Chapter XIII (4)

Jones, however, had either heard the dog, or got an inkling of the thing, and he had taken a long round so as to join us from behind: the Indiaman's men keeping on for a quarter of an hour or so, when they brought up again, seemingly doubtful whether to follow the creature or not; and we dropped like one man into the shadow, till they made sail once more. Soon after the Planter pointed to the trees where the passengers were, and, on a sign from me, the whole of us edged down to the spot, till we were standing within sight of the half-finished fire, where the Judge's kitmagar was sitting asleep, tailor-fashion, with his flat turban sunk to his breast. One of the cadets stood down the slope a little, betwixt that and the beach where the crew were, leaning sleepily on his gun, and nodding; while in the midst was a sort of shed, run up with branches and cocoa-nut leaves, where you could see a glimpse of the different ladies' dresses, young and old, asleep on the ground. The starlight fell right down into the opening, and showed the glistening edges of the leaves, with the sea broad out beyond the cocoas at the foot of the rising ground; so bidding Jones look out sharp, I stepped carefully through. My eye lighted at once on Sir Charles Hyde lying in one nook of the shelter, wrapped up in his pilot-coat--the first time in the old gentleman's life for a good while, I daresay, that he had passed his night on the ground, especially with such a lot of berths taken up beside him. Still he was sound enough at the time, to judge by his breathing, trifle as it was to the Planter's; and close by him was his daughter, with her cloak drawn half over her head in the shadow--her hair confused about her cheek as it pressed white into the bundle of red bunting she had for a pillow, and one hand keeping the cloak fast at the neck, as if she dreamt of a stiff breeze. The sight went to my heart, and so did the notion of waking her; but I heard sounds below on the beach, as if the rest of the crew missed their shipmates, probably getting jealous after their booze, and not unlikely to seek them up the island; so the more it struck me there was no time to be lost in coming to an understanding. According, I stooped down quietly and touched her on the shoulder. Violet Hyde opened her eyes at once, and looked at me; but whether it was the starlight showing my uniform, or her fancying it was still the Indiaman in the Atlantic, in place of crying out, why, there was almost a smile on her lips as she saw me from the ground. Next moment, however, she drew her hand across her eyelids, sat up with the help of the other arm, and gazed on me in a bewildered way, naming me at the same time below her breath. "Yes, Miss Hyde!" I said hastily; and a few words served to give her a notion of the case, as well as to advise her to wake up the Judge, with the rest of the ladies, and be ready to move the moment we came back. My first thought was to take Foster's own plan, and secure the long-boat, if we could only get betwixt the Indiaman's crew and the water; or even try our own, on the opposite side of the island, and carry off the other boats to the wreck; after which we might keep off till the schooner appeared, as she couldn't be long of doing in this weather.

