Born: Dr. Isaac Watts,
well-known divine and writer of hymns, 1674,
Southampton; Adrian Reland, oriental scholar and
author, 1676, Ryp, North Holland.
Died: Robert Guiscard
the Norman, Duke of Apulia,1085, Corfu; Jacques
Arteveldt, brewer in Ghent, and popular leader, slain,
1344; John Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury, English general
in France, killed before Ch�tillon, 1453; Janet,
Lady Glammis, burned as a witch on Castle Hill of
Edinburgh, 1537; Marchioness of Brinvilliers, noted
poisoner, executed at Paris, 1676; Sir William
Wyndham, noted Tory orator, 1740, Wells, Sonersetshire;
Charlotte Corday, assassin of
Marat, guillotined,
1793; Dr. John Roebuck, distinguished manufacturing
chemist, and founder of the Carron Ironworks, 1794;
Charles, second Earl Grey, prime minister to William
IV, 1845.
Feast Day: Saints
Speratus and his companions, martyrs, 3rd century. St. Marcellina,
eldest sister of St. Ambrose, about 400.
St. Alexius, confessor, 5th century. St. Ennodius,
bishop of Pavia, confessor, 521. St. Turninus,
confessor, 8th century. St. Leo IV, pope and
confessor, 855.
THE
MARCHIONESS OF BRINVILLIERS
It is a melancholy fact that
the progress of civilization, along with the
innumerable benefits which it confers on the human
race, tends to develop and bring forth a class of
offences and crimes which are almost, if not wholly,
unknown in the earlier and less sophisticated stages
of society. Whilst violence and rapine are
characteristics of primitive barbarism and savage
independence, commercial fraud and murder by treachery
but too often spring up as their substitutes in
peaceful and enlightened times. As long as human
nature continues the same, and its leading principles
have ever hitherto been unchanging, so long must the
spirit of evil find some mode of expression, veiled
though it may be under an infinite variety of
disguises, and yet not without undergoing a gradual
softening down which optimists would fondly regard as
a promise of its ultimate suppression.
The crime of poisoning, it has
often been remarked, is like assassination�the
offspring of a polished and voluptuous age. In proof
of this, we need only look to its horrible and
astounding frequency in Italy and France during the
sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. One of the most
notable instances of its occurrence is the case of the
Marchioness of Brinvilliers, whose nefarious
practices, coupled with her distinguished rank, have
exalted her to the very pinnacle of infamy. She was
the daughter of M. Dreux d'Aubray, who held the office
of lieutenant-civil in the capital of France during
the reign of Louis XIV.
In 1651, she was married to
the Marquis of Brinvilliers, a son of the president of
the Chamber of Accounts, and the heir of an immense
fortune, to which his wife brought a very considerable
accession. The marchioness is described as a woman of
most pre-possessing appearance, both as regards
agreeableness of person and as impressing the beholder
with a sense of virtue and amiability. Never was the
science of physiognomy more completely stultified.
Beneath that fair and attractive exterior was
concealed one of the blackest and most depraved hearts
that ever beat within a female bosom. A career of
degrading sensuality had, as afterwards appeared by
her own confession, exerted on her its natural and
corrupting influence almost from her childhood. No
special evidence of its fruits, however, became
prominently manifest till her acquaintance with a
certain Sieur Godin, commonly called St. Croix, who
had made her husband's acquaintance in the course of
military service, and for whom the latter conceived
such an overweening affection that he introduced him
into, and made him an inmate of, his house.
An
intimacy, which was soon converted into a criminal
one, sprang up between him and the
marchioness, who also not long afterwards procured a
separation from her husband on the ground of his
pecuniary recklessness and mismanagement. Freed now
from all the restraints by which she had hitherto been
held, she indulged so shamelessly her unlawful passion
for St. Croix, that public decency was scandalised,
and her father, after several ineffectual attempts to
rouse M. de Brinvilliers to a sense of his conjugal
degradation, procured a lettre de cachet, by which
her paramour was committed to the Bastile. Here St.
Croix became acquainted with an Italian named Exili,
an adept in poisons, who taught him his arts, and on
their release, after about a twelvemonth's
confinement, became an inmate of his house. The
intimacy of St. Croix with the marchioness was at the
same time renewed, but more cautiously, so as to save
appearances, and even to enable the latter to regain
the affection of her father; a necessary step towards
the accomplishment of the schemes in view. Avarice and
revenge now conspired with illicit love, and the
horrid design was conceived of poisoning her father
and the other members of her family, so as to render
herself sole heir to his property. Tutored by St.
Croix, she mixed up poison with some biscuits which
she distributed to the poor, and, more especially, to
the patients of the H�tel Dieu, as an experiment to
test the quantity necessary for a fatal effect.
