Chapter VI: Part 6

It could hardly have excited surprise, if, in a narrative of criminal assizes written by a churchman, the misdeeds of the priests had been softened down, lightly passed over, or even entirely suppressed. The least jesuitical of Abbés might have reconciled such a course to his conscience by the argument that, although the crimes of the individuals merited infamous publicity, the interests of religion and of the ecclesiastic body would suffer by their revelation. No such plausible plea is set up by Fléchier, either mentally or openly. He is unsparing in his censure of the laxity of the clergy, and records their derelictions as freely and unreservedly as those of the lay population. A sincere lover of religion, he entertained an honest detestation for those who, under its mask, violated its tenets; and he pillories a priest as readily and heartily as he does Mad Canillac, or Montvallat the extortioner, or any other of the profane and tyrannical gentry of Auvergne. And some very pretty tales he finds to tell about his brethren in black, conveying most unflattering ideas of their morality and Christian virtues. Amongst others, is that of a certain _curé_ of St Babel, who was condemned to death for murder, upon very strong evidence--a companion of the slain man having sworn positively to the murderer's identity, and there being besides a mass of circumstantial evidence. When the _curé_ had been hung his innocence was discovered. He denied to the very last moment the crime for which he suffered, avowing, however, that he was guilty of many others. And some of his offences, written down by Fléchier, deserved severe castigation, although the gallows was rather too violent a penalty for them. He was particularly blamed for his amours, and so indiscreet in the choice of time and place, that he was known to make love to a servant maid whilst her mistress lay dying in an adjoining apartment, anxiously awaiting the last sacrament. "He forgot where he was," says Fléchier, "and love overcame duty. Instead of hearing the confession of the one, he made a declaration to the other, and far from exhorting the sick woman to a pious death, he solicited the healthy one to an evil life." And then this antithetical chronicler proceeds, rather unnecessarily, to a _verbatim_ report of the libertine _curé's_ love speeches, adding, we suspect, some slight embellishments of his own. The priest's profligacy was indirectly the cause of his death, for the murder for which he undeservedly suffered was committed on a peasant who had detected him in an intrigue, and fastened him into a barn with one of the objects of his illicit flame. When, a day or two afterwards, the author of this practical joke was set upon and slain, suspicion naturally fell on him who had been its object, and he was arrested by the lieutenant of the watch, who apparently anticipated an attempt at evasion, for "he insinuated himself into his house under pretence of having masses said, and conducted him very adroitly to Clermont." Upon the day of this man's condemnation or execution, (it does not appear very clearly which of the two is meant,) a ray of sunshine again seduced Fléchier and his company out of the town, and they made an expedition to the country-house called Oradoux, then and still the property of the family of Champflour. The grounds were rendered very agreeable to the party by a multitude of purling streams, whose waters were applied to various fantastical purposes, "making very pleasant figures," as Fléchier informs us. "One finds basins supplied by a thousand streams, floating islands forming small apartments, where all manner of parties of pleasure take place; an aviary enclosing cascades, a grotto whence the water flows on all sides by a hundred little leaden tubes, and a Diana in a niche who throws up streamlets of water, and is completely covered by a liquid veil falling unceasingly and always preserving its form." Whilst perambulating these aqueous parterres, the Abbé fell in with a canon, seemingly a worthy and sensible man, who had sought that retirement with a view to serious meditation. Unrestrained by this latter consideration, Fléchier, having formed at first sight so good an opinion of the stranger's worth and wisdom, courteously addressed him. "I saluted him as civilly as I could, accosting him with a smiling air, in which was mingled, however, a little of my habitual gravity." The canon took the interruption kindly, and the pair walked and talked together. Their dialogue is given at length in the _Mémoires_, indebted, no doubt, to Fléchier's nimble pen for many flowers of style, and, perhaps, for much of the subject matter. The church of Clermont was the subject of discourse, and from the church a transition to the bishops was very easy. Various saints, and more than one sinner, had ruled the diocese of Clermont; and in the latter class was reckoned a certain Joachim d'Estaing, who had worn the mitre for the first six and thirty years of the seventeenth century. He was stone blind, but the infirmity affected him little. When overtaken by it (at an early age) he took for his motto: _Charitate et fide, non oculis, Christi diriguntur oves_. Charitable he was, faith he may have had, his cecity was perhaps no absolute impediment to the discharge of his pastoral duties; but neither charity, faith, nor blindness, sufficed to restrain him within the limits of ecclesiastical decorum. Such a rattling, love-making, rollicking boy of a bishop had seldom been heard of. His principal occupations were making war with his chapter and pleading against his canons. These maintained their privileges with much vigour and success. So that when he was on the point of death, some one having exhorted him to do good to a chapter whose tranquillity he had so long troubled:--"I have done them more good than all my predecessors," was his sharp and prompt reply, "since in pleading against them, I have established their privileges upon an immoveable basis." When overtaken by blindness, he had assigned to him, as an episcopal aide-de-camp, André de Sausia, Bishop of Bethlehem, who, proceeding to perform some particular duties in the church of Clermont, the canons shut the door against him, pretending that only the bishop of Clermont had that privilege. Thereupon M. L'Estaing, having obtained the sanction of the temporal authorities, burst open the doors with battering-rams, "not unlike those formerly used by the Romans." On another occasion, the Viscount de Polignac, governor of the province, having had a praying-desk (_prie-Dieu_) placed for him in the nave of the church, without regard to a previous warning that the King alone had that right, the blind bishop had sufficient courage and decision to expel him the sacred edifice. Fléchier does not give the details of this scandalous scene, but they are to be found in contemporary authors. The bishop, it appears, used force to expel M. de Polignac, who ordered his guards to fire, when one of the bishop's gentlemen prevented bloodshed and sacrilege by swearing that if they made a movement, he would run his sword through the Viscount's body. The bishop's firmness, although it had a degree of violence less becoming in a church dignitary than in a temporal warrior, is approved by Fléchier as an episcopal virtue. The faults he finds with the diocesan of Clermont are of a different stamp. He deplores his weaknesses, as tending, by example, to the encouragement of immorality, and to the disrepute of the church. "All the balls were held at his house, which, instead of an abode of prayer and penitence, was one of festival and rejoicing; and he appeared there not as a bishop instructing his flock, but as a gentleman in a violet coat, saying soft things to the ladies. His manner of saluting these was other than paternal; and, passing his hands over their faces, he would form an exact estimate of their appearance, never deceiving himself as to their beauty, blind though he was; having his discernment in his hands as others have in their eyes, and, like a good shepherd, knowing all his sheep." These facial manipulations were of small impropriety compared to other particulars of the bishop's conduct and discourse. Under such a prelate, the conduct of the clergy was not likely to be very exemplary, and accordingly we read that canons were seen habitually dressed in coloured clothes, throwing aside their ecclesiastical garb when service was over, and appearing covered with gay ribbons. They left the altar to run to the playhouse, escorting ladies thither, and making a scandalous mixture of worldly vanity and external piety. The parish priests were no better; and we are told of one so fond of the chase that he passed all his time in it, to the neglect of his parochial duties. To such an extent did he carry his passion for field sports, that, when conveying the consecrated wafer to a distant farm, he was known to make his clerk carry his fowling-piece, so that he might have a shot at any game he met upon the road. Which piece of profanity elicits from the worthy Fléchier an angry and indignant ejaculation. It is not surprising that, under the lax rule of Monseigneur Joachim, the clerical profession was in favour with the idle and dissolute. During his time a vast number of religious fraternities sprang up in the diocese; no less than eight convents and monasteries being established in the town of Clermont. An ordinance, published in 1651, by Jacques Pereyret, canon of the cathedral church, is directed at ecclesiastics who "frequent public games, taverns, and gambling tables; buying and selling at fairs and markets; having commerce with persons of profligate life, and abandoning themselves to all manner of vices and excesses," &c. &c. This state of things, however, was not limited to the diocese of Clermont, but was at that time only too general in France. The following is curious, on account both of the state of things it exhibits, and of the cavalier manner in which Fléchier refers to his holiness the Pope. "So great were the irregularities of the clergy of Clermont, that there exists a papal bull exempting the canons and the children they might have had, by any crime whatever, from the bishop's jurisdiction. This bull appeared to us of an extraordinary form, and we admired the effrontery of the court of Rome and of the canons of that day."