I had just stolen back to the men and Mr Rollock, when all at once there was a wild cry, not twenty yards off, among the brushwood. A heavy blow and a struggle, in the midst of which three shots, one after the other, were heard from the cadets; next minute, with oaths and curses to the mast-head, and a crash through amongst the branches in the dark, Foster and his shipmates came making for the opening. Something horrible flashed through my mind as I fancied I had caught Finch's voice, whether one way or the other I couldn't say, for I had no thought at the time excepting for Violet. Shriek upon shriek broke from the ladies ere I well knew I had big Harry himself by the hairy throat of him, as he was aiming a left-handed stroke of his cutlass at the Judge, who had sprung betwixt him and his daughter. The strength of that ruffian was wonderful, for he flung me off and levelled Sir Charles Hyde at the same moment, the Judge's body tripping me. Jones and my own men, as well as the Planter, were hard at work with the other five desperate villains; while the cadets and the second officer of the Seringapatam rushed in from the trees--all of it passing in half a minute. As I started to my feet, Foster had lifted Violet Hyde in his arms, and was dashing through the darkest of the wood with her toward the hollow; when, just as I was hard upon him, doubly to my horror, above all the screams of the ladies I could hear the wild drunken shouts of the crew below coming up from the beach like so many devils. Foster had got as far as the next opening where the rubbish of the hut was, and, no doubt catching the sound as well as myself, all at once he dropped the young lady on the grass--in a faint as she was, and her white dress stained with blood, as I thought from _herself_. "Now ye----" shouted he, turning bolt round till her moveless figure lay betwixt us, with a flourish of his cutlass, which I fancied was bloody too--"who are _you_? You'll have a dozen on ye directly, but what's meat for the skipper's meat for the passenger, so--" "Devil!" said I through my teeth, as I edged round; and Foster was in the very act of rushing at me, whether he trod on her or not, when my voice or dress seemed to strike him in the dusk. "How the bloody comfort did _you_--" said he, shrinking back for a moment; "so much the better, by G--!" and he sprang forward again right upon me, with a swinging boarder's blow at my head, which flashed off my blade with a force enough to have shivered it, had it not been a first-rate old cut-and-thrust I had tried pretty stiffly before. If I hadn't been in such a fury of rage, and a hurry at once, 'twould have been Harry's last hit; but, at the third he made, I caught him fair under it, the point going through and through his body as I thrust him back stride by stride--his cutlass waving fiercely all the time in the air clear of my head, for the stroke came under his arm. The moment he fell, though I knew nothing before that of where we were, there was a heavy plunge; I had nearly followed on top of him, as he went head-foremost down the tank-well under the trees; but next moment, without a thought more to him in the heat of the struggle, I was lifting Violet off the grass. What I did or what I said, to see if she would revive, I don't really know; but I remember, as well as if it were last night, the very sound of her voice as she told me she wasn't hurt. The affair in the wood below us had suddenly ceased during these five or ten minutes--indeed, as I found afterwards, Jones and my party had settled every one of the five, either altogether or for the time; but the uproar of more than twenty fierce voices could be heard beyond them, cursing and yelling as they came stumbling and crashing up amongst the brushwood in a body; while the ladies and their companions struggled up from all sides toward the height, wild with terror. I met Sir Charles Hyde hurrying to seek his daughter, however; and the moment he had her in his arms, I rushed down, pistol in hand, to join my men, who were standing firm below, as the mutineers burst into the opening, no doubt with the notion they had only the cadets to do with. "Here, my lads!" I sang out; "make every man of them prisoner--down with 'em to the schooner!" And as I broke suddenly through in the starlight in the midst of them, Jones, Jacobs, the Planter, and the other four man-o'-warsmen sprang after me, one by one--taking the cue, and shouting as if to ever so many behind us, "Here they are, shipmates--this way--settle the blackguards!" In fact, the moment I appeared, the gang of half-drunk fellows were taken aback. One of them roared as if he saw the very devil; and giving them no time to think, we drove them scattering down toward the beach. One of Foster's party, however, being only stunned, had contrived to get down amongst them; and in a little while, seeing we didn't follow, the whole lot of them appeared to get an inkling of the truth, on which they rallied. It wasn't long ere I saw they had got desperate, and were planning to divide, and come somewhere over upon us round the heights; so that, in the dark, with our small party, not knowing their numbers, the best we could do was to gather up toward the peak, and secure the ladies. Accordingly, we passed an uncomfortable enough time during the rest of the night, till daybreak, when still no signs of the schooner, as we saw in the clear to north-eastward. Frightful notions came into my head of something having happened to her; the mutineers below were on both sides of the island, and they held the watering-place; we hadn't provisions for a single breakfast to half the party of us--and, the fellows being now fairly in for it, they could starve us out if they chose. You may conceive, accordingly, what a joyful sight met my eyes, when, on the dusk lifting off to northward, we could see the lovely craft under all sail not six miles off, bearing down before a fresh breeze for the deep end of the island! The wind had headed her off on her way back; and, knowing nothing of the wreck, Westwood might have landed at the mercy of the villains in the bush. But the minute we saw his boat out, the whole of us, save the Judge and the Planter, made a clean charge down upon them--the schooner's men joining us with the oars and boat-stretchers; and in another half-hour the whole gang, having lost heart, were taken and lashed fast by the wrists on the beach, to a single man.

On searching the watering-place during the day, we found some one had covered the mouth of the tank with sticks and leaves, through which Harry Foster had gone when he fell. The stuff had fallen in over him; and the well being evidently made deep into the rock, to hold water the longer, with the roots of the trees growing out into it, his body never came up. Somehow or other no one liked to sound it to the bottom; but the thing that horrified all of us the most, was to find Captain Finch himself lying quite dead amongst the brushwood near where the passengers had pitched their quarters, with a cut through his skull enough to have killed an ox. It was supposed Foster had suddenly come upon him, as he and his shipmates looked out for the hoard they thought the pirates had in the island, while Finch was on guard over the ladies. Whether the fellow took a new notion at the moment, or what it was, the whole gang of them made their rush upon the second mate and the cadets, the minute after the captain met his death.

As for Jones, he told me he had noticed the dog watching the seamen below, and the idea got into his head of what might happen. There was that about the animal to give one a dread you couldn't describe. How it had lived all this time, and how the custom came back on it after growing perfectly wild, of carrying on like what it did that night, was a mystery; but Jones said he hadn't heard it bark before, neither had the man he knew of, since the time he was first left _alone_ on White-water Island. In fact, the whole of us might have hunted it down before we left. But "No!" Jones said. "There's a perfect fiend in the brute, I do believe--yet it strikes me by this time, the creature belongs to--to the Almighty, sir!" The men and passengers had been taken off the Indiaman's wreck, which there was no chance of getting off the reef; so, taking out the best of her stores and the passengers' property, we had every soul aboard the schooner, and at last set sail to the south-east, meaning to go in at Madras, where a sloop might be sent to recover more from the ship. 'Twas with no ordinary state of things, from stem to stern, that we dropped White-water Island astern.

Well, ma'am, the rest you may easily fancy. We made Madras Roads, and there I expected to lose sight of the Judge and his daughter again, as we did of most of the other passengers; but to my perfect delight, Sir Charles preferred carrying out the voyage on to Calcutta in the schooner, where they had the after-cabins to themselves. The Indiaman's crew I kept, prisoners and all, till we should meet the frigate off the Sunderbunds.