Having thus prepared herself
for action, the marchioness commenced with the murder
of her father, which she effected by mixing some
poison with his broth when he was residing at his
country seat. The symptoms ordinarily exhibited in
such cases ensued, but the patient did not die till
after his return to Paris. No suspicions on this
occasion seem to have rested on the marchioness, who
forthwith proceeded to effect the deaths of her two
brothers, one of whom succeeded their father in his
office of lieutenant-civil, and the other was a
counsellor of the parliament of Paris. This she
accomplished by means of a man named La Chauss�e, who
had formerly lived as a footman with St. Croix, and
then transferred his services to the brothers D'Aubray,
who occupied together the same house. Under the
guidance of his former master, this miscreant
administered poison to them on various occasions,
which destroyed first the lieutenant and then the
counsellor; but so well had the semblance of fidelity
been maintained, that the latter bequeathed to La
Chauss�e a legacy of a hundred crowns in
consideration of his services. One member of the
marchioness's family still remained, her sister
Mademoiselle D'Aubray, whose suspicions, how-ever,
were now aroused against her sister, and by her
vigilance and circumspection she escaped the snares
laid for her life.
The singular deaths of M.
D'Aubray and his sons excited considerable attention,
and the belief came to be strongly entertained that
they had been poisoned. Yet no suspicion alighted on
the marchioness or St. Croix, and they might have
succeeded in escaping the punishment due to their
crimes, had it not been for a singular accident.
Whilst the latter was busied one day with the
preparation of his poisons, the mask which he wore to
protect himself from their effects dropped off, and he
was immediately suffocated by the pernicious vapours.
Having no relations to look after his property, it was
taken possession of by the public authorities, who, in
the course of their rummaging, discovered a casket,
disclosing first a paper in the handwriting of the
deceased, requesting all the articles contained in it
to be delivered unexamined to the Marchioness de
Brinvilliers. These consisted of packets of various
kinds of poison, a promissory-note by the marchioness
in St. Croix's favour for 1500 livres, and a number of
her letters to him, written in the most extravagantly
amatory strain. Even now, had it not been for the
imprudence of La Chausse'e in presenting sundry claims
on St. Croix's succession, it might have been
difficult to substantiate his guilt and that of his
employers. He was indicted at the instance of the
widow of the lieutenant-civil, the younger D'Aubray;
and having been brought before the parliament of
Paris, was condemned to be broken alive on the wheel,
after having been first subjected to the torture for
the discovery of his accomplices. On the rack, he made
a full confession; in consequence of which a demand
was made on the authorities of Liege for the tradition
to the French government of the Marchioness of
Brinvilliers, who had fled thither on hearing of the
proceedings instituted after the death of St. Croix.
This abandoned woman had,
previous to quitting Paris, made various attempts, by
bribery and otherwise, to obtain possession of the
fatal casket; but finding all these ineffectual, made
her escape by night across the frontier into the
Netherlands. Given up here by the Council of Sixty of
Liege to a company of French archers, she was
conducted by them to Paris, not without many offers,
on her part, of large sums of money to the officers to
let her go, and also an endeavour to commit suicide by
swallowing a pin. Previous to, and during her trial,
she made the most strenuous declarations of her
innocence; but the accumulated proof against her was
overwhelming; and, notwithstanding the very ingenious
defence of her counsel, M. Nivelle, she was found
guilty by the parliament, and condemned to be first
beheaded and then burned. This sentence was pronounced
on the 16th of July 1676, and executed the following
day.
On hearing the verdict against
her, she retracted her former protestations, and made
a full and ample confession of her crimes. One of the
doctors of the Sorbonne, M. Pirot, who attended her as
spiritual adviser during the twenty-four hours'
interval between her sentence and death, has left a
most fervid description of her last moments. According
to his account, she manifested so sincere and pious a
contrition for her enormities, and gave such
satisfactory evidences of her conversion, that he, the
confessor, would have been willing to exchange places
with the penitent! The great painter, Le Brun, secured
a good place for himself at her execution, with the
view of studying the features of a condemned criminal
in her position, and transferring them to his canvas.
We are informed also, that among the crowds who
thronged to see her die were several ladies of
distinction. This last circumstance can hardly
surprise us, when we recollect that, three quarters of
a century later, the fashion and beauty of Paris sat
for a whole day to witness, as a curious spectacle,
the barbarities of the execution of Damiens.
