  save  one  in  prison,  and  three- 
score Lettres-de-Cachef''  for  thy  own  sole  use,  do  but  astonish 
the  world. 

Our  luckless  Gabriel,  sinned  against  and  sinning,  has  been 
in  the  Isle  of  Rhe  and  heard  the  Atlantic  from  his  tower ;  in 
the  castle  of  If,  and  heard  the  Mediterranean  at  Marseilles. 
He  has  been  in  the  fortress  of  Joux,  and  forty-two  months, 
with  hardly  clothing  to  his  back,  in  the  dungeon  of  Vin- 
cennes — all  \)\  Lettre-de- Cachet  from  his  lion  father.  He  has 
been  in  Pontarlier  jails  (self-constituted  prisoner);  was  noticed 
fording  estuaries  of  the  sea  (at  low  water),  in  flight  from  the 
face  of  men.  He  has  pleaded  before  Aix  parliaments  (to  get 
back  his  wife)  ;  the  public  gathering  on  roofs,  to  see,  since 
they  could  not  hear;  "the  clatter-teeth  {claqiie-dents)P''  snarls 
singular  old  INIirabeau,  discerning  in  such  admired  forensic 
eloquence  nothing  but  two  clattering  jaw-bones,  and  a  head 
vacant,  sonorous,  of  the  drum  species. 

But  as  for  Gabriel  Honore,  in  these  strange  wayfarings, 
what  has  he  not  seen  and  tried  !  From  drill-sergeants  to 
prime-ministers,  to  foreign  and  domestic  booksellers,  all  man- 
ner of  men  he  has  seen.  All  manner  of  men  he  has  gained; 
for,  at  bottom,  it  is  a  social,  loving  heart,  that  wild,  uncon- 
querable one — more  especially  all  manner  of  women.  From 
the  archer's  daughter  at  Saintes  to  that  fair  young  Sophie 
Madame  Monnier,  whom  he  could  not  but  "steal,"  and  be 


292  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

beheaded  for — in  effigy!  For,  indeed,  hardly  since  the  Arabian 
prophet  lay  dead  to  Ali's  admiration  was  there  seen  such  a 
love-hero,  with  the  strength  of  thirty  men.  In  war,  again, 
he  has  helped  to  conquer  Corsica  ;  fought  duels,  irregular 
brawls;  horsewhipped  calumnious  barons.  In  literature,  he  has 
written  on  "Despotism,"  on  " Lettres-de-Cachet ; "  Erotics 
Sapphic- Werterean,  Obscenities,  Profanities ;  books  on  the 
"Prussian  Monarchy,"  on  "Cagliostro,"  on  "Calonne,"  on 
"The  Water-Companies  of  Paris" — each  book  comparable, 
we  will  say,  to  a  bituminous  alarm-fire;  huge,  smoky,  sudden! 
The  fire-pan,  the  kindling,  the  bitumen  were  his  own;  but  the 
lumber,  of  rags,  old  wood  and  nameless  combustible  rubbish 
(for  all  is  fuel  to  him),  was  gathered  from  hucksters  and  ass- 
panniers  of  every  description  under  heaven.  Whereby,  in- 
deed, hucksters  enough  have  been  heard  to  exclaim:  "Out 
upon  it,  the  fire  is  mineP'' 

Nay,  consider  it  more  generally,  seldom  had  man  such  a 
talent  for  borrowing.  The  idea,  the  faculty  of  another  man 
he  can  make  his;  the  man  himself  he  can  make  his.  "All 
reflex  and  echo  {tout  de  reflet  et  de  reverbere  1)^'^''  snarls  old 
Mirabeau,  who  can  see,  but  will  not.  Crabbed  old  Friend 
of  Men  !  it  is  his  sociality,  his  aggregative  nature ;  and  will 
now  be  the  quality  of  qualities  for  him.  In  that  forty  years' 
"struggle  against  despotism"  he  has  gained  the  glorious 
faculty  of  self-help^  and  yet  not  lost  the  glorious  natural  gift 
oi  fellowships  of  being  helped.  Rare  union  ;  this  man  can 
live  self-sufficing — yet  lives  also  in  the  life  of  other  men ; 
can  make  men  love  him,  work  with  him  ;  a  born  king  of 
men  ! 

But  consider  further  how,  as  the  old  marquis  still  snarls, 
he  has  "made  away  with  {Imme^  swallowed,  snufied-up)  all 
fortmilas^'''' — a  fact,  which,  if  we  meditate  it,  will  in  these 
days  mean  much.  This  is  no  man  of  system,  then;  he  is  only 
a  man  of  instincts  and  insights.  A  man,  nevertheless,  who 
will  glare  fiercely  on  any  object,  and  see  through  it  and  con- 
quer it ;  for  he  has  intellect,  he  has  will,  force  beyond  other 
men.  A  man  not  with  logic-spectacle s^  but  with  an  eye! 
Unhappily  without  decalogue,  moral  code,  or  theorem  of  any 
fixed  sort,  yet  not  without  a  strong  living  soul  in  him,  and 


MIRABEAU.  293 

sincerity  there;  a  reality,  not  an  artificiality,  not  a  sliani ! 
And  so  he,  having  struggled  "forty  years  against  despotism," 
and  "made  away  with  all  formulas,"  shall  now  become  the 
spokesman  of  a  nation  bent  to  do  the  same.  For  is  it  not 
precisely  the  struggle  of  France  also  to  cast  off  despotism;  to 
make  away  with  her  old  formulas — having  found  them  naught, 
worn  out,  far  from  the  reality?  She  will  make  away  with 
such  formulas — and  even  go  bare^  if  need  be,  till  she  have 
found  new  ones. 

Toward  such  work,  in  such  manner,  marches  he,  this  sin- 
gular Riquetti  Mirabeau.  In  fiery  rough  figure,  with  black 
Samson-locks  under  the  slouch-hat,  he  steps  along  there.  A 
fiery  fuliginous  mass,  which  could  not  be  choked  and  smoth- 
ered, but  would  fill  all  France  with  smoke.  And  now  it  has 
got  air;  it  will  burn  its  whole  substance,  its  whole  smoke- 
atmosphere,  too,  and  fill  all  France  with  flame.  Strange  lot ! 
Forty  years  of  that  smouldering,  with  foul  fire-damp  and  vapor 
enough;  then  victor}^  over  that — and  like  a  burning  mountain 
he  blazes  heaven-high ;  and  for  twenty-three  resplendent 
months  pours  out  in  flame  and  molten  fire-torrents  all  that  is 
in  him,  the  Pharos  and  wonder-sign  of  an  amazed  Europe — 
and  then  lies  hollow,  cold  forever !  Pass  on,  thou  question- 
able Gabriel  Honore,  the  greatest  of  them  all ;  in  the  whole 
national  deputies,  in  the  whole  nation,  there  is  none  like  and 
none  second  to  thee. — T.  Carlyle. 

Mirabeau  and  Marie  Antoinette. 

The  actual  commencement  of  Mirabeau' s  effort  to  save 
royalty  began  in  May,  1790,  or  perhaps  about  the  close  of 
April,  through  the  mediation  of  the  Count  de  Lamarck. 
That  nobleman,  having  long  been  acquainted  with  Mira- 
beau's  views,  had  been  summoned  from  Belgium  to  Paris  for 
the  express  purpose  of  soliciting  a  communication  from 
Mirabeau,  which  was  accordingly  given  on  the  loth  of  IMay, 
and,  in  its  translated  garb,  reads  thus  : 

"Profoundly  touched  by  the  anguish  of  the  king,  who 
has  not  in  the  least  merited  his  personal  misfortunes ;  per- 
suaded that  if  there  be,  in  his  situation,  a  prince  on  whose 


294  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

word  it  is  possible  to  rely,  that  prince  is  Louis  XVI.  ;  I  am, 
nevertheless,  so  armed,  by  intercourse  with  men,  and  by 
events,  against  that  commiseration  which  the  spectacle  of 
human  vicissitudes  naturally  engenders,  that  I  should  be  im- 
mutably repugnant  to  entering  upon  a  new  part  in  this  time 
of  partialities  and  confusions,  if  I  were  not  convinced  that 
the  re-establishment  of  the  legitimate  authority  of  the  king 
is  the  greatest  want  of  France,  and  the  only  means  of  saving 
her. 

"  But  I  see  clearly  that  we  are  in  anarchy,  and  that  we 
are  floundering  therein  deeper  day  by  day  :  I  am  indignant  at 
the  bare  idea  that  I  should  have  only  contributed  to  a  vast 
demolition  ;  and  the  fear  of  beholding  another  than  the  king 
at  the  head  of  the  State  is  so  insupportable  to  me,  that  I  feel 
myself  imperiously  called  to  action,  at  a  moment  when, 
almost  pledged  to  the  silence  of  contempt,  I  only  aspired  to  a 
retreat. 

"In  such  a  case,  it  is  easy  to  believe  that  the  present 
inclination  of  a  good  and  unfortunate  king — whose  coun- 
selors, and  also  whose  misfortunes,  cease  not  to  remind  him  of 
how  much  cause  of  complaint  he  has  against  me,  and  who, 
nevertheless,  has  the  noble  and  courageous  idea  of  confiding 
in  me — are  an  attraction  which  I  shall  not  essay  to  resist. 
Here,  therefore,  is  the  profession  of  faith  which  the  king  has 
desired  :  he  will  deign  to  select  its  depositary  himself;  for  the 
rules  of  prudence  will  not  allow  him  to  preserve  them,  and 
this  writing  will  remain  for  evermore  my  condemnation  or 
my  praise. 

"I  engage  myself  to  serve  the  true  interests  of  the  king 
with  my  whole  influence ;  and,  in  order  that  that  assertion 
may  not  seem  vague,  I  declare  that  I  believe  a  counter-revo- 
lution to  be  as  dangerous  and  criminal,  as  I  find  the  hope  or 
project  of  any  government  in  France,  without  a  chief  invested 
with  the  power  necessary  for  applying  all  the  public  force  to 
the  execution  of  the  law,  to  be  chimerical. 

"  Based  on  these  principles,  I  will  give  my  written  opinion 
upon  the  course  of  events,  upon  the  means  for  directing  them  ; 
for  preventing  such  as  may  be  foreboded,  for  remedying  such 
when  they  have  already  happened;  I  shall  make  it  my  chief 


MIRABEAU.  295 

business  to  put  in  its  place  in  the  Constitution,  the  executive 
power;  the  plentitude  whereof  should  be  without  restriction 
or  division  in  the  hand  of  the  king. 

"  I  shall  require  two  months  to  collect,  or  even,  if  I  may 
thus  speak,  to  make  my  means  :  to  prepare  the  minds  and 
convince  the  reason  of  those  wise  citizens  necessary  to  the 
service  of  the  king.  I  will  have  in  each  department  an  influ- 
ential correspondent,  and  I  will  give  him  the  results:  my 
march  shall  be  imperceptible;  but  each  day  I  will  make  a 
step.  An  empiric  promises  a  sudden  cure,  and  kills .  A  true 
ph}'sician  observes,  acts,  above  all,  by  diet,  dose,  and  measure, 
and  very  often  cures. 

"  I  am  as  profoundly  opposed  to  a  counter-revolution  as  I 
am  to  the  excesses  whereunto  the  revolution,  fallen  into  the 
hands  of  impotent  and  perverse  men,  has  conducted  the  popu- 
lace. It  will,  therefore,  be  necessary  never  to  judge  my  con- 
duct piecemeal,  neither  by  a  single  act,  nor  a  single  speech. 
It  is  not  that  I  refuse  to  explain  any;  but  they  can  only  be 
judged  collectively,  and  have  influence  collectively  :  it  is 
impossible  to  save  the  State  day  by  day. 

"I  promise  the  king  loyalty,  zeal,  activity,  and  a  courage 
whereof,  perhaps,  he  is  far  from  having  an  idea:  I  promise 
him,  in  fact,  everything  except  success,  which  never  depends 
upon  a  single  man,  and  which  it  would  be  a  very  rash  and 
very  culpable  presumption  to  guarantee,  in  the  terrible  malady 
which  is  undermining  the  State,  and  which  menaces  its  chief. 
He  would  be  a  very  strange  man  who  would  be  indifferent  and 
faithless  to  the  glory  of  saving  one  or  the  other;  and  I  am  not 
that  man. ' ' 

Louis  very  evidently  had  little  idea  of  what  a  man 
Mirabeau  was.  His  queen,  better  gifted  with  the  qualities  of 
the  mind,  and  having  a  shrewd  insight  into  character,  clearly 
understood  him,  appreciated  his  intellect,  his  daring,  to  the 
full ;  but  her  vehement  thirst  for  a  counter-revolution  led  her 
to  wish  to  postpone,  as  long  as  possible,  a  firm  closing  with 
the  consolidation  plans  of  Mirabeau. 

On  the  13th,  he  addressed  another  short  note,  and  on  the 
20th  spoke  in  favor  of  the  king's  declaring  peace  or  war.  And 
a  little  later  on  in  the  month  he  had  his  first  interview  with 


296  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

the  queen;    than  which  there  is  nothing  more  interestingly 
picturesque:  it  is  the  sublime  of  the  romantic. 

It  was  in  the  calm  of  a  Maj^  evening  that  Mirabeau 
mounted  his  horse  and  rode  westward,  ostensibly  to  Claviere's 
country-house  ;  but  when  out  of  observation  he  suddenly 
changed  his  course,  and  turned  towards  St.  Cloud.  At  one 
of  the  private  entrances,  a  person  waited  to  hold  his  horse, 
to  give  him  admission  to  the  garden.  That  garden  is  cov- 
ered with  small  hillocks  ;  but  in  the  centre  rises,  shrubclad, 
a  greater  knoll,  eminent  above  the  others.  Why,  as  Mira- 
beau strode  thitherward,  did  his  breast  swell  proudly  and  his 
eye  dilate  ?  Because  that  knoll  was  "  crowned  with  a  pecu- 
liar diadem  :"  because  thereon,  alone  (maids  waiting  in  the 
distance),  in  all  her  excessive  loveliness  and  imperial  beauty, 
there  stood  the  Queen  of  France;  and  his  eye  dilated  with 
rapture,  and  his  breast  swelled  with  pride,  to  think  that  his 
genius  had  at  length  achieved  so  much :  that  at  last  it  had 
come  to  that.  The  queen,  too;  was  she  unmoved  ?  Or  might 
there  not  even  steal  a  little  fear-flutter  through  that  heroic 
bosom  ?  He  was  coming — the  man  of  all  men :  the  man  who 
had  overturned  the  monarchy ;  the  man  who  had  ruled  the 
nation  so  grandly;  the  man  she  knew  not  whether  to  hate  or 
love,  with  his  commanding  form  erect,  and  his  long  locks 
floating  to  the  breeze,  was  striding  toward  her  !  She  expected 
to  find  a  coarse,  debauch-eaten,  rough-hewn,  strong,  but  very 
brute-like  man ;  and  she  found  the  most  insinuating,  the 
most  fascinating,  the  most  perfect  gentleman  in  France. 

"With  a  foe  of  ordinary  capacity,"  said  the  queen,  "with 
an  every-day  enemy,  I  should  now  be  guilty  of  a  very  foolish, 
a  very  injudicious  step:  but  with  a  Mirabeau! — " 

And  so  she  has  acknowledged  their  equality:  and  King 
Mirabeau  and  Queen  Antoinette  discoursed  together.  What 
that  discourse  was,  no  man  knows;  no  man,  to  the  end  of 
time,  ever  shall  know :  that  there  ever  was,  or  ever  will  be,  a 
conversation  holden  on  this  earth  one  would  more  desire  to 
know,  is  dubious.  We  do  know,  however,  that  for  a  con- 
siderable space  they  spoke  together:  but  as  they  were  separa- 
ting, Mirabeau  exclaimed:  "Madam,  whenever  your  illus- 
trious  mother,    Maria   Theresa,    honored   one   of   her  loyal 


MIRABEAU.  297 

subjects  with  an  interview,  she  never  suffered  him  to  depart 
without  according  to  him  her  royal  hand." 

The  queen,  with  a  queen's  grace,  held  forth  her  hand; 
Mirabeau,  with  a  king's  dignified  elegance,  knelt  and  fer- 
vently kissed  it:  that  kiss  shot  strength  through  his  frame, 
and  starting  to  his  feet  he  cried,  with  native  self-confidence: 
'"'' Madam^  the  monardiy  is  saved P^ 

And  so  they  parted.  Was  it  wonderful  that  Mirabeau 
should  hurry  from  the  garden,  and  leaping  upon  his  waiting 
steed,  like  the  wild  huntsman  in  the  ballad,  ride  impetuously 
home? — wonderful  that,  inspired  by  her  beauty,  her  misfor- 
tunes, her  queenly  soul,  strange  chivalrous  fancies  ran  riot  in 
his  brain;  and  that  his  imagination,  piercing  into  the  future, 
painted  that  which  might  be,  thus? — an  upstart  and  disloyal 
assembly  dispersed  and  scattered — if  needs  be,  by  the  cannon's 
voice;  a  wretched  Jacobin-club,  and  blood-thirsty  Marats, 
trampled  down  in  their  native  mud,  and  the  royal  standard — 
the  standard  of  the  old  Bourbons,  of  Henri,  of  Francis,  of  the 
good  King  Louis — once  more  unfurled ;  unfurled,  not  now 
as  a  rallying  point  for  aristocrats  and  baronial  oppressors,  but 
as  the  symbol  of  constitutional  order  and  freedom,  in  opposi- 
tion to  anarchy  and  mob-tyranny;  and  with  drums  beating, 
colors  flying,  the  loyalty  of  France  charging,  lion-hearted,  to 
the  conflict.  iVmid  all  which  war-thunders,  amid  the  clash  of 
sabres  and  the  roar  of  artillery,  one  form  to  stand  forth  pre- 
eminently notable,  showing  in  the  distant  generations  how  a 
Mirabeau  does  battle  for  his  king  and  for  his  country  ? 

That  such  a  dream  did  dwell  for  a  short  space  in  IMira- 
beau's  mind,  we  have  written  evidence;  for  shortly  after  he 
writes  to  the  queen: — "The  moment  may  come  when  it  will 
be  necessary  to  see,  that  which  we  may  see,  on  horse-back  a 
woinan  and  an  infa7it;  these  are  family  traditions  familiar  to 
the  queen;  "  hinting,  or  appearing  to  imply,  the  laying  aside 
of  the  \^ry  good,  but  very  useless  king,  and  the  elevation  of 
the  Dauphin. 

A  reciprocal  admiration  and  esteem,  highly  creditable  to 
both,  was  established  between  the  twain  by  this  interview: 
Marie  Antoinette  told  Madame  Campan,  she  was  delighted 
with  Mirabeau;  and  Mirabeau  said  forcibly  to  Dumont,  with 


298  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND  FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

his  own  peculiar  point:  "  She  is  the  only  mait  the  king  has 
about  him. ' '  But  on  the  queen's  part  the  admiration  went 
little  beyond  enthusiastic  speeches;  and  although  another 
interview  took  place  (the  date  whereof,  period,  and  result  are 
unknown),  and  though  Mirabeau  addressed  his  letters  ever 
after  almost  exclusively  to  her,  she  never  gave  his  plans  that 
impetus  she  alone  could  have  done. 

Address  to  the  Constituents. 

When  a  nation  ascends  from  the  depths  of  servitude  to  the 
glorious  regions  of  freedom — when  policy  is  about  to  concur 
with  nature  in  the  immense  development  of  its  high  desti- 
nies,— shall  vile  passions  oppose  its  grandeur,  or  egotism 
arrest  its  flight  ?  Is  the  safety  of  the  State  of  less  weight 
than  a  personal  contribution  ? 

No,  such  an  error  cannot  exist  ;  the  passions  themselves 
yield  not  to  such  base  calculations.  If  the  Revolution,  which 
has  given  us  a  country,  has  left  some  Frenchmen  indifferent, 
it  will  be  their  interest  to  maintain  at  all  events  the  tran- 
quillity of  the  kingdom,  as  the  only  pledge  of  their  personal 
safety.  For  it  is  certainly  not  in  a  general  tumult — in  the 
degradation  of  public  authority — when  thousands  of  indigent 
citizens,  driven  from  their  work  and  their  means  of  subsist- 
ence, shall  claim  the  sterile  commiseration  of  their  brethren — 
when  armies  shall  be  dissolved  into  wandering  bands,  armed 
with  swords  and  irritated  by  hunger, — when  property  shall  be 
threatened,  lives  no  longer  safe,  and  grief  and  terror  upon  the 
threshold  of  every  door, — it  is  not  in  such  a  state  of  society 
that  the  egotist  can  enjoy  the  mite  he  has  refused  to  con- 
tribute for  the  wants  of  his  country.  The  only  difference  in 
his  fate,  in  the  common  calamity,  from  that  of  his  fellow- 
citizens,  would  be  deserved  opprobrium  ;  and  in  his  bosom, 
unavailing  remorse. 

What  recent  proofs  have  we  not  had  of  that  public  spirit 
which  places  success  beyond  a  doubt  !  With  what  rapidity 
was  that  national  militia,  were  those  legions  of  armed  citizens 
formed  for  the  defence  of  the  States,  the  preservation  of  public 
peace,  and  due  execution  of  the  laws  !    A  generous  emulation 


MIRABEAU.  299 

pervaded  the  whole  kingdom.  Towns,  cities,  provinces,  all 
considered  their  privileges  as  odious  distinctions,  and  aspired 
to  the  honor  of  sacrificing  them  to  enrich  their  country.  You 
well  know  that  there  was  not  time  to  draw  up  a  separate  de- 
cree for  each  sacrifice,  which  a  truly  pure  and  patriotic  senti- 
ment dictated  to  all  classes  of  citizens,  who  voluntarily  restored 
to  the  great  family  that  which  was  exclusively  enjoyed  by  the 
few  to  the  prejudice  of  the  many. 

Patriotic  gifts  have  been  singularly  multiplied  during  the 
present  crisis  in  the  finances.  The  most  noble  examples  have 
emanated  from  the  throne,  whose  majesty  is  elevated  by  the 
virtue  of  the  prince  who  sits  upon  it.  O  prince,  so  justly  be- 
loved by  your  people  !  King,  honest  man,  and  good  citizen  ! 
You  glanced  at  the  magnificence  which  surrounded  you,  and 
the  riches  of  ostentation  were  forthwith  converted  into  national 
resources  !  By  foregoing  the  embellishments  of  luxury,  your 
royal  dignity  received  new  splendor  ;  and  while  the  affection 
of  your  people  makes  them  murmur  at  your  privations,  their 
sensibility  applauds  your  noble  courage,  and  their  generosity 
will  return  your  benefactions,  as  you  wish  them  to  be  re- 
turned, by  imitating  your  virtue  and  affording  you  the  delight 
of  having  guided  them  through  the  difficult  patlis  of  public 
sacrifice. 

How  vast  is  the  wealth  which  ostentation  and  vanity  have 
made  their  prey,  and  which  might  become  the  active  agent 
of  prosperity !  To  what  an  extent  might  individual  economy 
concur  with  the  most  noble  views  in  restoring  happiness  to 
the  kingdom  !  The  immense  riches  accumulated  by  the  piety 
of  our  forefathers  for  the  service  of  the  altar  would  not  change 
their  religious  destination  by  being  brought  from  their  obscu- 
rity and  devoted  to  the  public  service  !  ' '  These  are  the 
hoards  which  I  collected  in  the  days  of  prosperity,"  says  our 
holy  religion  ;  "  I  add  them  to  the  general  mass  in  the  present 
times  of  public  calamity.  I  required  them  not  ;  no  borrowed 
splendor  can  add  to  my  greatness.  It  was  for  you,  and  for 
the  State,  that  I  levied  this  tribute  upon  the  piety  of  your 
ancestors." 

Oh  !  who  would  reject  such  examples  as  these  ?  How 
favorable  is  the  present  moment  for  the  development  of  our 


300  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

resources,  and  for  claiming  assistance  from  all  parts  of  the 
empire  !  L,et  us  prevent  the  opprobrium  of  violating  our  most 
sacred  engagements,  which  would  prove  a  foul  blot  upon  the 
infancy  of  our  freedom.  Let  us  prevent  those  dreadful  shocks 
which,  by  overthrowing  the  most  solid  institutions,  would 
affect,  far  and  near,  the  fortune  of  all  classes  of  citizens,  and 
present  throughout  the  kingdom  the  sad  spectacle  of  a  dis- 
graceful ruin.  How  do  they  deceive  themselves  who,  at  a 
distance  from  the  metropolis,  consider  not  the  public  faith, 
either  in  its  inseparable  connection  with  the  national  pros- 
perity, or  as  the  primary  condition  of  our  social  compact  !  Do 
they  who  pronounce  the  infamous  word  bankruptcy,  desire 
that  we  should  form  a  community  of  wild  beasts,  instead  of 
equitable  and  free  men  ?  What  Frenchman  would  dare  look 
upon  one  of  his  unfortunate  brethren,  if  his  conscience  should 
whisper  to  him  that  he  had  contributed  his  share  towards 
poisoning  the  existence  of  millions  of  his  fellow-creatures? 
Should  we  be  any  longer  that  nation  whose  very  enemies 
grant  us  the  pride  of  honor,  if  foreigners  could  degrade  us 
with  the  title  of  bankrupt  nation,  and  accuse  us  of  having 
assumed  our  freedom  and  our  strength  only  to  commit  crimes 
at  which  even  despotism  herself  would  shudder  ? 

Our  protesting  that  our  execrable  crime  was  not  premedi- 
tated, would  avail  us  nothing.  The  cries  of  our  victims,  dis- 
seminated all  over  Europe,  would  be  a  louder  and  a  more 
effective  protestation  than  ours.  We  must  act  without  loss 
of  time  ;  prompt,  efficacious  and  certain  measures  must  be 
adopted,  and  that  cloud  must  disappear  which  has  been  so 
long  suspended  over  our  heads,  and,  from  one  end  of  Europe 
to  the  other,  has  thrown  consternation  into  the  minds  of  the 
creditors  of  France,  for  it  may,  at  length,  become  more  fatal 
to  our  national  resources  than  the  dreadful  scourge  which  has 
ravaged  our  provinces. 

What  courage  would  the  adoption  of  this  plan  give  us  in 
the  functions  you  have  confided  to  our  zeal  !  And  how  could 
we  proceed  with  safety  in  the  constitution  of  a  State  whose 
very  existence  is  in  danger?  We  promised — nay,  we  solemnly 
swore — to  save  the  country  ;  judge,  then,  of  our  anguish, 
when  we  fear  that  it  will  perish  in  our  hands.     A  momentary 


MIRABEAU. 


301 


sacrifice  is  all  that  is  required  ;  but  it  must  be  frankly  made 
to  the  public  good,  and  not  to  the  depredations  of  cupidity. 
And  is  this  slight  expiation  of  the  faults  and  errors  of  the 
period  marked  by  our  political  servitude,  beyond  our  courage  ? 
God  forbid  !  Let  us  remember  the  price  paid  for  freedom,  by 
every  people  who  have  showed  themselves  worthy  of  it.  Tor- 
rents of  blood,  lengthened  misfortunes,  and  dreadful  civil 
wars  have  everywhere  marked  her  birth.  She  only  requires 
of  us  a  pecuniar}'  sacrifice,  and  this  vulgar  offering  is  not  a 
gift  that  will  impoverish  us,  for  she  will  return  to  enrich  us, 
and  shine  upon  our  cities  and  our  fields  to  increase  their  glory 
and  prosperity. — CoMTE  DE  Mirabeau. 


MADAME  ROLx\ND  has  been  called  the 
Soul  of  the  Gironde,  the  inspirer  of  that 
moderate  party  which  aimed  at  real  liberty 
in  the  crisis  of  the  French  Revolution. 
Her  maiden  name  was  Marie-Jeanne  Phli- 
pon,  and  she  was  born  in  Paris,  March  17th, 
1754.  Her  father  was  an  artist;  her  moth efr 
was  a  woman  of  superior  understanding, 
having  a  retiring  disposition  and  a  singular 
amiability  of  temper;  her  life  was  almost 
of  saintly  purity.  Marie-Jeanne  learned  to  read  when  only  four 
years  of  age,  and  soon  showed  a  great  fondness  for  reading 
everything  that  came  in  her  way.  A  word  from  her  mother 
was  always  sufficient  to  command  obedience  ;  but  her  father, 
having  but  little  command  over  his  temper,  would  sometimes 
resort  to  corporal  punishment,  which  never  failed  to  bring  out 
in  the  child  a  spirit  of  intense  resistance.  Whilst  yet  a  girl, 
she  was  placed  for  one  year  in  a  conventual  school,  where  she 
exhibited  extreme  religious  enthusiasm.  In  after  years,  how- 
ever, her  feelings  underwent  a  thorough  change,  until  they 
rested  in  skepticism.  Her  favorite  authors  at  this  period  were 
Plutarch,  Tasso  and  Voltaire.  The  history  of  Greece  and 
Rome  made  a  deep  impression  on  the  youthful  mind,  and 
when  but  fourteen  years  of  age,  she  is  said  to  have  shed  tears 
to  think  that  she  was  not  a  Spartan  or  a  Roman  woman. 
She  writes,  ' '  I  ought  to  have  been  a  Spartan  or  a  Roman 
woman,  or  at  least  a  Frenchman. ' ' 

At  the  age  of  five   and   twenty.   Mademoiselle  Phlipon 
became  the  wife  of  M.  Jean  Marie  Roland  de  la  Platiere,  who 
302 


J.GOUPIL.    PiNX. 


MME.  RCLJlND. 


MADAME   ROLAND.  303 

was  twenty  years  her  senior,  a  man  of  laborious  habits,  great 
ability  and  integrity,  and  with  manners  described  as  "of 
antique  severity."  A  daughter  was  the  fruit  of  this  marriage, 
and  Madame  Roland's  time  was  divided  between  the  care 
and  education  of  her  child  and  giving  assistance  to  her  hus- 
band, from  whose  knowledge  she  derived  great  advantage  in 
return.  He  held  the  position  of  Inspector  of  Manufactures 
at  Amiens,  and  spent  part  of  his  time  in  foreign  travel,  to 
study  the  improvements  of  industry  in  the  interests  of  his 
government.  In  compan}-  with  him  Madame  Roland  visited 
England,  Switzerland,  and  other  countries  of  Europe  ;  ever}'- 
where  minutely  inquiring  into  the  nature  of  the  civil  institu- 
tions and  manifesting  the  warmest  sympathy  with  the 
advocates  of  political  liberty.  Madame  Roland  thus  gives 
her  impression  of  England  :  "I  shall  ever  remember  with 
pleasure  a  country  whose  Constitution  De  Lolme  taught  me  to 
love,  and  in  which  I  have  witnessed  the  happy  effects  which 
that  Constitution  has  produced.  Fools  may  chatter,  and 
slaves  may  sing  ;  but  take  my  word  for  it  that  England  con- 
tains men  who  have  a  right  to  laugh  at  us.  .  .  .  The 
individual  who  does  not  feel  esteem  for  the  English,  and  a 
degree  of  affection  mixed  with  admiration  for  their  women,  is 
either  a  pitiful  coxcomb  or  an  ignorant  blockhead,  who  talks 
about  what  he  does  not  understand. ' ' 

The  citizens  of  Lyons  returned  M.  Roland  as  their  repre- 
sentative to  the  National  Convention.  Husband  and  wife 
proceeded  to  Paris,  where  the  curiosity  of  Madame  Roland 
was  gratified,  and  her  zeal  for  the  first  movements  of  liberty 
in  her  country  increased,  by  the  opportunity  of  observing 
some  of  the  most  distinguished  actors  on  the  political  stage — 
Mirabeau,  Cazales,  Mauri,  Barnave,  and  others  of  less  note. 
While  the  party  of  the  Gironde  was  in  power,  M.  Roland  was 
appointed  Minister  of  the  Interior.  In  this  capacity  he  appeared 
at  court  with  a  round  hat  and  laces  to  his  shoes  in  violation 
of  etiquette,  which  prescribed  a  cocked  hat,  sword  and  buckles. 
This  breach  of  custom  was  regarded  by  the  courtiers  as  an 
omen  of  the  approaching  fall  of  monarchy.  The  talents  of 
IMadame  Roland  were  applied  to  assist  her  husband  in  the 
composition  of  public  papers.     She  afterwards  wrote  that  she 


304  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

believed  that  by  mingling  with  the  severer  accents  of  patriot- 
ism the  expressions  and  feelings  of  a  woman  of  sensibility, 
she  rendered  these  documents  more  impressive  and  effectual. 
The  famous  letter  to  Louis  XVL,  May,  1792,  was  drawn  up  by 
her.  None  of  the  Ministers  would  sign  it,  and  M,  Roland 
then  affixed  his  own  name.  This  letter  implored  the  sovereign 
' '  not  to  rouse  the  suspicion  of  the  nation  by  constantly  betray- 
ing his  suspicion  of  it,  but  to  secure  his  country's  love  by 
adopting  in  all  sincerity  the  measures  fitted  to  insure  the  wel- 
fare and  safety  of  the  state. ' '  The  Declaration  of  Rights,  he 
was  told,  had  become  a  political  gospel,  and  the  French  Con- 
stitution a  religion,  for  which  the  people  were  prepared  to 
perish. 

This  letter  occasioned  the  dismissal  of  M.  Roland  from 
Court.  But  he  again  became  minister  after  the  events  of  the 
loth  of  August.  This  party  had  then  passed  the  bounds  pre- 
scribed by  his  judgment,  and  entered  upon  extremes  repugnant 
to  his  high-minded  and  generous  wife.  M.  Roland  boldly 
denounced  the  atrocious  prison  massacres  in  Paris  of  the  2d 
and  3d  of  September;  but  the  Convention  wanted  courage,  or 
virtue,  or  power  to  act  upon  his  advice.  From  that  hour 
his  own  doom  and  that  of  his  devoted  wife  became  only  more 
certain.  Madame  Roland  was  arraigned  before  the  Convention 
on  a  charge  of  treasonable  correspondence  with  England. 
Frivolous  and  absurd,  but  serious  at  such  a  time,  this  indict- 
ment had  to  be  met.  With  her  wonderful  presence  of  mind, 
her  acuteness,  and  her  wit,  she  baffled  and  mortified  her 
accusers.  The  recollection  of  this  defeat  is  said  to  have  so 
haunted  the  minds  of  Danton,  Marat  and  Robespierre,  that  in 
every  attack  subsequently  made  upon  their  proceedings,  they 
imagined  they  recognized  the  boldness,  sagacity  or  sarcasm 
of  jMadame  Roland. 