Just conceive standing up the hot Bay of Bengal with flagging south-westerly breezes, shifting at times to a brisk south-easter, or a squall, as we've done ourselves this week. The moon wasn't at the full then, of course, so we only had it like a reaper's sickle in the dog-watches; but it was fine weather, and you may imagine one sometimes contrived, betwixt Westwood and myself, to have Violet on the quarterdeck of an evening without the Judge. Tom would step forward suddenly to see a small pull taken on a sheet, and Snelling knew pretty well not to walk aft of the capstan; so I could lean over the taffrail near her, and look at the schooner's wake glimmering and sparkling up in the bubbles astern.

Then to save trouble, you need but picture to yourselves some such sort of a daybreak as we had this morning; a cool blue cloudless sky all aloft, dappled to eastward with a mighty arch, as it were, of small white spots and flakes, as a perfect sea of light flows up into it before the sun under the horizon, and a pale slanting shaft of it seems to hang gray in the yellow above him.[26] The sea heaves deep-blue and deeper-blue under the schooner; the wide flock of small clouds burn from gold to fire; the slanting streak of light fades and vanishes, and the sun comes up like a gush of flame--sending a stream of glittering radiance along the water to our starboard bow, while it shows a long flat line of land far on the other beam. The Planter is smoking his first cheroot for that day at the stern gratings, when we make out three or four faint points over the streak of land, shining like gold in the dawn; while at the same time three hazy pillars, as it were, are seen standing up betwixt sea and sky, beyond the rippling blue in the north-eastern board. 'Tis the spires of Juggernaut pagoda on one side; and as the brisk morning breeze drives the water into short surges, till the schooner rises the ship upon the other, all of a sudden she looms square and white upon our starboard bow. As the hull lifted higher and higher under her canvass, there was less doubt every few minutes of her being a frigate; and by the time Violet and her father were standing together on the quarterdeck, the glorious old Hebe was signalling us from her fore-royal-masthead, as she kept close on a wind to cross our course.

We spoke the pilot-brig that evening, took out the pilot, and stood up into the mouth of the Hoogly with the night-tide in the moonlight--dropping the Hebe at Diamond Harbour next day; while Lord Frederick, and a Government gentleman he had with him from St Helena, went up to Calcutta with us in the schooner. The whole of the Indiaman's late crew and officers were left in the frigate till further notice, notwithstanding which we were pretty well crowded on our way up: Westwood and I were glad of a couple of hammocks in the half deck; and, in fact, I saw little more of Violet Hyde till they went ashore opposite Fort-William.

In half-an-hour we were lying at anchor in the midst of the crowd of Indiamen, country ships, Arab craft, and all sorts of craft besides, stretching far up to the next reach; the long front of flat-topped buildings, with their green venetians and balustrades, shining white over the row of trees on the right bank, like a string of palaces spreading back through the huge mass of the city to the pale hot eastern sky--a tall cocoa-nut tree or a sharp spire breaking it here and there; while the pile of Government House was to be seen dotted with adjutant-birds; and the opposite shore showed far off in a line of green jungle, faced by a few gay-looking spots of bungalows. All the rest of the day Jones busied himself seeing all made regular and ship-shape below and aloft, in complete seaman-like style, till I began to think he had taken a fancy to the schooner, and meant to go with her and the frigate to the China seas. Next morning, however, as soon as breakfast was over in the cabin, he came to me and said that, as there was nothing more to be done at present aboard, according to our agreement he would bid us good-bye. Nothing I could say was of the least use, so at last I had to give it up. Having little money about me, however, except in bills, and intending to go ashore myself, I told him I should pay him his mate's wages at once at a banker's in the town. By the time I came on deck, Jones had hailed a dingy, and the native boatman paddled us to the ghaut below the Sailor's Home together.

I had shaken hands with him, and stood watching him from the bank verandah, as his manly figure, in the blue jacket, white duck trousers, and straw hat, passed away down Flag Street, stepping like a seaman fresh from blue water through a stream of Hindoos in white muslin, Mussulman servants, tall-capped Armenians, Danes, Frenchmen, Chinamen, Arabs, and Parsees. Three or four Coolies with painted umbrellas were shouting and scrambling in his way, mentioning their names, salaaming, and sah'bing him to the nines; a couple of naked black boys were trying to brush his shoes in the dust; a tray of native sweetmeats seemed to be shoved every now and then under his nose; and two or three children with heads as big as pumpkins were stuck before him, their mothers begging for "buckshish! buckshish!" Jones held on like a man accustomed to every sort of foreign scenes in the world; and out of curiosity to see where he would go, I followed him for a little toward the thick of the noise and crowd, through Tank Square, where the water-carriers were sprinkling the ground from the sheep-skins on their backs as they walked, serpent-charmers and jugglers exhibiting, and a dirty Fakir rolling at the corner in seeming agony, with a crowd of liberty-men in Sunday toggery all round him. Jones looked up at the church steeping in the white heat, and across the glare of light to the city beyond, standing like a man that didn't know what to do, or hadn't seen Calcutta before; then passed carelessly by the half-slued sailors, who hailed him as if he were a ship. At length he got to the turn of a street running into the native town, where you caught a glimpse of it swarming this way and that with turbans in the close overhanging bazaars. Some Hindoo procession or other was coming along with tom-toms, gongs, tambourines, and punkahs, sweeping on through a Babel of heathenish cries and songs; a knot of dancing-girls, with red flowers in their sleek black hair, could be seen in a hackery drawn by two hump-backed bullocks; and a white Brahmin bull was poking its head amongst the heaps of fruit at a stall; whilst you heard a whole ship's crew hurrahing and laughing amongst the confusion, as they drove along. Suddenly I saw Jones hail a palanquin near him, and get in. The four mud-coloured bearers took the pole of it on their shoulders, fore and aft--greasy-looking fellows, with ochre-marks on their noses and foreheads, a tuft of hair tied back on their heads like women, and as naked as they were born, save the cloth round their middle,--and next moment away they trotted, grunting and swinging the palanquin, till I lost sight of them in the hubbub. 'Twas the last I saw of Jones.