CHARLES VII OF FRANCE AND JEANNE DARC
This day is memorable in the
history of France, as that on which it may be
considered to have been saved from the lowest state of
helpless wretchedness to which foreign invasion had
ever reduced that kingdom �at least, since the
invasions of the Normans. Under a succession of
princes, hardy raised above imbecility, torn to pieces
by the feuds of a selfish and rapacious aristocracy,
the kingdom of France had seen its crown surrendered
to a foreigner, the king of England; its legitimate
monarch, a weak-minded and slothful prince, had been
driven into almost the last corner of his kingdom
which was able to give him a shelter, and almost his
last stronghold of any importance was in imminent
danger of falling into the hands of his enemies, when,
by a sudden turn of fortune, on the 17th of July 1429,
Charles VII, relieved from his dangers, was crowned at Rheims, and all this
wonderful revolution was the work
of a simple peasant-girl.
The very origin, and much of
the private history of this personage are involved in
mystery, and have furnished abundant subjects of
discussion for historians. There is even some doubt as
to her real name; but the French antiquaries seem now
to be agreed that it was Dare, and not D'Arc, and that
it had no relation whatever to the village of Arc,
from which it was formerly supposed to be derived.
Hence the name of Joan of Arc, by which she is
popularly known in England, is a mere mistake. There
was the more room for doubt about her name, because in
France, during her lifetime, she was usually spoken of
as La Pucelle, or The Maid; or at most she was called
Jeanne la Pucelle�Jeanne the Maid.
Jeanne was born at Donremi, a small village on the river
Meuse, at the
extremity of the province of Champagne, it is supposed
in the latter part of the year 1410, and was the
youngest child of a respectable family of labouring
peasants, named Jacques and Isabelle Dare. The girl
appears to have laboured from childhood under a
certain derangement of constitution, physically and
mentally, which rendered her mind peculiarly open to
superstitious feelings, and made her subject to
trances and visions.
The prince within whose territory
her native village stood, the Duke of Bar, was a
stanch partisan of Charles VII, who, as he had never
been crowned, was still only spoken of as the dauphin,
while on the other side of the river lay the territory
of the Duke of Lorraine, an equally violent adherent
of the Duke of Burgundy and the English party. It is
not surprising, therefore, if the mind of the young
Jeanne became preoccupied with the troubles
of her unhappy country; the more so as she appears to
have possessed much that was masculine in form and
character. Under such feelings she believed at length
that she saw in her visions St. Michael the Archangel,
who came to announce to her that she was destined to
be the saviour of France, and subsequently introduced
to her two female saints, Catherine and Margaret, who
were to be her guides and protectors. She believed
that her future communications came from these, either
by their appearance to her in her trances, or more
frequently by simple communications by a voice, which
was audible only to herself.
She stated that she had been
accustomed to these communications four or five years,
when, in June 1428, she first communicated the
circumstance to her parents, and declared that the
voice informed her that she was to go into France to
the Dauphin Charles, and that she was to conduct him
to Rheims, and cause him to be crowned there. An
uncle, who believed at once in her mission, took her
to Vaucouleurs, the only town of any consequence in
the neighbourhood, to ask its governor, Robert de
Baudricourt, to send her with an escort to the court
of the dauphin; but he treated her statement with
derision, and Jeanne returned with her uncle to his
home. However, the story of the Maid's visions had now
been spread abroad, and created a considerable
sensation; and Robert de Baudricourt,
thinking that
her story and her enthusiasm might be turned to some
account, sent a report of the whole affair to court.
News arrived about this time
of the extreme danger of Orleans, closely besieged by
the English, and, in the midst of the excitement
caused by this intelligence, Jeanne spoke with so much
vehemence of the necessity of being immediately sent
to the dauphin, that two young gentlemen of the
country, named Jean de Novelonpont and Bertrand de
Poulengi, moved by her words, offered to conduct her
to Chinon, where Charles was then holding his court.
This, however, was rendered unnecessary by the arrival
of orders from the court, addressed to Robert de
Baudricourt. It appears that Charles's advisers
thought also that some use might be made of the
maiden's visions, and Baudricourt was directed to send
her immediately to Chinon. The inhabitants of
Vaucouleurs subscribed the money to pay the expenses
of her journey, her uncle and another friend bought
her a horse, and Robert de Baudricourt gave her a
sword; and she cut her hair short, and adopted the
dress of a man. Thus equipped, with six attendants,
among whom were the two young gentlemen just
mentioned, Jeanne left Vaucouleurs on the 18th of
February 1429, and, after escaping some dangers on the
way, arrived at Chinon on the 24th of the same month.
Such is the account of the
commencement of Jeanne's mission, as it came out at a
subsequent period on her trial. On her arrival at
Chinon, Charles VII appears to have become ashamed of
the whole affair, and it was not till the 27th, after
various consultations with his courtiers and
ecclesiastics, that he at length consented to see her.