We find several ladies, amongst them some of high family and name, appearing as plaintiffs or defendants before the tribunal of the Grands Jours. The commencement of the third month's sitting, was signalised by "an audience that every body found very diverting, because there was pleaded the cause of the Countess of Saigne against her husband, on a pleasant difference they had together." The old count had committed the common blunder of marrying a young and pretty wife, who became desirous of a separation, and brought a variety of scandalous charges against him. She had the sympathy and support of many of her own sex, and especially of the _grisettes_, whom the reverend Fléchier gravely defines as "young, _bourgeoises_, having rather a bold style of gallantry, and priding themselves on much liberty." Finally, the count and countess made up their quarrel. The affair of Madame de Vieuxpont, a Norman lady, was of a more serious nature. She was arraigned for conspiracy against the _procureur du Roi_ at Evreux, against whom she conceived so violent an animosity, that she resolved to ruin him at any price, and to that end associated herself with an intendant of woods and forests, a serjeant, and three or four other persons. Her plot being ripe, she accused the obnoxious magistrate of conspiracy against the state, of having called the king a tyrant, and of a design to establish in France a republic after the model of Venice. The unfortunate functionary was arrested and sent to Paris, where he died before his trial was at an end, and narrowly escaped posthumous condemnation. At last his memory was cleared by a decision of the Chamber of Justice, and his perjured accusers were brought before the Grands-Jours. M. Talon, the public prosecutor, pressed for the perpetual banishment of Madame de Vieuxpont and the confiscation of all her property. She was even in fear of capital punishment, and her countenance brightened greatly when the decision of the court, condemning her to three years' exile and a fine of two thousand livres, was intimated to her. She was a lady of violent character, and had lived on very bad terms with her husband, in whose death some hinted her agency; but this, Fléchier charitably remarks, was perhaps a mere calumny, invented in retaliation of those wherewith she had assailed other persons. It is distinctly stated, however, that she went so far as to challenge her husband to fight a duel; and when he declined a combat in all respects so singular, her mother wounded him with a pistol-shot,--an advertisement, the Abbé quietly remarks, never to fall out with one's mother-in-law. Then we have the story of a handsome village maiden, who might have pleased the most fastidious courtiers as well as the bumpkins of Mirefleurs. She was besieged by admirers, from amongst whom she selected one whom she loved with great fidelity. And after her marriage, one of her former suitors risking a daring attempt upon her virtue, she mustered the courage of Lucretia, to protect herself from the evil designs of a modern Tarquin. Finding tears and entreaties unavailing, and as the sole means of preserving her honour, she seized a halbert that stood in a corner of the chamber, and inflicted a deadly wound on her insolent pursuer. "She pierced," says Fléchier, in his flowery style, and not in the very best taste, "the wretch's heart that burned for her; two or three ardent sighs escaped it, and he expired." The testimony of the neighbours, whom she called in, and her reputation for virtue, absolved her in the eyes of her judges. But when the Grands-Jours came, the relatives of the deceased revived the case; and that tribunal--upon what grounds it is difficult to say--condemned the woman and her family to a heavy fine. There seems to have been scanty justice. At the present day in France, the verdict of justifiable homicide does not preclude a civil action for damages; but these would now hardly be granted by any French court in such a case as the above. The justice of the Grands-Jours was evidently of a very loose description. They had not to dread the revision of a higher court, or the lash of newspaper satire; the king would not trouble himself much about them, so long as they duly scourged the tyrannical counts and barons who impoverished the country and caused discontent amongst the peasantry; and thus, unfettered by any of the usual checks, the bench of gentlemen in square caps, loose cloaks, flowing curls, and delicate moustaches, represented in the frontispiece to M. Gonod's publication, certainly did render some very inexplicable and, as it appears from Fléchier's chronicle, very iniquitous judgments. Whilst they blundered and mismanaged in their department, an elderly lady of great enterprise and activity made herself exceedingly busy in hers. It was a jurisdiction she had created for herself, without the least shadow of a right, and it is inconceivable how she was allowed to exercise, even for a day, her self-conferred authority. Madame Talon, the respectable mother of the advocate-general, had no sooner arrived at Clermont, than she undertook the whole police regulation of the town, imposing taxes, correcting weights and measures, fixing a tariff of prices, and lecturing the Clermont ladies as to the mode of distributing their alms. At last the housewives of Auvergne would stand this no longer, and then she turned her attention to monastic abuses, and hospital regulations. She was evidently an officious nuisance; and although Fléchier supports her, it is after a feeble manner, his faint praise strongly resembling condemnation. "When people do good," he says, "it is impossible to keep the world from murmuring. Some say she would do better to alter her head-dress, which is a very extraordinary one; others have remarked, that she wears a spreading cap, bearing some resemblance to a mitre, which is the livery of her mission and the character of her authority. Others complain, that she spoils every thing instead of doing good, prevents charities by her rigorous examination of charitable ladies, destroys the hospital by endeavouring to regulate it, because she sends away those who, to her thinking, are not ill enough, leaving it empty, &c., &c. And it is said, she ought not to meddle so much, examining every thing, even to a prison allowance and an executioner's wages; but," concludes the sly Abbé--who doubtless concealed a little solemn irony under this long recapitulation of charges and brief acquittal of the accused--"Virtue is generous and puts itself above all such murmurs."