* * * * *

Here the Captain stopped; the Gloucester's crew were getting the anchors off her forecastle to her bows for next day, when the light-ship off the Sandheads was expected to be seen; and, from his manner and his silence together, he evidently considered the yarn at an end. "That's all then?" carelessly asked the surgeon, who was a chess-player, and had heard only this part of the Captain's adventures, and the first two, so that he appeared to perceive a slight want of connection. "All?" was the unanimous voice of the lady-passengers, most of whom had been faithful listeners,--the younger ones were obviously disappointed at something. "Why, yes," said Captain Collins, with a look which might be interpreted either as modest or "close,"--"the fact is, I fancied the affair might serve to while away a single evening or so, and here have I been yarning different nights all this time! 'Tis owing to my want of practice, no doubt, ma'am." "Come, come," said the matron of the party, "you must really give us some idea of a denouement. These girls of mine won't be satisfied without it, Captain Collins; they will think it no story at all, otherwise!"

"An end to it, you mean?" answered he. "Why, ma'am, if there were an _end_ to it, it couldn't be a 'short' yarn at all--that would be to finish and 'whip' it, as we say, before it's long enough for the purpose; whereas, luckily, my life hasn't got to a close yet."

"Oh!" said the lady, no sea casuistry for _us_; besides, _I_ am aware of the sequel, you know!" "Why, ma'am," answered the Captain, looking up innocently, "it wasn't for two years and a half afterwards that I--I settled, you know! Do you mean me to tell you all that happened in that time, about the Frenchman, and what befell the schooner in the China seas? 'twould last the voyage home; but if you'll go _back_ with me I've no particular objection, now I've got into the way" "No no, my dear, Captain," said the lady, "we have had enough for the present of your nautical details--I beg pardon--but tell us how you succeeded in--" "Well," interrupted the narrator rather hastily, "'twas somewhat thus: I was at home at Croydon, being by that time first lieutenant of the Hebe, but she was just paid off. One morning, at breakfast, the letter-bag from the village was brought in as usual, my mother taking them out, reading off all the addresses through her spectacles, while Jane made the coffee. My mother handed Jane a ship-letter, which she put somewhere in her dress, with a blush, so that I knew in a moment it must be from Tom Westwood, who was in the Company's civil service in India, upcountry. "None for me, mother?" asked I eagerly; for the fact was I had got one or two at different times, at Canton and the Cape of Good Hope, during the two years. "Yes, Ned," said my mother, eyeing it again and again, anxiously enough, as I thought; "there is--but I fear it is some horrid thing from those Admirals"--the Admiralty, she meant--"and they will be sending you off immediately--or a war, or something. Oh dear me, Ned," exclaimed the good woman, quite distressed, "won't you do as I wish you, and stay altogether!" By the Lord Harry! when I opened it, 'twas a letter from Lord Frederick Bury, who had succeeded to his eldest brother's title while we were out, saying he had the promise of a commandership for me, as soon as a new brig for the West India station was ready. "I shan't have to go for six or seven months at any rate, mother," said I, "by which time I shall be confounded tired of the land, _I_ know!" She wanted me to buy a small estate near Croydon, shoot, fish, and dig, I suppose; while Jane said I ought to marry, especially as she had a girl with money in her eye for me. Still they saw it was no use, and began to give it up.

Why I never heard at all from a certain quarter, I couldn't think. Till that time, in fact, I had been as sure of her proving true as I was of breezes blowing; but now I couldn't help fancying all sorts of tyranny on the Judge's part and her mother's, not to speak of Tom's uncle, the Councillor. I went down the lane for the twentieth time, past the end of the house they had lived in, where the windows had been shuttered up and the gates close ever since I came. All of a sudden, this time, I saw there were workmen about the place, the windows open, and two servants washing down the yellow wheels of a travelling carriage. I made straight back for our house, went up to Jane, who was at her piano in the drawing-room, and asked, quite out of breath, _who_ was come to the house over the park behind us. "Did you not know that old Nabob was coming back from India?" said Jane. "His face was getting too yellow, I suppose; and besides, his wife is dead--from his crossness, no doubt. But the young lady is an heiress, Ned, and as I meant to tell you, from good authority"--here the sly creature looked away into her music--"passionately fond of the sea, which means, you know, of naval officers"--"The devil she is, Jane!" I broke out; "what did Westwood mean by that?--but _when_ are they coming, for heaven's sake?" "Why," said Jane, "I believe, from what I heard our gardener say, they arrived last night." "Then, by Jove, my dear girl!" said I, "I'll tell you a secret--and mind, I count on you!" My little sister was all alive in a moment, ran to the door and shut it, then settled herself on the sofa to hear what I had to say, as eagerly as you please. So I told her what the whole matter was, with the state of things when we left Calcutta. Jane seemed to reckon the affair as clear as a die; and you've no notion what a lot of new ropes she put me up to in a concern of the kind, as well as ways to carry it out ship-shape to the end, in spite of the Judge--or else to smooth him over.