Warnings  of  their  danger  were  given  to  her  and  her  hus- 
band, and  for  a  short  time  they  consented  to  take  the  precau- 
tion of  not  sleeping  at  the  Hotel  of  the  Interior.  Madame 
Roland  objected  to  this.  "I  am  ashamed  of  the  part  I  am 
made  to  play,"  she  said,  "I  will  neither  disguise  myself  nor 
leave  the  house.  If  they  wish  to  assassinate  me.  it  shall  be 
in  my  own   house."     Her  husband  quitted  Paris,  and  she 


MADAME   ROLAND.  305 

might  have  done  so;  but  she  declared  that  the  care  of  evadiug 
injustice  cost  her  more  than  it  would  do  to  suffer  from  it. 

On  the  31st  of  May,  1793,  the  Jacobins  marched  40,000 
men  against  the  Convention.  That  same  night  Madame 
Roland  was  arrested  and  thrown  into  the  prison  of  the 
Abbaye.  Here  she  displayed  her  usual  firmness,  and  con- 
tinued to  exercise  towards  the  poor  and  unfortunate  a 
benevolence  for  which,  in  her  prosperous  days,  she  had  been 
remarkable.  Before  her  friends  she  was  cheerful,  and  her 
language  always  breathed  a  pure,  truly  patriotic  fire.  In  soli- 
tude the  feelings  of  wife  and  mother  overcame  her,  and  many 
hours  were  passed  in  tearful  anguish.  On  the  24th  of  June, 
the  Citoyenne  Roland,  to  her  intense  surprise,  was  informed 
that  she  was  a  free  woman.  Hastily  she  gathered  together 
her  few  belongings,  and  taking  a  coach  drove  to  her  apart- 
ments in  the  Rue  de  la  Harpe.  She  was  running  gaily  up 
the  stairs  when  two  men  stopped  her.  "  Citoyenne  Roland!" 
"What  do  you  want  ?  "  asked  she.  "We  arrest  you  in  the 
name  of  the  law."  The  only  explanation  given  of  the  cir- 
cumstance was  that  her  first  arrest  had  been  illegal.  Natur- 
ally her  sufferings  were  greatly  aggravated  by  this  whimsical 
whirl  of  affairs. 

She  was  conveyed  now  to  the  prison  of  Sainte  Pelagie, 
where  women  of  the  worst  class  were  confined.  Here,  by 
her  lovely  disposition  and  fascinating  behavior,  she  won  even 
the  hard  hearts  of  her  jailors.  Her  time  was  passed  in  writ- 
ing her  "Memoirs,"  full  of  lively  description,  entertaining 
anecdotes  of  her  contemporaries,  and  remarks  indicative  of 
penetration  and  habitual  reflection.  Her  pages  detail  the 
events  of  her  childhood  and  youth  with  matchless  sprightli- 
ness.  This  work  is  now  one  of  the  French  classics,  and,  as 
the  narrative  advances,  events  of  a  deeper  interest  are  related 
with  great  facility  of  expression,  sometimes  with  mournful 
pathos,  generally  with  great  judgment,  not  always  without 
satire,  but  always  with  easy  eloquence.  Several  prisoners 
cheated  the  guillotine  by  taking  poison,  and  at  one  time 
Madame  Roland  herself  contemplated  doing  so,  but,  com- 
municating her  resolution  to  her  dear  friend,  Buzot,  he  repre- 
sented to  her  that  a  nobler  course  would  be  to  wait  for  death, 
rv — 20 


306  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

and  ' '  leave  the  memoty  of  so  great  a  sacrifice  to  the  cause 
for  which  she  had  lived."  She  now  calmly  decided  to  await 
the  result. 

On  the  31st  of  October,  1793,  Madame  Roland  was  sent 
to  the  Conciergerie.  On  the  loth  of  November  she  appeared 
before  Fouquier  Tinville's  judgment  bar.  She  declined  the 
aid  of  M.  Chauveau  Lagarde,  the  great  advocate,  who  had 
proffered  her  his  services.  This  learned  man  had  been  the 
advocate  for  Marie  Antoinette,  for  Charlotte  Corday,  and  for 
the  Girondists.  Her  courage  never  deserted  her  during  her 
trial.  The  principal  charge  in  the  indictment  consisted  in  the 
relations  she  had  entertained  with  the  Girondists,  condemned 
for  traitorous  designs  against  the  unity  and  indivisibility  of 
the  Republic.  The  trial,  so  far  as  justice  was  concerned,  was 
a  farce,  a  mockery  of  justice.  Not  a  sign  of  emotion  betrayed 
itself  on  the  face  of  this  lovely  and  heroic  woman  as  she  heard 
sentence  pronounced.  Her  dauntless  reply  to  it  was:  "  You 
consider  me  worthy  to  share  the  fate  of  the  great  men  whom 
you  have  assassinated.  I  shall  try  to  carry  to  the  scaffold  the 
courage  they  have  shown."     She  did  so. 

On  the  same  da}^,  and  at  the  same  hour,  a  man  was  to  be 
guillotined.  The  brave  woman,  wishing  to  spare  her  com- 
panion the  horror  of  seeing  her  blood  spilt,  asked  the  execu- 
tioner to  let  him  go  first.  He  refused.  ' '  Surely  you  cannot 
refuse  the  last  request  of  a  lady,"  she  said,  and  then  her 
request  was  granted.  Bending  herself  before  the  great  statue 
of  Liberty,  which  had  lately  been  erected  in  the  Place  de  la 
Revolution,  she  exclaimed  :  "  O  Liberty!  what  crimes  are 
committed  in  thy  name!"  The  axe  descended,  and  the 
head  of  this  glorious  woman  rolled  into  the  basket.  M. 
Roland,  immediately  after  the  execution,  left  his  hiding  place, 
and  walking  four  leagues  on  the  road  to  Paris,  sat  down  by 
the  side  of  a  tree  and  plunged  his  sword  through  his  heart. 
He  left  a  note  by  his  side  containing  these  words  :  "  Who- 
ever you  are  who  find  me  lying  here,  respect  my  remains; 
they  are  those  of  a  man  who  devoted  his  whole  life  to  being 
useful,  and  who  died,  as  he  had  lived,  virtuous  and  honest." 

Madame  Roland  was  a  martyr  for  the  sake  of  true  repub- 
lican principles.     She  laid  down  her  life,  beautiful  and  pure. 


MADAME  ROLAND.  307 

as  a  sacrifice  to  her  country's  good.  The  struggle  from  a 
state  of  brutal  degradation,  corruption  and  freedom,  could 
not  be  accomplished  without  such  sacrifices. 

The  Willing  Victim. 

Minds  which  have  any  claim  to  greatness  are  capable  of 
divesting  themselves  of  selfish  considerations ;  they  feel  that 
they  belong  to  the  whole  human  race :  and  their  views  are 
directed  to  posterity  alone.  I  was  the  friend  of  men  who 
have  been  proscribed  and  immolated  by  delusion,  and  the 
hatred  of  jealous  mediocrity.  It  is  necessary  that  I  should 
perish  in  my  turn,  because  it  is  a  rule  with  tj-ranny  to 
sacrifice  those  whom  it  has  grievously  oppressed,  and  to 
annihilate  the  very  witnesses  of  its  misdeeds.  I  have  this 
double  claim  to  death  from  your  hands,  and  I  expect  it. 
When  innocence  walks  to  the  scaffold,  at  the  command  of 
error  and  perversity,  every  step  she  takes  is  an  advance 
towards  glory.  May  I  be  the  last  victim  sacrificed  to  the 
furious  spirit  of  party  !  I  shall  quit  with  joy  this  unfortunate 
earth  which  swallows  up  the  friends  of  virtue,  and  drinks  the 
blood  of  the  just. 

Truth!  friendship!  my  country'!  sacred  objects,  sentiments 
dear  to  my  heart,  accept  my  last  sacrifice.  My  life  was  devoted 
to  you,  and  you  will  render  my  death  easy  and  glorious. 

Just  heaven  !  enlighten  this  unfortunate  people  for  whom 

I  desired  liberty. Liberty! — It  is  for  noble  minds.     It  is 

not  for  weak  beings  who  enter  into  a  composition  with  guilt, 
and  cover  selfishness  and  cowardice  with  the  name  of  pru- 
dence. It  is  not  for  corrupt  wretches,  who  rise  from  the  bed 
of  debauchery,  or  from  the  mire  of  indigence,  to  feast  their 
eyes  on  the  blood  that  streams  from  the  scaffold.  It  is  the 
portion  of  a  people  who  delight  in  humanity,  practice  justice, 
despise  their  flatterers,  and  respect  the  truth.  While  you  are 
not  such  a  people.  Oh  my  fellow-citizens  I  you  will  talk  in 
vain  of  liberty  :  instead  of  liberty  you  will  have  licentious- 
ness, of  which  you  will  all  fall  victims  in  your  turns ;  you 
will  ask  for  bread,  and  dead  bodies  will  be  given  you ;  and 
you  will  at  last  bow  down  your  necks  to  the  yoke. 


3o8 


HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND  FAMOUS  EVENTS. 


I  have  neither  concealed  my  sentiments  nor  my  opinions. 
I  know  that  a  Roman  lady  was  sent  to  the  scaffold  for 
lamenting  the  death  of  her  son.  I  know  that  in  times  of 
delusion  and  party  rage,  he  who  dares  avow  himself  the  friend 
of  the  proscribed,  exposes  himself  to  their  fate.  But  I  despise 
death ;  I  never  feared  anything  but  guilt,  and  I  will  not  pur- 
chase life  at  the  expense  of  a  base  subterfuge.  Woe  to  the 
times  !  Woe  to  the  people  among  whom  doing  homage  to  dis- 
regarded truth  can  be  attended  with  danger ;  and  happy  he 
who  in  such  circumstances  is  bold  enough  to  brave  it. 

— Madame  Roland. 


MADAME   ROIvAND. 

'Tis  well  to  hold  in  Good  our  faith  entire, 

Rejecting  doubt,  refusing  to  despond, 
Believing,  beneath  skies  of  gloom  and  fire, 

In  splendors  of  heavenly  worlds  beyond : 
As  erst,  when  gangs  of  infamy  inhuman, 

At  Freedom  striking  still  through  freeman's  lives, 

Her  great  support  devoted  to  their  knives, 
The  Soul  of  Gironde,  an  inspired  woman  ! 
Serene  of  aspect,  and  unmoved  of  eye, 
Round  the  stern  car  which  bore  her  on  to  die, 

A  brutal  mob  applauded  to  the  crime. 
But  vain  beside  the  pure  the  vile  might  be ! 

Her  heart  despaired  not ;  and  her  lip  sublime 
Blessed  thee  unto  the  last,  O  sainted  I^iberty  ! 

— A.  Barbier. 


NECKER  was  for  some  years  the 
most  successful  and  popular 
financier  of  the  French  mon- 
archy, before  it  was  swallowed 
up  in  the  vortex  of  the  Revo- 
lution. But  his  reputation 
as  a  statesman  has  become 
dim,  and  his  fame  is  eclipsed 
by  that  of  his  daughter, 
Madame  de  Stael. 

Jacques  Necker  was  born 
in  1732,  at  Geneva,  where  his 
father,  a  Prussian  by  birth,  was  professor  of  civil  law.  In 
his  fifteenth  year,  young  Necker  went  to  Paris,  and  was  em- 
ployed as  a  clerk,  first  in  the  banking-house  of  Vernet. 
Afterwards,  in  company  with  another  Genevese,  Thelusson, 
he  established  an  international  bank  which  became  famous. 
Thelusson  superintended  the  bank  in  London,  and  Necker 
attended  to  its  affairs  in  Paris.  Having  in  a  few  years  made 
a  handsome  fortune,  Necker,  in  1764,  married  Suzanne 
Curchod,  the  daughter  of  a  Protestant  pastor,  near  Lausanne, 
Switzerland.  In  her  father's  house  the  historian  Gibbon 
had  spent  part  of  his  youth  and  had  been  engaged  to  the 
girl,  but  had  given  up  the  marriage  when  his  father  objected. 
Mademoiselle  Curchod  had  gone  to  Paris  as  companion  to 
a  French  officer's  widow,  and  she  attracted  the  regard  of 
Necker.  She  was  very  ambitious  and  encouraged  her  hus- 
band to  take  direct  part  in  public  affairs.  He  therefore  be- 
came syndic  of  the  French  East  India  Company,  which 
connection  added  much  to  his  wealth. 

309 


3IO  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND  FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

Necker,  ambitious  of  rising  in  the  public  service,  made 
himself  known  as  an  economist  by  publishing,  in  1773,  his 
"Eulogium  of  Colbert,"  the  beginning  of  his  controversy 
with  the  economists  of  the  school  of  Quesnay.  His  next  step 
was  to  forward  a  "Memoir  upon  the  French  Finances"  to 
Maurepas,  president  of  the  Council  of  Finances,  who  per- 
suaded Louis  XVI.  to  appoint  the  writer  to  the  treasury, 
the  direction  of  which  he  retained  during  the  five  years, 
1776-1781. 

Economy  and  regularity  were  the  leading  parts  of  Necker' s 
financial  system.  He  suppressed  the  posts  of  "intendans  des 
finances,"  established  provincial  assemblies,  abolished  taxes  on 
industry,  established  the  "monts  de  piete,"  or  public  pawn- 
shops. He  was  successful  in  restoring  public  credit,  though 
his  censurers  assert,  he  merely  deferred  payment  by  inaugurat- 
ing new  loans.  His  conduct  was  disinterested  ;  he  refused  all 
emolument  for  his  services,  and  advanced  to  the  Government 
from  his  private  property  a  large  sum,  which  he  never  drew 
out  from  the  funds.  His  administration  was  popular;  but 
his  saving  plans  and  abolition  of  monopolies  created  for  him 
many  enemies  at  court ;  and  upon  his  applying  to  be  admitted 
to  a  seat  in  the  council,  for  the  purpose  of  increasing  his 
influence,  he  received  no  answer.  Regarding  this  as  an  inten- 
tional indignity,  he  resigned,  and  then  published  his  famous 
"Compte  Rendu,"  in  which  he  furnished  a  clear  statement  of 
the  condition  of  the  royal  treasury  at  his  assumption  of  office, 
and  of  what  he  had  done,  with  a  further  declaration  of  what 
he  had  intended  to  do. 

The  effect  of  this  able  document  was  very  great  upon  the 
public  mind  in  France.  It  was  soon  translated  into  all  the 
languages  of  Europe.  Necker  followed  this  by  publishing 
his  "Administration  of  the  Finances,"  which  treated  the 
same  subject  more  largely,  and  was  read  with  equal  avidity. 
When  M.  de  Calonne  was  appointed  to  the  office  which 
Necker  had  resigned,  he  made  an  attack,  before  the  Assembly 
of  Notables,  upon  the  accuracy  of  Necker' s  statements  in  the 
"Compte  Rendu."  The  latter  drew  up  a  memoir  in  reply, 
which  he  sent  to  the  king ;  and  his  majesty  intimated  that  if 
he  would   forbear  making  it  public,  he   should  shortly  be 


NECKER.  311 

restored  to  his  place.  Necker,  however,  feeling  his  reputation 
to  be  at  stake,  thought  proper  to  make  an  appeal  to  the  nation 
by  publishing  his  defence.  This  disobedience  to  the  royal 
pleasure  was  punished  by  exile  to  his  seat  of  St.  Ouen,  forty 
leagues  from  Paris.  Here  he  occupied  himself  with  literature 
and  wrote  "The  Importance  of  Religious  Opinions,"  in 
which  he  shows  the  serious  and  spiritual  character  of  his 
mind.  His  famous  daughter  was  now  married  to  the  Swedish 
Baron  Eric  Magnus  Von  Stael-Holstein. 

When  Calonne  and  Lomenie  Brienne,  his  successors,  were 
compelled  to  retire  by  the  disastrous  state  of  the  finances,  the 
honest  minister  was  recalled,  on  the  24tli  of  August,  1788, 
and  public  credit  immediately  began  to  revive.  In  January 
of  the  following  year,  in  accordance  with  his  suggestions,  and 
in  fulfillment  of  the  pledges  of  the  government,  the  States- 
General  were  convoked,  and  in  May  they  were  assembled  for 
business.  The  constitution  of  this  body  was  ruled  by  the 
advice  of  Necker,  to  whom,  therefore,  it  was  owing  that  the 
members  of  the  "Tiers  Etat "  were  equal  in  number  to  the 
nobles  and  the  clergy  united.  This  circumstance  occasioned 
a  dead-lock,  disagreement  arising  on  matters  of  form  necessary 
to  constitute  the  assembly,  and  after  three  weeks  had  been 
wasted  in  altercation,  a  "Seance  Royale  "  was  resolved  upon, 
in  which  instructions  were  to  be  given  from  the  throne.  The 
deputies  being  excluded  from  the  hall  while  preparations  were 
making  for  this  sitting,  held  a  meeting  in  the  Tennis  Court, 
presided  over  by  Baill}',  where  they  swore  an  oath  to  meet 
under  all  circumstances,  and  in  all  places  wherever  they  could 
get  together,  and  not  to  separate  till  they  had  made  the  Con- 
stitution. Necker  drew  up  a  plan  of  government  to  be 
recommended  by  the  king  in  a  speech  ;  but  this  document 
underwent  several  alterations  in  the  Council.  His  absence  at 
the  time  of  its  delivery  was  much  censured,  as  indicative  of 
his  displeasure  at  these  alterations,  and  prejudicing  the  people 
against  the  coiirt.  His  dissent  should  rather  have  been  shown 
by  an  open  resignation  than  by  an  implied  dissatisfaction. 

Necker  now  made  a  decided  stand  in  favor  of  the  people, 
and  resisted  the  attempt  to  coerce  the  assembly  by  the  action  of 
the  army.     The  court  regarded  him  as  the  cause  of  the  Revo- 


312  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS   AND   FAMOUS    EVENTS. 

lution,  and  on  the  nth  of  July,  1789,  a  sudden  order  was  sent 
that  he  should  quit  the  kingdom  within  twenty-four  hours. 
He  at  once  drove  incognito  to  his  country  seat,  and  then  pro- 
ceeded to  Brussels.  As  soon  as  his  dismissal  was  known,  all 
Paris  was  in  flame  ;  the  people  instantly  rose  in  arms,  one  of 
their  principal  movers  being  Camille  Desmoulins.  Their  first 
step  was  a  tumultuous  procession  through  the  streets,  bearing 
aloft  wax  busts  of  Necker  and  the  Duke  of  Orleans.  On 
the  14th  the  Bastile  was  taken  ;  and  on  the  15th  Necker  was 
recalled.  His  return  to  Paris  was  marked  by  a  popular 
ovation,  which  placed  him  at  the  very  summit  of  renown. 
He  remained  in  office  till  the  3d  of  September,  1790,  taking 
no  salary,  and  advancing  as  much  as  two  millions  of  livres  to 
the  government. 

As  a  minister  of  finance  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  pro- 
pose expedients  which  could  not  but  be  unpleasant  to  the 
mass  of  the  people.  His  moderate  sentiments,  also,  with 
regard  to  government,  left  him  far  behind  the  advanced  prin- 
ciples which  now  began  to  be  avowed  by  the  popular  leaders. 
Therefore,  during  his  term  of  office,  his  popularity  rapidly 
declined  under  the  rising  star  of  Mirabeau,  on  the  one  hand, 
and  the  increasing  difficulties  of  carrying  on  the  government 
with  such  a  court  as  that  of  Louis  XVI.  on  the  other.  Under 
these  circumstances  he  asked  permission  to  resign,  but  left 
the  money  he  had  advanced,  together  with  his  house  and 
furniture,  as  the  material  guarantee  of  his  previous  integrity. 
With  the  greatest  indifference  his  request  was  granted,  and  he 
retired  to  Coppet,  near  Geneva. 

In  this  retirement  his  mind  supported  itself  chiefly  by  his 
favorite  occupation  of  writing.  He  penned  a  defence  of  his 
public  conduct,  and  whilst  the  king's  trial  was  pending,  he 
endeavored  to  serve  his  former  master  by  the  publication  of 
"  Reflections  addressed  to  the  French  Nation."  In  another 
essay  he  gave  his  ideas  on  the  executive  part  of  government. 
His  "Course  of  Religious  Morality,"  shows  him  in  the  light 
of  an  eloquent  preacher.  One  of  the  last  of  his  compositions 
was  a  novel,  entitled  "The  Fatal  Consequences  of  a  Single 
Fault." 

Necker  had  been  placed  in  the  list  of  emigrants,  but  the 


NECKER.  313 

Directory  unaniniously  erased  his  name  ;  and  when  the 
French  army  entered  Switzerland,  the  generals  treated  him 
with  marked  attention.  But  he  never  recovered  any  hold  on 
the  public  affairs.  He  remained  a  wreck  stranded  on  the 
shore.  His  residence  at  Coppet  was  shared  with  his  daughter, 
Madame  de  Stael,  and  his  niece,  Madame  Necker  de  Saussure. 
He  died  in  April,  1804,  at  the  age  of  seventy-two. 

The  States-General  and  National  Assembly. 

On  May  5,  1789,  the  States-General  met  for  the  first  time 
at  Versailles.  More  than  a  hundred  and  seventy  years  had 
passed  since,  in  the  youth  of  the  Bourbon  monarchy,  this  an- 
cient Assembly  of  the  Estates  of  the  Realm  had  consulted 
upon  the  common  weal,  and  they  were  now  convened  for  the 
same  purpose  when  that  monarchy  was  in  decline  and  peril. 

The  spectacle  formed  an  imposing  sight,  and  it  seemed  for 
a  moment  as  if  the  elements  of  the  long  discordant  connnunity 
of  France  had  blended  in  happy  and  auspicious  union  through 
the  representatives  of  its  different  Orders.  A  great  hall  had 
been  laid  out  in  the  palace,  and  prepared  in  stately  and  mag- 
nificent pomp  ;  and  royalty  welcomed  the  National  Estates, 
composed  of  more  than  twelve  hundred  deputies,  with  a 
splendor  worthy  of  the  solemn  occasion.  The  King,  with 
the  ministers  of  State,  in  front,  and  the  Queen  and  Princes 
of  the  blood  at  his  side,  sat  on  a  throne  brilliant  with  purple 
and  gold  ;  below,  arrayed  in  separate  processions,  spread  the 
ranks  of  the  Nobles,  all  plumes  and  lace  ;  of  the  Connnons,  in 
homely  and  simple  garb  ;  of  the  Clerg}-,  the  superb  robes 
of  the  prelates  mingling  strangely  with  the  cassocks  of  the 
village  priests  ;  and  from  galleries  above  a  throng  of  courtiers, 
of  jewelled  dames,  and  of  foreign  envoys,  contemplated  curi- 
ously the  interesting  scene.  Outside,  crowds  of  eager  spec- 
tators filled  the  balconies  and  covered  the  roofs  of  Versailles, 
decked  out  gaily  for  a  brilliant  holiday  ;  and  the  groups 
extended  as  far  as  the  capital,  already  stirring  with  passionate 
excitement. 

All  seemed  deference,  good-will  and  hope,  when  the  King 
announced  that  he  had  called  together  the  wisdom  of  France 
to  assist  at  his  councils  ;  and  even  a  declaration  that  his  chief 


314  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS   AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS- 

object  was  to  provide  for  the  pressing  wants  of  the  State  did 
not  weaken  the  prevailing  sentiment.  Yet  it  was  observed 
with  regret  that  the  face  of  the  Qneen  seemed  overclouded 
with  settled  care,  and  jealousy  had  been  aroused  in  more  than 
one  breast  by  the  distinctions  drawn  by  the  officials  of  the 
Court,  and  by  the  contrast  between  the  feudal  magnificence 
of  the  nobility  and  the  lordly  hierarchy,  and  the  plebeian 
aspect  of  the  meanly-attired  Commons. 

On  the  following  day,  the  Estates  were  invited,  their  first 
sitting  having  been  merely  formal,  to  meet  again  for  the  dis- 
patch of  business.  The  intention  of  Necker,  the  chief  min- 
ister, had  been  to  convene  them  for  the  object  mainly  of  pro- 
curing supplies  for  an  exhausted  treasury — an  increasing  deficit 
had  for  many  years  been  one  symptom  of  the  ills  of  the  State — 
but  it  had  long  been  arranged  that  they  were  to  advise  on  the 
administration  and  general  affairs  of  the  kingdom.  A  pre- 
liminary question,  however,  arose,  which  brought  out  dis- 
tinctly the  deep-seated  differences  already  existing  in  this 
Assembly.  According  to  ancient  precedent,  the  separate 
Orders  of  the  States-General  gave  their  votes  apart,  and  the 
Nobles  and  Clergy,  if  they  coalesced,  could  easily  neutralize 
the  will  of  the  Commons,  voting  being  by  Orders  and  not  by 
persons,  and  the  votes  of  two  Orders  being  thus  decisive. 
Trusting  to  this  usage,  the  Court  had  consented,  in  the  elec- 
tions, which  had  lately  taken  place,  that  the  number  of  the 
representatives  of  the  people  should  be  double  what  it  had 
been  formerly,  for  it  was  thought  no  danger  could  possibly 
arise,  and  the  concession  was  a  popular  measure. 

The  Commons,  however,  had  made  up  their  minds  not  to 
be  reduced  to  ciphers  by  ancient  forms,  and  they  insisted, 
accordingly,  that  the  three  Orders  should  hold  their  delibera- 
tions apart,  and  that  votes  should  be  given  by  head  ;  that  is, 
be  determined  by  the  majority  of  individuals  in  the  collective 
Assembly.  The  Nobles  protested  against  this  scheme,  being 
but  three  against  more  than  six  hundred  Commons  ;  and  they 
resisted  an  invitation  to  a  fusion  in  which  their  influence 
might  be  diminished,  the  three  hundred  Clergy,  though 
divided  in  mind,  siding  with  them  at  the  command  of  the 
bishops. 


NECKER.  315 

During  several  weeks  the  separate  Orders  stood  sullenly 
aloof  and  almost  hostile,  and  nothing  in  the  nature  of  business 
was  done,  to  the  mortification  of  a  minister  and  a  Court 
exceedingly  in  need  of  a  supply  of  money.  The  Commons, 
however,  held  firm,  backed  by  messages  from  the  provinces, 
and  by  the  attitude  of  the  great  neighboring  city,  already 
effervescing  with  agitation  ;  and  at  last  they  adopted  a  decided 
course.  On  June  17,  it  being  known  that  some  Liberal  nobles 
were  on  their  side,  and  several  of  the  inferior  clergy  having 
come  to  them,  thev  declared  themselves  the  National  Assemblv 
of  France  ;  and,  while  they  invited  their  fellow-members  to 
join  them,  announced  that  nothing  should  prevent  their  pro- 
ceeding "  to  begin  the  work  of  national  regeneration." 

Three  days  after  this  important  event,  the  Commons 
found,  to  their  extreme  surprise,  the  great  hall  at  Versailles,  in 
which  they  had  sat,  shut  up,  and  the  Grand  Master  of  the 
ceremonies  curtly  told  Bailly — a  distinguished  member  whom 
they  had  chosen  President — that  the  place  was  wanted  for  the 
royal  convenience.  Alarm  was  seen  in  many  faces,  for  a 
sudden  act  of  violence  was  feared  ;  but,  at  the  instance  of  one 
or  two  courageous  men,  the  whole  body  betook  itself  to  an 
old  Tennis  Court,  at  a  short  distance,  and,  amidst  a  scene 
of  passionate  excitement,  swore  a  solemn  oath  ' '  that  it  would 
never  separate  until  it  had  set  the  Constitution  on  a  sure 
foundation,"  (June  20.)  Meanwhile,  the  Court  had  been 
forming  schemes  for  dealing  with  these  extraordinary  proceed- 
ings, and  for  putting  an  end  to  a  state  of  things  which  appeared 
to  it  the  wildest  presumption.  Necker,  timid  and  cautious, 
proposed  a  compromise,  to  which  it  is  said  the  King  inclined  ; 
but  the  counsels  of  an  extreme  party  prevailed,  and  it  was 
resolved  to  make  a  display  of  vigor. 

On  June  23,  having  been  kept  standing  by  oflScial  inso- 
lence for  some  time  under  rain,  the  Commons  were  summoned 
again  to  the  great  hall,  and  the  King  read  them  a  lecture, 
which  had  been  put  into  his  mouth,  to  the  efifect  that  it  was 
his  pleasure  that  the  three  Orders  should,  as  in  old  times, 
deliberate  and  vote  apart,  and  that,  if  further  resistance  were 
made,  "he  would  do  by  himself  alone  what  was  meet  for  his 
people."     This  foolish   harangue  was   met   in  silence;  but 


3l6  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

when  the  Grand  Master  of  the  Ceremonies,  following,  it  is 
said,  the  etiquette  of  the  ancient  despotism,  commanded  the 
Assembly  to  depart,  he  was  told  by  Mirabeau — a  man  whose 
pen  and  voice  were  already  a  power  in  France — that  "they 
were  met  there  by  the  will  of  the  people,  and  that  bayonets 
alone  should  drive  them  from  the  spot. "  In  a  few  moments 
a  vote  was  passed  by  acclamation,  which  declared  the  persons 
of  members  of  the  Assembly  sacred,  and  made  it  a  capital 
crime  to  molest  them. 

These  bold  measures,  supported  as  they  were  by  popular 
demonstrations  in  Paris,  intimidated  the  Court,  which  thought 
that  the  Commons  would  be  silenced  with  as  much  ease  as  the 
old  Parliaments  had  been  by  Beds  of  Justice,  the  coups  d'etat 
of  the  Bourbon  monarchy,  by  which  the  Sovereign  had  often 
put  down  opposition  in  these  feudal  Assemblies.  The  King, 
when  apprised  of  what  had  taken  place,  remarked,  it  is  said, 
only,  "  Let  them  stay  if  they  please."  With  his  usual  weak- 
ness, he  allowed  himself  to  float  passively  on  the  tide  of  events. 
Before  this  time  a  considerable  number  of  the  minor  clergy- 
had  joined  the  Commons,  and  they  were  soon  followed  by  the 
party  in  the  Nobles  which  wished  for  reform,  and  even  longed 
for  change.  The  rest  of  the  Order,  however,  still  held  aloof ; 
but  at  last,  at  the  request  of  Louis  himself,  they  gave  up  an 
opposition  that  was  becoming  fruitless,  and  fell  into  the  ranks 
of  what  had  now  been  fully  recognized  as  the  National  As- 
sembly. This  step,  however,  had  been  taken  in  order  mainly 
to  conceal  arrangements  by  which  the  extreme  Court  party 
thought  they  would  triumph  and  overawe  the  Commons  they 
feared,  yet  despised. 

On  July  II,  Necker,  whose  advice  to  convene  the  States- 
General  had  made  him  very  popular,  whatever  his  motives 
were,  was  dismissed  ;  a  ministry  of  soldiers  and  of  reactionary 
nobles,  either  unknown  or  disliked,  was  set  up,  and  the 
Assembly  saw,  not  without  alarm,  that  batteries  were  being 
constructed  at  Versailles,  and  heard  that  troops  were  approach- 
ing in  thousands,  and  that  an  armed  force  of  irresistible 
strength  was  being  directed  upon  the  capital.  Rumor  spread, 
too,  that  it  had  been  said  in  the  palace  "that  the  best  place 
for  a  mutinous  Assembly  was  a  garrison  town,  where  it  could 


NECKER.  317 

be  kept  under,"  and  that  the  Queen  had  shown  her  children 
to  noble  officers,  and  had  asked,  "Could  she  rely  on  their 
swords?"  and  there  was  a  report  of  what  was  described  as 
"an  orgie,"  in  which  ladies  of  honor  had  done  strange  things 
to  enthral  youthful  dragoons  and  hussars. 

This  intelligence,  magnified  by  a  thousand  tongues, 
quickened  the  already  fiery  excitement  of  Paris,  and  the  flame 
soon  rose  into  a  conflagration.  On  July  12,  proclamation  was 
made  "on  the  part  of  the  King"  to  keep  the  peace,  and 
presently  soldiery  with  strange  faces — the  half-foreign  German 
and  Swiss  regiments,  of  which  there  were  several  in  the  royal 
army — were  seen  occupying  the  central  streets  and  chief 
squares  of  the  great  city.  The  sight  caused  terror  and  indig- 
nation ;  angry  meetings  were  harangued  in  the  gardens  of  the 
Palais  Royal  by  passionate  speakers,  and  a  procession  was 
formed  carrying  at  its  head  busts  of  Necker  and  of  the  Duke 
of  Orleans,  whose  largesses  and  opposition  to  the  Court  made 
him  one  of  the  idols  of  the  lower  populace.  In  a  charge  made 
to  disperse  this  assemblage,  the  Germans  cut  down  one  or  two 
men  of  the  French  Guards  with  a  few  unarmed  persons,  and 
the  foreign  uniforms  were  ere  long  seen  in  the  avenues  of  the 
Tuileries,  driving  before  them  a  scattering  collection  of  citi- 
zens in  flight. 

These  incidents,  not  in  themselves  momentous,  proved  the 
spark  that  reached  the  combustible  mass,  and  fired  it  in  a 
widespread  explosion.  A  spirit  of  disaffection  —  the  natural 
result  of  a  brutal  discipline  and  of  harsh  treatment — had 
shown  itself  in  the  French  Guards,  as,  indeed,  in  other  parts 
of  the  Army  ;  and  as  it  was  very  apparent  in  a  body  exposed 
to  the  allurements  and  mob  speeches  of  Paris — for  the  Guards 
were  part  of  the  city  garrison — the  men  had  been  lately  con- 
fined to  barracks.  When  the  news  arrived  of  the  fate  of  their 
comrades,  the  Guards  broke  out  and  fired  at  the  Germans,  and 
the  first  example  of  military  insubordination  caused  the  disso- 
lution of  all  military  authority.  Shouts  of  "  Long  live  the 
Nation  ! ' '  were  heard  from  the  quarters  of  regiments  usually 
stationed  in  the  capital  ;  even  the  foreign  troops  were  affected 
by  the  general  contagion  in  a  few  hours,  and  sullenly  declared 
that  they  would  not  shed  blood,  and  the  only  resource  left  to 


31 8  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

the  indignant  officers  was  to  withdraw  the  demoralized  mass, 
and  to  beat  a  retreat.  A  thrill  of  exultation  ran  through 
Paris  at  the  disappearance  of  the  strange  invaders,  and  power 
once  dreaded  having  proved  worthless,  disorder  and  violence 
were  let  loose.  During  the  night  the  city  was  wildly  astir  ; 
the  dark  swarms  of  poverty  and  vice,  which  became  afterwards 
the  legions  of  the  Reign  of  Terror,  emerged  in  thousands  from 
their  wretched  haunts,  mingled  here  and  there  with  less  hideous 
groups,  and  shops  were  sacked  and  the  great  Town  Hall  invaded 
by  these  mobs  to  the  cry  of  ' '  Arms  ! ' '  Next  morning  a  provis- 
ional committee,  composed  of  the  chief  men  of  the  sixty  dis- 
tricts into  which  Paris  had  been  divided,  took  the  rule  of  the 
capital  into  their  hands,  the  old  authorities  having  proved 
powerless,  and  an  endeavor  was  made  to  give  a  kind  of  organ- 
ization to  the  movement,  and  in  some  measure  to  direct  and 
control  it.  The  citizens  were  encouraged  to  form  themselves 
into  a  militia  of  volunteers  drawn  from  the  districts  ;  these 
bands  were  to  wear  in  their  cockades  the  Parisian  colors 
of  blue  and  red  ;  and  they  were  not  only  to  find  arms  as  best 
they  could,  but  arms  were  liberally  supplied  to  them.  M.  de 
Flesseles,  head  of  the  old  Town  Council,  was  made  President 
of  this  Board  ;  and,  though  the  objects  of  the  members  varied, 
a  general  intention  certainly  prevailed  to  keep  the  insurrection 
within  bounds.  Such  was  the  origin  of  the  world-renowned 
Commune  of  Paris,  and  of  the  National  Guard,  names  of  deep 
significance  in  the  Revolution. — W.  O'Connor  Morris. 