Amidst the bustle of judicial proceedings, whilst each day some sanguinary drama was recapitulated before the court, whilst sentences, often of savage severity, were recorded, and executions, for the most part in effigy, were of daily occurrence, time was still found for gaiety and amusement. Balls and assemblies went on, encouraged by the President de Novion, in order to do pleasure to his daughters; and all the ladies of quality in the province, as well as those gentlemen who had managed to compound their offences, having established themselves for the time at Clermont, there was no lack of dancers. And the grave members of the tribunal did not disdain to mingle in these terpsichorean gambols. But somehow or other there was always disorder at the assemblies. Decidedly the demon of discord was abroad in Auvergne. "Sometimes the ladies quarrelled, menaced each other, after the manner of provincial dames, with what little credit they chanced to possess, and were on the point of seizing each other by the hair and fighting with their muffs. This disturbed the company, but they managed to appease the disputants; and a few more _bourrées_ and _goignades_ were danced." The _bourrée d'Auvergne_, now confined to peasants and water-carriers, was at that time a favourite and fashionable dance. "There are very pretty women here," says Madame de Sévigné, writing from Vichy, the 26th May, 1676. "Yesterday, they danced the _bourrées_ of the country, which are truly the prettiest in the world. They give themselves a great deal of movement, and _dégogne_ themselves exceedingly. But if at Versailles these dancers were introduced at masquerades, people would be delighted by the novelty, for they even surpass the _Bohemiennes_." Fléchier was scandalised by this peculiar movement or _dégognement_, esteemed so captivating by the Marchioness. He makes no doubt that these dancers are worthy successors of "the Bacchantes of whom so much is spoken in the books of the ancients. The bishop of Aleth excommunicates in his diocese those who dance in that fashion. Nevertheless, the practice is so common in Auvergne, that children learn at one time to walk and to dance."