"The long and short of it was, I didn't leave till about seven months after, when the Ferret was put in commission; but by that time it was all smooth sailing before me. The Judge had got wonderfully softened; and, you may be sure, I continued to see Violet Hyde pretty often before I went to sea. You'd scarce believe it, but, after that twelve months' cruise, I actually didn't leave the land for two years, which I did owing to the chance I had of seeing sharp service in the Burmese war, up the rivers, while General Campbell had tough work with them inland. So that's all I can say, ma'am!"

* * * * *

"Very good, sir!" was the surgeon's cool remark. "And in fact, sir, I fancy if every one of us were to commence telling his whole life over, with everything that happened to him and his friends, he must stop short somewhere--however long it might be!" The Captain smiled; they sat on the poop talking for a while, sometimes saying nothing, but watching the last night at sea.

The pilot-brig is spoken to windward next morning, even while the deep-sea lead-line is being hove to sound the bottom. Falling sudden from the foreyard, the weight takes the long line from hand after hand back to the gangway, till it trembles against the ground. 'Tis drawn up slowly, the wet coil secured, and the bottom of the lead showing its little hollow filled with signs of earth--"Gray sand and shells!" They stand on till the pilot is on board, the low land lifts and lengthens before the ship; but the flow of the tide has yet to come, and take them safely up amongst the winding shoals into the Indian river's mouth. A new land, and the thoughts of strange new life, the gorgeous sights and fantastic realities of the mighty country of the Mogul and Rajahs, crowd before them after the wide solitary sea: the story is already all but forgotten.--AND THE ANCHOR IS LET GO!

THE FRENCH WARS OF RELIGION.[27]

The history of the house of Guise has a natural division into two periods, of nearly equal duration, whose point of separation may be fixed at the death of Henry II., or, more strictly perhaps, at the date of the treaty of Cateau-Cambrésis, which preceded it by three months. Under Francis I. and Henry II., foreign wars engrossed much of the time and energy of the warriors, foreign diplomacy gave frequent occupation to the statesmen, of that restless and ambitious family, which, during the reigns of Francis II., Charles IX., and Henry III., was busied with civil strife, domestic intrigues, and even with disloyal and treasonable projects. The treaty above referred to--signed on the 3d April 1559, and by which France abandoned no less than one hundred and ninety-eight fortresses, including the conquests of thirty years in Piedmont--stipulated a durable alliance between the Kings of France and Spain, "who were to love each other as brothers, and labour in concert for the extinction of heresy." This was the prelude of a long peace with the foreigner, but also of a long series of intestine wars, and of more bloodshed and misery than any invasion from without would have probably occasioned. France was on the eve of the Wars of Religion. Calvinism grew daily stronger in the land, many of whose most illustrious nobles were soon included amongst its proselytes; until at last the princes of the blood themselves, jealous of the influence, power, and pretensions of the princes of Lorraine, placed themselves at the head of the Protestant party. Thus, early in the reign of that sickly and feeble prince, Francis II., _Bourbon_ and _Guise_ entered the lists, to struggle for the chief power in the state, and to commence, during the lifetime of four sons of Henry II., a long contest for the inheritance of the declining house of Valois. On the one side, the chief posts were occupied by Anthony of Bourbon, King of Navarre, by his brother, the Prince of Condé--far superior to him in ability, and who was the chief of the party--and by that brave and skilful soldier and commander, Gaspard de Châtillon, Admiral de Coligny. Opposed to these, the principal figures in the Protestant ranks, stood the Duke of Guise and his brothers--notably the astute, cruel, and violent cardinal, Charles of Lorraine. Catherine of Medicis, who had been allowed little interference in public affairs during her husband's life, came forward at his death, and played a striking and important part in the strange historical drama which comprised the reigns of three of her sons. Adopting a machiavelian and unscrupulous policy, her intrigues were directed alternately to support and damage the most contrary interests; but, at the outset of her political career, her dislike to Montmorency, and her eagerness to grasp a share of the power from which he had largely contributed to her exclusion, impelled her to an alliance with the Guises, by whom it was evident that the kingdom was, for a time at least, to be virtually ruled. Her husband's body was yet above ground, when she joined them and her son at the Louvre--whither they had conducted Francis, after proclaiming him King, from his residence at the palace of the Tournelles; and scarcely had it been deposited in the vaults of St Denis, when the treaty between her and them was sealed by the sacrifice of Diane de Poitiers, whose daughter was their sister-in-law by her marriage with Claude, Marquis of Mayenne, but who, nevertheless, was driven ignominiously from court, and compelled to give up the costly jewels she had received from her royal lover, and to appease Catherine by the gift of her magnificent castle of Chenonceaux.