^ 


ROBESPIERRE  was  the  personification 
of  the  French  Revokition,  that  bold 
attempt  to  reach  heaven  in  one  day, 
resulting  for  the  time  in  making  a  hell 
on  earth.  Robespierre  was  its  prophet, 
its  expounder,  its  chief  actor,  and  most 
justly  its  victim. 

Frangois  Joseph  Maximilien  Isidore 
Robespierre  was  born  at  Arras  in  1759. 
His  father  was  of  English  origin,  by 
profession  an  advocate,  and  though  not  rich,  as  few  could  be 
at  a  provincial  bar,  he  was  sufficiently  well  off  to  pay  for  the 
education  of  his  children.  Francjois,  therefore,  was  sent  to 
Paris,  and  educated  for  the  same  profession,  at  the  College  of 
Louis  le  Grand,  where  Camille  Desmoulins  was  his  fellow- 
student.  At  the  age  of  thirty  he  had  already  acquired  a 
literar}'  and  professional  celebrity  in  his  native  province,  and 
possessed  so  much  of  the  public  confidence  that  he  was  sent 
as  a  deputy  to  the  States-General.  Like  many  others  in  that 
assembly  whose  names,  in  the  course  of  the  next  five  years, 
fi,lled  every  mouth  in  Europe,  Robespierre  was  unknown  and 
unmarked  as  a  man  of  any  likelihood,  and  was  destined  to 
remain  so  until  the  popular  applause  had  been  exhausted  by 
a  Necker,  a  Lafayette,  and  a  Mirabeau. 

Robespierre  was  deeply  read  in  the  history  of  the  Grecian 
and  Roman  republics,  and  next  to  his  admiration  for  the  ex- 
amples set  by  the  free  states  and  heroes  of  antiquity,  came 
that  for  the  "Contrat  Social"  of  Rousseau.  These  were  the 
models  according  to  which  he  had  formed  his  ideal  of  a  state, 
and  whether  a  Mirabeau  declaimed  in  the  tribune,  or  a  Necker 

319 


320  HISTORIC    CHARACTERS   AND   FAMOUS   KVENTS. 

and  a  Roland  contrived  in  the  cabinet,  he  advanced  stealthily, 
but  with  a  deadly  certainty,  towards  his  object  During  the 
early  sittings  of  the  States-General,  he  was  the  close  observer 
of  those  who  represented  public  opinion  in  that  body,  but 
said  little  himself;  but  when  the  discussion  of  the  Constitution 
came  on,  he  frequently  occupied  the  tribune,  and  grew  bolder 
in  the  expression  of  his  republican  sentiments  as  he  found 
them  acceptable  to  the  people.  Trial  by  jury,  the  enfran- 
chisement of  the  slaves,  the  liberty  of  the  press,  the  abolition 
of  capital  punishment,  were  among  the  special  subjects  advo- 
cated by  him. 

In  the  autumn  of  1789  commenced  the  revolutionary 
journalism  and  the  creation  of  clubs.  The  first  of  these 
clubs  was  the  Bretons'  Committee,  which  changed  its  name 
successively  to  "The  French  Revolution  Club,"  "Club  of 
the  Friends  of  the  Constitution,"  and  "Jacobins'  Club,"  so 
called  from  its  meeting  in  the  hall  of  a  Jacobin  convent;  it 
was  definitively  formed  on  the  6th  of  October,  1789.  Soon 
after  it  the  Cordeliers,  a  still  more  violent  body,  led  by 
Danton  and  Camille  Desmoulins,  was  formed  ;  and,  in  May, 
1790,  the  "Club  of  Feuillants,"  which  was  intended  to  rally 
the  Constitutionalists  against  the  Jacobins.  In  one  or  other 
of  these  clubs  all  the  characters  who  fig^ured  in  the  Rei^rn  of 
Terror  rose  to  note,  and  most  of  the  orators  in  the  Constituent 
Assembly  were  in  alliance  with  them.  Chief  of  these  was 
Mirabeau,  who  died  suddenly  in  March,  1791,  and  with  him 
expired  the  hopes  of  the  court  ever  to  come  to  an  under- 
standing with  the  people. 

In  June,  the  king  and  the  royal  family  attempted  to 
fly,  and  being  arrested  at  Varennes,  were  brought  back  to 
Paris.  This  was  Robespierre's  opportunity.  The  people  had 
lost  their  idol  in  Mirabeau,  and  were  now  in  a  state  of  the 
highest  excitement  and  exasperation.  Robespierre  addressed 
the  Assembly  in  the  dispassionate  and  well-studied  periods 
customary  with  him,  and  demonstrated  by  arguments  drawn 
from  antiquity  and  by  quotations  from  the  "Contrat  Social," 
that  the  king  was  responsible  to  the  people  as  their  chief 
magistrate,  intrusted  with  certain  executive  functions,  but 
himself   forming    no   part   of  the    national    representation. 


ROBESPIERRE.  321 

In  the  same  montli  of  June,  Robespierre  had  been  appointed 
public  accuser  at  the  criminal  tribunal  of  Paris,  and  he 
retained  this  office  till  April,  1792,  when  he  resigned  it  in 
order  to  devote  himself  to  the  popular  cause  in  the  Jacobin 
Club.  He  studiously  preserved  himself  free  from  all  taint  of 
violence  or  inconsistency,  and  yet  acquired  such  influence  in 
this  body  that  he  was  named  one  of  the  new  municipality 
after  the  insurrection  of  August,  and  in  this  capacity  had  to 
bewail  the  prison  massacres. 

From  this  time  he  took  the  place  up  to  which  he  had 
steadily  advanced  from  the  beginning,  as  chief  of  the  revolu- 
tionary movement,  and  he  now  began  to  hint  that  the  Consti- 
tution was  only  a  first  step  in  the  end  to  be  achieved.  Soon 
after,  in  September,  1791,  that  document  was  completed  and 
formally  accepted  by  the  king ;  and,  the  day  following,  the 
first  biennial  parliament,  or  legislative  assembly,  met  for 
business.  This  body  was  composed  wholly  of  new  members 
by  the  advice  of  Robespierre.  He,  himself,  crowned  with  oak 
leaves,  and  seated  in  a  carriage,  from  which  the  horses  had 
been  taken,  was  drawn  through  the  streets  by  the  enthusiastic 
people,  who  proclaimed  him  the  "real  defender  of  their 
rights."  The  next  startling  event  was  an  accusation  com- 
menced against  him  by  Barbaroux,  who  accused  Robespierre 
of  an  attempt  to  concentrate  the  public  authority  in  his 
own  hands  in  the  Paris  municipality  ;  this,  however,  ended 
in  words.  The  fate  of  the  king  was  then  decided  by  the 
majority.  Robespierre  said  but  little,  but  his  words  were,  as 
usual,  cold  and  decisive ;  there  was  no  rational  doubt  that 
the  king  must  die,  though  he  said  it  with  regret,  in  order  that 
the  republic  might  live.  The  temper  and  policy  of  Robe- 
spierre was  that  of  logic  incarnate,  and  the  lives  of  men,  or 
of  thousands  of  men,  were  admitted  into  his  balance  of  proba- 
bilities as  so  many  figures  in  a  mathematical  problem.  The 
fate  of  the  king  and  the  other  members  of  the  royal  family 
hardly  required  the  acceleration  given  it  by  his  hand;  the  real 
struggle  for  him,  as  he  felt  conscious,  was  with  the  two  great 
parties  who  would  resist  the  Dictatorship  at  which  he  was 
determined  to  arrive ;  these  were  the  Girondins  and  the 
Montagnards,  or  Mountain,  so  called  because  they  occupied 
IV — 21 


322  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND  FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

the  most  elevated  seats  in  the  hall  of  the  Assembly.  The 
former  included  nearly  all  the  respectability,  talent,  and 
eloquence  of  France ;  and  the  latter  was  marked  by  atheism 
and  immorality.  Robespierre's  calculation  of  means  was 
admirably  ingenious  ;  but  it  was  still  such  as  the  circum- 
stances dictated.  The  most  scrupulous  were  to  be  sacrificed 
first,  by  aid  of  those  less  so ;  the  effect  of  which  would  be  to 
throw  all  the  odium  of  the  Terror  upon  the  last  and  worst 
class,  whom  the  dictator  would  then,  in  the  face  of  the 
admiring  world,  vanquish  himself. 

The  struggle  with  the  Girondins  was  terminated  by  the 
proscriptions  of  the  31st  of  May  and  2d  of  June,  1793 ;  the 
Dantonists  fell  with  their  chief  on  the  5tli  of  April,  1794; 
and  there  now  remained  the  vile  faction  of  Hebert  and 
Chaumette.  The  critical  period  was  the  27th  of  July,  1 794. 
A  month  previous  Robespierre  had  withdrawn  from  the  Com- 
mittee of  Public  Safety,  and  completely  isolated  himself  from 
the  men  he  had  doomed  to  destruction  ;  in  this  interval  the 
committees  of  death  had  grown  more  insatiate  of  blood  daily. 
In  a  speech  of  remarkable  daring  Robespierre  apostrophized 
the  men  of  violence,  and,  as  he  well  knew,  staked  his  life 
upon  the  issue  of  it  in  the  Convention.  The  conspiracy 
against  him  in  that  body  instantly  betrayed  itself,  and  he 
proceeded  to  the  club  of  the  Jacobins.  Their  enthusiasm 
was  immense,  and  they  urged  him  to  arrest  the  committees 
and  march  upon  the  Convention.  This,  however,  he  refused 
to  do.  The  next  day  he  repeated  his  visit  to  the  national 
representatives,  and  was  arrested  by  that  body  in  the  midst  of 
a  tumultuous  scene.  The  younger  Robespierre,  Lebas,  Saint 
Just,  and  Couthon,  stood  by  him  nobly,  and  became  his 
felluw-prisoners.  There  might  now  have  been  a  fierce 
struggle  ;  but  Henriot,  mad  with  drunkenness,  who  should 
have  headed  the  troops  of  the  municipality,  was  arrested  by 
the  officers  of  the  Convention  at  the  very  moment  when  the 
prisoners  were  released  and  conveyed  to  the  Hotel  de  Ville. 

Robespierre  remained  passive,  and  refusing  to  lend  his 
sanction  by  word  or  gesture  to  any  illegal  act  against  the 
Convention,  was  seized  again  by  the  soldiers  of  Barras. 
Here,    it  has  been   said,   Robespierre   attempted  to  destroy 


ROBESPIERRS.  323 

himself,  and  was  found  with  his  jaw  shot  through  ;  it  is  now 
proved,  however,  that  it  was  the  cowardly  act  of  his  enemies 
as  they  entered  the  room  to  effect  the  arrest.  He  spoke  no 
word  and  betrayed  no  emotion  after  his  arrest,  though  he  was 
subjected  to  every  conceivable  indignity  and  insult.  The 
formalities  at  the  bar  of  Fouquier  Tinville  were  soon  gone 
through,  and  Robespierre  and  his  party  were  conveyed  to  the 
place  of  execution.  Before  the  knife  was  loosened,  the  execu- 
tioners pulled  off  the  bandage  from  Robespierre's  face,  in 
order  to  prevent  the  linen  from  deadening  the  blow  of  the 
axe.  The  agony  occasioned  by  this  drew  forth  a  cry  from  the 
wretched  sufferer  that  was  heard  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
Place  de  la  Revolution.  A  silence  followed  like  that  of  the 
grave — the  guillotine  fell,  and  the  head  of  Robespierre  rolled 
into  the  basket.  The  crowd  held  their  breath  for  some 
seconds,  and  then  burst  into  a  loud  cheering.  It  was  the 
second  day  only  after  Robespierre  had  made  his  last  desperate 
effort  for  the  Republic  in  the  National  Convention,  July 
28th,  1794. 

Robespierre  was  a  man  formed  by  study  of  remote  ideals 
and  classic  models.  His  sentiments  were  fashioned  as  of  cold, 
polished  steel ;  his  sense  of  abstract  justice,  perhaps  warm 
from  the  heart  in  early  youth,  had  hardened  into  a  bright, 
incorruptible,  rigid,  relentless  insensibility.  He  had  sub- 
jugated his  whole  nature  to  a  stern  logic,  working  bv  a 
mathematical  rule,  and  resolving  to  extract  the  symmetrical 
order  of  his  dreams  out  of  the  elements  around  him,  regardless 
of  human  sentiment  or  suffering.  By  the  strange  irony  of  fate 
this  man  whose  professed  ideal  was  a  sublime  philanthropy 
and  virtue  far  beyond  the  reach  of  mortals,  has  become  in 
history  the  monster  of  horrid  cruelty,  "who  shut  the  gates 
of  mercy  on  mankind,"  the  man  who  must  be  destroyed  if 
the  human  race  was  to  be  saved. 

The  Hypocrite  Unmasked. 

"Alone,  or  nearly  alone,  I  do  not  allow  myself  to  be  cor- 
rupted; alone,  or  nearly  alone,  I  do  not  compromise  the  right; 
which  two  merits  I  possess  in  the  highest  degree.  A  few 
others  may  live  correctly,  but  they  oppose  or  betray  princi- 


324  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

pies ;  a  few  others  profess  to  have  principles,  but  they  do  not 
live  correctly.  No  one  else  leads  so  pure  a  life  or  is  so  loyal 
to  principles;  no  one  else  joins  to  so  fervent  a  worship  of  truth 
so  strict  a  practice  of  virtue;  I  am  the  unique."  What  can  be 
more  agreeable  than  this  mute  soliloquy?  It  is  gently  heard 
the  first  day  in  Robespierre's  address  to  the  Third  Estate  of 
Arras ;  it  is  uttered  aloud  the  last  day  in  his  great  speech  in 
the  Convention  ;  during  the  interval,  it  crops  out  and  shines 
through  all  his  compositions,  harangues,  or  reports,  in  exor- 
diums, parentheses,  and  perorations,  permeating  ever)'  sen- 
tence like  the  drone  of  a  bagpipe.  In  three  years  a  chorus  of 
a  thousand  voices,  which  he  formed  and  led  indefatigably, 
rehearses  to  him  in  unison  his  own  litany,  his  most  sacred 
creed,  the  hymn  of  three  stanzas  composed  by  him  in  his  own 
honor,  and  which  he  daily  recites  to  himself  in  a  low  tone  of 
voice,  and  often  in  a  loud  one:  "Robespierre  alone  has  dis- 
covered the  ideal  citizen  !  Robespierre  alone  attains  to  it 
without  exaggeration  or  shortcomings  !  Robespierre  alone  is 
worthy  of  and  able  to  lead  the  revolution  ! "  Cool  infatuation 
carried  thus  far  is  equivalent  to  a  raging  fever,  and  Robespierre 
almost  attains  to  the  ideas  and  the  ravings  of  Marat. 

First,  in  his  own  eyes,  he,  like  Marat,  is  a  persecuted 
man,  and,  like  Marat,  he  poses  himself  as  a  "martyr,"  but 
more  skillfully  and  keeping  within  bounds,  affecting  the 
resigned  and  tender  air  of  an  innocent  victim,  who,  offering 
himself  as  a  sacrifice,  ascends  to  heaven,  bequeathing  to  man- 
kind the  imperishable  souvenir  of  his  virtues.  "I  excite 
against  me  the  self-love  of  everybody;  I  sharpen  against  me  a 
thousand  daggers.  I  am  a  sacrifice  to  every  species  of  hatred^ 
.  .  .  To  the  enemies  of  my  country,  to  whom  my  existence 
seems  an  obstacle  to  their  heinous  plots,  I  am  ready  to  sacri- 
fice it,  if  their  odious  empire  is  to  endure ;  ...  let  their  road 
to  the  scaffold  be  the  pathway  of  crime,  ours  shall  be  that  of 
virtue ;  let  the  hemlock  be  got  ready  for  me,  I  await  it  on  this 
hallowed  spot.  I  shall  at  least  bequeath  to  my  country  an 
example  of  constant  affection  for  it,  and  to  the  enemies  of 
humanity  the  disgrace  of  my  death." 

Naturally,  as  always  with  Marat,  he  sees  around  him  only 
"evil-doers,"    "intriguers,"   and   "traitors."     Naturally,  as 


RCBESPIERRK.  325 

with  Marat,  common  sense  with  him  is  perverted,  and,  like 
Marat  again,  he  thinks  at  random.  "I  am  not  obliged  to 
reflect,"  said  he  to  Garat,  "I  always  rely  on  first  impressions." 
"For  him,"  says  the  same  authority,  "the  best  reasons  are 
suspicions,"  and  naught  makes  headway  against  suspicions, 
not  even  the  most  positive  evidence. 

Such  assurance,  equal  to  that  of  Marat,  is  terrible  and 
worse  in  its  effect,  for  Robespierre's  list  of  conspirators  is 
longer  than  that  of  Marat.  Political  and  social,  in  Marat's 
mind,  the  list  comprehends  only  aristocrats  and  the  rich  ; 
theological  and  moral  in  Robespierre's  mind,  it  comprehends 
all  atheists  and  dishonest  persons — that  is  to  say,  nearly  the 
whole  of  his  party.  In  this  narrow  mind,  given  up  to  abstrac- 
tions, and  habitually  classifying  men  under  two  opposite  head- 
ings, whoever  is  not  with  him  on  the  good  side  is  against  him 
on  the  bad  side,  and,  on  the  bad  side,  the  common  under- 
standing between  the  factions  of  every  flag  and  the  rogues  of 
every  degree  is  natural.  Add  all  this  vermin  to  that  which 
IVIarat  seeks  to  crush  out;  it  is  no  longer  by  hundreds  of  thou- 
sands, but  by  millions,  exclaim  Baudot,  Jean  Bon  St.  Andr6, 
and  Geoffroy,  that  the  guilty  must  be  counted  and  heads  laid 
low !  And  all  these  heads,  Robespierre,  according  to  his 
maxims,  must  strike  off.  He  is  well  aware  of  this  ;  hostile  as 
his  intellect  may  be  to  precise  ideas,  he,  when  alone  in  his 
closet,  face  to  face  with  himself,  sees  clearly,  as  clearly  as 
Marat. 

Marat's  chimera,  on  first  spreading  out  its  wings,  bore  its 
frenzied  rider  swiftly  onward  to  the  charnel  house ;  that  of 
Robespierre,  fluttering  and  hobbling  along,  reaches  the  goal 
in  its  turn ;  in  its  turn,  it  demands  something  to  feed  on,  and 
the  rhetorician,  the  professor  of  principles,  begins  to  calculate 
the  voracity  of  the  monstrous  brute  on  which  he  is  mounted. 
Slower  than  the  other,  this  one  is  still  more  ravenous,  for  with 
similar  claws  and  teeth,  it  has  a  vaster  appetite.     At  the  end  of 
three  years  Robespierre  has  overtaken  Marat,  at  the  extreme 
point  reached  by  Marat  at  the  outset,  and  the  theorist  adopts 
the  policy,  the  aim,  the  means,  the  work,  and  almost  the  vo- 
cabulary of  the  maniac;  armed  dictatorship  of  the  urban  mob, 
systematic  maddening  of  the  subsidized  populace,  war  against 


326  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

the   bourgeoisie,   extermination  of  the  rich,   proscription  of 
opposition  writers,  administrators  and  deputies. 

Both  monsters  demand  the  same  food ;  only,  Robespierre 
adds  "vicious  men"  to  the  ration  of  his  monster,  by  way  of 
extra  and  preferable  game.  Henceforth,  he  may  in  vain 
abstain  from  action,  take  refuge  in  his  rhetoric,  stop  his  chaste 
ears,  and  raise  his  hypocritical  eyes  to  heaven;  he  cannot  avoid 
seeing  or  hearing  under  his  immaculate  feet  the  streaming 
gore,  and  the  bones  crashing  in  the  open  jaws  of  the  insatiable 
monster  which  he  has  fashioned  and  on  which  he  prances. 
Destructive  instincts,  long  repressed  by  civilization,  thus 
devoted  to  butchery,  become  aroused.  His  feline  physiog- 
nomy, at  first  "that  of  a  domestic  cat,  restless  but  mild, 
changes  into  the  savage  mien  of  the  wild-cat,  and  next  to  the 
ferocious  mien  of  the  tiger.  In  the  Constituent  Assembly  he 
speaks  with  a  whine;  in  the  convention  he  froths  at  the 
mouth."  The  monotonous  drone  of  a  stiff  sub-professor 
changes  into  the  personal  accent  of  furious  passion ;  he  hisses 
and  grinds  his  teeth  ;  sometimes,  on  a  change  of  scene,  he 
affects  to  shed  tears. 

But  his  wildest  outbursts  are  less  alarming  than  his  affected 
sensibility.  The  festering  grudges,  corrosive  envies,  and 
bitter  schemings  which  have  accumulated  in  his  breast  are 
astonishing.  The  gall  vessels  are  full,  and  the  extravasated 
gall  overflows  on  the  dead.  He  never  tires  of  re-executing 
his  guillotined  adversaries,  the  Girondists,  Chaumette,  Hebert, 
and  especially  Danton,  probably  because  Danton  was  the 
active  agent  in  the  revolution  of  which  he  was  simply  the  in- 
capable pedagogue;  he  vents  his  posthumous  hatred  on  this 
still  warm  corpse  in  artful  insinuations  and  obvious  misrepre- 
sentations. Thus,  inwardly  corroded  by  the  venom  it  distills, 
his  physical  machine  gets  out  of  order,  like  that  of  Marat, 
but  with  other  symptoms.  When  speaking  in  the  tribune, 
"his  hands  crisp  with  a  sort  of  nervous  contraction  ;"  sudden 
tremors  agitate  "his  shoulders  and  neck,  shaking  him  con- 
vulsively to  and  fro."  "His  bilious  complexion  becomes 
livid,"  his  eyelids  quiver  under  his  spectacles,  and  how  he 
looks!  "Ah,"  said  a  Montagnard,  "you  would  have  voted 
as  we  did  on  the  9th  of  Thermidor,  had  you  seen  his  green 


ROBESPIERRE.  327 

eyeballs!"  " Physically  as  well  as  morally,"  he  becomes  a 
second  Marat,  siifFering  all  the  more  because  his  delirium  is 
not  steady,  and  because  his  policy,  being  a  moral  one,  forces 
him  to  exterminate  on  a  grander  scale. 

But  he  is  a  discreet  Marat,  of  a  timid  temperament,  anx- 
ious, keeping  his  thoughts  to  himself,  made  for  a  schoolmaster 
or  a  pleader ;  but  not  for  taking  the  lead  or  for  governing, 
always  acting  hesitatingly,  and  ambitious  to  be  rather  the  Pope, 
than  the  dictator  of  the  revolution.  He  would  prefer  to 
remain  a  political  Grandison ;  he  keeps  the  mask  on  to  the 
very  last,  not  only  to  the  public  and  to  others,  but  to  himself 
and  in  his  inmost  conscience.  The  mask,  indeed,  has  adhered 
to  his  skin;  he  can  no  longer  distinguish  one  from  the  other; 
never  did  impostor  more  carefully  conceal  intentions  and  acts 
under  sophisms,  and  persuade  himself  that  the  mask  was  his 
face,  and  that  in  telling  a  lie,  he  told  the  truth. 

When  nature  and  history  combine  to  produce  a  character, 
they  succeed  better  than  even  man's  imagination.     Neither 
Moliere  in  his  "Tartuffe,"  nor  Shakespeare  in  his  "Richard 
III.,"  dared  bring  on  the  stage  a  hypocrite  believing  himself 
sincere,  and  a  Cain  that  regarded  himself  as  an  Abel. 

— H.  A.  Taine. 

What  Shall  be  Done  with  the  King? 

(Part  of  Robespierre's  Address  in  the  National  Assembly). 

To  what  punishment  shall  we  condemn  Louis  Capet? 
"The  punishment  of  death  is  too  cruel,"  says  one.  "No," 
says  another,  "life  is  more  cruel  still ;  let  him  live."  Advo- 
cates of  the  king,  is  it  from  pity  or  from  cruelty  that  you  wish 
to  withdraw  him  from  the  penalty  of  his  crimes?  For  my 
part,  I  abhor  the  punishment  of  death,  inflicted  so  unsparingly 
by  your  laws,  and  I  have  for  Louis  neither  love  nor  hatred;  I 
hate  only  his  crimes.  I  asked  for  the  abolition  of  the  punish- 
ment of  death  in  the  Assembly  which  you  still  call  Constitu- 
ent, and  it  is  not  my  fault  if  the  first  principles  of  reason 
appeared  to  it  moral  and  political  heresies  ;  but,  if  you  never 
thought  of  renouncing  them  in  favor  of  so  many  unfortunate 
men,  whose  oflfenses  are  less  theirs  than  those  of  the  govern- 


328 


HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVBNTS. 


ment,  by  wliat  fatality  do  you  remember  them  only  to  plead 
the  cause  of  the  greatest  of  all  criminals? 

You  demand  an  exception  to  the  punishment  of  death  for 
him  alone  who  can  render  it  legitimate !  Yes,  the  punish- 
ment of  death,  in  general,  is  a  crime ;  and,  for  this  reason 
alone,  that,  according  to  the  indestructible  principles  of  nature, 
it  can  be  justified  only  in  the  cases  where  it  is  necessary  for 
the  security  of  individuals  or  of  society.  Now,  the  public 
security  never  calls  for  it  against  ordinary  offenses,  because 
society  can  always  prevent  them  by  other  means,  and  put  it 
out  of  the  power  of  the  guilty  to  be  dangerous ;  but  a  de- 
throned king  in  the  bosom  of  a  revolution,  which  is  nothing 
less  than  cemented  by  laws, — a  king  whose  name  alone  brings 
down  the  plague  of  war  upon  the  agitated  nation, — neither 
imprisonment  nor  exile  can  render  his  existence  a  matter  of 
indifference  to  the  public  welfare;  and  this  cruel  exception  to 
ordinary  laws,  which  justice  avows,  can  only  be  imputed  to 
the  nature  of  his  crimes.  I  pronounce  with  regret  this  fatal 
truth  ;  but  Louis  must  die,  because  the  country  must  live.  A 
people  at  peace,  free  and  respected  within  and  without,  might 
listen  to  the  advice  which  is  given  you  to  be  generous ;  but  a 
people  whose  liberty  is  still  disputed,  after  so  many  sacrifices 
and  combats,  cannot  afford  to  do  so. 


RICHARD  HENRY  LEE. 


^s 


RICHARD  HENRY  ^  LEE, 
who  made  the  first  motion  in 
Congress  for  American  Inde- 
pendence, was  born  in  West- 
moreland County,  Virginia, 
on  the  2oth  of  January, 
1732.  He  was  the  son  of 
Thomas  Lee,  and  his  ances- 
tors were  among  the  early 
settlers  of  the  Old  Dominion, 
and  were  prominent  in  di- 
recting the  destiny  of  the 
Colony.  Richard  Henry, 
being  sent  to  England  to  be 
educated,  entered  an  acad- 
emy at  Wakefield,  in  Yorkshire.  When  his  education  was 
finished,  he  made  a  tour  of  England  and  returned  to  Virginia 
a  distinguished  scholar  and  an  accomplished  gentleman. 

Lee's  first  public  act  was  in  raising  a  company  of  men 
and  tendering  his  services  to  General  Braddock,  who,  under- 
estimating the  value  of  colonial  aid,  declined  the  offer.  The 
British  commander's  fate  is  a  matter  of  history.  In  1757  Lee 
was  appointed  a  justice  of  the  peace  and  president  of  the  Court. 
When  elected  to  the  House  of  Burgesses  he,  at  first,  took 
very  little  part  in  debate,  being  retarded  by  an  almost  uncon- 
querable diffidence.  It  was  not  until  he  warmed  up  on  a 
subject  that  his  full  power  of  elocution  showed  itself.  He 
strongly  opposed  the  party  who  were  endeavoring  to  stop  the 
passage  of  a  measure  which  proposed  to  place  an  almost  pro- 

329 


330  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

hibitory  duty  on  the  importation  of  slaves.  In  burning 
eloquence  he  pointed  out  the  evils  of  the  human  traffic  until 
his  opponents  trembled  as  they  listened.  His  brilliant  sj^eech 
was  loudly  applauded,  but  his  philanthropic  views  were  voted 
down  by  the  friends  of  the  crown. 

When  Charles  Townshend  laid  before  the  British  House 
of  Commons  the  odious  plan  of  extending  the  taxation  in  the 
American  Colonies,  Mr.  Lee  was  among  the  first  to  sound  the 
alarm.  He  furnished  his  friends  in  London  with  a  list  of 
arguments  sufficient  to  convince  every  reasonable  man  of  the 
injustice  and  impolicy  of  the  measure.  In  1765  he  aided 
Patrick  Henry  in  his  bold  resolutions  against  the  Stamp  Act, 
by  eloquent  and  unanswerable  logic.  Lee's  pen  was  also  not 
idle  ;  his  keen,  patriotic,  pungent  essays  had  a  salutary  influ- 
ence upon  the  public  mind.  According  to  the  public  docu- 
ments of  that  eventful  era,  Lee  was  the  first  man  who  pro- 
posed the  independence  of  the  Colonies.  In  a  letter  addressed 
to  John  Dickinson,  dated  July  25,  1768,  he  writes  proposing 
upon  all  seasonable  occasions  to  impress  upon  the  minds  of 
the  people  the  necessity  of  a  struggle  with  Great  Britain  "for 
the  ultimate  establishment  of  independence — that  private 
correspondence  should  be  conducted  by  the  lovers  of  liberty 
in  every  province."  Dickinson,  however,  inclined  so  much 
the  other  way  that  his  fame  has  been  tarnished. 

In  1773,  as  a  member  of  the  House  of  Burgesses  of  Vir- 
ginia, Lee  proposed  the  formation  of  that  famous  "  Committee 
of  Correspondence  "  whose  investigations  and  appeals  roused, 
not  only  the  heart  of  Virginia,  but  of  the  whole  country.  In 
1774  Lee  took  part  in  the  First  Continental  Congress,  and  was 
chairman  of  the  committee  to  prepare  addresses  to  the  king, 
the  people  of  England,  and  the  colonies.  The  last  address 
was  from  his  pen.  In  1775  he  was  unanimously  elected  to 
the  Virginia  Legislature,  In  1776  he  was  again  a  member 
of  Congress  and  found  the  fitting  opportunity  to  introduce 
that  famous  resolution,  "That  these  United  Colonies  are, 
and  of  right  ought  to  be,  free  and  independent  states  ; 
that  they  are  absolved  from  all  allegiance  to  the  British 
crown  ;  and  that  all  political  connection  between  them 
and  Great   Britain   is,  and  ought  to  be,  totally  dissolved." 


RICHARD   HENRY   I,EE.  331 

This  resolution  he  enforced,  by  one  of  the  most  brilliant  and 
powerful  displays  of  refined  and  forcible  eloquence  ever 
exhibited  in  this  country.  When  the  connnittee  to  draft  the 
Declaration  of  Independence  was  appointed,  Lee  was  unfor- 
tunately in  Virginia,  having  been  called  thither  on  account 
of  the  sudden  illness  of  some  member  of  his  familv,  and  thus 
Jefferson  was  placed  at  the  head  of  that  committee,  which 
honor  belonged  of  right  to  Lee,  as  the  mover  of  the  reso- 
lution. 

Whilst  Lee  was  in  Virginia,  the  British  authorities  at- 
tempted to  arrest  him  in  his  own  house;  but  it  so  happened 
that  at  that  time  he  was  visiting  a  friend,  and  he  thus  escaped. 
He  returned,  in  August,  to  Congress,  and  his  name  adorns 
that  glorious  state  paper,  the  ' '  Declaration  of  Independence. ' ' 
He  remained  at  his  post  till  1777,  when  he  returned  to  Vir- 
ginia to  confute  the  silly  slander  charging  him  with  unfaith- 
fulness to  the  American  cause  in  consequence  of  having 
received  rents  in  produce  instead  of  Continental  money.  He 
was  honorably  acquitted  by  the  Assembly  and  received  a  vote 
of  thanks  from  that  body  for  his  fidelity  and  industry  in  the 
cause  of  freedom.  He  continued  to  serve  in  Congress  until 
1780.  Entrusted  with  the  command  of  the  militia  of  his 
native  county,  he  proved  himself  as  competent  to  lead  men 
in  action  as  to  command  an  audience  by  his  powerful  elo- 
quence. 

Lee  was  again  elected  to  Congress  in  1784,  and  chosen 
president  of  that  body.  He  was  a  member  of  the  convention 
that  framed  the  Federal  Constitution,  and  took  a  deep  interest 
in  its  formation,  yet  opposed  its  ratification  by  Virginia.  He 
was,  however,  a  United  States  Senator  in  the  first  Congress 
that  convened  under  it.  He  was  obliged  to  retire  from  public 
life,  on  account  of  ill-health.  The  Senate  passed  a  most  flat- 
tering resolution  of  thanks  to  him  for  his  numerous  valuable 
services  to  his  country,  22d  of  October,  1792.  At  Chantilly, 
in  his  native  county,  he  spent  the  remaining  two  years  of  his 
life  in  peace  and  happiness.  He  died  on  the  19th  of  June, 
1794,  at  the  age  of  sixty- two. 

Richard  Henry  Lee  was  an  accomplished  scholar,  states- 
man and  orator.     On  account  of  his  refined  and  logical  mode 


332  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

of  reasoning  lie  lias  been  called  the  Cicero  of  America.  His 
Stern  integrity,  untarnished  virtue,  and  lofty  patriotism,  will 
ever  command  sincere  respect  and  admiration. 

The  Advocate  of  Independence. 