Did space permit, we would gladly accompany the Abbé on other of the excursions in the environs of Clermont, for which he continually finds excuse in the necessity either of escorting ladies or of enjoying the winter sunbeams. As at Riom, he always manages to pick up some anonymous but intelligent acquaintance, to enlighten him concerning the gossip of the country, and to father those sallies and inuendoes of which he himself is unwilling to assume the responsibility. His account of a visit to the Dominican convent is full of quiet satire. He was accompanied by his friend Monsieur de B---- "a sensible man, well acquainted with the belles lettres, and of very agreeable conversation." M. de B---- is made the scapegoat for the sly hits at the abuses of the church, and at the pictures and records of miracles to which they are introduced by a simple and garrulous monk. There were few founders of religious orders, they were informed, of such good family as St Dominick, who was a grandee of Spain, and consequently far superior to St Ignatius, whose nobility the Jesuits vaunted, and who, after all, was but a mere gentleman. There were, of course, many pictures of the grandee upon the church and cloister walls, representing him engaged in various pious acts. "In one of them he was depicted presenting a request to the Pope, surrounded by his cardinals, whilst on the same canvass was seen the horse of Troy, dragged by Priam and by the gentlemen and ladies of the town, with all the circumstances related by Virgil in the second book of the Æneid." Fléchier was considerably puzzled by this mixture of sacred and profane personages; but his guide explained its singularity by assigning the picture to a pious and learned monk, as well read in Virgil and Homer as in his breviary, who made a good use of his reading, and was particularly happy in employing it to the glorification of God and the saints. Another picture represented a Dominican holding a pair of scales, in one of which was a basket full of fruit, and in the other an empty basket, with the inscription _Retribuat tibi Deus_. The promissory note of the Jacobins was so heavy that it outweighed the laden basket. The guide would fain have expatiated on the beauty of this allegory, suggested, as he maintained, by a miracle actually wrought in favour of his order, but Fléchier cut him short in his homily, and passed on to the next painting, the representation of one of those "piously impious" legends, as M. Gonod justly styles them, so often met with in monkish chronicles. This one, in which the Saviour of mankind is represented as supping with and converting a beautiful Roman courtesan, shocked the religious feelings of the Abbé Fléchier in the year 1666, although in the year 1832, it was not deemed too irreverent for reproduction in a work entitled "Pouvoir de Marie," written by the notorious Liguori, and published at Clermont Ferrand, by the Catholic Society for pious books. "I could not help telling him," says Fléchier, "that I had seen pictures more devout and touching than this one; that these disguises of Jesus Christ as a gallant, were rather extraordinary; that there are so many other stories more edifying, and, perhaps, truer...." Here the monk interrupted the Abbé, and was about to repeat a whole volume of miracles, compiled by one of the brotherhood, when the vesper bell summoned him to prayer, to the great relief of Fléchier, who manifestly disapproved as much the profane travesty of holy things, as the lying miracles by which the Dominicans strove to attract into their begging-box and larder the contributions of the credulously charitable.

We perhaps risk censure by terminating this paper without a more minute consideration of the Grands-Jours themselves, the ostensible subject of Fléchier's book, and without examining in greater detail the nature of the crimes and characters of the culprits brought before the arbitrary tribunal. Although we have shown that a large portion of the _Mémoires_ consists of matters wholly unconnected with the proceedings of the court, it must not be thence inferred that the Abbé neglects his reporting duties, and does not frequently apply himself to give long and elaborate accounts of the trials, especially of the criminal ones. Many of these are sufficiently remarkable to merit a place in the pages of the _Causes Célébres_. Some have actually found their way thither. In Fléchier's narrative, their interest is often obscured and diminished by wordiness and digression; and persons interested in the civil or criminal jurisprudence of the period will surely quarrel with the divine, who is a poor lawyer, apt to shirk legal points, or, when he endeavours to unravel them, to make confusion worse confounded. The state of society in Auvergne, in the seventeenth century, is exhibited in a most unfavourable light. We find a brutal and unchivalrous nobility, deficient in every principle of honour, and even of common honesty, unfeeling to their dependents, discourteous to ladies, perfidious to each other. Here we behold a nobleman of ancient name offering his adversary in a duel the choice of two pistols, from one of which he has drawn the ball, with a resolution to take his advantage if the loaded weapon is left him, and to find a pretext for discharging and reloading the other, should it fall to his share. He gets the loaded pistol, and shoots his man. A gentleman of rank and quality enforces the _droit de nôces_, formerly known in Auvergne by a less decent name--but language, as Fléchier says, purifies itself even in the most barbarous countries. And certainly there was much of the barbarian in the Auvergnat, even so late as 1666. The odious exaction referred to was compounded by payment of heavy tribute, often amounting to half the bride's dowry. The Baron d'Espinchal was another brilliant specimen of the aristocracy of Auvergne. After committing a series of crimes we have no inclination to detail, he pursued his wife (a daughter of the Marquis of Châteaumorand) with gross insult, even in her convent-sanctuary at Clermont. The unfortunate lady had contracted such a habit of fear, that she could not be in his presence without trembling; and on his putting his hand to his pocket to take out his watch, whilst separated from her by the grating of the convent parlour, she thought he was about to draw a pistol, and fell fainting from her chair. Numerous traits of this description prove baseness and brutality as well as vice on the part of the higher orders of the province, who appear to have been deficient in the military virtues and redeeming qualities sometimes found in outlawed and desperate banditti. We should have had less gratification in dwelling upon the crimes and excesses narrated in the _Mémoires_, than we have derived from the consideration of their lighter passages, and of the occasional eccentricities and many admirable qualities of their estimable and reverend author.

DON JOHN OF AUSTRIA.