The circumstances of the time, and their own high connections, were singularly favourable to the Guises' assumption of the chief power. "No influence in the kingdom," says M. de Bouillé, "was comparable to that of those two men. The clergy, the richest and the first of the three orders of the state, professed an unbounded devotion for the Cardinal; in Francis of Lorraine the greater part of the nobility, military men, even magistrates, habitually recognised a skilful chief, a sure friend, a zealous protector. The Queen (Mary Stuart) was niece of the Guises; their cousin, the Duke of Lorraine, was brother-in-law of the King; the husband of another sister of Francis II., Philip of Spain, was well pleased that the royal choice had fallen upon them in preference to Anthony of Bourbon, who would not have failed to apply his power to the attempted recovery of Navarre from Spain. Finally, obligations of gratitude attached the Duke of Savoy to them. So many advantages, such numerous means of access, united with so many talents and so much glory, rendered their position very natural." The humiliation of the Bourbons was proportionate to the exaltation of their rivals. Montmorency received, from the lips of the King himself, advice to retire to his domain of Chantilly, a rustication and disgrace which left the veteran Constable no resource but to ally himself with the princes of the blood. These were deliberating at Vendôme, with d'Andelot and their other confidential partisans, as to the means of opposing the authority of the Guise, when they received the overtures and exhortations of the Constable, who pressed and prevailed with the King of Navarre to repair to court. But slights and affronts were there offered both to him and to the Prince of Condé, and soon they were glad again to absent themselves. Within nine months of the accession of Francis, the plot known as the conspiracy of Amboise, of which Condé was the secret head, was formed, discovered, and crushed; the Duke of Guise displaying much energy and prudence, the Cardinal of Lorraine great cruelty and a most unchristian spirit, in its repression, and in the treatment of the baffled conspirators. For the third time Guise was named lieutenant-general of the kingdom, and invested with unlimited powers. The conspiracy to which he was indebted for this aggrandisement, was, however, the result of his brother's violent and persecuting spirit. The Cardinal had spurred the Huguenots to revolt. In all their proclamations, manifestos, and justificatory publications, they protested their loyalty to the King, and declared that they took arms solely against the family of Guise. It did not suit the purpose of these princes to admit the sincerity of the distinctions thus made. "What have I done to my subjects," exclaimed the feeble King, "that they should bear me such ill-will? Is it not rather to you, gentlemen, that they are opposed? I would that for a time you would depart, that we might see if these disorders ceased." The words had been suggested by the Spanish ambassador; but Francis knew not how to give them effect, and was easily cajoled by his uncles, who assured him that their absence would be the signal for attempts on his life and the lives of his brothers--attempts already planned by the Bourbons and supported by the heretics.

We pass on to the close of the short reign of Francis II., which extended over barely seventeen months. His death occurred on the 5th December 1560. The 10th of the same month was to have witnessed the execution of the Prince of Condé, condemned as traitor and heretic. But when a sudden swoon at vespers, succeeded by violent pains in the head, indicated the probable dissolution of the sickly monarch, whose constitution was already undermined by disease, Catherine de Medicis, unwilling to lose Condé, who served her as a counterpoise to the power of the Guise, took measures to delay his doom, and opened negotiations with the King of Navarre. This prince signed an agreement guaranteeing the regency to Catherine during the minority of Charles IX. She and her council were to have the sole direction of political affairs; whilst Anthony de Bourbon, with the title of lieutenant-general, was to be military chief of the kingdom. On the other hand, Catherine brought about his reconciliation with the Guises; inducing Francis II. to declare on his death-bed that the prosecution of Condé emanated not from them, but from his will alone. At the very moment she rendered this service to the princes of Lorraine, she was plotting with Bourbon their banishment from court. It were bewildering, and indeed impossible, in a brief essay on that busy period, to trace the tortuous policy and seemingly contradictory intrigues of the Queen-mother. It suffices to state her aim, then and for long afterwards. By pitting one faction against the other, and alternately supporting both, she secured for herself a larger share of power than she would have obtained by assisting in the final triumph of either.

The death of their niece's royal husband was a great shock to the Guises, who in his name had exercised absolute authority. It was subject of rejoicing to the Protestants, who deemed it "a stroke of heavenly mercy"--a mystical expression of satisfaction, which made some suspect poison to be the cause of the King's death. For this there seems to have been no foundation. But such suspicions were the fashion of the time. Beside the bed of Francis stood Coligny, the Cardinal of Lorraine, and many other nobles. When the monarch breathed his last, "Gentlemen," said the Admiral, with his habitual earnest gravity, "the King is dead; 'tis a lesson for us how to live." He returned home with one of his intimates, named Fontaines, and fell into a profound reverie, his tooth-pick in his mouth and his feet to the fire. He did not observe that his boots were burning, until Fontaines called his attention to the fact. "Ah, Fontaines!" then replied the Admiral, "not a week ago you and I would each have given a leg for things to take this turn, and now, we get off with a pair of boots; it is cheap." Not one of the six brothers Guise followed the funeral of Francis II., whose loss they had such reason to deplore. In cutting allusion to this indecent neglect, an unknown hand affixed to the black velvet that covered the royal bier the following inscription--"_Where is Tanneguy Duchâtel? But he was a Frenchman!_" This was a chamberlain of Charles VII., who, although unjustly banished from court, had mourned his master's death, and had provided magnificently for his interment, sacrilegiously neglected by that king's own son. The inscription bore a double sting, for it both condemned the conduct of the Guises, and stigmatised them as foreigners. In vain did they strive to justify themselves, alleging the necessity of their presence at court. And they were equally unable to refute the charge of having appropriated, during the illness of Francis, a considerable sum that remained in the royal treasury. This was done with the connivance of Catherine.