Mr.  lyce  had  been  an  avowed  advocate  of  independence, 
and  spoke  with  great  confidence  of  the  event  of  a  contest. 
His  speeches  in  the  Assembly,  and  to  the  people  of  West- 
moreland ;  his  conversation  among  all  classes  of  people  in 
Virginia  ;  his  opinions  strongly  and  eloquently  enforced  in  his 
intercourse  with  the  public  men  of  that  State,  all  conspired 
to  prepare,  and  at  length  to  determine  his  countrymen  of 
Virginia,  to  declare  that  Colony  free  and  independent.  On 
the  lytli  of  May,  1776,  the  convention  which  had  assembled 
on  the  sixth  instant,  unanimously  resolved,  "that  the  dele- 
gates appointed  to  represent  this  Colony  in  the  General  Con- 
gress, be  instructed  to  propose  to  that  respectable  body,  to 
declare  the  United  Colonies  free  and  independent  States, 
absolved  from  all  allegiance  to,  or  dependence  upon,  the 
crown  or  Parliament  of  Great  Britain  ;  and  to  support  what- 
ever measures  may  be  thought  proper  and  necessary  by  the 
Congress  for  forming  foreign  alliances,  and  a  confederation  of 
the  Colonies,  at  such  time  and  in  such  manner,  as  to  them  may 
seem  best — provided,  that  the  power  of  forming  governments 
for,  and  the  regulations  of  the  internal  concerns  of  each 
colony,  be  left  to  the  respective  colonial  legislatures."  The 
convention  proceeded  to  the  establishment  of  a  regular  inde- 
pendent government. 

The  Continental  Congress  being  the  point  of  union,  and  the 
organ  of  efficient  opposition,  attracted  the  anxious  attention  of 
the  British  ministry.  They  watched  that  body  with  earnest 
attention,  and  in  terms  of  haughty  vengeance  denounced  its 
proceedings.  They  considered  it  the  focus,  to  which  all  the 
heat  and  temerity  of  rebellion  tended,  and  from  which  they 
were  reflected  with  ten-fold  intensity  and  power.  The  pro- 
ceedings of  the  colonial  assemblies  and  conventions  had 
ceased  to  occupy  their  thoughts  since  the  Congress  multiplied 
all  their  apprehensions.  The  raising  of  an  army,  and  the 
appointment   of  a   Commander-in-chief  with   every  military 


RICHARD   HENRY  LEE. 


OOJ 


power,  had  appeared  but  as  the  presumption  ot  ill-advised 
and  deluded  rebels,  who  yet  might  be  alarmed,  or  soothed 
into  submission.  But  neither  the  ministry  nor  the  people  of 
Great  Britain  had  ever  entertained  the  apprehension  that  the 
Colonies  would  dare  to  aspire  to  independence.  It  was  to  be 
expected,  therefore,  that  a  declaration  of  independence  would 
excite  the  astonishment  of  the  latter,  and  the  fiercest  indiena- 
tion  of  the  former.  It  was  then  not  without  reason  appre- 
hended, that  the  person  who  should  propose  that  the  Colonies 
be  declared  independent,  would  be  marked  out  as  that  daring 
rebel,  whose  spirit  should  be  quenched,  and  whose  condign 
jDunishment  should  be  made  a  terrible  warning. 

Amidst  the  hesitation  of  some  Colonies,  the  foreseen 
opposition  of  many  able  men  of  the  Congress,  the  malice  of 
the  Tories,  the  perils  of  war  with  its  unknown  issues,  and  the 
vengeance  of  the  ministry,  Richard  Henry  Lee  moved  the 
resolution  (in  these  his  own  words):  "That  these  United 
Colonies  are,  and  of  right,  ought  to  be,  free  and  independent 
States  ;  and  that  all  political  connection  between  them  and  the 
State  of  Great  Britain  is,  and  ought  to  be,  totally  dissolved." 

The  convention  of  Virginia  had  instructed  her  delegates 
in  Congress  to  propose  to  that  body  to  declare  the  Colonies 
independent.  As  soon  as  the  instructions  arrived,  they 
appointed  Mr.  Lee  to  move  a  resolution  conformably  to  it. 
The  opinions  and  wishes  of  Mr.  Lee  were  well  known  to 
them,  the  boldness  and  decision  of  his  character  were  suited  to 
the  crisis.  His  eloquence  and  political  information  peculiarly 
fitted  him  for  the  discussions,  which  it  was  anticipated,  would 
follow  the  motion. 

That  it  was  the  opinion  of  Congress,  that  the  member  who 
made  the  first  motion  on  the  subject  of  independence,  would 
certainly  be  exposed  to  personal  and  imminent  danger,  may 
be  inferred  from  the  manner  in  which  that  motion  is  entered 
on  the  Journal.  In  the  Journal  of  Friday,  June  the  seventh,  it 
is  thus  stated,  "Certain  resolutions  respecting  independence 
being  moved  and  seconded.  Resolved^  that  the  consideration  of 
them  be  deferred  until  to-morrow  morning ;  and  that  the 
members  be  enjoined  to  attend  punctually  at  ten  o'clock,  in 
order  to  take  the  same  into  their  consideration."     The  reader 


334  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

will  see  that  neither  the  name  of  him  who  moved  the  resolu- 
tions, nor  of  him  who  seconded  them,  is  mentioned.  Richard 
Henry  I^ee  moved,  and  John  Adams  seconded  them.  The 
long  debates  which  followed  (from  the  7th  of  June  to  the 
4tli  of  July),  show  that  the  measure  proposed  by  the  resolu- 
tion was  considered  one  of  fearful  hazard  and  awful  respon- 
sibility. 

On  the  eighth,  the  Congress  resolved  itself  into  a  com- 
mittee of  the  whole,  to  take  into  consideration  the  resolutions 
respecting  independence  ;  and  after  some  time  the  president 
resumed  the  chair,  and  Mr.  Harrison  reported,  that  ' '  the 
committee  having  taken  into  consideration  the  matter  to 
them  referred,  but  not  having  come  to  any  resolutions,  they 
directed  him  to  move  for  leave  to  sit  again  on  Monday."  It 
was  also  resolved,  ' '  that  the  Congress  will,  on  Monday  next, 
at  ten  o'clock,  resolve  themselves  into  a  committee  of  the 
whole,  to  take  into  further  consideration  the  resolutions  re- 
ferred to  them," 

On  Monday,  June  lOth,  the  order  of  the  day  being  before 
the  house,  the  Congress  resolved  itself  into  a  committee  of 
the  whole,  "to  take  into  further  consideration  the  resolution 
to  them  referred. ' '  After  several  hours  had  been  spent  in 
debate,  the  president  resumed  the  chair,  and  the  chairman  of 
the  committee  reported  a  resolution  thereon.  The  resolution 
agreed  to,  in  the  committee  of  the  whole  Congress,  being 
read,  it  was  resolved,  "That  the  consideration  of  the  Jirsi 
resolution  be  postponed  to  the  first  Monday  in  July  next,  and 
in  the  meanwhile,  that  no  time  be  lost,  in  case  the  Congress 
agree  thereto^  a  committee  be  appointed  to  prepare  a  declara- 
tion, to  the  effect  of  the  first  resolution,  which  is  in  these 
words,  to  wit :  '  That  these  United  Colonies  are,  and  of  right 
ought  to  be,  free  and  independent  States  ;  and  that  they  are 
absolved  from  all  allegiance  to  the  British  crown  ;  and  that 
all  political  connection  between  them  and  the  State  of  Great 
Britain,  is,  and  ought  to  be,  totally  dissolved.'" 

The  resolution  was  opposed  by  no  one,  as  impolitic  and 
improper  at  all  tijnes^  but  as  imprudent  at  that  time.  SomiC 
of  the  arguments  against  its  present  adoption  were,  the  want 
of   money,    munitions   of  war,   of    disciplined   and    efficient 


RICHARD   HENRY   LEE.  335 

armies,  on  the  part  of  the  Colonies;  the  seemin":  tardiness  of 
several  Colonies  in  declaring  their  wishes  on  the  subject ;  the 
power  and  strength  of  Britain,  by  sea  and  land  ;  and  the  yet 
unknown  course  of  foreign  governments,  during  the  contest 
which  would  follow.  Many  able  and  virtuous  patriots  urged 
these  and  similar  topics,  with  great  force. 

The  leading  advocate  of  immediate  adoption  was  R.  H. 
Lee.  Tradition  still  relates,  that  he  prefaced  his  motion  with 
a  speech,  which  was  the  effort  of  a  mind  of  transcendent 
powers.  He  reviewed,  in  accurate  and  luminous  detail,  the 
rights  of  the  Colonies,  and  the  violations  of  those  rights  by 
the  mother  country.  He  stated  the  resources  of  the  Colonies, 
and  the  advantages  they  would  derive  from  union  amongst 
themselves ;  the  extent  of  their  territory,  and  its  capacity  of 
defence,  with  a  fullness  of  knowledge  which  was  at  once 
striking  and  wonderful.  He  dwelt  upon  the  probable  con- 
duct of  the  Continental  powers,  especially  of  France  and  Spain, 
with  almost  prophetic  foresight,  and  demonstrated,  with  the 
skill  and  ability  of  a  profound  statesman,  their  policy  in  the 
event  of  a  separation  from  Great  Britain.  He  continued, 
during  the  debate,  from  the  seventh  to  the  tenth,  to  urge 
ever)-  topic,  which  his  acute  and  well-stored  mind  could  con- 
ceive, in  support  of  his  motion.  He  addressed,  in  splendid 
and  persuasive  eloquence,  every  patriotic  and  noble  passion 
which  could  be  felt  by  freemen  ;  and  in  rich  declamation, 
adorned  by  the  finest  allusions  of  classic  story,  portrayed  the 
beauties  of  liberty,  with  her  train  of  blessings,  law,  science, 
and  glor>\ 

Memory  has  preserved  a  faint  outline  of  his  first  speech, 
and  pronounces  the  following,  as  the  concluding  sentences, 
with  which  he  introduced  his  memorable  motion:  "Why 
then,  sir,  do  we  longer  delay?  Why  still  deliberate?  Let 
this  happy  day  give  birth  to  an  American  republic  !  Let  her 
arise,  not  to  devastate  and  conquer,  but  to  re-establish  the 
reign  of  peace  and  of  law.  The  eyes  of  Europe  are  fixed 
upon  us  ;  she  demands  of  us  a  living  example  of  freedom, 
that  may  exhibit  a  contrast,  in  the  felicity  of  the  citizen,  to 
the  ever-increasing  tyranny  which  desolates  her  polluted 
shores.       She   invites  us  to  prepare  an  asylum,  where   the 


336  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

unhappy  may  find  solace,  and  the  persecuted  repose.  She 
entreats  us  to  cultivate  a  propitious  soil,  where  that  generous 
plant,  which  first  sprung  and  grew  in  England,  but  is  now 
withered  by  the  poisonous  blasts  of  Scottish  tyranny,  may 
revive  and  flourish,  sheltering  under  its  salubrious  and  inter- 
minable shade,  all  the  unfortunate  of  the  human  race.  If  we 
are  not  this  day  wanting  in  our  duty  to  our  country,  the 
names  of  the  American  legislators  of  1776  will  be  placed  by 
posterity  at  the  side  of  those  of  Theseus,  of  Lycurgus,  of 
Romulus,  of  Numa,  of  the  three  Williams  of  Nassau,  and  of 
all  those  whose  memory  has  been,  and  forever  will  be,  dear 
to  virtuous  men  and  good  citizens." 

On  the  evening  of  the  tenth,  Mr.  Lee  received,  by  express 
from  Virginia,  the  distressing  intelligence  that  his  lady  was 
dangerously  ill.  This  circumstance  compelled  him  to  ask 
leave  of  absence  for  a  short  time.  He  left  Philadelphia  on 
the  eleventh  ;  and  on  that  day  a  committee  of  five  members 
were  chosen  to  draught  a  declaration  of  independence.  The 
members  were  Messrs.  Jefferson,  J.  Adams,  Franklin,  Sher- 
man, and  R.  R.  Livingston.  The  absence  of  Mr.  Lee  alone 
deprived  him  of  the  honor  of  being  chairman  of  the  com- 
mittee to  draw  a  declaration  of  independence,  according  to 
the  uniform  rule  in  all  deliberative  bodies,  to  appoint  that 
member  chairman  of  the  committee,  which  is  selected  to 
report  on  any  motion  which  he  has  made,  and  which  has 
been  adopted. — R.  H.  LeE. 


ROBERT  MORRIS, 


ROBERT  MORRIS,  the  eminent 
financier  of  the  American  Revohi- 
tion,  was  born  at  Liverpool,  Eng- 
land, January  20,  1734.  His  father 
was  a  merchant,  engaged  in  the  to- 
bacco trade  with  this  country.  The 
nature  of  his  business  necessitated 
frequent  trips  across  the  Atlantic; 
and  on  one  of  these  occasions  he 
brought  with  him  his  son  Robert, 
then  in  his  thirteenth  year.  He  had  received,  in  England, 
an  elementary  education  ;  but,  with  a  view  to  render  it  com- 
plete, his  father  placed  him  under  the  tutorship  of  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Gordon,  of  Maryland. 

Soon  after  the  death  of  his  father,  Robert  entered  the 
counting-house  of  Charles  Willing,  a  distinguished  merchant 
of  Philadelphia.  After  serving  an  apprenticeship  with  this 
firm,  his  patron  established  him  in  business,  in  conjunction 
with  his  son,  Thomas  Willing.  Robert,  in  making  a  business 
trip  to  the  West  Indies,  was  captured  by  the  French,  and 
received  from  their  hands  most  cruel  treatment.  Having 
managed  to  secure  his  release,  he  returned  once  more  to  his 
business  in  Philadelphia.  Under  the  supervision  of  Robert 
Morris  the  firm  rose  to  the  summit  of  commercial  reputation. 
Their  enterprise  and  credit  have  seldom  been  equalled. 

Although  against  his  personal  interests,  Morris  warmly 
opposed  the  Stamp  Act,  and  signed  the  Non-importation 
Agreement  of  1765.  In  the  same  year,  he  was  elected  as  a 
member  of  Congress  from  Pennsylvania.  He  continued  vig- 
orously to  uphold  the  rights  of  the  colonists  against  the  en- 
croachments of  the  British  Parliament.  In  1776  he  voted,. 
IV— 22  337 


338  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

on  the  1st  of  July,  against  the  Declaration  of  Independence, 
thinkine  that  the  time  for  such  a  manifesto  had  not  arrived. 
When,  however,  he  found  that  the  Declaration  was  adopted, 
he  readily  signed  it,  and  supported  the  war  measures  neces- 
,sary  to  establish  it.  In  1780  General  Greene  was  in  such 
distress  in  South  Carolina,  that  he  found  it  almost  impossible 
to  keep  his  troops  together  :  a  gentleman  of  that  State  named 
Hall  came  forward  and  advanced  the  necessary  sums  to  enable 
him  to  stem  the  danger.  It  was  afterwards  discovered  that 
Hall  had  acted  simply  as  the  agent  of  Robert  Morris. 

When  the  office  of  Financier  was,  in  1781,  established  by 
Congress,  Morris  was  elected  to  fill  that  important  place. 
One  of  his  first  acts  was  to  organize  a  national  bank,  the  capi- 
tal to  be  subscribed  by  private  individuals.  The  Bank  of 
North  America  was  thus  founded,  he  himself  investing  ^10,- 
000  in  the  institution.  It  was  incorporated  on  the  last  day 
of  1 781,  and  opened  on  the  7th  of  January,  1782.  The  State 
at  this  time  was  half  a  million  dollars  in  debt.  Morris,  by 
restoring  the  credit  of  the  nation  and  exercising  proper  econ- 
omy, reduced  the  expenses  of  the  war  from  $18,000,000  to 
about  $5,000,000  per  annum.  He  continued  to  superintend 
the  finance  department  until  September  30,  1784,  when  he 
resigned  the  office,  pledging  himself  to  meet  all  outstanding 
notes  as  they  became  due. 

He  sat  in  the  first  United  States  Senate,  being  elected  as  a 
member  in  1788,  and  he  kept  his  seat  until  1795.  His  long 
continuance  in  the  service  of  his  country  had  caused  great 
confusion  in  his  private  affairs.  This  reason  he  gave  as  an 
excuse  to  the  city  of  Philadelphia  when  he  declined  its  request 
to  represent  it  in  Congress.  He  had  engaged  largely  in  land 
speculations,  and  now  lost  his  fortune.  Thrown  into  the 
debtors'  prison,  the  man  who  had  saved  his  country  by  freely 
pledging  his  personal  credit  for  army  supplies  to  the  amount 
of  $1,400,000,  languished  for  several  years.  He  died  on  the 
8th  of  May,  1806. 

Robert  Morris  was  a  noble  patriot,  unselfish,  sincere ;  in 
all  his  actions  for  his  country's  good,  the  native  generosity  of  his 
mind  constantly  exhibited  itself.  "Like  the  Roman  Curtius, 
he  sacrificed  himself  for  the  safety  of  the  Commonwealth. ' ' 


ROBERT   MORRIS.  339 

The  Sinews  of  War. 

The  American  force  with  which  the  campaign  of  1781 
was  opened,  fell  so  far  short  of  that  on  which  the  calculations 
had  been  made  when  the  plan  of  operations  was  concerted  at 
Wethersfield,  as  to  excite  serious  doubts  respecting  the  pro- 
priety of  adhering  to  that  plan.  For  this  deficiency  of  men 
on  the  part  of  the  States,  some  compensation  was  made  by  the 
arrival  of  a  reinforcement  of  1500  men  to  the  army  of 
Rochambeau  under  convoy  of  a  fifty-gun  frigate. 

To  supply  even  this  army  regularly  with  provisions, 
required  exertions  much  greater  than  had  evei  been  made 
since  the  system  of  requisition  had  been  substituted  for  that 
of  purchasing.  The  hope  of  terminating  the  war,  in  a  great 
measure,  produced  these  exertions.  The  legislatures  of  the 
New  England  States,  from  which  country  flesh,  spirits  and 
salt  were  to  be  drawn,  took  up  the  subject  in  earnest,  and 
passed  resolutions  for  the  necessary  supplies.  In  order  to 
secure  the  co-operation  of  all,  a  convention  of  delegates  from 
those  States  assembled  at  Providence,  and  agreed  upon  the 
quotas  to  be  furnished  by  them,  respectively,  each  month, 
throughout  the  campaign.  But  until  these  resolutions  could 
be  executed,  the  embarrassments  of  the  army  continued;  and, 
for  some  time  after  the  troops  had  taken  the  field,  there  was 
reason  to  apprehend,  either  that  the  great  objects  of  the  cam- 
paign must  be  relinquished  for  want  of  provisions,  or  that 
coercive  means  must  still  be  used. 

New  England  not  furnishing  flour,  this  important  article 
was  to  be  drawn  from  New  York,  New  Jersey  and  Pennsylva- 
nia. The  first  two  mentioned  States  having  been  for  a  long 
time  the  theatre  of  war,  and  the  system  of  impressment  having 
fallen  heavily  on  them,  were  much  exhausted;  and  the  appli- 
cations to  Pennsylvania  did  not  promise  to  be  very  successful. 
On  the  subject  of  a  supply  of  flour,  therefore,  serious  fears 
existed.  These  were  in  a  considerable  degree  removed,  by 
the  activity  and  exertions  of  an  individual. 

The  management  of  the  finances,  a  duty  at  all  times  intri- 
cate and  difficult,  but  peculiarly  so  in  the  United  States,  at  a 
period  when  without  energy  in  government,  funds  were  to  be 


340  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS   AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

created,  and  a  ruined  credit  restored,  had  been  lately  com- 
mitted to  Mr.  Robert  Morris,  a  delegate  to  Congress  from 
the  State  of  Pennsylvania.  This  gentleman,  who  had  been 
very  active  in  establishing  the  bank  in  Philadelphia,  united 
considerable  political  talents  with  a  degree  of  mercantile 
enterprise,  information  and  credit,  seldom  equalled  in  any 
country.  He  had  accepted  this  arduous  appointment  on  the 
condition  of  being  allowed  the  year  1781  to  make  his  arrange- 
ments: during  which  time  the  department  should  be  conducted 
by  those  already  employed,  and  with  the  resources  which 
government  could  command.  But  the  critical  state  of  public 
affairs,  and  the  pressing  wants  of  the  army,  obliged  him  to 
change  his  original  resolution,  and  to  enter  immediately  on 
the  duties  of  his  office.  The  occasion  required  that  he  should 
bring  his  private  credit  in  aid  of  the  public  resources,  and 
pledge  himself  personally  and  extensively  for  articles  of  the 
most  absolute  necessity  which  could  not  be  otherwise  obtained. 
Condemning  the  system  of  violence  and  of  legal  fraud  which 
had  too  long  been  practiced,  as  being  calculated  to  defeat  its 
own  object,  he  sought  the  gradual  restoration  of  confidence, 
by  the  only  means  which  could  restore  it, — a  punctual  and 
faithful  compliance  with  the  engagements  he  should  make. 
Herculean  as  was  this  task  in  the  existing  derangement  of 
the  American  finances,  he  entered  upon  it  with  courage,  and 
if  not  completely  successful,  certainly  did  more  than  could 
have  been  supposed  practicable  with  the  means  placed  in  his 
hands.  To  him,  in  no  inconsiderable  degree,  it  is  to  be  attribu- 
ted, that  the  very  active  and  decisive  operations  of  the  cam- 
paign of  1 781  were  not  impeded,  perhaps  entirely  defeated, 
by  a  total  failure  of  the  means  for  transporting  military 
stores  and  feeding  the  army. 

On  determining  to  undertake  the  management  of  the 
American  finances,  he  laid  before  Congress  the  plan  of  a 
national  bank,  the  capital  of  which  was  to  consist  of  four 
hundred  thousand  dollars,  to  be  made  up  by  individual  sub- 
scription. It  was  to  be  incorporated  by  government,  and  to 
be  subject  to  the  inspection  of  the  superintendent  of  the 
finances,  who  was  at  all  times  to  have  access  to  the  books. 
Their  notes  were  to  be  receivable  as  specie,  from  the  respec- 


ROBERT    MORRIS.  34^ 

tive  States,  into  the  treasury  of  the  United  States.  This 
beneficial  and  necessary  institution  received  the  full  appro- 
bation of  Congress ;  and  the  subscribers  were  on  the  last  day 
of  the  present  year,  incorporated  by  an  ordinance  made  for 
that  purpose. 

This  measure  was  of  great  importance  to  the  future 
operations  of  the  army,  as  it  enabled  the  superintendent  of 
the  finances  to  use,  by  anticipation,  the  funds  of  the  nation; 
a  power  of  infinite  value  when  prudently  and  judiciously 
exercised.  But  a  contract  entered  into  by  him  with  the  State 
of  Pennsylvania  was  of  more  immediate  utility. 

It  will  be  recollected  that  the  army  was  principally  to  rely 
on  that  State  for  a  supply  of  flour,  and  that  there  was  reason 
to  apprehend  a  continuance  of  the  most  distressing  disap- 
pointments in  this  essential  article.  After  having  relieved 
the  wants  of  the  moment  by  his  private  credit,  Mr.  Morris 
proposed  to  take  on  himself  the  task  of  complj'ing  with  all 
the  specific  requisitions  made  by  Congress  on  Pennsylvania  for 
the  present  year,  on  receiving  as  a  reimbursement,  the  taxes 
imposed  by  a  law  just  enacted.  This  proposition  being 
accepted,  the  contract  was  made;  and  in  consequence  of  it, 
supplies  which  the  government  found  itself  incapable  of 
furnishing,  were  raised  by  an  individual. — J.  Marshall. 


JOHN  ADAMS. 


^^.  1  if'/ 


AMONG  the  earliest  of  the  colonial 
settlers  of  New  England,  was  a 
family  named  Adams.  The  name 
of  one  of  this  family  appears  on 
the  charter  of  Charles  the  First, 
granted  to  the  London  Company. 
From  this  ancestor  was  descended 
John  Adams,  the  Revolutionary 
patriot,  who  became  second  Presi- 
dent of  the  United  States. 

John  Adams  was  born  October 
19th,  1735,  in  Braintree,  on  the  south  shore  of  Boston  harbor. 
His  father,  who  bore  the  same  Christian  name,  was  one  of  the 
small  farmers  who  got  a  living  out  of  the  rugged  New 
England  soil.  His  mother  was  Susanna,  daughter  of  Peter 
Boylston,  and  niece  of  Dr.  Zabdiel  Boylston,  who  first  intro- 
duced inoculation  for  the  small-pox  in  British  dominions. 
John  Adams,  having  received  his  elementary  education  from 
Mr.  Marsh,  a  schoolmaster  of  Braintree,  was  admitted,  at  the 
age  of  sixteen,  as  a  student  at  Harvard  University,  and  grad- 
uated Bachelor  of  Arts  in  1755.  He  had  intended  to  study 
for  the  ministry,  but  the  orthodox  teaching  of  that  day  drove 
him  from  the  profession  of  divinity.  Leaving  Harvard,  he 
immediately  took  charge  of  the  grammar  school  at  Worcester. 
At  this  time,  France  and  Great  Britain  were  struggling 
for  the  mastery  of  North  America.  Braddock's  defeat  and 
death  made  politics  the  speculation  of  every  mind.  After  a 
year's  work  at  the  grammar  school,  John  Adams  determined 
to  commence  the  study  of  law,  and  entered  the  office  of 
342 


JOHN   ADAMS.  343 

Colonel  James  Putnam,  at  Worcester.  On  November  6,  1758, 
"he  was  recommended  to  the  court  for  the  oath,  and  shook 
hands  with  the  Bar."  He  opened  a  law  office  in  his  native 
town,  and  commenced  practice.  On  October  25,  1764,  he 
wedded  Abigail  Smith,  the  young  daughter  of  a  Weymouth 
clergyman,  who  made  a  most  excellent  wife. 

In  1765  an  act  was  passed  in  the  British  Houses  of 
Parliament  to  tax  certain  papers  and  parchments  used  in 
America.  The  reason  given  was  the  heavy  expenditure  of 
England  in  defence  of  the  Colonies  against  the  French.  The 
colonists  replied  that  as  they  had  no  member  in  the  British 
Parliament,  they  would  pay  no  such  taxes,  and  would  buy  no 
stamped  paper.  They  had  raised  and  sent  their  own  troops 
to  the  war,  and  had  thus  borne  their  share  of  the  expense. 
John  Adams  was  from  the  beginning,  one  of  the  most  out- 
spoken and  insistent  opponents  of  the  Stamp  Act.  Before  a 
literary  circle  in  Boston,  he  read  a  short  paper  on  the  Feudal 
and  Canon  Law.  It  attracted  notice,  and  was  re-published  in 
London.  "  For  the  profession  of  the  law,"  says  his  grand- 
son, "John  Adams  had  been  pre-eminently  gifted  with  the 
endowments  of  nature  ;  a  sound  constitution  of  body,  a  clear 
and  sonorous  voice,  a  quick  conception,  a  discriminating 
judgment,  a  ready  execution. "  In  1768  he  removed  to  Boston 
as  a  better  field  for  his  abilities. 

The  resignation  of  the  Commissioner  of  Stamps  had  led 
to  the  closing  of  the  Superior  Court,  of  which  Hutchinson 
was  Chief  Justice,  much  to  the  grievance  of  suitors  and  their 
counsel.  At  a  town  meeting  in  Boston,  John  Adams, 
together  with  James  Otis  and  Jeremiah  Gridley,  was  selected 
to  present  the  case  before  the  Governor  and  his  council.  The 
Governor  reserved  his  decision,  and  just  then  the  Stamp  Act 
was  repealed.  But  the  occasion  exercised  an  important  in- 
fluence on  Adams'  subsequent  career.  It  was  his  introduction 
to  the  patriotic  forum,  and  from  that  time  he  became  some- 
thing more  than  a  lawyer  adjusting  individual  rights.  About 
this  time,  efforts  were  made  to  detach  him  from  the  patriotic 
side.  The  Attorney-General  of  the  province,  a  Crown  officer, 
tendered  him  the  post  of  Advocate-General  to  the  Court  of 
Admiralty.     He  considered  this  offer  too  much  like  a  bribe, 


344  IISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVEINTS. 

and  premptly  declined  it.  The  British  cabinet  had  resigned 
on  the  repeal  of  the  Stamp  Act,  and  the  Duke  of  Grafton, 
and  Pitt,  now  Barl  of  Chatham,  were  called  to  the  office.  In 
spite  of  the  warnings  of  the  latter  statesman,  new  taxes 
on  tea,  lead,  glass,  paper,  etc.,  were  levied  on  America. 
Although  the  repeal  of  the  Stamp  Act  had  somewhat  quieted 
the  storm  which  its  passage  had  aroused,  that  fatal  measure 
had  a  lasting  influence  on  the  old  traditional  sentiment  of 
loyalty  to  Great  Britain. 

In  1770  Adams,  in  conjunction  with  Josiah  Quincy,  Jr.,  was 
selected  as  counsel  for  Captain  Preston  and  the  soldiers  who 
had  fired  the  fatal  shots  in  the  so-called  "  Boston  Massacre," 
which  had  made  the  presence  of  English  soldiers  insupport- 
able to  the  American  people.  It  seems  that  Adams  and 
Quincy  were  retained  by  the  suggestion  of  Hutchinson,  for 
the  reason  that  they  were  the  most  prominent  of  the  lawyers 
who  opposed  the  government  policy.  This  selection  was 
judicious  ;  inasmuch  as  the  people  had  faith  in  John  Adams, 
whom  they  knew  to  hold  popular  opinions.  Neither  he  nor 
his  younger  colleague  refused  the  duty  thrust  upon  them, 
though  it  might  prove  dangerous  to  their  reputation  and 
prospects.  Captain  Preston  and  six  of*  the  soldiers  were  dis- 
charged. The  other  two  were  convicted  of  manslaughter. 
By  craving  benefit  of  clergy,  their  punishment  was  commuted 
to  burning  in  the  hand.  The  immediate  result  was  not  un- 
favorable to  John  Adams,  for  during  the  trial  he  had  increased 
his  former  professional  reputation,  and  the  cooler  judgment  of 
the  people  distinguished  between  the  duty  of  the  lawyer  and 
the  sentiments  of  the  man. 

Within  two  months  after  the  trial  of  the  soldiers,  he 
received  a  new  testimonial  of  the  favor  and  confidence  of  his 
fellow-townsmen  by  their  election  of  him  as  one  of  their 
representatives  in  the  General  Court  or  Colonial  Legislature. 
In  this  body  the  conflict  of  principles  between  the  absolute 
authority  of  the  mother  country  and  British  colonial  liberty 
was  pertinaciously  maintained.  In  1772,  having  removed 
back  to  Braintree,  he  ceased  to  represent  Boston  in  the  Legis- 
lature. In  1774  he  was  elected  one  of  the  members  from  the 
Colony  of  Massachusetts  Bay  to  the  Continental  Congress  in 


JOHN   ADAMS.  345 

Philadelphia.  Before  setting  out  to  take  his  seat  in  that 
body,  he  wrote  "  Vapors,  avaunt !  I  will  do  my  duty  and 
leave  the  event.  If  I  have  the  approbation  of  my  own  mind, 
whether  applauded  or  censured,  blessed  or  cursed  by  the 
world,  I  shall  not  be  unhappy. ' '  So  imbued  was  Adams  with 
the  necessity  of  independence,  that  he  insisted  on  it  in  the 
Congress.  So  advanced  was  he  in  his  opinions,  that  he 
shocked  the  loyal  and  terrified  the  timid  of  his  countrymen. 
Ready  and  strong  in  debate,  uncompromising  in  support  of 
his  propositions,  rather  hasty  in  temper,  he  urged  with  a  rest- 
less energy  the  importance  of  the  step.  When  open  hostili- 
ties began  in  the  spring  of  1775,  Adams  secured  the 
appointment  of  George  Washington  as  commander-in-chief  of 
the  Continental  Army. 

On  the  nth  of  June,  1776,  Thomas  Jefferson,  John 
Adams,  Benjamin  Franklin,  Roger  Sherman  and  Robert  R. 
Livingston  were  appointed  a  committee  to  prepare  the 
Declaration  of  Independence.  Thomas  Jefferson  drafted  this 
greatest  state  paper  of  American  history ;  Franklin  and 
Adams  made  a  few  alterations.  The  debate  was  resumed 
on  July  the  ist.  On  this  occasion  Adams  made  a  great 
speech,  no  record  of  which  now  remains;  but  Webster  has 
reproduced  its  substance.  On  the  4th  of  July  the  Declaration 
was  finally  adopted.  After  the  passing  of  the  Declaration, 
John  Adams  was  chosen  President  of  the  Board  of  War. 
He  was  a  member  of  no  less  than  ninety  committees,  and 
was  chairman  of  twenty-five. 

Adams'  service  in  Congress  continued  until  1777,  when  he 
was  chosen  in  November,  by  that  body,  a  joint  commissioner 
with  Franklin  and  Deane  at  the  Court  of  France.  He  em- 
barked for  that  country  on  the  13th  of  February,  1778,  and 
after  a  forty-five  days'  passage,  landed  at  Bourdeaux.  Between 
his  appointment  and  his  arrival  in  France,  the  independence 
of  the  United  States  had  been  recognized  by  that  country,  and 
treaties  of  commerce  and  alliance  concluded  between  the  two 
nations.  Congress,  following  Adams'  advice,  now  appointed 
a  single  minister  plenipotentiary'  to  the  Court  of  France.  Dr. 
Benjamin  Franklin  was  chosen. 

John  Adams,  thus  left  idle,  wrote  to  his  wife,    ' '  I  cannot 


346  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

eat  pensions  and  sinecures  :  they  would  stick  in  my  throat." 
Without  waiting  for  a  letter  of  recall,  he  returned  in  the 
summer  of  1779  to  America.  The  first  French  minister  to 
the  United  States  sailed  on  the  same  vessel  with  him. 

Adams  soon  received  from  Congress  a  new  commission 
for  the  negotiation  of  peace  with  Great  Britain.  On  the  14th 
of  November,  he  sailed  for  Brest ;  but  the  ship  having  sprung 
a  leak  on  the  passage,  made  the  first  European  port  possible, 
which  was  Ferrol  in  Spain,  and  thence  he  traveled  by  land  to 
Paris.  He-found  that  the  results  of  the  Revolutionary  war 
were  not  yet  sufficiently  assured  for  the  negotiation  of  peace 
In  1780  John  Adams  left  Paris  and  went  to  Holland,  where, 
as  a  preliminary  to  the  negotiation  of  a  treaty  of  amity  and 
commerce,  it  was  necessary  to  procure  the  recognition  of  the 
United  States  as  an  independent  power.  The  negotiation  for 
a  loan  included  a  separate  power  to  contract  with  individuals. 
In  both  these  negotiations  he  was  eminently  successful. 