No doubt, every care had been taken to give effect to
the interview, and when first introduced, although
Charles had disguised himself so as not to be
distinguished from his courtiers, among whom he had
placed himself, she is said to have gone direct to him, and fallen on her
knees before him, and, among other things to have
said: 'I tell thee from the Lord, that thou art the
true heir of France, and the son of the king.' This
declaration had a particular importance, because it
had been reported abroad, and seems to have been very
extensively believed, that Charles was illegitimate.
Charles now acknowledged that he was perfectly
satisfied of the truth of the Maid's mission, and the
belief in it became general, and was confirmed by the
pretended discovery of a prophecy of Merlin, which
foretold that France was to be saved by a virgin, who
was to come from the Bosc-Chesnu.
This, which meant
the Wood of Oaks, was the name of the wood on the edge
of which her native village of Domremi stood. Other
precautions were taken, for it was necessary to dispel
a prejudice which was rising against her�namely, that
she was a witch�and she was carried to Poitiers, to be
examined before a meeting of the ecclesiastics of
Charles's party, who were assembled there, and who
gave their opinion in her favour. She then returned to
Chinon, while the young Duke of Alencon went to Blois,
to collect the soldiers and the convoy of provisions
and munitions of war, which the maiden was to conduct
into Orleans. Jeanne now assumed the equipment and
arms of a soldier, and was furnished with the usual
attendance of the commander of an army. She went to
Tours, to prepare for her undertaking; and while
there, caused an emblematical standard to be made, and
announced, on the authority of information received
from her voices, that near the altar of St. Catherine,
in the church of Fierbois, a sword lay buried, which
had five crosses engraved on the blade, and which was
destined for her use. An armourer of Tours was sent to
the spot, and he brought back a rusty sword, which he
said had been found under the circumstances she
described, and which answered to her description.
Reports of these proceedings
had been carried into Orleans, and had raised the
courage and resolution of the inhabitants and
garrison, while the besiegers were greatly alarmed,
for they also seem to have believed in Jeanne's
mission in one sense, and expected that they would
have to contend with Satanic agency. They believed
from the first that she was a witch. At length, on the
27th of April, Jeanne left Blois with the convoy,
accompanied by some of the military chiefs of the
dauphin's party, and leading a force of 6000 or 7000
men. The enthusiasm she created produced an effect
beyond anything that could be expected, and after
serious disasters, the English were obliged, on the
8th of May, to raise the siege. The Maid herself
carried the news of this great triumph to Charles
VII, who was at Loche, and insisted on his repairing
immedately to Rheims to be crowned. But, though he
received her with honour, he exhibited none of her
enthusiasm, and refused to follow her advice. In fact,
his council had decided on following a totally
different course of military operations to that which
she wished; but they were at length persuaded to agree
to the proposal for hastening the coronation, as soon
as the course of the Loire between them and Rheims
could be cleared of its English garrisons.
The army
was accordingly placed under the command of the Duke
of Alencon, with orders to act by Jeanne's counsels.
Gergeau, where the Duke of Suffolk commanded, was soon taken, and
the garrison massacred. Having received considerable
reinforcements, commanded by the Count of Vend�me, the
Maid marched against the English forces, under the
command of the celebrated Talbot, carried the bridge
of Meung by force on the 15th of June, and reduced
Beaugenci to capitulate in the night of the 17th. In
their retreat, the English were overtaken and defeated
with great slaughter, and Talbot himself was made
prisoner. Charles shewed no gratitude for all these
services, but listened to the councils of favourites,
who were jealous of the maiden's fame, and who now
began to throw obstacles in her way. He refused to
yield to her proposal to attack Auxerre, and Troyes
was only taken in contradiction to the dauphin's
intentions. Chalons surrendered without resistance,
and on the 16th, the French army came in view of
Rheims, which was immediately abandoned by the English
and Burgundian troops which formed its garrison. Next
day, Charles VII. was crowned in the cathedral of
Rheims with the usual ceremonies, and from this moment
he received more openly the title of king.
From this moment the history
of Jeanne Dare is one only of ingratitude and
treachery on the part of those whom she had served,
and who, intending only to use her as an instrument,
seem to have believed that her utility was now at an
end. Further successes, however, attended the march of
the army to Paris, where the mass of the English
forces were collected, under the command of the
regent, Bedford. To the great grief of the Maid, the
attack upon Paris was abandoned; and during the
operations against the French capital, an accident
happened, which was felt as an unfortunate omen, and
disturbed the mind of the Maid herself. In anger at
some soldiers who had disobeyed her orders, she struck
them with the flat of the sword of Fierbois, which was
supposed to have been sent to her from Heaven, and the
blade broke. It seemed to many as though her principal
charm was broken with it.