DON JOHN of Austria, the illegitimate son of the Emperor Charles V. (for an account of whose life we purpose to lay under contribution several curious documents lately published at Madrid) was born in 1545. His parentage on the mother's side is not quite so certain. Brantôme, Moreri, and others, after mentioning the Countess Barbe de Blomberghe as Don John's putative mother, assert that, although Charles's mistress, she certainly was not mother to Don John, whose parentage, they hint, should be laid at the door of some far nobler dame. But Ranke, and the best informed modern historians, affirm that Barbe de Blomberghe was really Don John's mother. This lady belonged to a noble family of Flanders, and was a celebrated beauty of her day. After his love for her was extinct, Charles V. gave Barbe de Blomberghe, with a large dowry, in marriage, to a certain Seigneur Rechem, who held considerable possessions in the province of Luxemburg, and lived constantly at Antwerp.

Don John's early life was passed in the farm-house of a rich peasant in the vicinity of Liege, where the young lad was subjected to all manner of privations, and early inured to hard labour and coarse fare,--a fitting preparation for his future career. Brantôme mentions it as a fact much to Don John's credit, that, in spite of this humble education as a peasant, he showed no trace of vulgarity in after life, but, on the contrary, that he had excellent and noble manners in the field and in drawing-rooms. The emperor, Charles V., sent for the lad, when he grew up, to come to Spain, rewarded the honest peasant for his trouble, and announced to Don John the secret of his birth. Although the Emperor loved the boy as the son of his old age, he gave him nothing during his lifetime, of which the ardent young prince much complained, saying that "the Emperor, having acknowledged him as his son, should have given him the means of living befitting his rank and birth." At his death, Charles left Don John nothing but a strong recommendation to his successor Philip II. The only wish which escaped the dying monarch was, that Don John should be educated for the church.

Meanwhile, Don John, who was but one year younger than Don Carlos, was brought up with Philip's ill-starred son: and at this period of his life a circumstance occurred which greatly influenced Don John's future destiny. The boy revealed to Philip II. some hare-brained folly of his son Don Carlos. This conduct gave the Spanish monarch so high an opinion of his young brother's integrity and honour, that he determined not to follow out Charles V.'s intentions, but to educate Don John for the military, instead of the ecclesiastical profession. This was not done, however, without strong opposition from some of Philip's royal council. The conduct of Don John, however pleasing to Philip II., drew upon the young prince the bitter animosity of Don Carlos who, ever after, treated his companion with marked indignity: his hatred one day went to the length of twitting Don John with his illegitimacy. Don Carlos called him a bastard, _hijo de puta_. "Yes," said Don John, "I am a bastard; but my father is a better man than yours:" whereupon the two lads came to blows.

Passing over much of his early life, we come to the year 1569, when Don John was sent against the Moors of Grenada. In this expedition he developed considerable military talents, and gave such evidence of personal courage, that the old captains and veteran soldiers who remembered the early campaigns of his father, Charles V., called out with one accord, "Ah! this is a true son of the Emperor." _Ea! es verdadero hijo, del Emperador._ Don John returned from this campaign covered with glory, and with the reputation of being one of the best captains of the age.

Meanwhile, the infidels were making rapid progress in another part of the globe. The taking of Cyprus by the Turks alarmed all Europe to such a degree, that a league was formed between the Pope, the Venetians, and the Spanish monarch, in order to put a stop to any further inroads in this quarter; a fleet was manned, soldiers were levied, to stem the threatened invasion of Christendom. Don John, whose reputation was now exceedingly great, was selected for the command of the allied forces. It had previously been offered to the Duke of Anjou. At this time of his life, Don John was six-and-twenty, in the full bloom of youth and manly strength. Lippomano, a Neapolitan, describes him as "a person of a most beautiful presence and of wonderful grace; with but little beard and large mustachios. His complexion is fair, and he weareth his hair long and turned back over his shoulders, the which is a great ornament unto him. He dresses sumptuously, and with such care and neatness, that it is a sight to see." "Moreover," adds Lippomano, "he is active and well-made, and succeedeth beyond measure in all manly exercises."[31] No one rode, no one wielded the sword better than the young hero, who, moreover, had all the popular qualities fitted to ingratiate him with women and soldiers--he was gracious, affable, and open-handed. Even at this early age, Don John lamented that he had not already won by his own right handsome independent kingdom of his own. To the attainment of this object he looked confidently to the league or to the Venetians; and the great victory of Lepanto, which he gained at the head of the allied fleets,--to which period in the life of our hero we have now arrived,--seemed to justify his expectations; in this, however, he was doomed to be disappointed.

The battle of Lepanto was fought on the 7th October, 1571. On the side of the allies were about two hundred large galleys, six smaller ones, and twenty-two other vessels; of these, eighty-one galleys and thirty frigates belonged to Spain, the rest to his holiness the Pope, and to the Venetians. The armament on board consisted of about twenty-one thousand fighting men, of whom eleven or twelve thousand were Spaniards, the rest Italians and Germans. Don John, like a good general, had carefully seen that the galleys were well-provided with ammunition: each galley, in addition to its regular crew and armament, had one hundred and fifty extra soldiers on board. The Turkish fleet consisted of two hundred and twenty-five large galleys, and seventy other smaller vessels, on board of which were, in all, about twenty-five thousand fighting men. The Turks came sailing down the wind, full upon the allied fleet, with a confidence acquired by the frequency of their victories over the Spanish vessels, which they had been in the habit of seizing and carrying as prizes into Argel and other ports. The Turks, moreover, had the advantage of the sun in their backs, and consequently it poured its hot rays full in the face of the Christian host. Don John of Austria was at first in some trouble, as Don Alvaro de Bazan, the Marquis de Santa Cruz, commanding the Neapolitan squadron, was by some means detained behind, as well as Don Juan de Cardona, who had gone with eight galleys to reconnoitre a distant port. Don John, however, despatched a few quick-sailing frigates in search of them, the moment the Turkish fleet hove in sight. Meanwhile, Don John and the crew of his vessel, as well as the crews and soldiers of all those galleys which were near him, raised crucifixes and standards, knelt down on the decks of their vessels, and made humble supplication to the Almighty to give them the victory. Don John, with a soldier's heart, had a strong dash of the priest in his composition. Absolution was likewise given, during this interval of peace, to all who might so soon render up their souls to God, by Fray Juan Machuca, Alonso Serrano, Juan de Huarca, and other Franciscan and Capuchin friars and Jesuits who accompanied the expedition. Luckily, at this moment the wind lulled, and the Turkish squadron was forced to come slowly on with their oars. This happy incident gave Don John plenty of time to arrange his order of battle.