The  definitive  treaty  of  peace  between  the  United  States 
and  Great  Britain  was  signed  at  Paris  on  the  3d  of  Septem- 
ber, 1783.  In  the  following  month  John  Adams  visited 
England  for  the  first  time.  In  1784  he  negotiated  in  Holland 
a  new  loan  of  two  millions  of  florins.  In  the  Spring  of  1785, 
Dr.  Franklin,  on  account  of  illness,  returned  to  America,  and 
Jefferson  was  appointed  his  successor  at  the  Court  of  France, 
while  Adams  was  made  first  minister  plenipotentiary  of  the 
United  States  to  England.  In  May,  1785,  he  arrived  in 
London.  He  was  the  first  American  to  appear  before  George 
III.,  and  was  therefore,  in  the  king's  eyes,  the  personifica- 
tion of  successful  rebellion.  His  reception  was  attended  with 
the  usual  diplomatic  courtesy,  and  was  more  gracious  than 
might  have  been  expected.  The  English  people  were  not 
disposed  to  be  cordial,  and  the  American  minister  held  an 
uncomfortable,  yet  honorable  situation.  After  a  residence  in 
England  of  three  years,  Mr,  Adams  returned  to  the  United 
States  in  June,  1788,  when  the  ratification,  by  nine  States,  of 
the  Federal  Constitution,  had  established  the  present  form  of 
government  for  the  Union.  Already,  whilst  in  Eondon,  he 
published  his  "  Defence  of  the  Constitution  and  Government 
of  the  United  States." 


JOHN  ADAMS.  347 

In  December,  1788,  George  Washington  was  unanimously 
chosen  first  President  of  the  United  States,  and  John  Adams 
was  elected  Vice-President,  and  four  years  later  both  were 
re-elected  to  the  same  offices.  During  these  eight  years,  Mr. 
Adams  presided  in  the  Senate.  The  long  feud  between  him- 
self and  Alexander  Hamilton  appears  to  have  had  its 
beo-innino-  in  events  connected  with  the  second  election. 
Hamilton,  usually  generous  and  magnanimous,  entertained 
one  of  those  inveterate  prejudices  against  Mr.  Adams,  which 
men  of  strong,  autocratic  nature  often  exhibit  toward  those 
whom  they  cannot  influence.  Pliancy  was  not  in  the  Adams 
fibre.  The  Vice-President  was  as  thorough  and  outspoken  in 
his  enmities  as  he  was  in  everything  else. 

At  the  close  of  Washington's  second  term,  John  Adams  was 
nominated  by  the  Federal  party,  and  was  elected  President  of 
the  United  States.  Jefferson,  the  candidate  of  the  opposite 
party,  then  called  Republican,  became,  by  the  usage  of  the 
time,  Vice-President.  During  Adams'  administration,  every 
act  of  his  was  performed  in  accordance  with  his  standard  of 
duty.  Perplexed  by  a  factious  opposition  and  betrayed  by 
some  of  his  advisers,  he  steered  with  difficulty  through  the 
dangers  which  surrounded  him.  He  lacked  the  faculty  of 
conciliation.  His  administration  was  greatly  occupied  with 
the  trouble  caused  by  the  French  Directory,  and  by  its  parti- 
sans in  the  United  States.  While  the  President  was  endeavor- 
ing to  preserve  neutrality,  the  Directory  was  seizing  and 
confiscating  American  vessels.  The  American  envoys  sent  to 
France  were  refused  satisfaction  unless  they  would  guarantee 
a  loan  to  the  French  Republic  and  give  bribes  to  the  Direc- 
tory. Their  memorable  reply,  "Millions  for  defence,  but 
not  one  cent  for  tribute,"  became  a  popular  cry  when  they 
returned  to  America.  To  this  time  also  belongs  R.  T. 
Paine's  spirited  song,  "Adams  and  Liberty."  And  yet  the 
Republican  party,  led  and  stimulated  by  Jefferson,  grew  daily 
stronger.  The  Federalists  still  controlled  Congress,  and  passed 
laws  giving  the  President  power  to  order  aliens  whom  he 
should  deem  dangerous  to  depart  from  the  country,  and  im- 
posing fine  and  imprisonment  on  conspirators  against  the 
government  and  those  who  should  libel  the  President  or  Con- 


348  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND  FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

gress.  These  Alien  and  Sedition  laws  aggravated  the  evils 
they  were  intended  to  remedy,  and  the  reaction  drove  the 
Federal  party  from  power. 

On  the  3rd  of  March,  1801,  the  official  term  of  Mr.  Adams 
expired.  He  hastened  from  the  city  of  Washington,  to 
which  the  capital  had  been  removed  during  his  administra- 
tion. The  remainder  of  his  life  was  passed  at  his  country 
place  in  Massachusetts  quietly  and  peacefully.  His  domestic 
affections  were  strong,  and  he  found  in  his  family,  and  in 
the  companionship  and  sympathy  of  his  wife,  a  solace  for  all 
public  ingratitude.  John  Adams  died  on  the  4th  of  July,  1826, 
the  fiftieth  anniversary  of  the  Nation's  independence.  By  a 
remarkable  coincidence,  Thomas  Jefferson,  his  former  asso- 
ciate and  rival,  died  on  the  same  memorable  day. 

John  Adams  was  singularly  adapted  for  times  of  storm  and 
revolution.  He  had  an  earnest,  unconquerable  spirit,  an 
intrepidity  that  shrunk  from  no  danger,  and  an  integrity  of 
wonderful  pureness.  He  had  clear  views,  vigorous  sense,  and 
a  power  of  expression  strong  and  striking.  His  faults  of 
vanity,  obstinacy  and  bluntness  may  well  be  forgotten,  when 
we  remember  how  consistently  this  true  patriot  served 
America. 

The  Declaration  of  Independence. 

While  danger  was  gathering  round  New  York,  and  its 
inhabitants  were  in  mute  suspense  and  fearful  anticipations, 
the  General  Congress  at  Philadelphia  was  discussing,  with 
closed  doors,  what  John  Adams  pronounced  "the  greatest 
question  ever  debated  in  America,  and  as  great  as  ever  was  or 
will  be  debated  among  men."  The  result  was  a  resolution, 
passed  unanimously,  on  the  2d  of  July,  "that  these  United 
Colonies  are,  and  of  right  ought  to  be,  free  and  independent 
States."  "The  2d  of  July,"  adds  the  same  patriotic  states- 
man, "will  be  the  most  memorable  epoch  in  the  history  of 
America.  I  am  apt  to  believe  that  it  will  be  celebrated  by 
succeeding  generations  as  the  great  anniversary  festival.  It 
ought  to  be  commemorated  as  the  day  of  deliverance,  by 
solemn  acts  of  devotion  to  Almighty  God.  It  ought  to  be 
solemnized  with  pomp  and  parade,  with  shows,  games,  sports, 


JOHN   ADAMS.  349 

guns,  bells,  bonfires  and  illuminations,  from  one  end  of  tliis 
continent  to  the  other,  from  this  time  forth  for  evermore." 

The  glorious  event  has,  indeed,  given  rise  to  an  annual 
jubilee  ;  but  not  on  the  day  designated  by  Adams.  The  4tli 
of  July  is  the  day  of  national  rejoicing,  for  on  that  day  the 
"Declaration  of  Independence,"  that  solemn  and  sublime 
document,  was  adopted.  Tradition  gives  a  dramatic  effect  to 
its  announcement.  It  was  known  to  be  under  discussion,  but 
the  closed  doors  of  Congress  excluded  the  populace.  They 
awaited,  in  throngs,  an  appointed  signal.  In  the  steeple 
of  the  State  House  was  a  bell,  imported  twenty-three  years 
previously  from  I^ondon  by  the  Provincial  Assembly  of 
Pennsylvania.  It  bore  the  portentous  text  from  Scripture  : 
"Proclaim  liberty  throughout  all  the  land,  unto  all  the 
inhabitants  thereof"  A  joyous  peal  from  that  bell  gave 
notice  that  the  bill  had  been  passed.  It  was  the  knell 
of  British  domination. 

\  No  one  felt  the  importance  of  the  event  more  deeply  than 
John  Adams,  for  no  one  had  been  more  active  in  producing 
it.  We  quote  his  words,  written  at  the  moment :  "When  I 
look  back  to  the  year  1761,  and  recollect  the  argument  con- 
cerning writs  of  assistance  in  the  Superior  Court,  which  I  have 
hitherto  considered  as  the  commencement  of  the  controversy 
between  Great  Britain  and  America,  and  run  through  the 
whole  period  from  that  time  to  this,  and  recollect  the  series 
of  political  events,  the  chain  of  causes  and  efiects,  I  am 
surprised  at  the  suddenness,  as  well  as  the  greatness,  of  this 
Revolution  ;  Great  Britain  has  been  filled  with  folly,  America 
with  wisdom." 

His  only  regret  was  that  the  Declaration  of  Independence 
had  not  been  made  sooner.  "  Had  it  been  made  seven  months 
ago,"  said  he,  "we  should  have  mastered  Quebec,  and  been 
in  possession  of  Canada,  and  might  before  this  hour  have 
formed  alliances  with  foreign  States.  Many  gentlemen  in 
high  stations,  and  of  great  influence,  have  been  duped  by  the 
ministerial  bubble  of  commissioners  to  treat,  and  have  been 
slow  and  languid  in  promoting  measures  for  the  reduction 
of  that  province. " — W.  Irving. 


350  historic  characters  and  famous  events. 

The  American  People. 

(Extract  from  the  Inaugural  Address  of  John  Adams,  President  of  the  United 

States,  March  4,  1797). 

The  zeal  and  ardor  of  the  people,  during  the  Revolutionary 
War,  supplying  the  place  of  government,  commanded  a  degree 
of  order,  sufficient  at  least  for  the  temporary  preservation  of 
society.  The  Confederation,  which  was  early  felt  to  be  neces- 
sary, was  prepared  from  the  models  of  the  Batavian  and  Hel- 
vetic confederacies — the  only  examples  which  remain,  with 
any  detail  and  precision,  in  history,  and  certainly  the  only 
ones  which  the  people  at  large  had  ever  considered.  But, 
reflecting  on  the  striking  difference,  in  so  many  particulars, 
between  this  country  and  those  where  a  courier  may  go  from 
the  seat  of  government  to  the  frontier  in  a  single  day,  it  was 
then  certainly  foreseen,  by  some  who  assisted  in  Congress  at 
the  formation  of  it,  that  it  could  not  be  durable. 

Negligence  of  its  regulations,  inattention  to  its  recommen- 
dations, if  not  disobedience  to  its  authority,  not  only  in  indi- 
viduals, but  in  States,  soon  appeared,  with  their  melancholy 
consequences :  universal  languor ;  jealousies  and  rivalries  of 
States;  decline  of  navigation  and  commerce;  discouragement 
of  necessary  manufactures  ;  universal  fall  in  the  value  of  lands 
and  their  produce;  contempt  of  public  and  private  faith;  loss  of 
consideration  and  credit  with  foreign  nations  ;  and,  at  length, 
in  discontents,  animosities,  combinations,  partial  conventions, 
and  insurrection,  threatening  some  great  national  calamity. 

In  this  dangerous  crisis,  the  people  of  America  were  not 
abandoned  by  their  usual  good  sense,  presence  of  mind,  reso- 
lution, or  integrity.  Measures  were  pursued  to  concert  a  plan 
to  form  a  more  perfect  union,  establish  justice,  ensure  domes- 
tic tranquillity,  provide  for  the  common  defence,  promote  the 
general  welfare,  and  secure  the  blessings  of  liberty.  The 
public  disquisitions,  discussions  and  deliberations  issued  in 
the  present  happy  constitution  of  government. 

Employed  in  the  service  of  my  country  abroad  during  the 
whole  course  of  these  transactions,  I  first  saw  the  Constitution 
of  the  United  States  in  a  foreign  country.  Irritated  by  no 
literary  altercation,  animated  by  no  public  debate,  heated  by 


JOHN  ADAMS.  35 1 

no  party  animosity,  I  read  it  with  great  satisfaction,  as  the 
result  of  good  heads,  prompted  by  good  hearts — as  an  experi- 
ment, better  adapted  to  the  genius,  character,  situation,  and 
relations,  of  this  nation  and  country,  than  any  which  had 
ever  been  proposed  or  suggested.  In  its  general  principles 
and  great  outlines,  it  was  conformable  to  such  a  system  of 
government  as  I  had  ever  most  esteemed,  and  in  some  States, 
my  own  native  State  in  particular,  had  contributed  to  estab- 
lish. Claiming  a  right  of  suffrage,  in  common  with  my  fellow- 
citizens,  in  the  adoption  or  rejection  of  a  Constitution  which 
was  to  rule  me  and  my  posterity,  as  well  as  them  and  theirs, 
I  did  not  hesitate  to  express  my  approbation  of  it,  on  all  occa- 
sions, in  public  and  in  private.  It  was  not  then,  nor  has  been 
since,  any  objection  to  it,  in  my  mind,  that  the  Executive  and 
Senate  were  not  more  permanent.  Nor  have  I  ever  enter- 
tained a  thought  of  promoting  any  alteration  in  it,  but  such 
as  the  people  themselves,  in  the  course  of  their  experience, 
should  see  and  feel  to  be  necessary  or  expedient,  and,  by  their 
representatives  in  Congress  and  the  State  Legislatures,  accord- 
ing to  the  Constitution  itself,  adopt  and  ordain. 

Returning  to  the  bosom  of  my  countr}'^,  after  a  painful 
separation  from  it,  for  ten  years,  I  had  the  honor  to  be  elected 
to  a  station  under  the  new  order  of  things,  and  I  have  repeat- 
edly laid  myself  under  the  most  serious  obligations  to  support 
the  Constitution.  The  operation  of  it  has  equalled  the  most 
sanguine  expectations  of  its  friends ;  and,  from  an  habitual 
attention  to  it,  satisfaction  in  its  administration,  and  delight 
in  its  effects  upon  the  peace,  order,  prosperity  and  happiness 
of  the  nation,  I  have  acquired  an  habitual  attachment  to  it 
and  veneration  for  it.  What  other  form  of  government,  in- 
deed, can  so  well  deserv^e  our  esteem  and  love? 

The  existence  of  such  a  government  as  ours  for  any  length 
of  time,  is  a  full  proof  of  a  general  dissemination  of  knowl- 
edge and  virtue  throughout  the  whole  body  of  the  people. 
And  what  object  or  consideration  more  pleasing  than  this  can 
be  presented  to  the  human  mind  ?  If  national  pride  is  ever 
justifiable,  or  excusable,  it  is  when  it  springs,  not  from  power 
or  riches,  grandeur  or  glory,  but  from  conviction  of  national 
innocence,  information,  and  benevolence. 


352  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

ADAMS  AND  LIBERTY. 

Ye  Sons  of  Columbia,  who  bravely  have  fought 

For  those  rights,  which  unstained  from  your  sires  had 
descended. 
May  you  long  taste  the  blessings  your  valor  has  bought. 
And  your  sons  reap  the  soil  which  your  fathers  defended  ; 
'Mid  the  reign  of  mild  Peace, 
May  your  nation  increase. 
With  the  glory  of  Rome  and  the  wisdom  of  Greece : 
And  ne'er  shall  the  sons  of  Columbia  be  slaves, 
While  the  earth  bears  a  plant,  or  the  sea  rolls  its  waves. 

In  a  clime  whose  rich  vales  feed  the  marts  of  the  world, 
Whose  shores  are  unshaken  by  Europe's  commotion, 
The  trident  of  Commerce  should  never  be  hurled. 
To  increase  the  legitimate  powers  of  the  Ocean. 
But  should  pirates  invade, 
Though  in  thunder  arrayed. 
Let  your  cannon  declare  the  free  charter  of  trade  : 
For  ne'er  shall  the  sons  of  Columbia  be  slaves, 
While  the  earth  bears  a  plant,  or  the  sea  rolls  its  waves. 

The  fame  of  our  arms,  of  our  laws  the  mild  sway, 

Had  justly  ennobled  our  nation  in  story, 
Till  the  dark  clouds  of  faction  obscured  our  young  day, 
And  enveloped  the  sun  of  American  glory. 
But  let  traitors  be  told, 
Who  their  country  have  sold, 
And  bartered  their  God  for  his  image  in  gold, 
That  ne'er  will  the  sons  of  Columbia  be  slaves, 
While  the  earth  bears  a  plant,  or  the  sea  rolls  its  waves. 

While  France  her  huge  limbs  bathes  recumbent  in  blood, 

And  society's  base  threats  with  wide  dissolution  ; 
May  peace,  like  the  dove  who  returned  from  the  flood, 
Find  an  ark  of  abode  in  our  mild  Constitution. 
But,  though  peace  is  our  aim, 
Yet  the  boon  we  disclaim. 
If  bought  by  our  sovereignty,  justice,  or  fame : 
For  ne'er  shall  the  sons  of  Columbia  be  slaves. 
While  the  earth  bears  a  plant,  or  the  sea  rolls  its  waves. 


JOHN  ADAMS.  353 

'Tis  the  fire  of  the  flint  each  American  warms ; 

Let  Rome's  haughty  victors  beware  of  collision ; 
Let  them  bring  all  the  vassals  of  Europe  in  arms, 
We're  a  world  by  ourselves,  and  disdain  a  division. 
While  with  patriot  pride, 
To  our  laws  we're  allied, 
No  foe  can  subdue  us,  no  faction  divide : 
For  ne'er  shall  the  sons  of  Columbia  be  slaves, 
While  the  earth  bears  a  plant,  or  the  sea  rolls  its  waves. 

Should  the  tempest  of  war  overshadow  our  land. 

Its  bolts  could  ne'er  rend  Freedom's  temple  asunder; 
For,  unmoved  at  its  portal  would  Washington  stand, 
And  repulse  with  his  breast  the  assaults  of  the  thunder. 
His  sword  from  the  sleep 
Of  its  scabbard  would  leap, 
And  conduct,  with  the  point,  every  flash  to  the  deep : 
For  ne'er  shall  the  sons  of  Columbia  be  slaves. 
While  the  earth  bears  a  plant,  or  the  sea  rolls  its  waves. 

Let  Fame  to  the  world  sound  America's  voice  ; 

No  intrigues  can  her  sons  from  their  Government  sever  ; 
Her  pride  are  her  statesmen  ;  their  laws  are  her  choice, 
And  shall  flourish  till  liberty  slumbers  forever. 
Then  unite  heart  and  hand, 
Like  Leonidas's  band. 
And  swear  to  the  God  of  the  ocean  and  land, 
That  ne'er  shall  the  sons  of  Columbia  be  slaves. 
While  the  earth  bears  a  plant,  or  the  sea  rolls  its  waves, 

— R.  T.  Paine. 


IV— 23 


PIERRE  JAY  was  one  of 
those  persecuted  Hugue- 
nots who  were  driven  from 
France  by  the  revocation 
of  the  Edict  of  Nantes.  He 
fled  to  England,  and  his 
son,  Augustus,  barely  es- 
caping with  his  life,  came 
to  America,  and  settled  in 
New  York.  Here,  in  1697, 
Augustus  married  Ann  Ma- 
ria, the  daughter  of  Bal- 
thazar Bayard,  another  of 
the  refugees.  He  lived  in 
prosperity,  and,  dying  in 
175 1,  left  one  son  and  three  daughters.  This  son,  named 
Peter,  became  the  father  of  John.  He  was  a  very  successful 
merchant  in  New  York,  and,  having  acquired  a  large  fortune, 
purchased  an  estate  at  Rye,  in  the  county  of  Westchester,  on 
the  shores  of  Long  Island  Sound,  to  which  he  retired  with 
his  family. 

John  Jay  was  born  in  the  city  of  New  York,  on  the  12th 
day  of  December,  1745.  His  early  education  was  conducted 
by  his  mother,  after  which  he  was  sent  to  the  grammar  school 
at  New  Rochelle.  He  was  of  a  studious  disposition,  and  he 
went  to  Columbia  College,  from  which  he  graduated  on  the 
15th  of  May,  1764,  with  the  highest  honors  of  his  class. 

For  nearly  two  years  he  was  a  fellow-student  with  the 
grammarian  Lindley  Murray,  in  the  law  office  of  Mr.  Kissam, 
an  eminent  counselor.     He  was  admitted  to  the  bar  in  1768, 
354 


JOHN   JAY.  355 

and  immediately  entered  into  partnership  with  Robert  R. 
Livingston,  the  cousin  of  his  future  wife  ;  but  this  business 
connection  was  soon  dissolved,  though  they  always  remained 
warm  and  attached  friends.  Mr.  Jay's  talents  and  virtues 
gave  at  that  period  pleasing  indications  of  future  eminence. 
He  was  remarkable  for  strong  reasoning  powers,  comprehen- 
sive views,  indefatigable  application,  and  uncommon  firmness 
of  mind.  In  1774  he  married  Sarah  Livingston,  the  youngest 
daughter  of  William  Livingston,  a  delegate  to  the  first  Conti- 
nental Congress  from  New  Jersey,  and  afterwards  Governor 
of  that  State  for  many  years.  His  wife,  kind,  gentle,  tender 
and  affectionate,  was  a  most  fitting  helpmate.  She  partici- 
pated in  his  counsels  ;  she  shared  his  vicissitudes ;  and  joy 
and  happiness  borrowed  half  their  charms  from  her  presence 
and  participation.  In  the  year  of  his  marriage,  John  Jay  was 
elected  one  of  the  Delegates  to  the  first  Congress,  and,  when 
he  took  his  seat,  was  the  youngest  member  but  one  on  the 
floor  of  that  House. 

In  the  early  movements  of  the  Colonists  in  opposition  to 
British  tyranny  and  taxation,  John  Jay  took  a  deep  interest. 
On  behalf  of  Congress,  he  wrote  the  "Address  to  the  People 
of  Great  Britain,"  which  Jefferson  pronounced  to  be  "the 
production  of  the  finest  pen  in  America."  The  purity  of  its 
style,  its  loftiness  of  sentiment,  and  its  earnest  and  impressive 
eloquence  deserved  this  commendation.  Jay  assisted  in  pre- 
paring other  addresses  adopted  by  Congress,  all  of  which 
bear  the  stamp  of  true  genius,  burning  patriotism,  and  great 
comprehensiveness.  They  are  as  elegant  as  they  are  method- 
ical and  profound. 

At  the  crisis,  in  1775,  when  the  question  of  a  separation 
from  Great  Britain  began  to  be  soberly  and  seriously  discussed, 
Jay,  though  apprehensive  of  the  worst,  still  hoped  that  redress 
might  be  obtained.  Upon  his  motion,  a  committee  was  ap- 
pointed to  draft  a  second  petition  to  George  III.  This  mea- 
sure was  carried  only  after  long  debate,  for  many  insisted  that 
forbearance  had  already  ceased  to  be  a  virtue.  The  sequel 
proved  that  they  were  correct.  Many  who  had  previously 
doubted  and  hesitated,  were  induced,  by  the  rejection  of  this 
second  petition,  to   admit  the   propriety  and   necessity  of  a 


356  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

resort  to  arms.  Notwithstanding  the  adoption  of  the  second 
petition,  Congress  did  not  neglect  any  of  the  preparations 
necessary  for  putting  the  country  in  a  state  of  defence.  Jay 
was  now  completely  enlisted  in  the  cause,  and  held  himself  in 
readiness  to  obey  the  call  of  his  country,  whenever  she  might 
need  his  services.  He  received  and  accepted  a  colonelcy  of 
the  Second  Regiment  of  Militia  of  the  city  of  New  York, 
tendered  him  by  the  Provincial  Congress.  He  never  joined 
his  regiment,  however,  as  his  eloquent  pen,  his  keen  sagacity, 
his  prudence  and  discrimination  were  required  in  the  councils 
of  that  body,  whose  deliberations  at  this  period  were  fraught 
with  momentous  consequences. 

In  April,  1776,  he  was  elected  a  representative  from  the 
city  and  county  of  New  York  to  the  Provincial  Convention. 
He  was  the  means  of  pledging  New  York  to  the  support  of  the 
Declaration  of  Independence,  though  by  his  absence  from 
Philadelphia  he  had  been  denied  the  privilege  of  voting  in  its 
favor.  In  1777  the  Convention  adopted  a  constitution  for  the 
State  of  New  York,  suited  to  the  new  order  of  things,  which 
had  been  chiefly  written  by  Jay,  and  he  was  appointed  Chief 
Justice  of  the  Supreme  Court.  Between  his  election  to  the  Con- 
gress of  1774  and  this  appointment,  we  find  him  constantly  and 
actively  employed  in  the  most  important  public  duties,  and  in 
rendering  very  essential  aid  to  his  country.  On  the  special 
occasion  of  the  controversy  between  New  York  and  Vermont, 
Jay  was  elected  to  Congress,  and  took  his  seat  in  December, 
1778.  He  was  immediately  called  to  preside  over  its  delibera- 
tions. Believing  that  his  protracted  absence  from  the  State 
was  not  consistent  with  his  position  as  Chief  Justice,  Jay 
resigned  that  office  in  the  fall  of  1779.  Whilst  acting  as 
President  of  Congress,  he  was  selected  to  prepare  a  circular 
letter  to  the  States,  urging  them  to  furnish  the  funds  required 
for  a  vigorous  prosecution  of  the  war.  In  the  close  of  this 
letter  he  laments  "that  America  had  no  sooner  become  inde- 
pendent than  she  became  insolvent,  and  that  her  infant  glories 
and  growing  fame  were  obscured  and  tarnished  by  broken 
contracts  and  violated  faith,  in  the  hour  when  all  the  nations 
of  the  earth  were  admiring  and  almost  adoring  the  splendor 
of  her  rising." 


JOHN   JAY.  357 

Jay  resigned  his  seat  iu  Congress  in  September,  1779,  hav- 
ing received  the  appointment  of  Minister  Plenipotentiary  to 
Spain,  on  which  mission  he  sailed  in  the  same  year.  Its 
chief  object  was  to  obtain  a  loan  from  that  country,  but  he 
was  only  partially  successful.  In  1782  he  was  appointed 
Conmiissioner  to  negotiate  peace  with  England,  in  com- 
pany with  Dr.  Franklin,  John  Adams,  and  Henry  Laurens. 
In  all  these  duties,  most  of  which  were  delicate  and 
difficult,  and  many  of  which  were  exceedingly  vexatious 
and  annoying.  Jay  acquitted  himself  with  great  credit  and 
patriotism.  His  firmness  assisted  in  obtaining  from  Great 
Britain  the  recognition  of  the  independence  of  the  United 
States.  His  health  having  become  impaired.  Jay  resigned  his 
commission,  and,  after  recruiting  it  somewhat  at  the  watering- 
places  of  England,  and  in  Parisian  society,  he  returned  home 
in  May,  1784. 

On  his  arrival,  Jay  found  that  he  had  been  elected  by 
Congress,  on  the  ytli  of  May  previous,  to  the  responsible  office 
of  Secretary  for  Foreign  Affairs.  The  post  was  in  every 
respect  the  most  important  in  the  country,  as  the  whole  cor- 
respondence wnth  foreign  governments  and  with  the  States 
was  conducted  by  him.  He  was  foremost  in  advocating  the 
formation  of  a  central  government  possessing  more  power  than 
had  been  given  to  the  Continental  Congress,  When  the  new 
Federal  Constitution  was  framed  in  1787,  it  found  no  warmer 
supporter  than  John  Jay.  Of  those  brilliant  papers  written 
in  its  favor  under  the  collective  appellation  of  ' '  The  Feder- 
alist," he  contributed  Numbers  2,  3,  4  and  5.  They  are  still 
regarded  as  safe  guides  in  the  determination  of  constitutional 
questions.  Jay's  contributions  in  defence  of  the  proposed 
Constitution  were  interrupted  by  injuries  received  in  the  riot 
in  New  York  City,  known  as  "The  Doctors'  Mob."  He 
labored  in  the  office  of  Secretary  for  Foreign  Affairs  until  the 
adoption  of  the  Federal  Constitution,  when  George  Washing- 
ton asked  him  to  accept  any  office  he  might  desire.  He 
selected  that  of  Chief  Justice  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  the 
United  States,  and  was  duly  appointed  to  that  office  Septem- 
ber 26,  1790. 

In  1794  Jay  was  appointed  Envoy  Extraordinary  to  Great 


358  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

Britain,  to  remonstrate  with  that  government  against  its 
repeated  violations  of  the  Treaty  of  1783,  and  its  efforts  to 
monopolize  the  trade  of  America.  He  was  instructed,  if  pos- 
sible, to  negotiate  a  treaty  of  commerce.  He  left  New  York 
on  the  I2tli  of  May,  1794,  and  the  result  of  his  mission  was 
the  celebrated  treaty  which  bears  his  name,  concluded  on  the 
19th  of  November,  1794.  Ill  health  prevented  Jay's  return 
to  America  until  the  Spring  of  1795.  Although  a  fierce  and 
factious  opposition  assailed  the  treaty  and  denounced  it  as 
sacrificing  American  interests,  President  Washington  approved 
it  and  the  Senate  ratified  it.  Its  practical  operation  proved 
highly  beneficial,  but  other  points  of  dispute,  left  unsettled  by 
this  treaty,  led  eventually  to  a  second  war  with  Great  Britain. 

In  April  Jay  was  elected  Governor  of  New  York  by  a 
majority  of  nearly  1,600  votes.  In  this  office  he  identified 
himself  with  the  first  effort  towards  the  abolition  of  slavery  in 
the  State  of  New  York.  He  served  until  1801,  when  he 
retired  from  public  life,  firmly  resisting  all  overtures  from  Con- 
gress and  his  friends.  He  continued  to  be  active  in  religious 
and  philanthropic  movements,  and  was  made  president  of  the 
American  Bible  Society  in  1821.  He  expired  at  Bedford  on 
the  17th  of  May,  1829,  in  the  eighty-fourth  year  of  his  age. 

John  Jay  was  of  great  service  in  rousing  the  people  of  New 
York  and  the  other  Colonies  to  a  sense  of  their  true  interests. 
As  a  speaker,  he  was  easy  and  fluent.  He  was  slow  in  judg- 
ment, but  clear-headed  and  accurate.  Honest  and  true,  faithful 
and  prompt  in  the  discharge  of  every  duty,  his  integrity  was 
unimpeachable.  As  a  judge,  he  was  distinguished  for  his 
firmness,  impartiality  and  integrity.  His  name  and  fame  are 
properly  associated  with  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United 
States.  ' '  Ripe  in  experience  and  thoroughly  tried  in  many 
responsible  and  conspicuous  positions,  in  all  of  which  he  had 
conducted  himself  with  lofty  disinterestedness  and  unyielding 
integrity,  his  calmness  of  temperament,  accuracy  of  judgment, 
unblemished  character  and  sound  views  upon  public  questions, 
commended  him  to  the  sagacious  choice  of  Washington  as  a 
publicist  and  jurist  best  fitted  to  elevate  and  adorn  the  judi- 
ciary of  the  nation  and  to  preside  over  the  deliberations  of  its 
supreme  tribunal." 


JOHN  JAY.  359 

Jay's  Treaty. 

On  his  arrival  in  England,  Jay  had  been  treated  with  great 
courtes}'.  Every  disposition  had  been  expressed  by  Lord 
Grenville,  then  at  the  head  of  foreign  affairs,  to  bring  the 
negotiation  to  a  successfnl  issne ;  but  so  opposite  on  several 
points  were  the  views  entertained  by  the  two  nations  as  to 
their  rights  and  interests,  that  to  accomplish  this  result  was 
no  easy  matter. 

The  Americans  complained  that,  contrary  to  an  express 
provision  of  the  treaty  of  peace,  a  large  number  of  negroes  had 
been  carried  off  by  the  evacuating  British  armies  ;  and  for  the 
loss  thus  inflicted  on  the  owners  compensation  was  demanded. 
They  complained,  also,  of  the  detention  of  the  Western  posts, 
to  which  mainly  the  protracted  hostility  of  the  Northern 
Indians  was  ascribed.  They  alleged  numerous  invasions  of 
their  neutral  rights,  not  only  under  the  orders  of  council, 
issued  as  instructions  to  the  British  cruisers,  but  in  the  cap- 
ture, and  condemnation  by  the  local  admiralty  courts,  of  nu- 
merous vessels  upon  pretenses  false  or  frivolous.  Other  topics 
of  complaint,  not  less  serious,  were  the  impressment  of  sea- 
men from  on  board  iVmerican  vessels,  and  the  exclusion  of 
American  shipping  from  the  trade  to  the  British  West  Indies. 

According  to  the  British  interpretation  of  the  treaty  of 
peace,  the  prohibition  as  to  the  uegroes  did  not  apply  to  any 
such  as  had  been  set  at  liberty  in  the  course  of  the  war  under 
proclamations  of  the  British  commanders,  and  as  those  carried 
away  were  all  of  that  sort,  any  compensation  for  them  was 
refused. 

The  subject  of  impressment  was  found  exceedingly  diffi- 
cult on  more  accounts  than  one.  The  only  adequate  security 
to  American  sailors  against  the  danger  of  impressment  seemed 
to  be  a  renunciation  on  the  part  of  the  British  of  the  right  to 
press  anybody  from  American  vessels.  But  this  the  British 
would  not  agree  to.  The  number  of  British  sailors  in  the 
American  merchant  service  was  already  large.  Such  a  pro- 
vision would  greatly  increase  it.  Obliged  as  she  was,  in  the 
present  struggle,  to  make  the  greatest  efforts,  Great  Britain 
could  not,  at  least  would  not,  give  up  so  important  a  resource 


360  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

for  manning  Iier  fleet.  It  was  maintained  on  the  American 
side  that  naturalized  citizens  had  the  same  rights  with  native- 
born  Americans,  and  ought  equally  to  be  protected  against 
impressment.  According  to  the  British  doctrine,  no  man  had 
a  right  to  renounce  his  allegiance,  nor  could  British-born 
sailors  thus  withdraw  themselves  from  the  service  of  their 
country.  The  claim  of  the  Americans  to  an  equal  participa- 
tion in  the  trade  of  the  British  West  Indies  was  regarded  by 
England  as  quite  unreasonable,  calling  upon  her,  as  it  did,  to 
renounce  the  long-settled  principles  of  her  commercial  system; 
nor  could  Jay  obtain  any  concessions  on  this  point  except 
under  very  onerous  conditions. 

But  the  matters  more  immediately  threatening  to  the  peace 
of  the  two  countries  were  the  disputed  questions  of  neutral 
rights  and  the  detention  of  the  Western  posts.  Judging  it 
best  to  arrange  these  points,  though  obliged  to  yield  as  to  the 
others,  or  to  leave  them  for  future  negotiation,  Jay  was  induced 
to  sign  a  treaty,  defective  in  some  points  and  objectionable  in 
otliers,  but  the  best  that  could  be  obtained. 