The state of affairs after the accession of Charles IX., was as follows: Condé was released from prison, the King of Navarre was in favour with the Queen-mother, the Bourbons and Guises affected mutual friendship, the Colignys and the Constable were continually at the palace; the star of the Bourbon party was in the ascendant. But those were the days of political and religious renegades, and a very short time produced wonderful changes in the composition of the two great parties. Soon we find the King of Navarre going over to the Church of Rome, and the Constable abandoning the cause of his nephews to assist at the germination of the celebrated _League_, into which the Guises and other great Catholic chiefs afterwards entered for the suppression of Protestantism, and for the overthrow of the party headed by Condé and Coligny.

It is a matter of extreme difficulty to form a correct opinion of the character of the Duke of Guise, diversely represented as it has been by the party writers of the time. M. de Bouillé has endeavoured, with patience and industry, to sift the truth from the mass of conflicting evidence; and if he is not completely successful, it is because such contradictory testimony as he has to deal with defies reconciliation. His zeal for truth leads him into researches and disquisitions through which not all of his readers perhaps will have patience to follow him, although they are doubtless essential to the completeness of a work which is eminently what the French term _un ouvrage sérieux_. With an evident desire for strict impartiality, he leans a little, as it appears to us, to the Catholic party--no unnatural bias in a writer of that religion. We, on the other hand, as Protestants, have to guard ourselves against the strong interest and sympathy inspired by the faith, the valour, and the sufferings of the French Huguenots: and we cannot but admit the justice of M. de Bouillé's conclusion, that although, amongst these, many were martyrs for religion's sake, many others assumed the Protestant badge from motives of political convenience as much as from conscientious conviction. As regards the second Duke of Guise, however, we find difficulty in always coinciding with his present historian, who makes him out a better man than previous reading had taught us to believe him. All the three Dukes of Guise were moral giants--men of extraordinary qualities, who towered far above their cotemporaries. All three were valiant, sagacious, and skilful in no common degree; but they were also ambitious and unscrupulous--the son more so than the father, the grandson more than either. In estimating their qualities and actions, M. de Bouillé justly makes much allowance for the prevalent fanaticism of the time; but he sometimes goes too far towards the adoption of the opinions of Catholic writers, who find extenuating circumstances in the conduct of the arch-butcher, Henry of Lorraine, on the night of St Bartholomew, and who acquit his father of sanctioning that barbarous massacre at Vassy, which was the spark to the powder--the actual commencement of the wars of religion.

The little town of Vassy, adjacent to the domains of Guise, was the headquarters of a numerous Protestant congregation, whose preaching and acts of devotion "greatly scandalised," says M. de Bouillé, "the virtuous Antoinette de Bourbon, surnamed by the Huguenots, _Mother of the tyrants and enemies of the gospel_." She constantly implored the Duke, her son, to rid her of these obnoxious neighbours, which he promised to do, if it were possible without violation of the royal edicts. Upon the 1st March 1562, a journey he made in company with his wife--then with child and travelling in a litter--led him through Vassy. "His suite consisted of two hundred men-at-arms, all partaking, and even surpassing, the exalted Catholicism and warlike temper of their chief. At Vassy he was to be joined by sixty more. On arriving there, he entered the church to hear high mass; and, whether it was that the psalms of the Calvinists reached his ears, or that he was maliciously informed of their being then assembled, or that the clergy of Vassy complained and solicited the repression of outrages received from the sectarians, the fact is that he learned that their preaching was then going on. With the intention of giving them a severe admonition, he sent for their minister, and for the chief members of the congregation. His messenger was Labrosse, the son,--who was accompanied by two German pages, Schleck and Klingberg, one of whom carried his arquebuse and the other his pistols. These young men were violent in the fulfilment of their mission, and an exchange of insults was soon followed by bloodshed. At the first shots fired, the men-at-arms and the varlets, already disposed to hostilities, took part in the unequal fray. The five or six hundred Protestants, although superior in number, were far from sufficiently armed to offer an effectual resistance. They sought to establish a barricade, and to defend themselves with sticks and stones. The Duke, who hurried to the scene of the tumult, found himself unable to repress it. Some of his gentlemen were hit; the face of Labrosse, the father, streamed with blood; Guise himself was wounded in the left cheek by a stone. At sight of his hurt, his followers' fury knew no bounds. The Protestants, overwhelmed, (_écrasés_,) uttered piercing cries; and, endeavouring to escape by all issues, even by the roof, delivered themselves to the bullets of their enemies. Anne d'Est, who was peaceably pursuing her journey, paused on hearing the sounds of strife, and sent in all haste to entreat her husband to put an end to the effusion of blood; _but the carnage lasted an hour_; sixty men and women lost their lives and two hundred were wounded. On the side of the Prince of Lorraine, some men were also more or less hurt; only one was killed."