It was mid-day on the 7th October 1571 before the two armadas came together, and Don John fired a gun as a signal to his fleet to commence the attack. By this time, most fortunately, the Marquis de Santa Cruz, with the Neapolitan galleys, had arrived. Don John ordered all the brigantines and other light and fast-sailing vessels to retire from the scene of action, so that no one might think of escaping, but should fight to the last. When the armadas approached each other, Don John ordered the trumpets to sound the charge, and exhorted his people to prepare for action. On nearing the Turkish fleet, Don John was able to recognise the galley of the Turkish admiral, Basa Hali, (Ali Pasha) by its ensign and sacred standard. Don John ordered his own vessel to bear down upon the Turk, who reserved his fire until the Spanish vessel was within half a boat's length, when he fired three shots; the first carried away some of the bulwarks of the vessel, killing several of the galley-slaves at their oars; the second passed over the caboose or kitchen on board Don John's vessel, which was occupied by soldiers armed with arquebuses; while the third shot went over the heads of several soldiers who were intrenched in one of the boats on deck. Don John, who had likewise reserved his fire, now poured in a volley, which did infinite mischief to the Turk; and the two galleys ran into one another with a mighty crash, and got hopelessly entangled. The battle now became general, and raged furiously on both sides. No less than eleven other vessels were engaged in the immediate vicinity of Don John and Ali Pasha, and all the several crews fought hand to hand. The Turkish admiral was supported by seven other Turkish galleys, while Don John was assisted by five large vessels of his own side, of which one was the Roman galley, La Grifona, commanded by Marco Antonio Colonna, and the others were Venetian or Spanish. For one whole hour the fighting continued without either party apparently getting the best of it. Twice did the Spaniards carry the decks of the Turkish admiral's vessel, and twice were they driven back with tremendous slaughter. Once they had almost reached the Turkish flag-staff. The caboose of Don John's vessel, filled with picked men under Don Pedro Zapata, did infinite service; one man alone fired forty rounds of cartridge. At the end of an hour and a half's hard fighting, victory inclined to the side of the Spaniards. The Pasha and above five hundred of his men were killed, his sons made prisoners, his standard pulled down, and the Cross planted in its stead. About the same time the other galleys near Don John's vessel likewise forced their way through the Turkish squadron. Don John now ordered victory to be loudly proclaimed, and had time to look about him, so as to bring assistance where it was most needed.

On his return from his reconnoitering cruise, Don Juan de Cardona, admiral of the Sicilian forces, had fallen in with some fifteen Turkish galleys, which he kept employed until Don John of Austria bore down triumphantly to his assistance, and captured the infidels. Of five hundred Spaniards who were with Don Juan de Cardona, not fifty escaped without a wound of some sort. It was in this same battle of Lepanto that Miguel Cervantes lost his arm, and most of our readers will recollect how the brave soldier tells the story of his own life in the fortieth chapter of Don Quixote de la Mancha. The Marquis de Santa Cruz fought most bravely, and twice narrowly escaped death--two shots from an arquebuse glanced off from his armour of proof. In this battle the Turks lost 117 galleys and some other smaller vessels; 117 cannon, 17 mortars and 256 smaller guns, and 3,486 slaves; all which booty was divided among the Spaniards, the Venetians, and the Pope. The sacred standard of Mecca, of which Luis Marmol has written a glowing description, was sent, together with the news of this great victory, to Philip II., and reached the Escurial in November 1571. This standard was about as large as a sheet; the white ground was covered with writing in the Arabic character, and most of the letters were gilt. It was burnt in the great fire which destroyed the monastery of the Escurial in 1671, just one hundred years after it had graced those walls.

When the news of this great victory reached Philip II., he was attending vespers at the church of the Escurial. A loud "_Te Deum laudamus_" was immediately sung with the whole strength of the choir, and the following day a solemn procession took place "_in gratiarum actione_," at which the austere monarch assisted. We cannot do better than quote a short letter, written to Philip's trusty and confidential secretary, Antonio Perez, by one Francisco Murillo, who was engaged in the battle of Lepanto; the letter is dated the 9th October 1571, two days after the victory.