This  treaty  provided  for  constituting  three  boards  of  com- 
missioners :  one  to  determine  the  eastern  boundary  oj"  the 
United  States,  by  fixing  on  the  river  intended  by  the  treaty 
of  peace  as  the  St.  Croix ;  another,  to  ascertain  the  amount  of 
losses  experienced  by  British  subjects  in  consequence  of  legal 
impediments  to  the  recovery  of  British  ante-Revolutionary 
debts,  which  amount,  so  ascertained,  was  to  be  paid  by  the 
Government  of  the  United  States  ;  and  a  third,  to  estimate 
the  losses  sustained  by  American  citizens  in  consequence  of 
irregular  and  illegal  captures  by  British  cruisers,  for  which 
there  existed  no  adequate  remedy  in  suits  at  law,  these  losses 
to  be  paid  by  the  British  Government.  In  consideration  of 
the  arrangement  of  the  question  of  British  debts,  the  Western 
posts  were  to  be  surrendered  on  the  first  of  June,  1796  ;  the 
present  residents  in  the  neighborhood  to  have  the  option  of 
removing  or  of  becoming  American  citizens.  To  give  both 
nations  an  equal  chance  of  the  Indian  traffic,  there  was  to  be 
a  mutual  reciprocity  of  inland  trade  and  intercourse  between 
the  North  American  territories  of  the  two  nations  (including 
the  navigation  of  the   Mississippi),  the    British   also   to  be 


JOHN   JAY.  361 

admitted  into  all  the  American  harbors,  with  the  right  to 
ascend  all  the  rivers  to  the  highest  port  of  entr)\  Bnt  this 
reciprocity  did  not  extend  to  the  territor}'  of  the  Hndson  Bay 
Company,  nor  to  the  admission  of  American  vessels  into  the 
harbors  of  the  British  North  American  colonies,  nor  to  the 
navigation  of  the  rivers  of  those  colonies  below  the  highest 
port  of  entry.  No  objection  of  alienage  was  to  interfere  with 
the  possession  of  land  within  the  dominions  of  either  power, 
by  subjects  or  citizens  of  the  other,  as  existing  at  the  date  of 
the  treaty,  nor  with  its  regular  descent ;  nor,  in  the  event  of 
any  war  or  rupture,  was  there  to  be  any  confiscation  by  either 
party  of  debts,  or  of  public  or  private  stocks,  due  to  or  held 
by  the  citizens  or  subjects  of  the  other. 

These  first  ten  articles  were  declared  to  be  perpetual ;  the 
other  eighteen,  in  the  nature  of  a  treaty  of  commerce  and 
navigation,  were  limited  to  two  years  after  the  termination 
of  the  existing  war.  .  .   . 

After  a  fortnight's  debate  in  secret  session,  the  Senate,  by 
a  vote  of  twenty  to  ten,  precisely  a  constitutional  majority, 
advised  the  ratification  of  the  treaty,  that  article  excepted 
which  related  to  the  West  India  trade.  Apart  from  the  very 
questionable  policy  of  purchasing  so  limited  a  concession  at 
so  great  a  sacrifice,  there  was  a  particular  objection  to  the 
terms  of  that  arrangement  which  made  it  wholly  inadmissible. 
Among  the  articles  the  transportation  of  which  to  Europe  the 
Americans  were  required  to  renounce,  besides  sugar,  molasses, 
coffee,  and  cocoa,  was  cotton.  Neither  J^ay  nor  Grenville 
seems  to  have  been  aware  that  cotton  had  lately  become  an 
article  of  export  from  the  Southern  States. 

Though  well  aware  of  the  deficiencies  of  the  treaty,  the 
President,  before  submitting  it  to  the  Senate,  had  made  up  his 
mind  in  favor  of  ratifying.  All  the  members  of  the  Cabinet, 
Randolph  excepted,  who  seemed  somewhat  doubtful,  were 
ver^'^  decidedly  of  the  same  opinion.  But  the  recommendation 
of  the  Senate,  that  a  clause  be  added  suspending  the  operation 
of  the  West  India  article,  raised  some  nice  questions  and  led 
to  some  delay. 

The  Senate  had  removed  the  seal  of  secrecy  from  their 
proceedings,  but  had  forbidden  any  publication  of  the  treaty 


362 


HISTORIC  CHARACTERS   AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 


itself.  Statements,  however,  as  to  its  contents  had  begun  to 
appear,  accompanied  by  very  malignant  comments.  In  order 
to  prevent  hasty  conclusions,  founded  on  partial  views,  and 
wishing  to  hear  the  opinions  of  the  people,  Washington  had 
directed  the  whole  treaty  to  be  published.  But  in  this  he  had 
been  anticipated.  On  the  same  day  that  this  direction  was 
given,  a  full  abstract  had  appeared  in  the  Aurora^  followed,  a 
day  or  two  after,  by  a  perfect  copy,  furnished  by  Mason,  of  the 
Senate,  under  his  own  name. 

Ever  since  the  arrival  of  news  that  a  treaty  had  been 
formed,  there  had  not  been  wanting  strong  symptoms  in  cer- 
tain quarters  of  a  disposition  to  condemn  it  beforehand  and  at 
all  events.  The  violent  partisans  of  France  looked  with  very 
jealous  eyes  upon  any  arrangement  whatever  with  Great 
Britain.  No  sooner  did  the  abstract  of  the  treaty  make  its 
appearance  than  a  loud  outcry  was  raised  against  it,  as  no 
better  than  a  pusillanimous  surrender  of  American  rights,  and 
a  shameful  breach  of  oblirations  to  France.   .   .  . 

On  August  12th,  a  Cabinet  council  was  held,  at  which  the 
question.  What  should  be  done  with  the  treaty?  was  discussed, 
not  without  some  warmth.  Not  content  with  insisting  upon 
the  repeal  of  the  provision  order  as  a  preliminary  to  ratifica- 
tion, Randolph  now  took  the  ground  that  the  treaty  ought  not 
to  be  ratified  at  all,  pending  the  present  war  between  England 
and  France.  The  other  members  of  the  Cabinet  insisted  upon 
immediate  ratification,  with  a  strong  memorial  against  the 
provision  order.  In  favor  of  this  course  Washington  decided, 
and  the  ratification  was  signed  two  days  after. — R.  Hildreth. 


ALEXANDER  HAMILTON  was 
the  most  brilliant  of  the  statesmen 
concerned  in  the  formation  of  the 
present  government  of  the  United 
States.  Though  the  youngest  of 
all,  he  was  among  the  most  con- 
servative. His  intuitive  apprecia- 
tion of  the  rational  liberty  already 
attained  in  the  development  of  the 
British  Constitution,  in  spite  of  the 
accidental  effects  of  unwise  admin- 
istration, led  him  to  urge  that  model 
for  America,  instead  of  venturing  into  a  wilderness  in  search 
of  impracticable  ideals. 

Alexander  Hamilton  was  born  on  the  Island  of  Nevis,  in 
the  British  West  Indies,  on  the  nth  of  January,  1757.  Little 
is  known  about  his  parentage  or  birth  ;  but  his  father  was  of 
Scotch  descent,  whilst  French  blood  flowed  through  the  veins 
of  his  mother.  The  general  opinion  seems  to  have  been  that 
he  was  not  born  in  lawful  wedlock.  His  early  education  was 
entrusted  to  a  Presbyterian  minister,  named  Knox.  At  the 
early  age  of  twelve  he  was  placed  in  the  office  of  a  merchant 
on  the  island  of  St.  Croix,  where  his  talents  and  ambition 
soon  displayed  themselves.  Writing  to  a  friend  of  his,  who 
had  already  gone  to  New  York,  he  says,  "I  contemn  the 
groveling  condition  of  a  clerk  or  the  like,  to  which  my  for- 
tune condemns  me,  and  would  willingly  risk  my  life,  though 

not  my  character,  to  exalt  my  station I  mean  to 

prepare  the  way  for  futurity."     In  October,  1772,  Hamilton 

363 


364  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

landed  in  Boston  and  from  thence  proceeded  to  New  York. 
At  the  age  of  sixteen  he  entered  Columbia  College,  where  he 
made  "extraordinary  displays  of  richness  of  genius  and  energy 
of  mind." 

The  contest  between  British  oppression  and  American 
liberty  called  forth  the  best  talent  on  each  side,  and  young 
Hamilton's  pen  answered  a  paper  by  Rev.  Samuel  Seabury, 
' '  Free  Thousfhts  on  the  Proceedings  of  a  Continental  Con- 
gress."  The  reply,  published  anonymously,  was  called  "A 
Full  Vindication  of  Congress."  In  reply  to  another  pamphlet 
of  Seabury's  published  over  the  signature,  "  A  Westchester 
Farmer,"  he  wrote  a  second  and  far  stronger  paper  entitled 
"The  Farmer  Refuted."  Hamilton's  papers  exhibited  such 
evidences  of  intellect  and  wisdom  that  they  were  at  first 
ascribed  to  John  Jay,  then  the  leading  advocate  of  the  rights 
of  the  Americans. 

At  the  age  of  eighteen  Hamilton  entered  the  army,  and  on 
March  the  14th,  1776,  he  was  made  a  captain  of  the  artillery'. 
After  a  year's  arduous  service,  he  attracted  the  attention  of 
General  Washington,  who  selected  him  as  his  aid,  with  the 
rank  of  lieutenant-colonel,  and  made  him  his  confidential 
secretary'.  His  thorough  knowledge  of  the  French  language 
made  him  very  useful  in  communicating  with  the  French 
generals,  and  his  clear  literary  style  made  his  services  partic- 
ularly acceptable  to  the  commander-in-chief.  Hamilton  was 
present  with  Washington  when  the  dastardly  treason  of  Bene- 
dict Arnold  was  discovered,  and  his  humane  heart  prompted 
him  to  intercede  that  the  unfortunate  Andre  might  be  shot,  as 
he  requested,  instead  of  being  hanged.  On  the  14th  of 
December,  1780,  Hamilton  married  Elizabeth,  the  second 
daughter  of  Major-General  Philip  Schuyler. 

In  February  of  the  following  year,  Hamilton  was  so  impru- 
dent as  to  quarrel  with  Washington;  but  their  friendship  was 
afterwards  fully  restored.  In  1781,  at  the  siege  of  Yorktown, 
to  avoid  jealousies,  the  attack  on  one  of  the  redoubts  was 
committed  to  the  Americans,  and  that  on  the  other  to  the 
French.  The  Marquis  de  La  Fayette  commanded  the  Ameri- 
can detachment,  and  Colonel  Hamilton,  at  his  own  request,  led 
the  advanced  corps,  consisting  of  two  battalions.     Towards 


ALEXANDER   HAMII.TON.  365 

the  close  of  the  da}-,  October  14th,  the  troops  rushed  to  the 
charge  without  firing  a  single  gun.  The  works  were  carried 
with  but  little  loss. 

At  the  age  of  twenty-five  Hamilton  retired  from  the  army 
and  took  up  the  study  of  law.  He  rose  rapidly  in  his  pro- 
fession, and  still  took  an  active  part  in  public  affairs.  He 
proposed  schemes  for  placing  the  finances  of  the  country  on  a 
firm  footing.  The  chief  were  these, — a  foreign  loan  ;  taxes  in 
kind  ;  a  bank  founded  on  public  and  private  credit,  and  taxes 
in  money.  He  complained  that  in  the  Confederation  the 
States  had  too  much  power.  He  claimed  that  Congress,  as 
the  central  power,  should  have  complete  control  of  the  army, 
navy,  commerce  and  diplomacy  ;  that  there  should  be  a  single 
head  to  each  department ;  and  he  desired  that  a  Convention 
should  be  called  to  reorganize  the  Confederation.  He  wrote 
to  Laurens  that  to  make  independence  a  blessing  "we  must 
secure  our  union  on  solid  foundations, — a  herculean  task,  and 
to  effect  which  mountains  of  prejudice  must  be  levelled." 

When  Hamilton  took  his  seat  in  Congress,  in  1782,  he  had 
a  better  opportunity  to  advocate  these  views,  and  "  the  pro- 
ceedings of  Congress  immediately  assumed  a  more  vigorous 
tone  and  character."  He  wrote,  "  The  road  to  popularity  in 
each  State  is  to  inspire  jealousies  of  Congress,  though  nothing 
can  be  more  apparent  than  that  they  have  no  power."  He 
earnestly  advocated  the  right  of  Congress  to  collect  its  own 
taxes.  After  a  year's  service  he  retired  from  that  body  and 
resumed  the  practice  of  law  in  New  York.  In  1 786  he  was 
sent  to  the  General  Assembly  of  New  York,  in  which  he 
introduced  and  ably  supported  the  bill  for  acceding  to  the 
assumed  independence  of  Vermont.  He  was  chosen  by  that 
body  one  of  the  three  New  York  delegates  to  the  General 
Convention  recommended  by  Congress  to  be  held  at  Philadel- 
phia, in  May,  1787. 

Hamilton's  services  in  forming  the  Constitution  of  this 
country  were  invaluable,  and  although  the  finished  work  did 
not  completely  meet  his  wishes,  yet  believing  that  it  was 
superior  in  every  way  to  the  old  Confederation,  he  exerted  all 
his  talents  in  its  support.  What  Hamilton  feared  was  that  it 
did  not  contain  sufficient  means  of  strength  for  its  own  preser- 


366  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

vation.  He  favored  a  more  permanent  Executive  and  Senate 
than  it  called  for.  "He  wished  for  a  strong  government, 
which  would  not  be  shaken  by  the  conflict  of  different  interests 
through  an  extensive  territory,  and  which  would  be  adequate 
to  all  the  forms  of  national  exigency."  In  his  paper,  how- 
ever, signed  "  Publius,"  and  by  his  oratorical  efforts  in  the 
New  York  convention,  he  largely  contributed  to  its  adoption. 
In  conjunction  with  Jay  and  Madison,  Hamilton  completed 
that  celebrated  series  of  essays,  known  as  "The  Federalist," 
as  profound  in  their  logic  as  they  are  brilliant  in  their  execu- 
tion and  patriotic  in  spirit.  There  were  eighty-five  papers: 
Jay  contributed  five,  Madison  perhaps  twenty,  and  Hamilton 
the  laree  remainder.  This  work  alone  is  sufficient  to  immor- 
talize  his  name. 

The  adoption  of  the  Constitution  in  1788  was  followed  by 
the  election  of  Washington  to  the  Presidency  in  1789.  Ham- 
ilton was  then  called  to  take  charge  of  the  Treasury  Depart- 
ment, Here  for  five  years  he  displayed  those  remarkable 
talents  wliioii  mark  his  whole  career;  but,  while  he  opened 
sources  of  wealth  to  thousands  by  establishing  public  credit, 
he  did  not  enrich  himself  He  did  not  take  advantage  of  his 
position,  nor  improve  the  opportunity  he  enjoyed  for  acquiring 
a  fortune.  Hamilton  always  maintained  that  taxation  on 
goods  was  divided  between  the  buyer  and  seller  according  to 
supply  and  demand.  He  wrote  :  "The  real  wealth  of  a  nation, 
consisting  in  its  labor  and  commodities,  is  to  be  estimated  by 
the  sign  of  that  wealth,  its  circulating  cash;"  and  again — 
"The  tendency  of  a  national  bank  is  to  increase  public  and 
private  credit." 

Hamilton  and  Jefferson  were  diametrically  opposed  to  one 
another.  The  former  was  apprehensive  of  danger  from  the 
encroachment  of  the  States,  and  wished  to  add  strength  to  the 
general  government;  while  the  latter  favored  the  State  sover- 
eignties as  closer  to  the  people  governed,  and  was  desirous  of 
checking  and  limiting  the  exercise  of  the  national  authority, 
particularly  the  power  of  the  executive.  Jefferson  accused 
Hamilton  of  having  said  that  a  monarchical  form  of  govern- 
ment was  to  be  preferred,  and  that  he  considered  the  English 
government   the  most  perfect  ever  devised  by  man.      John 


A1,KXANDER   HAMILTON.  367 

Adams,  who  was  present,  interposed,  "but  for  its  corrup- 
tions." Hamilton  said  that  with  these  it  effected  its  ends, 
and  without  them  it  would  be  impracticable.  These  states- 
men also  differed  on  the  coinage  question  and  other  matters, 
and  no  reconciliation  could  be  effected. 

In  1793,  when  the  news  was  received  of  the  rupture 
between  France  and  Great  Britain,  Hamilton,  as  one  of  the 
Cabinet,  supported  the  opinion,  that  the  treaty  made  with  the 
King  of  France  in  1778  did  not  now  bind  the  United  States 
to  join  the  Directory  in  active  war.  A  proclamation  of  neu- 
trality was  issued.  He  resigned  office  in  January,  1795,  and 
was  succeeded  by  Oliver  Wolcott. 

When  Hamilton  resigned,  Washington  wrote  to  him  : 
"In  every  relation  which  you  have  borne  to  me  I  have  found 
that  my  confidence  in  your  talents,  exertions  and  integrity 
has  been  well  placed.  I  the  more  freely  tender  this  testimony 
of  mj''  approbation  because  I  speak  from  opportunities  of 
information  which  cannot  deceive  me,  and  which  furnish  sat- 
isfactory proof  of  your  title  to  public  regard."  In  reply  to 
this  letter,  Hamilton  wrote:  "Whatsoever  may  be  my  destina- 
tion hereafter,  I  entreat  you  to  be  persuaded  (not  the  less 
from  my  having  been  sparing  in  professions)  that  I  shall  never 
cease  to  render  a  just  tribute  to  those  eminent  and  excellent 
qualities  which  have  been  already  productive  of  so  many 
blessings  to  your  country  ;  that  you  will  ahva}-s  have  my  fer- 
vent wishes  for  your  public  and  personal  felicity,  and  that  it 
will  be  my  pride  to  cultivate  a  continuance  of  that  esteem, 
regard  and  friendship  of  which  you  do  me  the  honor  to 
assure  me." 

W^hen  a  provisional  army  was  raised  in  1798,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  injuries  and  demands  of  France,  Washington 
was  called  from  his  retirement  to  take  the  chief  command, 
but  with  his  acceptance  joined  the  condition  that  Hamilton 
should  be  his  associate  and  the  second  in  command.  This 
arrangement  was  accordingly  made.  On  the  settlement  of 
the  dispute,  when  the  army  was  disbanded,  Hamilton  returned 
again  to  his  profession  in  New  York. 

In  1804,  Aaron  Burr  sought  Federalist  aid  against  the  reg- 
ular Republican  nominee,  for  the  position  of  Governor  of  New 


358  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVE     :^. 

York.  Hamilton  opposed  him  on  the  ground  that  ^  urr  was 
a  Republican,  and  moreover  a  man  without  principle.  ""'  t;- 
demanded  an  apology  from  Hamilton  for  having  exprt  .d 
"a  despicable  opinion"  of  him.  The  demand  was  deemed 
inadmissible,  and  a  duel  ensued.  The  opponents  met  at 
Weehawken,  above  Hoboken,  on  July  ii,  1804.  Hamilton 
fell  on  the  same  spot  where,  three  years  previously,  his  only 
son  Philip,  nineteen  years  old,  had  lost  his  life  in  a  similar 
encounter.  In  a  letter  of  farewell  to  his  wife  he  wrote  that 
he  could  not  have  avoided  the  duel  without  sacrifices  which 
would  have  rendered  him  unworthy  of  her  esteem.  On  the 
following  day  he  died. 

In  the  portico  of  Trinity  Church  in  New  York,  Gouver- 
neur  Morris  delivered  a  brief  address  on  the  dead  statesman. 
He  said:  "Hamilton  disdained  concealment.  Knowing  the 
purity  of  his  heart,  he  bore  it,  as  it  were,  in  his  hand,  exposing 
to  every  passenger  its  inmost  recesses.  The  generous  indis- 
cretion subjected  him  to  censure  from  misrepresentation.  His 
speculative  opinions  were  treated  as  deliberate  designs.'' 

Bancroft  says  of  Hamilton:  "He  was  fond  of  authority; 
had  creative  power;  had  in  his  nature  nothing  mean  or  low; 
was  disinterested.  .  .  .  He  had  a  good  heart.  .  .  .  Bold 
in  the  avowal  of  his  own  opinions,  he  was  fearless  to  provoke, 
and  prompt  to  combat  opposition.  It  was  not  his  habit  to 
repine  over  lost  opportunities.  His  nature  inclined  him  rather 
to  prevent  what  seemed  to  him  coming  evils  by  timely  action." 

Alexander  Hamilton  was  not  only  an  earnest  patriot,  but  a 
constructive  statesman  ;  his  aim  was  to  found  a  stable  national 
government.  Events  since  his  day  have  proved  his  far-sighted 
political  wisdom,  and  the  eternal  obligation  of  the  American 
people  to  his  labors  in  the  formation  of  the  Constitution,  in 
the  Cabinet,  and  in  the  Treasury. 

The  National  Debt. 

(Hamilton's  Report,  January  9,  1791.) 

Hamilton's  report  estimated  the  foreign  debt,  due  to  the 
Court  of  France  and  to  private  lenders  in  Holland,  with  a 
small  sum  to  Spain,  at  ;^ii,7io,378.  This  included  the 
arrears  of  interest,  to  the  amount  of  upward  of  a  million  and 


ALEXANDER   HAMILTON.  369 

a  half,  whicli  had  accumulated  on  the  French  and  Spanish 
loans  since  1786,  and  also  several  installments  of  the  French 
loan,  already  overdue. 

The  domestic  debt,  registered  and  unregistered,  including 
interest  to  the  end  of  the  current  year,  and  an  allowance  of 
two  millions  for  unliquidated  claims,  principally  the  outstand- 
ing Continental  money,  was  reckoned  at  $42,414,085,  of  which 
nearly  a  third  part  was  arrears  of  interest.  Notwithstanding 
the  attempts  of  the  Continental  Congress  to  keep  down  the 
interest  by  calling  on  the  States  for  an  annual  contribution  in 
indents  or  interest  certificates,  those  calls  had  been  but  very 
imperfectly  met.  Out  of  a  total  interest  accumulating  on  the 
domestic  debt,  since  its  first  contraction  to  the  amount  of 
eighteen  millions  of  dollars,  less  than  five  millions  had  been 
paid  in  any  shape,  thus  leaving  an  undischarged  balance 
of  more  than  thirteen  millions. 

With  respect  to  the  debt  due  abroad,  there  was  no  differ- 
ence of  opinion  ;  all  agreed  that  it  must  be  met  in  the  precise 
terms  of  the  contract.  With  respect  to  the  domestic  debt, 
very  different  notions  prevailed,  A  large  proportion  of  the 
certificates  of  that  debt  had  passed  out  of  the  hands  of  the 
original  holders,  and  to  a  considerable  extent  had  accumulated 
in  the  possession  of  a  comparatively  few,  who  had  purchased 
them  on  speculation  at  very  low  rates,  or  had  received  them 
at  like  rates  in  payment  of  debts  or  in  lieu  of  money.  The 
idea  had,  therefore,  been  suggested,  and  had  found  many 
advocates,  of  applying  to  these  certificates  the  principle  of  a 
scale  of  depreciation,  as  had  been  done  in  the  case  of  the  paper 
money,  paying  them,  that  is,  at  the  rates  at  which  they  had 
been  purchased  by  the  holders  ;  and  this  idea  was  especially 
ureed  as  to  the  arrears  of  interest,  accumulated  to  an  amount 
equal  to  nearly  half  the  principal. 

Against  both  these  projects,  that  of  "scaling  down  the 
principal,"  as  it  was  called,  and  of  a  discrimination  as  to  the 
interest,  the  report  of  the  Secretary  of  the  Treasury  took 
decided  ground.  Without  overlooking  the  moral  obligation 
to  pay,  the  satisfaction  of  the  public  creditors,  to  the  full 
extent  of  their  claims,  was  treated  mainly  as  a  matter  of  policy. 
Public  credit  was  essential  to  the  new  Federal  Government.. 
IV— 24 


370  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

There  was  no  other  way  of  meeting  those  sudden  emergencies 
to  which,  in  the  vicissitudes  of  affairs,  all  nations  are  alike 
exposed,  and  for  which,  according  to  the  modern  expensive 
method  of  conducting  military  operations,  the  resources  of  im- 
mediate taxation  must  always  prove  insufficient.  But  public 
credit  could  only  be  established  by  the  faithful  payment 
of  public  debts,  according  to  the  terms  of  the  contract.  The 
original  contract  was  to  pay  so  much  money  to  the  holders  of 
the  certificates,  or  to  their  assignees.  The  assignees  stood, 
therefore,  precisely  in  the  place  of  the  original  holders,  and, 
so  far  as  payment  was  concerned,  must  be  regarded  as  original 
holders.  These  assignees  had  exhibited  their  faith  in  the 
nation,  had  preserved  the  public  credit  from  total  extinction, 
and  had  relieved  the  pressing  wants  of  the  holders  by  giving 
ready  money  in  exchange  for  a  doubtful  and  uncertain  claim. 
If  the  sums  thus  paid  had  been  far  less  in  amount  than  the 
claims  purchased,  that  had  been  a  natural  and  inevitable  con- 
sequence of  the  financial  position  of  the  United  States,  making 
it  a  matter  of  great  uncertainty  when  the  certificates  would  be 
paid,  or,  indeed,  if  they  would  ever  be  paid  at  all.  The 
equality  of  the  claim  of  the  assignee  with  that  of  the  original 
holder  was  a  most  important  element  in  the  value  of  public 
securities,  and  any  attack  upon  that  equality  would  be  a 
departure  from  that  policy  of  establishing  the  public  credit, 
which  formed  the  great  political  motive  for  paying  the  debt 
at  all.  If  any  compensation  was  to  be  made  to  the  unfortunate 
persons  who  had  sold  at  a  loss,  it  ought  not  to  come  out  of  the 
pockets  of  the  assignees,  but  should  be  made  up  by  the  Gov- 
ernment, through  whose  fault  the  loss  had  occurred. 

The  case  of  the  overdue  interest  was  put  with  equal  force. 
That  interest  ought  to  have  been  paid  at  the  time.  It  stood, 
therefore,  on  even  stronger  ground  than  the  principal,  which 
the  creditor  had  no  right  to  demand  so  long  as  the  interest 
was  paid  ;  whereas  the  accumulated  unpaid  interest  was 
already  due,  and  now  demandable.  If  to  make  instant  pay- 
ment of  the  whole  were  impracticable,  the  creditor  ought  at 
least  to  receive  a  fair  and  substantial  equivalent  by  having  his 
overdue  interest  converted  into  a  principal  debt. 

In  addition  to  the  sums  due  from  the  Federal  Government, 


AI.EXANDER   HAMILTON.  37 1 

somewliat  exceeding  fifty-four  millions  of  dollars,  there  were 
also  large  State  debts,  estimated  by  the  Secretary'  to  amount, 
in  the  whole,  overdue  interest  included,  to  about  twenty-five 
millions  of  dollars.  The  assumption  of  these  debts  by  the 
Federal  Government  was  strongly  recommended.  They  had 
been  incurred  in  the  common  cause  ;  no  more  money  would 
be  required  to  pay  them  as  Federal  than  as  State  debts  ;  that 
money  might  be  much  more  conveniently  raised  by  the  Fed- 
eral Government  than  by  the  States ;  and,  what  was  a  matter 
of  much  importance,  all  clashing  and  jealousy  between  State 
and  Federal  debtors  would  thus  be  prevented. 

If  the  State  debts  were  assumed,  the  whole  amount  to  be 
provided  for  would  fall  not  much  short  of  eighty  millions  of 
dollars,  the  annual  interest  exceeding  four  millions  and  a  half. 
This  was,  perhaps,  a  greater  sum  than  could  be  raised  without 
the  risk  of  dangerous  discontents,  such  as  would  put  the  whole 
system  at  hazard  ;  and  hence  it  became  the  interest  of  the 
public  creditors  to  consent  to  any  arrangement  which,  in 
yielding  them  a  fair  equivalent,  tended  also  to  reduce  the 
amount  to  be  annually  paid.  The  domestic  debt  bore,  at 
present,  an  annual  interest  of  six  per  cent.  ;  but  as  it  was 
redeemable  at  the  pleasure  of  the  Government,  whenever  the 
credit  of  the  United  States  became  sufficiently  established  to 
enable  them  to  borrow  money  at  five  per  cent,  or  less,  the 
public  creditors  might  be  obliged  to  accept  that  diminished 
rate  of  interest,  or,  if  they  declined,  might  be  paid  off  by 
means  of  new  loans  contracted  at  that  rate.  The  Secretary 
assumed,  as  the  basis  of  his  calculations,  the  probability  that 
in  five  years  the  United  States  might  be  able  to  borrow  at  five 
per  cent.,  and  in  fifteen  years  at  four  per  cent.  To  assure  the 
public  creditors  a  permanent  rate  of  six  per  cent,  for  a  certain 
fixed  period  might,  therefore,  constitute  an  equivalent  for  a 
reduction  of  the  principal,  or  for  a  postponement  of  interest  as 
to  a  part  of  it,  thereby  reducing  the  immediate  burden.  Thus 
reduced,  the  interest  might  be  met,  as  the  Secretary  thought, 
by  certain  additions  to  the  duties  on  wines,  spirits,  tea  and 
coffee,  with  an  excise  tax  on  spirits  distilled  at  home. 

For  the  purpose  of  carrying  out  this  arrangement,  it  was 
proposed  to  open  new  loans,  subscriptions  to  be  received  in 


372  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

certificates  of  the  old  stock  of  tlie  domestic  debt,  principal  and 
interest  to  stand  on  the  same  footing.  To  meet  the  various 
views  of  creditors,  different  offers  were  suggested,  all  founded, 
however,  on  the  above  assumption  as  to  the  probable  future 
ability  of  the  United  States  to  borrow  at  a  reduced  interest. 
Thus  the  public  creditor  might  receive  two-thirds  of  his  sub- 
scription in  a  six  per  cent,  stock  redeemable  at  the  pleasure 
of  the  Government,  and  the  balance  in  land,  at  the  rate  of 
twenty  cents  the  acre ;  or,  instead  of  the  land,  stock  to  the 
amount  of  $26.88  on  every  hundred,  to  begin  to  bear  interest 
at  six  per  cent,  at  the  end  of  ten  years,  both  stocks,  in  that 
case,  to  be  irredeemable  by  any  payment  exceeding  eight 
dollars  annually  on  the  hundred  for  principal  and  interest. 
Another  proposed  alternative  was  to  allow  a  four  per  cent, 
stock,  redeemable  only  at  the  rate  of  five  dollars  annually  for 
principal  and  interest,  to  the  amount  of  the  whole  subscrip- 
tion, with  a  bonus  of  $15.80  on  every  hundred,  payable  in 
land.  A  third  proposal  was  payment  of  the  subscriptions  in 
a  deferred  annuity  for  life,  or  an  immediate  annuity  on  the 
survivorship  of  two  lives,  to  be  calculated  on  a  rate  of  interest 
at  four  per  cent. — these  annuities,  by  their  expiration,  to  dis- 
charge the  principal — the  only  scheme,  in  fact,  upon  which 
public  debts  ought  ever  to  be  contracted. 

Upon  the  economical,  as  well  as  the  political,  benefits  to 
be  expected  from  this  funding  of  the  public  debt,  with  a  regular 
provision  for  paying  the  interest,  the  Secretary  dwelt  with  a 
good  deal  of  animation.  The  stock  thus  created  might  and 
would  serve,  to  a  great  extent,  in  the  place  of  money,  and 
would  thus  furnish  a  capital  to  the  holders  almost  equivalent 
to  cash.  Such  a  creation  of  capital  would  give  a  new  impulse 
to  industry,  and,  by  increasing  the  means  of  purchase,  would 
tend  to  raise  the  price  of  cultivated  lands,  which,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  immense  amounts  thrown  upon  the  market  to 
pay  the  debts  of  the  owners,  and  the  facility  of  obtaining  new 
lands  on  the  frontiers,  had  fallen,  in  most  of  the  old  settle- 
ments, to  less  than  half  the  price  which  the  same  lands  would 
have  brought  before  the  Revolution, 

But  while  he  regarded  as  certain  the  benefits  of  a  judicious 
funding  system,  the  doctrine  that  a  national  debt  is  a  national 


AI^EXANDER   HAMILTON.  373 

blessing  was  esteemed  by  the  Secretary  to  be  sound  only 
within  very  narrow  limits.  He  suggested,  therefore,  the  ap- 
propriation of  the  surplus  proceeds  of  the  post-oflEice  as  a  sink- 
ing fund  for  the  gradual  extinction  of  the  debt. 

There  was  one  other  reason  not  dwelt  upon  in  this  report, 
but  which  had  great  weight  with  Hamilton  and  many  others, 
in  favor  of  a  liberal  provision  for  the  public  creditors,  includ- 
ing the  assumption  of  the  State  debts.  It  would  be  a  politic 
means  of  strengthening  the  new  government,  by  attaching  to 
it,  by  the  powerful  ties  of  pecuniary  interest,  a  large  body  of 
influential  men,  and  of  reinforcing,  in  that  way,  national 
feeling  as  a  counterbalance  to  the  preponderating  power  of  the 
States. — R.  Hildreth. 

The  Duel  of  Hamilton  and  Burr. 

In  the  evening  before  the  duel,  both  the  principals  were 
engaged,  to  a  late  hour,  in  making  their  final  preparations, 
and  writing  what  each  felt  might  be  his  last  written  words. 
The  paper  prepared  by  Hamilton  on  that  occasion,  in  the 
solitude  of  his  library,  reveals  to  us  the  miserable  spectacle  of 
an  intelligent  and  gifted  man  who  had,  with  the  utmost  de- 
liberation, made  up  his  mind  to  do  an  action  which  his  intel- 
lect condemned  as  absurd,  which  his  heart  felt  to  be  cruel, 
which  his  conscience  told  him  was  wrong.  He  said  that  he 
had  shrunk  from  the  coming  interview.  His  duty  to  his  re- 
ligion, his  family,  and  his  creditors  forbade  it.  He  should 
hazard  much,  and  could  gain  nothing  by  it.  He  was  conscious 
of  no  ill-will  to  Colonel  Burr,  apart  from  political  opposition, 
which  he  hoped  had  proceeded  from  pure  and  upright  motives. 
But  there  were  difficulties,  intrinsic  and  artificial,  in  the  way 
of  an  accommodation,  which  had  seemed  insuperable; — intrin- 
sic^ because  he  really  /z^^been  very  severe  upon  Colonel  Burr; 
artificial^  because  Colonel  Burr  had  demanded  too  much,  and 
in  a  manner  that  precluded  a  peaceful  discussion  of  the 
difficulty. 