The events which occurred
during the winter were comparatively of small
importance, but on the approach of spring, Jeanne, who
was detained unwillingly at court, made her escape
from it, and hastened to Lagni, on the Marne, which
was besieged by the English and Burgundians, where she
displayed her usual enthusiasm, though she was haunted
by sinister thoughts, and believed that her voices
told her of approaching disaster. After the Easter of
1430, the Duke of Bedford prepared to attack the
important town of Compiegne, and on his way had laid
siege to Choisi; whereupon Jeanne left Lagni, repaired
to Compiegne, and immediately hastened with a body of
troops to relieve Choisi. But she was ill seconded,
was frustrated in her design, and deserted by her
troops, and was obliged to retire sorrowfully into
Compiegne, which was soon afterwards regularly
besieged. Jeanne displayed her usual courage, but she
was an object of dislike to the French governor, and
was no longer regarded with the same enthusiasm by the
soldiery as before.
On the 23rd of May, Jeanne went
out of Compiegne at the head of a detachment of
troops, to attack an English post, but after a
desperate combat, she was obliged to retreat before
superior numbers. As they approached Compiegne, one
division of their pursuers made a rush to get before
them, and cut off their retreat; on which the French
fled in disorder, and, to their consternation, when
they reached the head of the bridge of Compiegne, they
found the barrier closed, and were left for some time
in this terrible position. At length the barrier was
opened, and the French struggled through, and then it
was as suddenly closed again, before Jeanne�who, as
usual, had taken her post in the rear�could get
through. Whether this were done intentionally or not,
is uncertain, but only a few soldiers were left with
her, who were all killed or taken, while she managed
to get clear of her assailants, and rode back to the
bridge, but no notice was taken of her cries for
assistance. In despair, she attempted to ride across
the plain, but she was surrounded by her enemies, and
one of the archers dragged her from her horse. She was
thus secured and carried a prisoner to Marigni, where
the Duke of Burgundy came to her. She was finally sold
to the English, and delivered up as their prisoner in
the month of October. During the intermediate period,
the court of France had made no effort to obtain her
liberation, or even shown any sympathy for her fate.
The latter may be soon told.
The question as to what should be done with the
prisoner was soon taken out of the hands of her
captors. No sooner was it known that the Maid was
taken, than the vicar-general of the inquisition in
France claimed her as a person suspected of heresy,
under which name the crime of sorcery was included.
When no attention had been paid to this demand�for it
seems to have been thought doubtful on which of the
two political sides of the great dispute the
inquisition stood�another ecclesiastic, the bishop of
Beauvais, a man of unscrupulous character, who was at
this time devoted to the English interests, claimed
her as having been taken within his diocese, and
therefore under his ecclesiastical jurisdiction. After
apparently some hesitation, it was determined to yield
to this demand, and she was removed to Rouen, where
Bedford had decided that the trial should take place,
and where she appears to have been treated in her
prison with great rigour and cruelty.
Justice was as
little observed in the proceedings on her trial, which
began on the 21st of February 1431, and which ended,
as might be expected, in her condemnation. The conduct
of Bishop Cauchon and his creatures throughout was
infamous in the extreme, but, on the whole, the
proceedings resembled very much those of trials for
witchcraft and heresy in general, and probably a very
large portion of the inhabitants of England and France
conscientiously believed her to be a witch. We judge,
in such cases, by the sentiments of the age in which
they occurred, and not by our own.
On the morning of
the 30th of May, Jeanne the Maiden was burned as a
witch and heretic in the old market of Rouen, where a
memorial to her has since been erected.
A
COMFORTABLE BISHOP OF OLD TIMES
July 17, 1506, James Stanley
was made bishop of Ely. He was third son of the noted
Thomas Stanley, who was created Earl of Derby in 1485,
for his conduct on Bosworth Field. It is thought to
have been by the influence of his step-mother, the
Countess of Richmond, the king's mother, that he
attained the dignity; and her historian calls it 'the
worst thing she ever did.' Stanley was, indeed, a
worldly enough churchman�armis quam libris peritior,
more skilled in arms than in books, he has been
described�'ane great viander as any in his
days,' so another contemporary calls him�yet not
wanting in the hospitality and the bountifulness to
churches and colleges, which ranked high among the
clerical virtues of his age. Having been warden of
Manchester, he lies buried in the old collegiate (now
cathedral) church there, in a side-chapel built by
himself.
Some lines about him, which
occur in a manuscript History of the Derby Family,
are worth quoting for the quaintness of their style,
and the pleasant tenderness with which they touch upon
his character:
. . little priest's metal
was in him .. .
A goodly tall man, as was in all England,
And sped well in matters that he took in hand.