"Illustrious Sir,--_Te Deum laudamus, te Deum confitemur!_ God and his illustrious Mother have been pleased to give us the victory over the Turkish fleet, and His omnipotence hath been most clearly made known, inasmuch as this proud and great armada hath been broken and conquered. We fought valiantly some two or three hours; many of our galleys were engaged with two, three, or four of the enemy's vessels. The number of the Turkish vessels, as far as I could learn, amounted to about 270, rather more than less; in the which they had stowed as many men at arms as they could collect in all Greece, both cavalry and infantry, the best they could find; and they were directed to come in search of us--for such were the orders from Constantinople. Some of the vessels of the armada, and some foot-soldiers, having been despatched on the approach of Don John of Austria, to consult with the Turk as to what was to be done, the Seignior ordered the Turkish fleet to seek until it found us. Nor had they much trouble therein: for the very same morning on which they left the port with this intent, namely, on Sunday the 7th October, the day of St Mark, Pope and Confessor, the two fleets came in sight of each other, near some islands called Le Corcholare, (?) whither they were coming with the same intent as ourselves, namely, to anchor. When we made this mutual discovery, nothing was to be done save to prepare for action. The Turks were amazed at the smallness of our number, and thought that we should fly; but they were speedily undeceived, and very much to their cost; for, in the short space of time I have mentioned, not a vessel of theirs but was taken, sunk, or burnt, or had fled. Many escaped by running their smaller vessels ashore, and Uchali,[32] with a part of his galliots, escaped. The Admiral Pasha died fighting, but his two young sons were taken. Many other notorious corsairs were likewise taken or killed. I cannot exactly say the number of vessels taken or destroyed; but I think for certain they are above two hundred; and the best is that, of our squadron, no captain-general or person of any importance is missing or even wounded; of the others I only know of Captain Francisco de Cordoba, the nephew of the Marquis of Santa Cruz, who was killed by an arquebuse-shot; of other folk but few are killed or wounded. It is the work of God and not of man. You will be pleased to hear that not one of our vessels but has another in tow, which it has taken, and that we all did well. The galley in which I was did the least of all; we fought the Turk who was opposed to us, attacked the infidels' vessel by the poop, throwing into it shot, stones, and fire until it surrendered; and we captured two flags which hung at the stern. Some soldiers got good booty in clothes. After this we secured some others, and drove so many ashore that it is a shame to tell; and in all our vessel we had not so much as six wounded, and not one killed. Many of our galley-slaves who were released fought like lions, and restored to liberty an infinite number of Christian captives who were in the Turkish fleet; among these were more than 2,000 Spaniards, and many women and children whom the Turks had seized in Cephalonia and other parts. Had not the season been so far advanced, we might have gone safely as far as Constantinople; at any rate we might have taken all Greece and the Morea; but it is already winter, and, moreover, we have not sufficient provisions aboard.

"Don Bernardino de Cardenas died of a spent ball from an arquebuse, which struck him on the breast; although the ball did not enter the flesh, Don Bernardino fell and never rose again. The Count de Bianco, and a few other gentle folks, likewise fell fighting valiantly. Captain Juan Rubio is safe and sound, after performing marvels with his crew; for he fought with three large galleys at once, and made them all yield; but neither he nor I have got a single maravedi. It would have been no bad thing to have stumbled across a good purse full of ducats. But you, sir, will remember your servants; we have no hope from any one after you but in God, who we pray may keep you and your house in that health and in that increase of wealth which we, your servants, do desire. From Le Corchorale, this 9th October 1571. Illustrious sir, I kiss your hands. I entreat you to send a servant with this, on the first opportunity, to my brother the canon. I take this liberty as the affair is of importance."[33]

Two years after the battle of Lepanto, Don John of Austria gained fresh laurels at Tunis and Biserta: and these victories seem to have confirmed him in his ambitious projects of obtaining an independent kingdom. Juan Soto, a man of much experience in military matters, who, at the time of the expedition to Grenada, had been placed about his person as secretary by Ruy Gomez de Silva, Prince of Eboli, and who had served with Don John all through the Moorish and Italian campaign, appears to have much encouraged Don John in these ambitious aspirations. By allusions to the former pomp and splendour of ancient Carthage, Juan Soto inspired Don John with the idea of erecting Tunis into an independent kingdom; the Pope even was induced to recommend this scheme to Philip II.'s favourable consideration. But the monarch had no wish to lose so able a general as Don John, to whom he looked for the extension of the Spanish monarchy; still less could he think of establishing a rival and independent kingdom at Tunis. A despatch was therefore forwarded to Don John, in which all the reasons for the dismantling of Tunis were urgently put. But Don John disobeyed orders, and fortified the town, in the vain hope of erecting Tunis into the capital of his future kingdom. Shortly afterwards, the town fell again into the hands of the Turks. Juan Soto was shrewdly suspected at head-quarters of advising this act of disobedience to royal orders. It was therefore deemed expedient to remove the scheming and dangerous secretary; but some prudence was necessary lest Don John might see through the suspicions of the Spanish court. Juan Soto was accordingly rewarded by promotion, and made Proveedor-general of the armada. Juan Escovedo, a creature of Philip II., who, as we shall subsequently see, became far more dangerous than his predecessor in office, was placed about Don John as his secretary. Soto, however, was too useful to Don John to be so easily parted with, and we still find him acting, in conjunction with Escovedo, in the capacity of secretary, as late as 1577. Philip II. soon discovered to his cost that the change of secretaries brought no change of policy; nay, Escovedo proved a more willing tool, and inspired Don John with far loftier schemes of ambition than Soto, his predecessor in office, had ever conceived.