"As  well,"  this  affecting  paper  concluded,  "because  it  is 
possible  that  I  may  have  injured  Colonel  Burr,  however  con- 
vinced myself  that  my  opinions  and  declarations  have  been 
well  founded,  as  from  my  general  principles  and  temper  in 


374  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

relation  to  similar  affairs,  I  have  resolved,  if  our  interview  is 
conducted  in  the  usual  manner,  and  it  pleases  God  to  give  me 
the  opportunity,  to  reserve  and  throw  away  my  first  fire,  and 
I  have  thoughts  even  of  reserving  my  second  fire,  and  thus 
giving  a  double  opportunity  to  Colonel  Burr  to  pause  and  to 
reflect.  It  is  not,  however,  my  intention  to  enter  into  any 
explanations  on  the  ground.  Apology,  from  principle,  I  hope, 
rather  than  pride,  is  out  of  the  question.  To  those  who,  with 
me,  abhorring  the  practice  of  duelling,  may  think  that  I  ought 
on  no  account  to  have  added  to  the  number  of  bad  examples, 
I  answer  that  my  relative  situation,  as  well  in  public  as  in 
private,  enforcing  all  the  considerations  which  constitute  what 
men  of  the  world  denominate  honor,  imposed  on  me  (as  I 
thought)  a  peculiar  necessity  not  to  decline  the  call.  The 
ability  to  be  in  the  future  useful,  whether  in  resisting  mis- 
chief or  in  effecting  good,  in  those  crises  of  our  public  aft'airs 
which  seem  likely  to  happen,  would  probably  be  inseparable 
from  a  conformity  with  public  prejudice  in  this  particular." 
Doing  evil  that  good  may  come,  though  not  the  crime  it  is  to 
do  good  that  evil  may  come,  is  a  dreadful  error.  It  was  the 
vice  of  Hamilton's  otherwise  worthy  life.      It  proved  fatal  to 

him  at  last 

Few  of  the  present  generation  have  stood  upon  the  spot, 
which  was  formerly  one  of  the  places  that  strangers  were  sure 
to  visit  on  coming  to  the  city,  and  which  the  events  of  this 
day  rendered  forever  memorable.  Two  miles  and  a  half  above 
the  city  of  Hoboken  the  heights  of  Weehawken  rise,  in  the 
picturesque  form  so  familiar  to  New  Yorkers,  to  an  elevation 
of  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet  above  the  Hudson.  These  heights 
are  rocky,  very  steep,  and  covered  with  small  trees  and  tangled 
bushes.  Under  the  heights,  at  a  point  half  a  mile  from  where 
they  begin,  there  is,  twenty  feet  above  the  water,  a  grassy  ledge 
or  shelf,  about  six  feet  wide  and  eleven  paces  long.  This  was 
the  fatal  spot.  Except  that  it  is  slightly  encumbered  with 
underbrush,  it  is,  at  this  hour,  precisely  what  it  was  on  the 
nth  of  July,  1S04.  There  is  an  old  cedar-tree  at  the  side,  a 
little  out  of  range,  which  must  have  looked  then  very  much  as  it 
does  now.  The  large  rocks  which  partly  hem  in  the  place  are, 
of  course,  unchanged,  except  that  they  are  decorated  with  the 


ALEXANDER   HAMILTON.  375 

initials  of  former  visitors.    One  large  rock,  breast-liigli,  narrows 
the  hollow  in  which  Hamilton  stood  to  four  feet  or  less 

For  the  very  purpose  of  preventing  suspicion,  it  had  been 
arranged  that  Colonel  Burr's  boat  should  arrive  some  time 
before  the  other.  About  half-past  six  Burr  and  Van  Ness 
landed,  and,  leaving  their  boat  a  few  yards  down  the  river,  as- 
cended over  the  rocks  to  the  appointed  place.  It  was  a  warm, 
bright,  July  morning.  The  sun  looks  down,  directly  after 
rising,  upon  the  Weehawken  heights,  and  it  was  for  that  reason 
that  the  two  men  removed  their  coats  before  the  arrival  of  the 
other  party.  There  they  stood  carelessly  breaking  away  the 
branches  of  the  underwood,  aud  looking  out  upon  as  fair,  as 
various,  as  animated,  as  beautiful  a  scene  as  mortal  eyes  in 
this  beautiful  world  ever  beheld.  The  haze-crowned  citv;  the 
bright,  broad,  flashing,  tranquil  river ;  the  long  reach  of 
waters,  twelve  miles  or  more,  down  to  the  Narrows ;  the  ves- 
sels at  anchor  in  the  harbor;  misty,  blue  Stateu  Island  swelling 
up  in  superb  contour  from  the  lower  bay;  the  verdant,  flowery 
heights  around;  the  opposite  shore  of  the  river,  then  dark  with 
forest  or  bright  with  sloping  lawn  ;  and,  to  complete  the  pic- 
ture, that  remarkably  picturesque  promontory  called  Castle 
Point,  that  bends  out  far  into  the  stream,  a  mile  below  Wee- 
hawken, and  adds  a  peculiar  beauty  to  the  foreground — all 
these  combine  to  form  a  view,  one  glance  at  which  ought  to 
have  sent  shame  and  horror  to  the  duelist's  heart,  that  so 
much  as  the  thought  of  closing  a  human  being's  eyes  forever 
on  so  much  loveliness  had  ever  lived  a  moment  in  his  bosom. 

Hamilton's  boat  was  seen  to  approach.  A  few  minutes 
before  seven  it  touched  the  rocks,  and  Hamilton  and  his  second 
ascended.  The  principals  and  seconds  exchanged  the  usual 
salutations,  and  the  seconds  proceeded  immediately  to  make 
the  usual  preparations.  They  measured  ten  full  paces  ;  cast 
lots  for  the  choice  of  position,  and  to  decide  who  should  give 
the  word.  The  lot  in  both  cases  fell  to  General  Hamilton's 
second,  who  chose  the  upper  end  of  the  ledge  for  his  princi- 
pal, which,  at  that  hour  of  the  day,  could  not  have  been  the 
best,  for  the  reason  that  the  morning  sun  and  the  flashing  of 
the  river  would  both  interfere  with  the  sight. 

The  pistols  were  then  loaded  and  the  principals  placed, 


376  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS   AND    FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

Hamilton  looking  over  the  river  toward  the  city,  and  Burr 
turned  toward  the  heights  under  which  they  stood.  As  Pen- 
dleton gave  Hamilton  his  pistol,  he  asked,  "Will  you  have 
the  hair-spring  set?"  "Not  this  time^'*''  was  the  quiet  reply. 
Pendleton  then  explained  to  both  principals  the  rules  which 
had  been  agreed  upon  with  regard  to  the  firing ;  after  the  word 
present  they  were  to  fire  as  soon  as  they  pleased.  The  seconds 
then  withdrew  to  the  usual  distance.  "Are  you  ready?" 
said  Pendleton.  Both  answered  in  the  affirmative.  A  mo- 
ment's pause  ensued.  The  word  was  given.  Burr  raised  his 
j)istol,  took  aim,  and  fired. 

Hamilton  sprang  upon  his  toes  with  a  convulsive  move- 
ment, reeled  a  little  toward  the  heights,  at  which  moment  he 
involuntarily  discharged  his  pistol,  and  then  fell  forward  head- 
long upon  his  face,  and  remained  motionless  on  the  ground. 
His  ball  rustled  among  the  branches,  seven  feet  above  the 
head  of  his  antagonist  and  four  feet  wide  of  him.  Burr  heard 
it,  looked  up,  and  saw  where  it  had  severed  a  twig.  lyooking 
at  Hamilton,  he  beheld  him  falling,  and  sprang  toward  him 
with  an  expression  of  pain  upon  his  face.  But  at  the  report 
of  the  pistols,  Dr.  Hosack,  Mr.  Davis,  and  the  boatman  hur- 
ried anxiously  up  the  rocks  to  the  scene  of  the  duel ;  and  Van 
Ness,  with  presence  of  mind,  seized  Burr,  shielded  him  from 
observation  with  an  umbrella,  and  urged  him  down  the  steep 
to  the  boat.  It  was  pushed  off"  immediately,  and  rowed  swiftly 
back  to  Richmond  Hill,  where  Swartwout,  with  feelings  that 
maybe  imagined,  received  his  unhurt  chief — a  chief  no  more! 

Mr.  Pendleton  raised  his  prostrate  friend.  Dr.  Hosack 
found  him  sitting  on  the  grass,  supported  in  the  arms  of  his 
second,  with  the  ghastliness  of  death  upon  his  countenance. 
"This  is  a  mortal  wound,  doctor,"  he  gasped;  and  then  sunk 
away  into  a  swoon.  The  doctor  stripped  off"  his  clothes,  and 
saw  at  a  glance  that  the  ball,  which  had  entered  his  right  side, 
must  have  penetrated  a  mortal  part.  Scarcely  expecting  him 
to  revive,  they  conveyed  him  down  among  the  large  rocks  to 
the  shore,  placed  him  tenderly  in  the  boat,  and  set  off"  for  the 
city.  The  doctor  now  used  the  usual  restoratives,  and  the 
wounded  man  gradually  revived.  "He  breathed,"  to  quote 
the  doctor's  words;  "his  eyes,  hardly  opened,  wandered  with- 


AI.EXANDER   HAMILTON.  377 

out  fixing-  upon  any  object ;  to  our  great  joy,  he  at  length 
spoke.  'My  vision  is  indistinct,'  were  his  first  words.  His 
pulse  became  more  perceptible,  his  respiration  more  regular, 
his  sight  returned.  Soon  after  recovering  his  sight,  he  hap- 
pened to  cast  his  eye  upon  the  case  of  pistols,  and  observing 
the  one  that  he  had  had  in  his  hand  lying  on  the  outside,  he 
said:  'Take  care  of  that  pistol;  it  is  undischarged  and  still 
cocked  ;  it  may  go  off  and  do  harm.  Pendleton  knows  (at- 
tempting to  turn  his  head  toward  him)  that  I  did  not  intend 
to  fire  at  him.' 

"Then  he  lay  tranquil  till  he  saw  that  the  boat  was  ap- 
proaching the  wharf.  He  said:  'Let  Mrs.  Hamilton  be  imme- 
diately sent  for;  let  the  event  be  gradually  broke  to  her,  but 
give  her  hopes.'  Looking  up,  he  saw  his  friend,  Mr.  Bayard, 
standing  on  the  wharf  in  great  agitation.  He  had  been  told 
by  his  servant  that  General  Hamilton,  Mr.  Pendleton,  and 
myself,  had  crossed  the  river  in  a  boat  together ;  and  too  well 
he  conjectured  the  fatal  errand,  and  foreboded  the  dreadful 
result.  Perceiving,  as  we  came  nearer,  that  Mr.  Pendleton 
and  myself  only  sat  up  in  the  stem-sheets,  he  clasped  his  hands 
together  in  the  most  violent  apprehensions ;  but  when  I  called 
to  him  to  have  a  cot  prepared,  and  he,  at  the  same  moment, 
saw  his  poor  friend  lying  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat,  he  threw 
up  his  eyes,  and  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears  and  lamentations. 
Hamilton  alone  appeared  tranquil  and  composed.  We  then 
conveyed  him  as  tenderly  as  possible  up  to  the  house.  The 
distress  of  his  amiable  family  was  such  that,  till  the  first  shock 
had  abated,  they  were  scarcely  able  to  summon  fortitude 
enough  to  yield  sufficient  assistance  to  their  dying  friend. ' ' 

By  nine  in  the  morning  the  news  began  to  be  noised  about 
in  the  city.  A  bulletin  soon  appeared  on  the  board  at  the 
Tontine  Coffee-House,  and  the  pulse  of  the  town  stood  still  at 
the  shocking  intelligence.  People  started  and  turned  pale  as 
they  read  the  brief  announcement:  "General  Hamilton 
was  shot  by  colonel  burr  this  morning  in  a  duel. 
The  General  is  said  to  be  mortally  wounded." 

Bulletins,  hourly  changed,  kept  the  city  in  agitation.  All 
the  circumstances  of  the  catastrophe  were  told  and  retold,  and 
exaggerated  at  every  corner.     The  thrilling  scenes  that  were 


378 


HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  ElVENTS. 


passing  at  the  bedside  of  the  dying  man — the  consultations  of 
the  physicians — the  arrival  of  the  stricken  family — Mrs.  Ham- 
ilton's overwhelming  sorrow — the  resignation  and  calm  dig- 
nity of  the  illustrious  sufferer — his  broken  slumbers  during 
the  night — the  piteous  spectacle  of  the  seven  children  entering 
together  the  awful  apartment — the  single  look  the  dying 
father  gave  them  before  he  closed  his  eyes — were  all  described 
with  amplifications,  and  produced  an  impression  that  can  only 
be  imaeined.  He  liuijered  thirtv-one  hours.  The  duel  was 
fought  on  Wednesday  morning.  At  two  o'clock  on  Thursday 
afternoon,  Hamilton  died. 

The  newspapers  everywhere  broke  into  declamation  upon 
these  sad  events.  I  suppose  that  the  ' '  poems, ' '  the  ' '  elegies, ' ' 
and  the  "lines"  which  they  suggested  would  fill  a  duodecimo 
volume  of  the  size  usually  appropriated  to  verse.  In  the  chief 
cities,  the  character  of  the  deceased  was  made  the  subject  of 
formal  eulogium.  The  popular  sympathy  was  recorded  indel- 
ibly upon  the  ever-forming  map  of  the  United  States,  which 
bears  the  name  of  Hamilton  forty  times  repeated. 

— James  Parton. 


t^f- 


^ 
^ 


ft;     O 

I  I 


-ist?: 


"^B 


mjiimm^'.'^^ 


THOMAS  JEFFERSON.  •.  /'» 


0  //■ 


JEFFERSON,  more  than  other  lead- 
ers of  the  American  Revolution,  was 
a  lover  of  generalities.  While  others 
sought    merely  to  preserve    to   the 
American  Colonists  the  full  enjoy- 
ment of  the  liberty  of  British  free- 
men, he  declared  their  proper  aim 
to  be  the  assertion  of  the  rights  of 
man.      He  became  the  exponent  of 
this  idea,  the  leader  of  disciples,  and 
finally  the  founder  of  a  great  party 
in  the  Republic. 
Thomas  Jefferson   was    born    in     Shadwell,    Alberniarle 
County,  Virginia,  April  2,  1743.     His  father,  Peter  Jefferson, 
was  of  Welsh  descent,  and  with  the  aid  of  thirty  slaves  tilled 
a  tobacco  and  wheat  farm   of  1900  acres.     He  was  a  man  of 
good  physical  strength  and  stature,  and  skillful  as  a  surveyor, 
all  of  which  qualities  were  transmitted  to  his  son  Thomas. 

The  father  died  in  1757,  leaving  an  injunction  that  the 
education  of  his  son  should  be  completed  at  the  College  of 
William  and  Mary,  Williamsburg,  His  schoolmates  described 
Thomas  as  a  tall,  rawboned,  sandy-haired  youth,  with  no  very 
attractive  features,  a  good  scholar  and  industrious,  but  very 
shy,  with  an  air  of  rusticity  about  him.  He  completed  his 
course  of  education  at  the  College  of  William  and  INIary  as 
enjoined  by  his  father,  and  afterwards  referred  to  this  circum- 
stance with  gratitude,  saying  that  if  he  had  to  choose  between 
the  education  and  the  estate  left  to  him  by  his  father,  he 
would  choose  the  education.  He  also  refers  gratefully  to  his 
connection  with  Dr.  William  Small,  professor  of  mathematics 


in  the  college. 


379 


380  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

Among  others  who  contributed  to  the  forming  of  Jeffer- 
son's mind,  may  be  mentioned  Francis  Fauquier  and  George 
Wythe.  The  former  was  lieutenant-governor,  and  gave 
musical  parties  at  the  "palace,"  to  which  the  guests  were 
invited  to  bring  their  instruments.  Jefferson  was  an  able  per- 
former on  the  violin.  From  Fauquier,  himself  a  musician 
and  a  man  of  the  world,  Jefferson  learned  much  of  the  social, 
political  and  parliamentary  life  of  Europe.  George  Wythe, 
afterwards  chancellor,  was  one  of  the  gifted  men  that  fre- 
quented the  governor's  table,  and  under  his  guidance  Jeffer- 
son entered  upon  the  study  of  law.  About  his  twenty-fourth 
birth-day  he  was  admitted  to  the  bar.  Being  well-connected 
on  both  sides  of  his  family,  he  had  not  long  to  wait  for  busi- 
ness. His  first  account-book  shows  a  record  of  sixty-eight 
cases  in  which  he  was  engaged  in  the  course  of  the  year. 
This  number  soon  rose  to  five  hundred,  for  though  he  was 
neither  a  fluent  nor  a  forcible  speaker,  he  was  accurate,  pains- 
taking and  laborious.  His  legal  training  was  based  on  the 
works  of  Lord  Coke,  and  he  claims  that  the  early  drill  of  the 
colonial  lawyers  in  "Coke  upon  Lyttleton  "  prepared  them 
for  the  part  they  took  in  resisting  the  unconstitutional  acts  of 
the  British  government. 

In  1 769,  at  the  age  of  twenty-six,  Jefferson  entered  upon 
public  life  as  a  member  of  the  Virginia  House  of  Burgesses. 
It  was  there  that  he  formed  the  resolution  "  never  to  engage, 
while  in  public  office,  in  any  kind  of  enterprise  for  the 
improvement  of  my  fortune,  nor  to  wear  any  other  character 
than  that  of  a  farmer."  After  nearly  half  a  century  of  public 
life,  he  could  say  he  had  kept  this  resolution,  and  found  the 
benefit  of  it  in  being  able  to  consider  public  questions  free 
from  all  bias  of  self-interest.  The  House  of  Burgesses,  after 
a  short  session,  passed  resolutions  enunciating  the  principle 
that  "there  could  be  no  taxation  without  representation," 
and  was,  therefore,  summarily  dissolved  by  the  royal  gov- 
ernor ;  but  the  members  quickly  met  and  passed  other  and 
more  pointed  resolutions. 

On  January  i,  1772,  Jefferson  married  Mrs.  Martha  Skel- 
ton,  a  beautiful  and  childless  young  widow,  daughter  of  a 
Williamsburg  lawyer.     About  a  year  after  his  marriage  his 


THOMAS  JEFFERSON.  38 1 

estate  was  nearly  doubled  by  the  death  of  his  wife's  father, 
by  which  she  received  over  40,000  acres  of  land  and  135 
slaves.  He  now  began  to  lead  the  actual  life  of  a  farmer, 
still,  however,  continuing  his  law  practice.  He  was  soon 
widely  known  as  a  leader  in  the  patriotic  movements  against 
England,  and  his  name  was  inserted  in  a  long  list  of  proscrip- 
tions enrolled  in  a  bill  of  attainder.  He  had  already  prepared 
the  radical  "Draught  of  Instructions,"  asking  why  160,000 
electors  in  Great  Britain  should  give  law  to  4,000,000  people 
in  the  States  of  America. 

The  affair  at  Lexington  having  convinced  the  convention 
of  the  gravity  of  the  situation,  a  committee  of  thirteen, 
including  Washington,  Jefferson,  Patrick  Henry  and  Richard 
Henry  Lee,  was  appointed  to  arrange  a  plan  of  defence.  In 
1775  Jefferson  was  a  delegate  to  the  Continental  Congress, 
where  his  readiness  in  composition,  his  profound  knowledge 
of  British  law,  and  his  innate  love  of  freedom  made  him 
a  power.  When  it  was  decided  that  independence  should  be 
declared,  a  committee  of  five  was  appointed  to  draft  the 
Declaration.  Jefferson  was  the  chairman  of  this  committee, 
and  being  well  known  for  his  skill  with  the  pen,  was  called 
upon  to  make  a  rough  draft  of  what  became  an  immortal 
document.  The  paper  was  written  in  the  second  story  of  a 
house  at  the  corner  of  Seventh  and  Market  Streets,  Philadel- 
phia, on  a  small  desk  which  is  still  in  existence.  A  few  days 
later  Jefferson  was  one  of  a  committee  appointed  to  devise  a 
seal  for  the  new-born  nation.  From  the  devices  suggested, 
this  was  selected,  "E  Pluribus  Unum." 

Meantime  Jefferson  had  been  re-elected  a  member  of  the 
Virginia  Legislature,  and  anxious  to  return  to  his  home,  he 
resigned  his  seat  in  Congress,  and  went  back  to  Monticello. 
Soon  after  he  went  to  Williamsburg,  where  he  devoted  him- 
self to  the  task  of  improving  the  Virginia  statutes  on  the  basis 
of  knowledge  he  had  acquired  of  the  excellence  of  the  New 
England  governments.  He  was  offered  the  office  of  joint- 
commissioner  with  Franklin  and  Silas  Deane  to  represent  the 
United  States  in  Paris,  but  declined  the  appointment.  In 
reorganizing  Virginia,  Jefferson  and  his  friends  abolished  the 
system  of  entail,  brought  about  the  separation  of  church  and 


382  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

state,  drew  a  bill  for  establishing  courts  of  law  and  prescribing 
their  jDowers  and  methods,  made  earnest  efforts  to  establish  a 
system  of  public  education,  and  proposed  many  measures 
which  were  passed  at  a  later  period. 

In  1779  Jefferson  succeeded  Patrick  Henry  as  state  gov- 
ernor, and  was  re-elected  in  17S0,  but  declined  re-election 
for  a  third  term,  and  induced  his  friends  to  elect  General 
Gates.  As  governor  of  the  State,  it  fell  to  his  lot  to  support 
the  Virginia  quota  in  the  army  of  Washington,  and  send  sup- 
plies to  General  Gates  in  his  Southern  campaign.  On  the 
last  day  of  1780  Arnold  sailed  up  the  Chesapeake  and  pene- 
trated as  far  as  Richmond  almost  unresisted,  but  the  traitor 
held  the  city  for  only  one  day.  In  the  following  spring  the 
British  Colonel  Tarleton  dispersed  the  Legislature  and  nearly 
captured  the  governor.  Jefferson  declined  a  re-election,  on 
the  ground  that  a  military  man  was  then  needed  for  the  post. 
Shortly  after  his  wife's  death  in  1782,  Jefferson  was  chosen 
plenipotentiary  to  France  ;  but  before  he  was  ready  to  sail 
the  preliminaries  of  peace  had  been  agreed  to,  and  he  returned 
to  Monticello. 

In  1783  he  was  elected  to  Congress  and  took  his  seat  at 
Annapolis.  It  was  here  that,  as  chairman  of  a  committee  on 
currency,  he  devised  the  decimal  system  now  in  use.  In 
May,  1784,  he  was  again  chosen  plenipotentiary  to  France  to 
act  with  Franklin  and  Adams  in  arranging  treaties  with 
foreign  powers,  and  afterwards  received  from  Mr.  Jay  his 
commission  appointing  him  sole  minister  plenipotentiary  to 
the  King  of  France  for  three  years.  When  the  French  gov- 
ernment instructed  its  minister  at  Philadelphia  to  forward  to 
Paris  full  information  concerning  the  States  of  the  American 
Confederacy,  the  secretary  of  the  French  legation  forwarded 
to  Jefferson  a  series  of  questions  to  answer  on  this  subject. 
From  this  resulted  his  "Notes  on  Virginia,"   published   in 

1784-  ^  ^  ^  ^ 

During  his  five  years'  residence  in  France,  although  his 
official  duties  were  arduous,  he  found  time  for  the  study  of 
science ;  became  acquainted  with  Buflfon,  and  was  the  means 
of  inducing  him  to  reconstruct  his  theory  on  American  ani- 
mals.      He    traveled   over   Europe   and   supplied   American 


THOMAS  JEFFERSON.  383 

colleges  and  institutions  with  books,  accounts  of  new  discov- 
eries and  inventions,  seeds,  roots  and  nuts  for  trial  in  Ameri- 
can soil. 

In  1789  Jefferson,  receiving  six  months'  absence,  returned 
to  find  that  he  had  been  selected  by  President  Washington 
for  the  office  of  Secretary  of  State.  In  IMarch,  1790,  he 
entered  the  Cabinet  with  Hamilton,  Knox  and  Edmund 
Randolph  as  colleagues.  Hamilton  and  Jefferson  represented 
the  two  extremes  of  different  parties,  and  there  existed 
between  them  much  personal  and  political  animosity  which 
tended  to  increase  after  Washington's  second  election.  Jeffer- 
son wrote  to  Mazzei,  an  Italian  who  had  visited  America  to 
examine  the  workings  of  the  new  Republic,  a  letter  lament- 
ing the  decay  of  the  spirit  of  liberty,  and  laying  much  blame 
on  the  government.  When  this  letter  was  published  in  1794, 
Jefferson  was  obliged  to  resign. 

In  1 796  he  was  named  by  the  Anti-Federal  party  as  a  can- 
didate for  the  presidency,  and  fell  only  a  few  votes  behind 
John  Adams.  He  thus,  according  to  the  constitutional  regu- 
lation then  existing,  became  vice-president.  This  office 
pleased  him,  as  he  was  not  required  to  advise  Mr.  Adams  on 
political  matters.  For  the  regulation  of  debates  in  Congress 
he  now  prepared  his    "  INIanual  of  Parliamentary  Practice." 

In  1 800  Jefferson,  being  the  leader  of  what  was  called  the 
Republican  party,  was  again  a  candidate  for  the  presidency. 
Having  received  seventy-three  votes,  the  precise  mnnber 
recorded  for  Aaron  Burr,  the  election  was  thrown  into  the 
House  of  Representatives,  and  the  result,  after  an  animated 
struggle,  was  that  Jefferson  became  president  and  Burr  vice- 
president.  Jefferson,  on  coming  to  the  presidency,  endeavored 
to  assuage  the  violence  of  party  spirit,  and  his  inaugural 
address  was  composed  with  that  view.  He  removed  from 
office  some  who  had  been  hostile  to  him,  yet  declared 
that  difference  of  politics  was  not  a  reason  for  lemoving 
from  office  any  one  who  had  proved  himself  competent. 
Among  his  first  acts  were,  pardoning  all  who  had  been 
imprisoned  under  the  Sedition  law,  and  sending  friendly 
letters  to  the  chief  victims  of  the  Alien  law.  His  Cabinet 
consisted  of  Madison,  Gallatin,  Dearborn,  Smith  and  Gran- 


384  HISTORIC  CHARACTEJRS  AND   FAMOUS  EVEINTS. 

ger,  all  men  of  liberal  education.  Jefferson,  in  his  desire  to 
introduce  simplicity  into  the  White  House,  abolished  the  for- 
malities established  by  Washington,  the  weekly  levees,  the 
system  of  precedence,  and  everything  that  savored  of  Euro- 
pean courts.  He  also  substituted  the  written  message  to 
Congress  instead  of  the  speech  formerly  delivered.  Among 
the  acts  of  Jefferson's  administration,  which  includes  a  good 
part  of  the  history  of  the  United  States  for  eight  years,  the 
most  important  was  his  purchase  from  Napoleon,  at  an  oppor- 
tune moment,  of  the  whole  of  the  Territory  of  Louisiana  for 
;^i5,ooo,ooo.  This  act  was  contrary  to  his  theory  of  the 
national  government,  but  its  advantages  were  such  as  to  over- 
ride all  scruples.  The  treasonable  projects  of  Aaron  Burr  in 
the  Southwest,  though  frustrated  without  difficulty,  gave 
Jefferson  much  anxiety.  In  his  desire  for  peace  he  reduced 
the  navy  to  six  vessels  ;  yet  glory  was  conferred  on  his  admin- 
istration by  a  successful  war  on  the  Barbary  pirates.  But  the 
embargo  of  1807,  which  was  also  part  of  his  peace  policy, 
was  fraught  with  disaster  to  the  commerce  of  the  countr}\ 

On  IMarch  4,  1809,  after  a  public  career  of  nearly  forty-four 
years,  Jefferson  retired  to  private  life.  The  last  seventeen 
years  of  his  life  he  spent  at  Monticello  among  his  children 
and  grandchildren,  endeavoring  to  establish  a  system  of  com- 
plete education  in  his  native  State.  His  proposed  system  of 
common  schools  in  Virginia  was  not  put  in  practice  ;  but  the 
University  which  was  to  crown  that  system  was  fairly  begun. 
Towards  the  end  of  his  life  he  became  greatly  embarrassed  in 
circumstances,  and  sold  his  library  to  Congress.  Having 
been  induced  to  endorse  very  'largely  for  a  friend  who  became 
bankrupt,  he  came  very  near  losing  Monticello;  but  this 
calamity  was  averted  by  friends  in  New  York  and  Philadel- 
phia. Jefferson  died  on  the  4th  of  July,  1826,  a  few  hours 
before  John  Adams,  half  a  century  after  signing  the  Declara- 
tion of  Independence  which  he  had  composed.  He  was 
buried  in  his  own  graveyard  beneath  a  stone  on  which  was 
engraved  the  inscription  prepared  by  his  own  hand:  "Here 
was  buried  Thomas  Jefferson,  Author  of  the  Declaration  of 
American  Independence,  of  the  Statute  of  Virginia  for 
Religious  Freedom,  and  Father  of  the  University  of  Virginia." 


thomas  jefferson.  385 

Jefferson's  Ten  Rules. 

1.  Never  put  off  till  to-morrow  what  you  cau  do  to-day. 

2.  Never  trouble  another  for  what  you  can  do  yourself. 

3.  Never  spend  your  money  before  you  have  it. 

4.  Never  buy  what  you  do  not  want  because  it  is  cheap  ; 
it  will  be  dear  to  you. 

5.  Pride  costs  us  more  than  hunger,  thirst  and  cold. 

6.  We  never  repent  of  having  eaten  too  little. 

7.  Nothing  is  troublesome  that  we  do  willingly. 

8.  How  much  pain  have  cost  us  the  evils  which  never 
happened !  * 

9.  Take  things  always  by  the  smooth  handle. 

10.  When  angry,  count  ten  before  you  speak ;  when  very 
angr}',  a  hundred. 

The  Foundation  of  American  Liberty. 

(Extract  from  the  Inaugural  Address  of  Thomas  Jeflferson,  President  of  the 

United  States,  March  4,  1801.) 

During  the  contest  of  opinion  through  which  we  have 
passed,  the  animation  of  discussions  and  of  exertions  has  some_ 
times  worn  an  aspect  which  might  impose  on  strangers,  un- 
used to  think  freely,  and  to  speak  and  to  write  what  they 
think  ;  but,  this  being  now  decided  by  the  voice  of  the  nation, 
announced  according  to  the  rules  of  the  Constitution,  all  will, 
of  course,  arrange  themselves  under  the  will  of  the  law,  and 
unite  in  common  efiforts  for  the  common  good.  All,  too,  will 
bear  in  mind  this  sacred  principle,  that,  though  the  will  of 
the  majority  is  in  all  cases  to  prevail,  that  will,  to  be  rightful, 
must  be  reasonable  ;  that  the  minority  possesses  their  equal 
rights,  which  equal  laws  must  protect,  and  to  \iolate  which 
would  be  oppression. 

Let  us,  then,  fellow-citizens,  unite  with  one  heart  and  one 
mind  ;  let  us  restore  to  social  intercourse  that  harmony  and 
affection  without  which  liberty  and  even  life  itself  are  but 
dreary  things.  And  let  us  reflect,  that,  having  banished  from 
our  land  that  religious  intolerance  under  which  mankind  so 
long  bled  and  suffered,  we  have  yet  gained  little,  if  we  coun- 
tenance a  political  intolerance  as  despotic,  as  wicked,  and 
IV— 25 


386  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS  AND  FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

capable  of  as  bitter  and  bloody  persecutions.  During  the 
throes  and  convulsions  of  the  ancient  world  ;  during  the  ago- 
nizing spasms  of  infuriated  man,  seeking,  through  blood  and 
slaughter,  his  long-lost  liberty,  it  was  not  wonderful  that  the 
agitation  of  the  billows  should  reach  even  this  distant  and 
peaceful  shore  ;  that  this  should  be  more  felt  and  feared  by 
some,  and  less  by  others,  and  should  divide  opinions  as  to 
measures  of  safety  :  but  every  difference  of  opinion  is  not  a 
difference  of  principle.  We  have  called  by  different  names 
brethren  of  the  same  principle.  We  are  all  Republicans  :  we 
are  all  Federalists.  If  there  be  any  among  us  who  would  wish 
to  dissolve  this  Union,  or  to  change  its  republican  form,  let 
them  stand,  undisturbed,  as  monuments  of  the  safety  with 
which  error  of  opinion  may  be  tolerated,  where  reason  is  left 
free  to  combat  it.   .   .   . 

About  to  enter,  fellow-citizens,  on  the  exercise  of  duties 
which  comprehend  everything  dear  and  valuable  to  you,  it  is 
proper  you  should  understand  what  I  deem  the  essential 
principles  of  our  Government,  and,  consequently,  those  which 
ought  to  shape  its  administration.  I  will  compress  them 
within  the  narrowest  compass  they  will  bear  —  stating  the 
general  principle,  but  not  all  its  limitations.  Equal  and 
exact  justice  to  all  men,  of  whatever  state  or  persuasion,  reli- 
gious or  political  ;  peace,  commerce,  and  honest  friendship 
with  all  nations,  entangling  alliances  with  none  ;  the  support 
of  the  State  governments  in  all  their  rights,  as  the  most  com- 
petent administrations  for  our  domestic  concerns,  and  the 
surest  bvdwarks  against  anti-republican  tendencies  ;  the  pres- 
ervation of  the  General  Government  in  its  whole  constitu- 
tional vigor,  as  the  sheet-anchor  of  our  peace  at  home  and 
safety  abroad  ;  a  jealous  care  of  the  right  of  election  by  the 
people  ;  a  mild  and  safe  corrective  of  abuses  which  are  lopped 
by  the  sword  of  revolution,  where  peaceable  remedies  are 
unprovided  ;  absolute  acquiescence  in  the  decisions  of  the 
majority,  the  vital  principle  of  republics,  from  which  is  no 
appeal  but  to  force,  the  vital  principle  and  immediate  parent 
of  despotism  ;  a  well-disciplined  militia,  our  best  reliance  in 
peace,  and  for  the  first  moments  of  war,  till  regulars  may 
relieve   them  ;  the  supremacy  of  the  civil  over  the  military 


THOMAS  JEFFERSON.  387 

authority  ;  economy  in  tlie  public  expense,  that  labor  may  be 
lightly  burdened  ;  the  honest  payment  of  our  debts,  and 
sacred  preservation  of  the  public  faith  ;  encouragement  of  ag- 
riculture, and  of  commerce  as  its  handmaid  ;  the  diffusion  of 
information,  and  arraignment  of  all  abuses  at  the  bar  of  the 
public  reason  ;  freedom  of  religion,  freedom  of  the  press,  and 
freedom  of  person,  under  the  protection  of  the  habeas  corpus  ; 
and  trial  by  juries  impartially  selected.  These  principles 
form  the  bright  constellation  which  has  gone  before  us,  and 
guided  our  steps  through  an  age  of  revolution  and  reforma- 
tion. The  wisdom  of  our  sages  and  blood  of  our  heroes  have 
been  devoted  to  their  attainment.  They  should  be  the  creed 
of  our  political  faith,  the  text  of  our  civic  instruction,  the 
touchstone  by  which  to  try  the  services  of  those  we  trust  ;  and 
should  we  wander  from  them  in  moments  of  error  or  of  alarm, 
let  us  hasten  to  retrace  our  steps,  and  to  regain  the  road  which 
alone  leads  to  peace,  liberty,  and  safety. 