Of Ely many a day was he bishop there,
Builded Somersame, the bishop's chief manere:
Ane great viander as was in his days:
To bishops that then was this was no dispraise.
Because he was a priest, I dare do no less,
But leave, as I know not of his hardiness:
What priest hath a blow on the one ear, [will]
suddenly
Turn the other likewise, for humility?
He would not do so, by the cross in my purse;
Yet I trust his soul fareth never the worse.
For he did acts boldly, divers, in his days,
If he had been no priest, had been worthy praise.
God send his soul to the heavenly company,
Farewell, godly James, Bishop of Ely!'
A
DANISH KING'S VISIT TO ENGLAND IN 1606
On the 17th of July 1606, King
Christian IV of Denmark arrived in England, on a visit
to his brother-in-law and sister, the king and queen
of Great Britain. Christian was a hearty man, in the
prime of life, fond of magnificence, and disposed to
enjoy the world while it lasted. His relative, King
James, was of similar disposition, though of somewhat
different tastes. To him nothing was more delightful
than a buck-hunt. Christian had more relish for gay
suppers, and the society of gay ladies. During the
three weeks he spent in England, he was incessantly
active in seeing sights and giving and receiving
entertainments. The month of his stay,' says Wilson, 'carried with it a pleasing
countenance on every side,
and recreations and pastimes flew as high a flight as
love mounted on the wings of art and fancy, the
suitable nature of the season on time's swift foot,
could possibly arrive at. The court, city, and some
parts of the country, with banquetings, barriers, and
other gallantry, besides the manly sports of wrestling
and brutish sports of baiting wild beasts, swelled to
such a greatness, as if there were an intention in
every particular man, this way, to have blown up
himself.'
Another writer, named Roberts,
describes the dresses of the king of Denmark's
followers with all the gusto of a man-milliner. 'His
pages and guard of his person were dressed in blue
velvet embroidered with silver lace; they wore white
hats with silver bands, and white and blue stockings.
His trumpeters had white satin doublets, and blue
velvet hose, trimmed with silk and silver lace; their
cloaks were of sundry colours, their hats white with
blue and gold bands. His common soldiers wore white
doublets, and blue hose trimmed with white lace. His
trumpeters were led by a sergeant in a coat of
carnation velvet, and his drummer rode upon a horse,
with two drums, one of each side the horse's neck,
whereon he struck two little mallets of wood, a thing
very admirable to the common sort, and much admired.
His trunks, boxes, and other provision for carriage
were covered with red velvet trimmed with blue silk.'
Sir John Harrington, in a
letter which has been printed in Park's Nuqae Antiquae,
gives us a lively picture of the carousals which
marked the presence of this northern potentate at the
British court.
'I came here,' says Sir
John, 'a day or two before the Danish king came; and
from the day he did come, until this hour, I have
been well-nigh overwhelmed with carousals and sports
of all kinds. The sports began each day in such
manner and such sort as well-nigh persuaded me of
Mohammed's paradise. We had women, and indeed wine
too, in such plenty as would have astonished each
sober beholder. Our feasts were magnificent, and the
two royal guests did most lovingly embrace each
other at table. I think the Dane hath strangely
wrought on our good English nobles; for those, whom
I never could get to taste good liquor, now follow
the fashion, and wallow in beastly delights.
The
ladies abandon their sobriety, and seem to roll
about in intoxication. One day a great feast was
held, and after dinner the representation of
Solomon's temple, and the coming of the queen of
Sheba, was made, or (as I may better say) was meant
to have been made before their majesties, by device
of the Earl of Salisbury and others. But, alas! as
all earthly things do fail to poor mortals in
enjoyment, so did prove our presentment thereof. The
lady who did play the queen's part, did carry most
precious gifts to both their majesties; but,
forgetting the steps arising to the canopy, overset
her caskets into his Danish majesty's lap, and fell
at his feet, though I rather think it was in his
face. Much was the hurry and confusion; cloths and
napkins were at hand, to make all clean.
His majesty
then got up, and would dance with the queen of
Sheba; but he fell down and humbled himself before
her, and was carried to an inner chamber, and laid
on a bed of state; which was not a little defiled
with the presents of the queen, which had been
bestowed upon his garments; such as wine, cream,
beverage, jellies, cakes, spices, and other good
matters. The entertainment and show went forward,
and most of the presenters went back-ward, or fell
down; wine did so occupy their upper chambers. Now
did appear, in rich dress, Hope, Faith, and Charity.