A champion so energetic and formidable, a commander so much beloved, as the Duke of Guise, would certainly have succeeded, had he really attempted and desired to do so, in somewhat less than an hour, in checking his men-at-arms and stopping this inhuman massacre, which procured him from the Reformed party the odious nickname of _the Butcher of Vassy_. M. de Bouillé inclines to consider the slaughter on that fatal day as a sort of cruel reprisals, deplorable certainly, but in some measure extenuated by various excesses committed by the Huguenots--excesses, however, to which he but vaguely refers. It must be remembered that, at the time of the massacre of Vassy, an edict, obtained less than two months previously by the exertions and influence of Coligny and l'Hospital, and granting the Protestants liberty of conscience and free exercise of their religion, was in full force. The following passage from M. de Bouillé sufficiently shows the _animus_ of Guise--"When the return of a gloomy calm suffered him to discern the sad character of such a scene, the Duke fell into a passion with Claude Tourneur, captain of the town and castle of Vassy for Mary Stuart; he imputed the day's misfortunes to the toleration that officer had shown in suffering the formation of Calvinist assemblies. Tourneur, in his justification, cited the edict of January; but Guise clapped his hand to his sword, 'This,' he said, 'shall rescind that detestable edict!'" When the news of the massacre reached Paris, Theodore de Bèze, deputed by the Calvinist church of the capital, presented himself before Catherine to demand severe justice on the Duke of Guise. Catherine received him well and replied favourably; When the King of Navarre, in all the fervour of his new religion and sudden friendship for the Duke, burst out into anger against Bèze, attributing all the fault to the Protestants of Vassy, and declaring that "whoever touched as much as the finger-tip of his brother the Duke of Guise touched him in the middle of his heart." "Sire," replied Bèze, "it assuredly behoves that church of God in whose name I speak to endure blows, and not to strike them; but may it please you also to remember, that it is an anvil which has worn out many hammers." This menacing resignation was an omen of approaching calamities.

Although Anthony of Bourbon, King of Navarre, was of little value at the council-board, or in any other way than as a brave man-at-arms, his conversion and alliance were highly prized by the Catholic party, as a great diminution of the _prestige_ of the Protestants. The Duke of Guise and his brothers, the Constable, and even the Spanish ambassador Chantonnay, combined to flatter and cajole the feeble prince, who on his part knew not how sufficiently to demonstrate his zeal for Popery and his love for the family of Lorraine. On Palm Sunday he marched in procession, accompanied by his new friends and by two thousand gentlemen of their party, bearing the consecrated branches from the church of St Genevieve to that of Notre-Dame. On occasion of this solemnity it has been said that the life of the Duke of Guise was in danger--some Protestant gentlemen having offered to assassinate him, if their ministers would authorise the deed in the name of religion. This authorisation was refused; the Calvinist churchmen "with greater prudence," says M. de Bouillé, "preferring to await the result of the complaint they had made with respect to the massacre of Vassy." It is hardly fair thus to insinuate that prudential considerations alone influenced this abstinence from assassination. Guise was considered, especially after the massacre of Vassy, the most dangerous foe of the Huguenot party; and more than one plan for his murder was laid prior to that which succeeded. But there is no proof that these plots were instigated by either the chiefs or the priests of the party. On the contrary, everything concurs to stamp them as proceeding solely from the religious fanaticism or violent party spirit of individuals. During the siege of Rouen--the first important operation of the war that now broke out--"the Duke of Guise," says M. de Bouillé, "was informed that an assassin had entered the camp with the project of taking his life. He sent for and calmly interrogated him--'Have you not come hither to kill me?' he said. Surprised at his detection, and trembling with apprehension of punishment, this young gentleman of Mans at once avowed his criminal design. 'And what motive,' inquired the Duke, 'impelled you to such a deed? Have I done you any wrong?' 'No; but in so doing I should serve my religion--that is to say, the belief in the doctrine of Calvin, which I profess.' 'My religion then is better than yours,' cried Guise with a generous impulse, 'for it commands me to pardon, of my own accord, you who are convicted of guilt.' And by his orders the gentleman was safely conducted out of the camp. A fine example," exclaims M. de Bouillé, "of truly religious sentiments and magnanimous proselytism, very natural to the Duke of Guise, the most moderate and humane of the chiefs of the Catholic army; and whose brilliant generosity--true basis of the character of this great man--had been but temporarily obscured by the occurrence at Vassy!"

At this siege of Rouen, Guise performed prodigies of valour; and Anthony of Bourbon, second to none in high soldierly spirit, had his jealousy roused by the exploits of his ally. Determined also to signalise himself, he needlessly exposed his life, and was hit by an arquebuse ball. The wound was severe, and Ambrose Paré declared it mortal, in contradiction to the opinions of several other physicians, who gave hopes of cure. Ten days afterwards Rouen was taken by assault; and on learning this, the King of Navarre insisted on being carried in triumph to his quarters in the captured town. Preceded by musicians, he was borne upon his bed through the breach by a detachment of Swiss soldiers. The fatigue and excitement increased the inflammation of his wound, and hastened his death. In his last moments he showed symptoms of regretting his change of religion; but notwithstanding this tardy repentance, the Protestants, against whom since his perversion to Rome he had used great severity, rejoiced exceedingly at his death, which they celebrated as a chastisement proceeding from Heaven.