CAMEO V. Coronation Medicis. 1610. Marie de Medicis did however insist, and after three days of disputing the workmen continued, and the day was fixed for the 13th of May, the State entrance into Paris for the 16th. Sully fell ill from the of Marie de effects of an old wound; the Count of Soissons took offence and retired into the country, because the Queen's mantle was embroidered with fleurs de lys-a distinction which he said belonged only to princes of the blood, and almost all the King's oldest friends were absent. The coronation was performed by the Cardinal de Joyeuse, the same who had become a priest in his grief for the loss of his young wife. Henri himself did not appear publicly, but looked on from a private chapel. He was very cheerful during the greater part of the day, but at the height of the splendid ceremonial he shuddered, and whispered to the friend beside him "How would all this appear if this were the Last Day, and the Judge were suddenly to show Himself?" It was remarked by some that the Gospel for the day, which had been suppressed by that for the coronation service, was the 19th chapter of S. Matthew, verse 3, "Is it lawful for a man to put away his wife for every cause?" Henri was not quite himself the next day, and said to the Duke of Guise and to Bassompierre "When I am dead you will know what I am worth." Bassompiere asked how he could so speak in full health and power, with everything imaginable to enjoy ? "Friend, I must leave it all," he answered. A woman with some difficulty forced her way to the Queen and warned her that a man was come out of the Duke of Epernon's country to kill the King, but Marie did not understand her, and said she was a wicked woman who accused everybody. Sully was still confined to his room at the Arsenal, and the King wanted to see him after dinner, but was in two minds about going, saying to the Queen "Ma mie, shall I go? shall I not?" He even came back several times to the room, saying again, "Shall I go?" and the last time he kissed the Queen several times, saying, "Adieu;" but adding, "I shall only go and come. I shall be back again instantly." At the bottom of the steps, where the carriage awaited him, he found Praslin, the captain of his guard, ready to attend him, but he dismissed him, saying he wanted no one. The carriage had all the windows open. By his side was the Duke of Epernon, opposite the Marquis of Mirabeau, and Liancourt his equerry. In the wings which projected at the doors sat four more gentlemen. On coming to the Croix du Tiroir, he was asked where he would go. He said to S. Innocent, near the end of the Rue S. Honoré. A waggon was in the way, and the horses had to draw nearer the ironmongers' shops, and to slacken their pace, but without stopping. Close to a shop whose CAMEO V. Assassination of Henri IV. 1610. sign, curiously enough, was a crowned heart pierced by an arrow, a man "I am wounded!" M. de Montbazon asked "What is it, sire?" "Nothing," he replied, and these were the only words he spoke. Some of the gentlemen sprang after the murderer, and seized him. Epernon spread his cloak over the King, the coach was closed and turned. At the foot of the steps of the Louvre, wine was poured down Henri's throat, and when his head was raised, he moved his eyes but closed them. He was carried into the palace, and laid on the nearest bed. One of his councillors laid the cross of his order on his mouth, and spoke of God. The physician stood weeping, his surgeons were about to seek for the wound, but he gave a slight sigh, and the physician exclaimed "It is over!" Instantly the Chancellor Sillery and two others ran into the Queen's apartment. She had heard of the wound, and cried "Hélas, the King is dead." 66 Madame, you are mistaken," said Sillery, "the King of France never dies." She had not cared for her husband enough to be prostrated with grief, and there was a moment of alarm lest a Spanish plot should have caused the murder, and the days of the League were to begin. Sully, on the first tidings, had mounted with forty more, and was riding to the Louvre when he met Guise and Bassompierre who told him the King had expired. "Messieurs,” he cried, "if your duty you vowed to the King is as strong in you as it should be in all good Frenchmen, swear to show the same fidelity to his son, and to shed your blood to avenge his death." "Monsieur," returned Bassompierre, oath. We need not be exhorted." 