Hope did essay to speak, but wine rendered her endeavours so feeble that she
withdrew, and hoped
the king would excuse her brevity; Faith was then
all alone, for I am certain she was not joined with
good works, and left the court in a staggering
condition; Charity came to the king's feet, and
seemed to cover the multitude of sins her sisters
had committed: in some sort she made obeisance, and
brought gifts; but said she would return home, as
there was no gift which Heaven had not already given
his majesty. She then returned to Hope and Faith,
who were both in the lower hall.
Next came Victory,
in bright armour, and presented a rich sword to the
king, who did not accept it, but put it by with his
hand; and by a strange medley of versification, did
endeavour to make suit to the king. But Victory did
not triumph long; for, after much lamentable
utterance, she was led away, like a silly captive,
and laid to sleep on the outer steps of the
ante-chamber. Now, did Peace make entrance, and
strive to get forward to the king; but I grieve to
tell how great wrath she did discover unto those of
her attendants; and, much contrary to her semblance,
most rudely made war with her olive-branch, and laid
on the pates of those who did oppose her coming.'
It is supposed to have been
from the fact of the extreme bacchanalianism practised
by Christian at home, that Shakspeare attributed such
habits to the king in hamlet. The northern monarch
was, however, duly anxious that his servants should
practise sobriety. While he was in England, a marshal
took care that any of them getting drunk should be
sharply punished.
Christian appears to have been
quite an enthusiastic sight-seer. Although he was
observed to express no approbation, he wandered
incessantly about the metropolis, 'so that neither Fowles, Westminster, nor the
Exchange escaped him.' He
was also fond of the amusements of the tilting-yard. '
On a solemn tiltingday,' writes Sir Dudley Carleton,
'the king of Denmark would needs make one; and in an
old black armour, without plume or basses, or any rest
for his lance, he played his prizes so well, that
Ogerio himself never did better. At a match between
our king and him, running at the ring, it was his hap
never almost to miss it; while ours had the ill-luck
scarce ever to come near it, which put him in no small
impatience.'
The custom of making
extravagant gifts at leave-takings was a
characteristic feature of that sumptuous style of
living amongst the high-born and wealthy, prevalent
during the seventeenth century. James, so long as his
exchequer continued pretty well replenished,
distinguished himself by the magnificence of his
princely largess. Indeed, taking into account the vast
sums lavished on favourites, in addition to the debts
of impoverished nobles, paid by him once and again, we
are no ways astonished at the unkingly pecuniary
straits to which he was continually reduced.
A letter
preserved amongst the state-papers, dated August 20,
1606, descriptive of the leave-taking between James
and Christian of Denmark, narrates the following
specimen of reckless profusion in the former, at a
time when his necessities were so notoriously great,
that his own subjects caricatured him as a beggar with
his pockets turned inside out. 'The two kings,' says
Sir Dudley Carleton, 'parted on Monday seven-night, as
well pleased with each other as kings usually are upon
interview. The gifts were great on our king's side,
and only tolerable on the other. Imprimis, a girdle
and hangers, with rapiers and daggers set with stones,
which I heard valued by a goldsmith at �15,000. Then
the old cup of state, which was the chief ornament of
Queen Elizabeth's rich cupboard, of �1000 price; Item,
a George, as rich as could be made in proportion;
Item, a saddle embroidered with rich pearls;
four war-steeds with their appropriate furniture and
caparisons; two ambling geldings and two nags.
To the
king of Denmark's six counsellors were given �2000
worth of plate, and each of them a chain of �100; and
to twenty-two gentlemen, chains of �50 apiece; and
�1000 in money to the servants, the guard, and the
sailors in the ship the king went in. The king of
Denmark gave nothing to the king, as I heard, but made
an offer of his second ship, in hope to have it
requited with the White Bear; but that match was
broken off by my Lord of Salisbury, and he had his own
given back with thanks. To the king's children he gave
�6000, and as much to the king's household.' Then
follows a word-picture of a royal naval banquet in the
year 1606, sketched with infinite humour, and
strikingly illustrative of the social habits of that
age. James takes leave of his brother on shipboard.
'The feasting was plenteous, but not riotous at
court;
but at the ships they played the seamen for
good-fellowship. First at Chatham, where twenty-two of
the king's were set out in their best equipage, and
two especially, the Elizabeth Jonas and the Bear,
trimmed up to feast in, betwixt which there was a
large railed bridge built upon masts, and in the midst
betwixt them both, butteries and kitchens built upon
lighters and flat-boats. All things were there
performed with such order and sumptuousness, that the
king of Denmark confessed that he would not have
believed such a thing could have been clone, unless he
had seen it. At the Danish ships, where was the last
farewell, what was wanting in meat and other ceremony
was helped out with drink and gunshot; for at every
health�of which there were twenty�the ship the kings
were in made nine shot; and every other, there being
eight in all, three; and the two blockhouses at
Gravesend, where the fleet lay, each of them, six; at
which I must tell you, by the way, our king was little
pleased, and took such order in his own ships as not
to be annoyed by the smell of powder; but good store
of healths made him so hearty, that he bid. them at
the last " shoot and spare not," and very resolutely
commanded the trumpets to sound him a point of war.'