Foreign  Affairs  in  Jefferson's  Administration. 

Although  peace  was  one  of  the  professed  objects  of  his 
administration,  Jefferson  had  to  conduct  the  first  foreign  war 
of  the  United  States,  and  must  have  been  very  glad  that  his 
predecessor  had  created  to  his  hand  that  navy,  against  the 
cost  of  which  he  and  his  party  had  clamored.  The  war  in 
question  was  one  with  the  Barbaresque  State  of  Tripoli. 
There  was  a  naval  action  or  two,  a  bombardment,  a  land 
expedition,  a  pretender  set  up,  and  then  discarded,  and  lastly 
a  peace  (1805),  which  left  things  much  as  they  were,  although 
it  was  considered  more  honorable  than  anv  concluded  for  a 
century  by  a  Christian  power  with  the  Barbaresques. 

But  a  more  formidable  contest  was  looming  in  the  distance. 
The  wars  of  the  first  French  empire  were  at  their  height. 
America  was  the  only  maritime  nation  of  the  civilized  world 
that  was  beyond  the  reach  of  coercion,  or  of  an  influence 
equivalent  to  coercion,  on  the  part  of  the  two  great  belliger- 
ents. Her  trade  was  enormously  increasing,  and  she  w^as  fast 
becoming  the  foremost  carrier  of  the  world,  whilst  her  pro- 
duction  was   increasing   in    like   manner.     South   Carolina 


388  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS   AND   FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

alone,  in  1801,  exported  14,304,045  dollars'  worth,  including 
8,000,000  lbs.  of  cotton.  American  ships  were  the  natural 
refuge,  not  only  of  almost  all  the  peaceful  commerce  of 
Europe,  but  of  all  seamen, — including  of  course,  many  Eng- 
lish— who  preferred  peace  to  war,  and  sought  to  escape  the 
English  press-gang. 

As  early  as   1793  (December  2  2d)  we   find  Washington, 
always  moderate  toward    England,    complaining   of  her  for 
having  violated  American  rights  ' '  by  searching  vessels  and 
impressing  seamen  within  our  acknowledged  jurisdiction," 
and  even   "by  entire  crews  in  the  West  Indies."     In  the 
short  period  of  nine  months,   from  July,   1796,  to  April  13, 
1797,  Mr.  King,  the  American  minister  in  London,  had  271 
applications  from  seamen  claiming  to  be  Americans,  of  whom 
eighty-six  were  actually  discharged  as  such,  thirty-seven  had 
been  detained  as  British,  and  no  answer  had  been  returned  as 
to  the  remaining  148.     Two  nephews  of  Washington  himself 
were  impressed  on  their  return  from  England.     Altogether, 
it  was  reckoned  that  before  the  end  of  the  great  Continental 
war,  more  than  1,000  American-born  seamen  were  serving  as 
pressed  men  on  board  English  ships. 

But  the  event  which  brought  this  question  home  to  the 
feelings  of  the  whole  American  people,  was  the  unfortunate 
affair  of  the  "  Leopard  "  and  "Chesapeake."  On  June  22, 
1807,  the  American  frigate  "  Chesapeake,"  imperfectly  armed 
and  equipped,  was  standing  off  to  sea  from  Hampton  Roads 
for  a  cruise  in  the  Mediterranean.  The  commander  of  the 
British  brig  "Leopard,"  under  orders  from  Vice- Admiral 
Berkeley,  Commander-in-Chief  of  the  North  American 
station,  to  search  all  American  vessels  for  deserters  from  cer- 
tain specified  frigates,  sent  to  request  leave  to  search  the 
"  Chesapeake"  accordingly,  offering  at  the  same  time  equal 
facilities  for  searching  his  own  ship.  The  American  Commo- 
dore, Barron,  replied  that  he  had  no  knowledge  of  having 
any  English  deserters ;  that  particular  instructions  had  been 
given  not  to  ship  any,  and  that  he  could  not  allow  his  crew 
to  be  mustered  by  any  other  officer. 

The  ' '  Leopard  ' '  now  engaged  the  ' '  Chesapeake, ' '  which 
offered  but   slight   resistance.     Three   men   were   killed   on 


THOMAS  JEFFERSON.  389 

board  of  her,  the  commodore,  a  midshipman,  eight  seamen 
and  marines  slightly,  and  eight  severely  wounded,  whilst  no 
blood  was  spilt  on  the  "  Leopard  ;"  and  Commodore  Barron 
struck  his  flag.  The  commander  of  the  "  Leopard  "  boarded 
this  too  easy  prize,  took  out  four  men  as  deserters,  and  left 
her.  Of  the  four  men  thus  taken,  one  was  really  an  English- 
man, and  was  hanged;  one  was  a  Marylander  born,  another 
from  ]\Iassachusetts,  a  third  claimed  also  to  be  from  Mary- 
land :  all  the  three  latter  were  men  of  color  ;  one  had  been 
a  slave ;  two  had  been  pressed  from  an  American  brig  in 
the  Bay  of  Biscay,  one  from  an  English  Guineaman  (slaver) 
off  Cape  Finisterre.  There  was  thus  a  complication  of  out- 
rages— in  the  original  impressment  of  the  men,  in  the  second 
seizure  of  them,  in  the  insult  offered  to  a  vessel  of  war. 

The  British  government  acted  promptly  and  handsomely 
in  the  matter.  The  news  reached  London  on  the  26th  of 
July,  and  on  the  2d  of  August,  before  any  formal  demand  for 
redress  by  the  American  minister,  the  government  disavowed 
the  right  to  search  ships  in  the  national  service  of  any  state 
for  deserters,  and  promised  reparation  ;  Vice-Admiral  Berkeley 
was  recalled. 

But,  meanwhile,  the  indignation  in  America  was  intense. 
President  Jefferson,  by  a  proclamation  countersigned  by  his 
then  Secretary  of  State  and  immediate  future  successor,  Mr. 
Madison,  interdicted  the  American  harbors  and  waters  to 
British  armed  vessels,  dwelling  on  the  fact  that  "  it  had  been 
previously  ascertained  that  the  seamen  demanded  were  native 
citizens  of  the  United  States;"  a  point  which  was  again 
insisted  on  in  Mr.  Madison's  instructions  to  Mr.  Alonroe, 
then  United  States  minister  in  London,  and  afterward  Presi- 
dent, who  in  turn,  with  his  formal  demand  upon  the  British 
government  for  restoration  of  the  men,  transmitted  docu- 
ments which,  he  presumed  would  satisfy  it,  "  that  they  were 
American  citizens."  Two  of  the  men  eventually  were 
restored  ;  one  seems  to  have  died. 

Ample  amends  were  thus  done  for  this  particular  outrage. 
But  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  it  was  one  of  the  chief 
events  which  inflamed  the  minds  of  the  American  people 
against  England,   and  made  them  ripe  for   the  war  which 


390  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

broke  out  under  Jefferson's  successor.  Yet  it  was  only  one 
in  a  chain  of  complications. 

The  time  had  come  when  the  two  giant  combatants  on 
the  European  battle-field  could  no  longer  abide  the  goings 
and  comings  of  neutrals.  In  May,  1806,  an  English  Order 
in  Council  had  declared  a  blockade  of  all  ports  and  rivers 
from  the  Elbe  to  Brest.  In  November,  1806,  Napoleon 
retorted  by  his  Berlin  decree,  blockading  all  the  British 
Islands  and  forbidding  all  intercourse  with  them.  The 
British  government  informed  the  Americans,  that  if  they 
should  submit  to  this  decree,  it  would  retaliate  upon  them. 
By  fresh  Orders  in  Council,  November  11,  1807,  it  placed 
in  a  state  of  blockade  the  whole  of  France,  and  all  her  depen- 
dent powers.  Napoleon's  answer  was  by  the  Milan  decree 
(17th  of  December),  declaring  that  every  vessel  searched  or 
visited  against  her  will  by  a  British  cruiser,  or  proceeding  to 
or  returning  from  England,  should  be  a  good  prize. 

In  self-defence,  and  indeed  before  even  the  news  of  the 
decree  had  reached  America,  Congress  laid  a  general  embargo 
(recommended  by  Jefferson)  on  American  trade  (22d  of  Decem- 
ber). Napoleon  met  this  measure  by  a  more  open  attack,  the 
Bayonne  decree  (17th  of  April,  1808),  rendering  every  Ameri- 
can vessel  found  on  the  ocean  liable  to  seizure  and  condem- 
nation. There  was  no  alternative  but  to  continue  the  embar- 
go, and  to  strengthen  the  navy.  Two  hundred  gun-boats 
were  already  deemed  requisite,  and  in  his  eighth  and  last 
annual  message  (November  8,  1808),  Jefferson  was  able  to 
state  that  103  of  these  were  completed.  He  had  recommended 
the  army  and  militia  to  be  again  increased;  the  manufacture 
of  arms  was  improving;  military  stores  had  been  increased; 
internal  manufactures,  fostered  by  the  European  war,  were 
growing  apace.  In  a  word,  Jefferson  had  come  in  a  peace 
President;  he  left  his  country  well-nigh  ready  for  war. 

—].    M.   IvUDLOW. 

The  Death  of  Jefferson  and  Adams. 

The  jubilee  of  America  is  turned  into  mourning.  Its  joy 
is  mingled  with  sadness;  its  silver  trumpet  breathes  a  mingled 
strain.     Henceforth,  while  America  exists  among  the  nations 


THOMAS  JEFFERSON. 


391 


of  earth,  the  first  emotion  on  the  Fourth  of  July  will  be  of 
joy  and  triumph  in  the  great  event  which  immortalizes  the 
day ;  the  second  will  be  one  of  chastened  and  tender  recollec- 
tion of  the  venerable  men,  who  departed  on  the  morning  of 
the  jubilee.  This  mingled  emotion  of  triumph  and  sadness 
has  sealed  the  beauty  and  sublimity  of  our  great  anniversary. 
In  the  simple  commemoration  of  a  victorious  political  achieve- 
ment, there  seems  not  enough  to  occupy  our  purest  and  best 
feelings.  The  Fourth  of  July  was  before  a  day  of  triumph, 
exultation,  and  national  pride ;  but  the  Angel  of  Death  has 
mingled  in  the  glorious  pageant  to  teach  us  we  are  men. 
Had  our  venerated  fathers  left  us  on  any  other  day,  it  would 
have  been  henceforth  a  day  of  mournful  recollection.  But 
now  the  whole  nation  feels,  as  with  one  heart,  that  since  it 
must  sooner  or  later  have  been  bereaved  of  its  revered  fathers, 
it  could  not  have  wished  that  any  other  day  had  been  the  day 
of  their  decease. 

Our  anniversary  festival  was  before  triumphant ;  it  is  now 
triumphant  and  sacred.  It  before  called  out  the  young  and 
ardent,  to  join  in  the  public  rejoicings  ;  it  now  also  speaks  in 
a  touching  voice  to  the  retired,  to  the  gray-headed,  to  the 
mild  and  peaceful  spirits,  to  the  whole  family  of  sober  free- 
men. It  is  henceforth,  what  the  dying  Adams  pronounced  it, 
"a  great  and  a  good  day."  It  is  full  of  greatness  and  full  of 
goodness.  It  is  absolute  and  complete.  The  death  of  the 
men  who  declared  our  independence — their  death  on  the  day 
of  the  jubilee — was  all  that  was  wanting  to  the  Fourth  of 
July.  To  die  on  that  day,  and  to  die  together,  was  all  that 
was  wanting  to  Jefferson  and  Adams. — E.  KvERETT. 


BERNARD  PALISSY  was  born 
in  1 510,  in  the  province  of  Peri- 
gord,  in  France.  His  father  was 
a  brickmaker,  and  Palissy  first 
worked  at  making  tiles,  bricks, 
and  earthenware.  He  quitted 
his  father's  kiln  and  apprenticed 
himself  to  some  glass -workers. 
The  glass  manufacture  then  in- 
cluded, not  only  melting  the 
glass,  and  cutting  it  into  panes, 
but  also  covering  them  with 
paintings  for  the  cathedral  win- 
dows. In  his  desire  for  improve- 
ment, he  spent  all  his  leisure 
time  in  reading  such  instructive  books  as  he  could  get,  study- 
ing geometry,  botany  and  other  branches  of  natural  history. 
Palissy,  according  to  the  custom  of  the  time,  worked  his 
way  from  town  to  town  until  he  reached  Tarbes,  built  on  a 
plateau  facing  the  Pyrenees,  in  which  glass-painting  then 
flourished.  A  mere  artisan  when  he  entered  the  labyrinth  of 
the  Pyrenees,  he  left  it  a  painter  and  a  poet.  He  soon  tired 
of  the  dull  routine  of  the  workshop  at  Tarbes,  and  traveled 
as  a  draughtsman  and  modeler  of  images  through  all  the 
provinces  of  Prance  from  Marseilles  to  Flanders.  His  wander- 
ings over  the  Alps  and  Pyrenees,  and  the  interest  he  took  in 
the  various  qualities  of  the  earths,  rocks,  sands,  and  waters 
in  their  relation  to  his  business,  had  made  him  a  naturalist. 
To  the  solitary  man  of  genius,  nature  was  both  a  teacher  and 
392 


N.ATTAfJASlO.   PiNr 


PALISSY  IN  HIS  STUDIO. 


PALISSY  THE  POTTER.  393 

a  treasury.  Palissy  returned  home,  married  and  established 
his  family  on  a  little  property  acquired  by  persevering  labor. 
In  a  few  years  he  was  under  the  necessity  of  obtaining  further 
employment,  and  became  a  land-surveyor  under  the  govern- 
ment in  1543. 

One  day  there  was  shown  to  him  a  richly  enameled  cup 
of  Italian  manufacture,  perhaps  the  work  of  one  of  the  suc- 
cessors of  Luca  della  Robbia.  The  art  of  enameling  was  at 
that  time  entirely  unknown  in  France,  and  the  idea  occurred 
to  Palissy  that  if  he  could  discover  the  secret  of  making  these 
cups  he  would  gain  a  fortune.  He  already  knew  something 
of  the  methods  of  painting  and  firing  colors  in  glass,  and  he 
had  learned  something  of  the  potter's  art.  But  how  to  pro- 
duce that  white  enamel  to  cover  the  clay  vessel  and  form  the 
ground  for  the  ornamental  designs  was  a  hidden  mystery. 

For  several  years  Palissy  toiled  at  this  problem,  and  in 
spite  of  successive  failures,  gradually  became  more  absorbed 
in  his  search.  At  first  he  still  provided  food  and  necessaries 
for  his  family;  but  afterward  he  seemed  not  to  care  that  they 
were  in  rags  and  starving.  His  wife  reproached  him  for 
his  neglect ;  but  his  mind  was  so  infatuated  with  his  experi- 
ments that  he  broke  up  his  furniture  to  supply  the  fuel 
for  the  kilns.  He  has  written  the  pathetic  storj^  of  his 
struggles,  failures,  destitution  and  final  triumph.  It  forms 
one  of  the  most  thrilling  autobiographies  in  any  language. 
After  sixteen  years  of  painful  devotion  to  this  research,  Pal- 
issy's  blind  gropings  were  rewarded  with  success  ;  he  was  able 
to  make  the  simple  white  enamel  on  earthenware.  With  this 
foundation  he  was  soon  able  to  execute  artistic  designs  which 
secured  the  approval  of  the  best  judges. 

Then  came  the  reward  for  his  long  years  of  toil  and  dog- 
ged perseverance.  Fortune  smiled  upon  his  labors,  and 
fashion  made  his  works  desired  by  the  wealthy.  The  price 
that  he  received  for  his  enameled  ware,  his  sculpture  in  clay, 
raised  his  family  from  their  misery  to  comfort  and  wealth. 
His  productions,  imperfect  at  first,  but  in  which  was  seen  the 
vigor  of  a  new  art,  original  and  untrammeled  by  traditions, 
soon  adorned  mansions  and  palaces.  Great  men  received  him; 
little  men  envied  him.     Catharine  de  Medici  gave  him  a  site 


394  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND  FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

for  his  furnaces  on  the  ground  since  occupied  by  the  palace  of 
the  Tuileries.     Like  t±ie  princes  of  her  family  at  Florence, 
who  spent  much  of  their  time  in  the  studios  and  society  of 
artists,  she  used  to  visit  him  at  his  work. 

At  this  happy  period  of  his  life  Palissy  made  his  number- 
less masterpieces  of  porcelain  in  relief,  which,  after  the  lapse 
of  three  centuries,  sell  for  their  weight  in  gold.  One  room 
in  the  Louvre  is  almost  entirely  devoted  to  the  delicate  won- 
ders of  Palissy.  The  neighborhood  of  the  works  of  Raphael 
and  Michael  Angelo  does  not  eclipse  the  glory  of  the  potter. 
Other  masterpieces  of  Palissy  adorn  the  private  collections 
of  such  connoisseurs  as  Prince  Soltikofif  and  Baron  Rothschild. 

There  is  another  aspect  of  the  character  and  acquirements 
of  Palissy  which  must  be  mentioned — his  success  in  the  world 
of  literature.  The  first  of  his  works  was  published  anony- 
mously about  1545  ;  his  second  about  1560,  and  the  third  and 
last  about  1580.  They  have  given  the  poor  potter  rank  as  one 
of  the  greatest  writers  of  French  prose ;  he  is  classed  with 
Montaigne,  Rousseau,  Bossuet,  and  Lamartine. 

As  he  advanced  in  years,  Palissy  gave  thought  more  to  the 
future  life  than  to  the  present.  Heretofore  the  love  of  nature 
had  filled  his  soul  ;  he  enjoyed  the  solitude  of  the  forest,  the 
mountain-peak,  and  the  sea-shore.  He  had  learned  the  won- 
derful secrets  of  nature,  to  the  glory  of  Him  whom  he  calls 
"the  Great  Mechanician,"  the  great  Constructor  of  the 
universe.  He  thought  he  had  found  God,  and  he  lived  in 
perpetual  converse  with  the  Invisible  Creator  of  all  things 
visible.  A  great  religious  interest  spread  over  Europe,  stir- 
ring the  hearts  of  all  who  were  earnest  in  seeking  after  God. 
The  faith  proclaimed  by  Luther  and  Calvin  became  the  life-  ■■ 
principle  of  men  of  all  degrees.  Amid  the  sanguinary  con- 
flicts which  soon  were  aroused  by  the  struggle  of  the  New 
Faith  with  the  Old,  Palissy  adhered  to  the  Reformation. 

Of  the  massacre  he  says,  "I  retired  secretly  to  my  house 
that  I  might  not  see  the  murders  and  the  robberies  which 
took  place.  Nevertheless,  for  two  days  it  seemed  to  me  as  if 
hell  were  loose  and  all  the  demons  had  gone  abroad  to  ravage 
the  earth.  From  my  house  I  saw  soldiers  running  through 
the  streets  sword  in  hand,  crying  'Where  are  they?'  "     Pal- 


PALISSY  THE  POTTER.  395 

issy's  workshop  was  broken  into  by  the  rabble,  and  he  was 
compelled  to  hide.  Had  not  his  death  involved  the  extinction 
of  a  new  vahiable  art,  he  wonld  undoubtedly  have  perished. 
In  1555  he  was  saved  by  the  king's  lieutenant,  who  commu- 
nicated to  the  Marshal  de  Montmorenci  the  peril  of  the 
iuQ-enious  artist.  An  edict  was  issued  in  the  king's  name, 
appointing  Palissy  maker  of  rustic  figulines  to  the  queen. 
Jean  Goujon,  the  Michael  Angelo  of  France,  more  envied 
because  then  more  celebrated  though  now  less  mentioned, 
was  struck  down  while  working  on  the  Caryatides  of  the  » 
lyouvre  ;  with  his  chisel  yet  in  his  hand,  he  fell  a  corpse 
at  the  foot  of  the  marble  to  which  he  was  giving  life.  The 
protection  of  the  court  saved  Palissy. 

In  the  Bastile,  in  which  De  Montmorenci  and  his  other 
patrons  among  the  Catholic  party  had  confined  him,  Palissy 
was  safe,  although  the  Duke  of  Mayenne  had  to  resort  to  the 
strategy  of  delaying  his  trial,  for  which  an  informer,  a  creature 
of  the  Duke  of  Guise,  was  urgent  (1589).  His  patron,  the 
King,  took  pity  on  the  aged  man  who  was  about  to  die  in  his 
fetters.  Henry  III.  visited  him  in  prison  and  said  to  him,  "I 
am  compelled,  my  worthy  friend,  in  spite  of  myself,  to  im- 
prison you.  You  have  been  now  forty-five  years  in  the  ser- 
vice of  my  mother  and  myself ;  we  have  suffered  you  to  retain 
your  religion  amid  fire  and  slaughter.  Pressed  as  I  am  by  the 
Guises  and  my  own  people,  I  cannot  prevent  them  from  put- 
ting you  to  death  unless  you  will  be  converted."  "Sire," 
the  aged  man  replied,  "  I  am  ready  to  give  up  the  remainder 
of  my  life  for  the  honor  of  God.  You  say  you  pity  me  ;  it  is 
for  me  to  pity  you  who  have  said  '  I  am  compelled. '  It  was 
not  spoken  like  a  king,  sire ;  and  they  are  the  words  which 
neither  you,  nor  the  Guises,  nor  the  people  shall  ever  make 
me  utter.  I  can  die!"  The  king's  courtiers  were  angry. 
"  Here  is  insolence!"  they  exclaimed  ;  "one  would  suppose 
he  had  read  Seneca  and  was  parodying  the  words  of  the  - 
philosopher,  'He  who  can  die  need  never  be  constrained.'" 
Henry  Valois  would  not  give  up  Palissy  to  the  Guises,  but 
permitted  the  voluntary  martyr  to  end  his  days  in  the  Bas- 
tile (1589). 

"  Bernard  de  Palissy  is  the  most  perfect  model  of  a  work- 


396  HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 

man.  It  is  by  his  example,  rather  than  by  his  works,  that  he 
has  deserved  a  place  for  himself  among  the  men  who  have 

ennobled  humanity In  seeking  the  perfection  of  Art, 

which  hides  itself  that  it  may  be  discovered,  and  which  holds 
itself  back  that  it  may  be  mastered  by  force,  he  meets  with 
misery,  unbelief,  and  the  scorn  of  his  neighbors  ;  ....  he 
burns  his  house  to  feed  his  last  furnace;  he  forces  his  inventive 
genius ;  finally,  he  triumphs,  he  becomes  illustrious.  He 
devotes  his  youth  to  trade  ;  he  sacrifices  his  house  for  his  art ; 
he  gives  up  his  old  age,  his  liberty  and  his  life  to  his  God ; 
he  flies  from  his  dungeon  to  heaven  on  the  wings  of  celestial 
hope ;  he  leaves  behind  him  masterpieces,  and  bequeathes 
immortal  examples  of  patience,  of  perseverance,  of  gentle 
dignity  and  virtue  to  workmen  of  all  professions." 

Palissy's  Account  of  His  Struggles. 

I  had  no  means  of  learning  the  art  of  pottery  in  any  shop. 
I  began  to  search  for  enamels  without  knowing  of  what  ma- 
terials they  were  composed,  as  a  man  that  gropes  his  way  in 
the  dark.  ...  I  pounded  all  the  materials  I  could  think  of.  .  .  . 
I  bought  a  quantity  of  earthen  pots,  and  breaking  them  to 
pieces,  I  covered  them  with  the  substances  I  had  ground, 
making  a  memorandum  of  the  drugs  that  I  had  used  in  each; 
then,  having  built  a  furnace  according  to  my  fancy,  I  put 
these  pieces  to  bake,  to  see  if  my  drugs  would  give  any  color. 
But  because  I  had  never  seen  earthenware  baked,  I  never 
could  succeed,  .  .  .  So,  being  oftentimes  thus  disappointed, 
with  great  cost  and  labor,  I  was  all  day  pounding  and  grind- 
ing new  materials,  and  building  new  furnaces  at  a  great 
expense  in  money.  .  .  . 

When  I  spent  several  years  in  these  attempts  ...  I  again 
bought  earthen  vessels,  and,  having  broken  them  up,  covered 
three  or  four  hundred  of  the  pieces  with  experimental  enamels, 
and  carried  them  to  a  pottery  .  .  .  with  a  request  to  the  potters 
to  allow  me  to  bake  these  experiments  therein.  I  was  begin- 
ning to  lose  courage,  and,  as  a  last  attempt,  had  gone  to  a 
glass-house  with  more  than  three  hundred  different  samples; 
there  was  found  one  of  these  samples  which  became  melted 
within  four  hours  after  being  in  the  furnace;  which  gave  me 


PAUSSY  THS  POTTER.  397 

such  jo)',  that  I  thought  I  had  .  .  .  then  discovered  the  per- 
fection of  white  enamel.  .  .  . 

I  was  so  foolish  in  those  days,  that,  as  soon  as  I  had  pro- 
duced the  white  [enamel],  I  set  about  making  earthen  vessels, 
although  I  had  never  learned  the  earthenware  manufacture; 
and  having  spent  months  in  constructing  these  vessels,  I 
began  to  build  a  furnace  like  a  glass-furnace,  which  I  built 
with  unspeakable  toil,  for  I  had  to  do  the  masonry  by  myself, 
and  to  mix  my  mortar,  and  even  draw  the  water  for  temper- 
ing it.  .  .  . 

I  baked  my  ware  for  the  first  firing ;  but  at  the  second 
firing  ...  I  had  to  work  for  the  space  of  more  than  a  month, 
nio'ht  and  dav,  to  grind  the  materials  of  which  I  had  made 
this  beautiful  white  [enamel]  at  the  glass-house  ;  and  when  I 
had  eround  these,  I  covered  therewith  the  vessels  that  I  had 
made ;  which  done,  I  lighted  my  furnace  at  the  two  doors,  as 
I  had  seen  the  glassmen  do  ;  but  it  was  unfortunate  for  me, 
because,  although  I  was  six  days  and  six  nights  at  the  furnace 
without  ceasing  to  throw  wood  in  at  the  two  mouths,  I  could 
not  make  the  enamel  melt,  and  I  was  reduced  to  despair. 
Yet,  although  I  was  exhausted  with  fatigue,  ...  I  began  to 
grind  .  .  .  material,  without,  however,  allowing  my  furnace  to 
cool.  .  .  . 

When  I  had  thus  mixed  my  enamel,  I  was  obliged  to  go 
and  purchase  more  pots,  inasmuch  as  I  had  consumed  all  the 
vessels  I  had  made ;  and  having  covered  the  pots  with  the 
enamel,  I  put  them  into  the  furnace,  still  keeping  up  the  full 
heat  of  the  fire.  .  .  .  My  wood  having  run  short,  I  was  obliged 
to  burn  the  stakes  from  my  garden  fence,  which  being  con- 
sumed, I  had  to  burn  the  tables  and  boards  of  my  house,  in 
order  to  melt  my  second  composition.  I  was  in  such  anguish 
as  I  cannot  describe,  for  I  was  exhausted  with  the  work  and 
heat  of  the  furnace.  It  was  more  than  a  month  since  I  had 
a  dry  shirt  on.  Then  .  .  .  my  neighbors  laughed  at  me,  and 
reported  about  the  town  that  I  burned  my  flooring-boards, 
and  by  such  means  they  made  me  lose  my  credit  and  pass 
for  a  fool. 

Others  said  that  I  sought  to  coin  false  money,  which  was 
an  evil  report  that  made  me  shake  in  my  shoes.  ...  I  was  in 


398  HISTORIC   CHARACTERS   AND    FAMOUS   EVENTS. 

debt  in  several  places.  .  .  .  No  person  helped  me;  but,  on  the 
contrary,  they  laughed  at  me,  saying,  'serve  him  right  to  die 
of  hunger,  for  he  neglects  his  business.'  .  .  .  Nevertheless, 
there  remained  some  hope  which  sustained  me,  inasmuch  as 
the  last  trials  had  turned  out  pretty  well ;  and  I  then  thought 
that  I  knew  enough  to  gain  my  livelihood  at  it,  although  I 
was  very  far  therefrom. 

When  I  had  rested  some  time,  regretting  that  no  one  had 
pity  upon  me  ;  and,  having  thought  that  I  should  be  too  long 
in  making  the  whole  charge  for  the  furnace  with  my  own 
hands,  I  hired  a  common  potter,  and  gave  him  some  drawings 
for  him  to  make  vessels  from  to  my  order.  When  we  had 
worked  for  the  space  of  six  months,  and  the  work  we  had  got 
through  was  ready  to  be  fired,  it  became  necessary  to  build  a 
furnace  and  dismiss  the  potter,  to  whom,  for  want  of  money, 
I  had  to  give  some  of  my  clothes  by  way  of  payment. 

Now,  as  I  had  nothing  with  which  to  build  my  oven,  I 
set  to  work  pulling  down  the  one  I  had  made  after  the  fashion 
of  a  glass-furnace,  that  the  materials  might  serve  for  the  new 
one.  But  this  furnace  had  been  so  very  hot  for  six  days  and 
nights,  the  bricks  and  mortar  thereof  had  fused  and  vitrified 
in  such  manner  that,  in  breaking  it  down,  my  fingers  were 
cut  and  gashed  in  so  many  places  that  I  was  obliged  to  eat  my 
porridge  with  my  hands  wrapped  in  a  cloth.  When  I  had 
pulled  down  the  furnace,  I  had  to  build  the  other.  .  .  .  This 
done,  I  gave  the  work  the  first  firing,  and  then,  by  borrowing 
and  otherwise,  I  found  means  to  procure  the  materials  for  the 
enamels  to  cover  it,  as  it  had  borne  the  first  firing  well.  .  .  . 
The  desire  which  I  felt  to  succeed  in  my  undertaking  made  me 
do  things  which  I  should  have  otherwise  thought  impossible. 

When  the  colors  were  ground  I  covered  all  my  vessels 
and  medallions  with  the  enamel ;  then,  having  arranged  the 
whole  of  it  in  my  furnace,  I  began  to  heat  it,  expecting  to 
make  a  fortune  by  the  charge.  I  continued  the  firing  until  I 
had  some  sign  that  my  enamels  had  melted.  The  next  day, 
when  I  came  to  draw  the  charge,  having  first  extinguished 
the  fire,  my  grief  and  sadness  were  so  increased  that  I  lost  all 
command.  Although  my  enamels  were  good  and  the  work 
sound,  nevertheless  an  accident  had  happened  to  the  furnace 


PALISSY  THE  POTTER.  399 

which  had  spoiled  all. — It  was  because  the  mortar  with  which 
I  had  cemented  my  furnace  was  full  of  pebbles,  which,  feeling 
the  heat  of  the  fire,  split  into  several  pieces.  .  .  .  Now  when 
the  splinters  of  said  stones  flew  against  my  work,  the  enamel, 
which  had  already  melted  and  become  sticky,  held  these 
stones,  and  fastened  them  all  over  the  vases  and  medallions, 
which  would  otherwise  have  been  beautiful.  .  .  . 

My  charge  cost  me  more  than  six  score  crowns.  I  had 
borrowed  wood  and  the  materials.  ...  I  kept  off  my  creditors 
with  the  hope  of  pa)'ment  from  the  money  to  arise  from  the 
sale  of  the  goods.  Several  of  them  came  in  the  morning 
when  I  was  going  to  take  the  goods  out  of  the  oven,  thereby 
redoubling  my  vexation.  .  .  .  Every  article  was  sprinkled  with 
little  bits  of  flint ;  and  although  the  work  was  in  this  manner 
spoiled,  yet  some  desired  to  purchase  it  at  a  low  price.  But 
because  this  would  have  been  a  cheapening  of  my  credit,  I 
completely  destroyed  the  whole  of  the  said  articles,  and  went 
to  bed  for  very  sadness,  seeing  that  I  had  no  means  of  support- 
ing my  family.  I  met  with  nothing  but  reproaches  at  home. 
.  .  .  My  neighbors,  who  had  heard  of  the  business,  said  I  was 
a  madman. 

When  I  had  lain  some  time  in  bed,  and  had  considered 
with  myself  that,  if  a  man  falleth  into  a  ditch,  it  is  his  duty  to 
try  to  get  out  of  it,  I  said  to  myself  that  all  of  my  losses  and 
risks  were  past,  and  that  there  was  no  longer  an}thing  to 
prevent  my  producing  good  articles ;  so  I  set  to  work,  as 
before,  at  the  former  art. 

I  had  a  great  number  of  earthen  crocks  made  by  certain 
potters  to  enclose  my  vases  when  I  put  them  into  the  oven ; 
the  idea  proved  a  good  one,  and  I  have  adhered  to  it.  But  I 
was  such  a  novice  that  I  could  not  distinguish  between  too 
much  and  too  little  firing ;  when  I  had  learned  to  guard 
against  one  danger,  another  presented  itself,  which  I  should 
never  have  thought  of.  At  length  I  found  out  how  to  cover 
vessels  with  divers  enamels  mixed  like  jasper.  But  when  I 
had  discovered  the  means  of  making  rustic  pieces,  I  was  more 
confounded  than  before  ;  for,  having  made  a  certain  number 
of  basins,  and  fired  them,  some  of  my  enamels  turned  out 
beautiful,  others  badly  fused,  and  others  burnt,  because  they 


400 


HISTORIC  CHARACTERS  AND   FAMOUS  EVENTS. 


were   composed  of  various  materials  which  were  fusible  at 
diflferent  heats. 

All  these  defects  caused  me  so  much  labor  and  sadness 
that,  before  I  could  make  my  enamels  fusible  at  the  same 
degree  of  heat,  I  thought  I  should  have  passed  even  the  doors 
of  the  grave ;  for,  from  working  at  such  matters,  in  the  space 
of  more  than  ten  years  I  had  so  fallen  away  that  I  could  meet 
with  no  peace  in  my  own  house,  or  do  anything  that  was 
thought  right.  Nevertheless,  I  always  contrived  to  make 
some  ware  of  diverse  colors  which  afforded  me  some  sort  of  a 
living.  The  hope  which  supported  me  gave  me  such  courage 
for  my  work,  that  oftentimes,  to  entertain  persons  who  came 
to  see  me,  I  would  endeavor  to  laugh,  although  within  me  I 

felt  very  sad And  it  has  happened  to  me  several  times, 

that,  having  left   my  work,  and  having  nothing  dry  about 
me,  I  would  go  staggering  about  like  one  drunk  with  wine. 


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