66 we are making others take the Sully, however, shut himself up in the Bastille, collected bread from the bakers and markets, and sent orders to his son-in-law, the Duke de Rohan, to bring 6,000 Swiss troops to the neighbourhood of Paris. The crown, however, was in no danger. The assassin denied that he had any accomplices. Everybody paid ready homage to the little eight-year-old Louis XIII. Sully came to the Louvre, and the Queen told her boy that here was one of his father's most faithful servants, and on the next day, she herself took the child to the Parliament, and was confirmed by it in the regency. The Princes of the blood royal, who should have shared it with her, were absent, and Marie de Medicis, with her Italian favourites, Concini and his wife, became the rulers of France. The murderer was a fanatic schoolmaster, named François Ravaillac, who had come from Angoulême, driven on by hallucinations to hinder the King from the war, which he considered to be against the Holy Father the Pope, and to summon him to force the heretics back into the Church. His visions finally led him on from designs of expostulation to an impulse of murder. No torture availed to draw from him any admissions that he had been instigated by any one. When he was brought out for execution on a hurdle to the Place de la Grève, there was such a shout of execration as seemed to bring Heaven and earth together, and this was the only thing that seemed to shake the firmness of the wretched man, who had fancied the people would have been with him. For two hours the executioners tore out pieces of his flesh with red-hot pincers, but all the time he repeated— "I alone did it." At last, as horses were being fastened to his limbs to wrench them asunder, he murmured an entreaty that a "Salve Regina" might be said for his soul; but there was a savage roar in reply Let him perish like Judas!" The book defending tyrannicide, was ordered, by the Parliament of Paris, to be burnt by the hangman, while Father Cotton declared it to have been long since disavowed and condemned by the Jesuits. Yet no doubt, whatever they might now feel, the deaths of Henri III. and IV., and the designs on Elizabeth and James I., sprang from the past policy which had used murder against William the Silent. And thus, in Henri IV., passes away one of the most attractive figures in history. His ready kindness, his buoyant spirits, his unfailing good-humour, and the generous sweetness with which he forgave his enemies, his genuine love for his people, endear him so much that it is true of him even outwardly that his charity covers a multitude of sins. Yet those very charms made the effect of his example more mischievous. His shameless licentiousness might have done less harm had he not been so great a man. In truth, the Court of France under Catherine de Medicis had been such a school of every sort of vice, that no one could emerge from it untainted, and perhaps the only marvel was that Henri preserved his sense of Christian honour and mercy intact while his morality was so utterly destroyed. He had not, by any means, lost the sense of religion, and was no hypocrite when he joined the Roman Catholic Church; but his conscience had been seared in the seething caldron of vice to which he had been exposed in early youth. Called before his Judge in his full career, without an hour to turn to CAMEO V. Death of Henri IV. 1610. CAMEO V. Character of Henri IV. 1610. Him and ask for pardon, we can only hope that one who had always been ready to show mercy and to forgive others, found mercy in his turn. Even now, at this distance of time, there is something so lovable about him that we can feel how his Roman Catholic subjects must have prayed that the soul, "unhouselled, disappointed, unannealed,' might find forgiveness for the sins not yet, alas ! discarded nor repented. It would have needed a very winning prince to overcome the national CAMEO VI. dislike to a Scot in England, and James I. certainly had no charm of person, manner, or wit. Perhaps one cause of the tranquillity of his reign was, that he was so much laughed at that people never seriously thought of blaming him for their grievances. Or if they approached him in displeasure, one of his pawky unexpected replies would disconcert them, and turn the tables on them. And he was by no means offended at a cleverly administered rebuke. Once when he was hunting at Royston, his favourite hound, Jowler, was lost for a night, but was recovered the next day with a paper sticking in his collar, on which was written, "Good Mr. Jowler, we pray you speak to the King (for he hears you every day, and so he doth not us), that it please his Majesty to go back to London, for else the country will be undone; all our provision is spent, and we shall not be able to maintain him any longer." The King took the jest in good part, but he still remained a fortnight longer, eating up the provisions of the poor Hertfordshire people without remorse. This right of purveyance, namely, of forcing the sale of provisions for the use of the royal household, was one of the standing grievances of the age, and was classed with the monopolies, giving exclusive rights to sell certain articles, and the power of imprisonment during the King's pleasure. Poor Jowler was killed by a chance bolt from the Queen's crossbow. The King stormed over his dead favourite, till he heard who had shot the bolt. Then to console his wife for the damage she had done, and to assure her of his forgiveness, he sent her a jewel worth 2,000l. Another grievance for which he was not responsible so much as were the nobles and gentry of the country, was the inclosing of common |