Give me the cups;
And let the kettle to the trumpet speak,
The trumpet to the cannoneer without,
The cannons to the heaven, the heaven to earth,
Now the king drinks to Hamlet.'
RICH
BEGGARS
There are multitudes of
instances of beggars who, amid squalor, rags, and dirt
utterly miserable, contrive to amass considerable sums
of money. For obvious reasons, they generally conceal
their wealth during life, and it is only when the
breath is out of their body that the golden hypocrisy
is discovered. Usually, the hoarded coins are found
sewn up in rags or straw-beds, or otherwise hidden in
holes and corners; it is only in a few instances that
the beggar ventures to invest his money in a bank.
Among the many recorded examples of rich beggars, have
been:
-
Daniel Eagle, who begged
for thirty years in London, and lived in a room
which was never entered by any one but himself, and
never cleaned during the whole period; after his
death, coins to the value of �25 were found there.
-
Margaret Coles, who died in
wretched filth in St. Giles's, at the age of 101,
and in whose hovel was found �30 in gold and silver,
and �10 in copper.
-
Margaret Everett, an
equally squalid beggar, who left �150 behind her.
-
Esther Davies, who died in
London at the advanced age of 103, and who for
thirty years had the double chances of a
street-beggar and a parish pauper; she left �160.
-
Mary Wilkinson, beggar and
bone-grubber, whose rags of clothing concealed �300
in money. �Alice Bond, who had risen to the dignity
of �300 in the funds, besides �50 in guineas,
half-guineas, and seven-shilling pieces, and �23 in
silver.
-
Frances Beet, whose bed and
rickety furniture yielded a booty of no less than
�800. �And,
-
Poor 'Joe all alone,' a
famous character about a century ago, who wore a
long beard, and had not lain in a bed for fifty
years; he left �3000, and with it a will, by which
he bequeathed all the money to certain widows and
orphans.
Foreign countries are not
without instances of like kind. Witness the case of
Dandon, of Berlin, who died in 1812; he was competent
to teach as a professor of languages during the day,
and went out begging at night. After his death, 20,000
crowns were found secreted under the floor of his
room. He had refused to see a brother for thirty-seven
years, because he once sent him a letter without
prepaying the postage. This Dandon, however, was an
exampler rather of the miser than of the beggar,
popularly so considered.
Some beggars have been
remarkable quite as much for their eccentricity, as
for the amount of money they left behind them. Such
was the case with William
Stevenson, who died at Kilmarnock on the 17th of
July 1817. Although bred a mason, the greater part of
his life was spent as a beggar. About the year 1787,
he and his wife separated, making this strange
agreement�that whichever of them was the first to
propose a reunion, should forfeit �100 to the other.
According to the statements in the Scotch newspapers,
there is no evidence that they ever saw each other
again. In 1815, when about 85 years old, Stevenson was
seized with an incurable disease, and was confined to
his bed. A few days before his death, feeling his end
to be near, he sent for a baker, and ordered twelve
dozen burial-cakes, a large quantity of sugared
biscuit, and a good supply of wino and spirits. He
next sent for a joiner, and instructed him to make a
good, sound, dry, roomy, 'comfortable' coffin.
Next he summoned a
grave-digger, whom he requested to select a favourable
spot in the church-yard of Riccarton, and there dig a
roomy and comfortable grave. This done, he ordered an
old woman who attended him, to go to a certain nook,
and bring out �9, to pay all these preliminary
expenses: assuring her that she was remembered in his
will. Shortly after this he died. A neighbour came in
to search for his wealth, which had been shrouded in
much mystery. In one bag was found large silver
pieces, such as dollars and half-dollars, crowns and
half-crowns; in a heap of musty rags, was found a
collection of guineas and seven-shilling pieces; and
in a box were found bonds of various amounts,
including one for �300�giving altogether a sum of
about �900. A will was also found, bequeathing �20 to
the old woman, and most of the remainder to distant
relations, setting aside sufficient to give a feast to
all the beggars who chose to come and see his body '
lie in state.' The influx was immense; and after the
funeral, all retired to a barn which had been fitted
up for the occasion; and there they indulged in
revelries but little in accordance with the solemn
season of death.
One curious circumstance
regarding a beggar connected with the town of
Dumfries, we can mention on excellent authority: a son
of his passed through the class of Humanity (Latin),
in the university of Edinburgh, under the care of the
present professor (1863), Mr. Pillans.