In the year 1576 Philip II. thought fit to take Don John of Austria from the scenes of his triumph in the Mediterranean, and to remove him from his dreams of independent kingdoms at Tunis into the midst of European intrigues. Don John was sent to take command of the forces in the Low Countries, where the ferocious and iron rule of the Duke of Alva, and of his successor, Don Luis de Requesens, the commendador mayor of Castile, had plunged the Flemings deeper into rebellion, and had obliterated the little loyalty to the crown of Spain which still lingered in the Low Countries. Don John was selected for this post from his likeness to his father, the late Emperor Charles V., whose memory the Flemings still cherished, and from his connexion with the country, his supposed mother belonging to one of the best families in Flanders. For these reasons, this appointment was held likely to be popular, and to lead to good results. Don John was ordered to proceed without delay to his new government; and his secretary, Escovedo, came to Madrid to procure money and other matters necessary for his master's new office.

While Escovedo was in Madrid, apparently engaged in these details, Antonio Perez, Philip's confidential secretary, accidentally discovered from the Pope's nuncio, who asked him if there was about the court such a person as one Escovedo,[34] that Don John's ambitious views were by no means extinguished. As his brother's policy would not permit him to found a new empire at Tunis, the Pope, the Guises, and Don John had planned an expedition for the conquest of England. Mary, queen of Scots, was to be released from prison; Elizabeth dethroned; England brought back to the bosom of the Catholic church under the guidance of Mary, queen of Scots, and her new husband, Don John of Austria--for this marriage formed part of the project. Here was a scheme to captivate an ambitious, chivalrous young prince! The nuncio in answer told Perez that, in a despatch which he had received from Rome, he was instructed to interest Philip II. in this expedition, and to request the Spanish monarch to aid Don John in this meditated attempt upon England. This was not quite new to Perez; some vague surmises had already been excited against the doings of Escovedo and Don John, by hints thrown out by Don Juan de Zuniga, the Spanish minister in Rome, whose suspicions had been excited by the frequent communications between Escovedo, the Pope, and the Guises. Antonio Perez, now that he held the threads of the plot in his hand, instantly informed Philip of the whole project. At this inauspicious moment Don John himself, against Philip's peremptory orders to proceed direct to the Netherlands, reached Barcelona, with two fast-sailing galleys, and hurried on to Madrid, where he found his brother Philip fully apprised of his scheme. But such was Don John's manly air, such the influence which his straight-forward conduct exercised over the suspicious nature of Philip II., that the Spanish monarch yielded a reluctant assent to his brother's plans of aggrandisement, and promised to allow him to make use of the Spanish veterans in aid of his expedition against England, after he had pacified the Low Countries. Perez says that Philip consented to this scheme with the view of encouraging Don John of Austria to use greater diligence in Flanders. Full, therefore, of his new government and of his own ambitious projects, Don John left Spain; and on the 17th October 1576, we find the following letter from him to his friend and adviser Don Garcia de Toledo, Marquis of Villa Franca, whose reputation as a general was founded upon the capture from the Moors of the impregnable fortress of El Peñon de Velez.

"....Concerning my own journey I desire to say as much as the time will allow me, leaving to others to tell you more at length how I shall go. I journey to Flanders in disguise through France, and, next to God, the disguise will save me. I go, not a little contented to be able to do you some service;--(Don John had busied himself much in procuring for Don Garcia the promise of a grandeeship of the first class);--"desiring to encounter perils, and by no means fatiguing myself with these new labours which I have undertaken. Money is short, and my present necessities great. In the end God hath to take up this his cause in every way, and to aid me individually with a miracle. You must let me know where I shall receive your letters, and I will advise you, God willing, of my safe arrival: and I beseech you to tell me alway of your health, and to advertise me, as is your habit, of your opinion as to my doings; and to make use of me in all ways as a sincere friend, and as such I congratulate you on the marriage of Don Pedro, and on the state in which the Señora Doña Elvira is; and may it all turn out as you may best desire. From the Pardo, the 17th Oct., 1576. At your service, DON JUAN."[35]

We gather the particulars of his journey through France from Brantôme, who says that "Don John without any great suite, and in order to go with greater certainty, rode post with six companions only; having with him Señor Don Otavio Gonzagua as his confidant, and a French postilion, whom he found in Spain, as his guide; the latter was, moreover, an excellent companion, and knew every road, lane, and bye-path in France. This man led Don John across France in most dangerous and unquiet times: in Guyenne they were on the eve of a war, which indeed broke out some three months after. Don John arrived in Paris, and got off his horse at the hotel of the Spanish Ambassador in the street of St Anthoine."[36] That same night he seems to have gone to a great ball at the Louvre, where he was much struck with the beauty of the Queen of Navarre, before whom he stood like one entranced. The following day, Don John, still full of Marguerite of Navarre, saw the palace and the other sights of Paris, and started again on his journey,--no one having an idea, till he was gone, that he had been in Paris at all. He travelled again in disguise, and on horseback, to the Duchy of Luxemburg, and thence to Flanders, where he found that Antwerp had just been taken and sacked. Shortly after his arrival peace was concluded; one of the first conditions of which was the departure of all Spanish troops by land. We shall see that they were forced to go to Italy instead of by sea to England, and were said to be so charged with booty that they could scarce walk. We find Don John writing in the following terms to Don Garcia de Toledo, on the 21st February, 1577, after peace had been concluded.