THE COURT, LADY'S MAGAZINE,

MONTHLY CRITIC, AND MUSEUM.

A Family Journal

OF ORIGINAL TALES, REVIEWS OF LITERATURE, THE FINE ARTS, MUSIC, DRAMA, FASHIONS, &c., &c.

UNDER THE DISTINGUISHED PATRONAGE OP

HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE DUCHESS OF KENT.

MEMOIR OF MARGARET DE VALOIS,

(Daughter of Odelle de Champ-Divers) married to John of Harpedane, Lord of Belle-Ville)

and Poitou.

(Embellished with a Full-length Portrait, from the illuminated MSS. of the period.

(No, 95, of the Series of full length Authentic Ancient Portraits.)

THE circumstances of touching interest under which this child of Odette de Champ Divers and the unhappy Charles VIth, appeared upon the stage of life, have been recorded in the chronicle of Isabeau of Bavaria. We here find, that on the night of the masked ball, whose fatal consequences are no doubt fresh in the recollection of our readers, a report was spread throughout Paris, that the king had fallen a victim to the catastrophe brought about by his unfortunate frolic. The report reached the ear of Odette, and though early in the morning, Charles himself appeared to afford her evidence of his safety, her death blow had been already stricken by sudden terror, and she only survived a few hours, during which time she gave birth to the subject of our portrait.

This event, if as represented coeval with the ball, occurred in 1393.

Marguerite de Valois was legitimated by Charles VII., her half-brother, who promised on her marriage with John of Harpedane, lord of Belle-Ville and Poitou, that her dowry should be 22,000 Montons d'or, each weighing about eleven francs; the effigy on one side was the shield of France, on the other, an Agnus Dei, with the inscription-Ecce qui tollit peccata mundi.

The name of Jean of Harpendane figures amongst those of the thirty 'combatants at the splendid tournament in honor of Isabel's coronation, but of the exploits of Marguerite's husband, (probably his son,) we find no particular mention in the records of the stormy times wherein he lived.

(The description of the Portrait will be found beyond.) H-FEBRUARY, 1841.

ISABEL OF BAVARIA.

(For the previous portion of this interesting chronicle, see the past half-yearly volume,

Pages 19, 105, 267, 489, 550.)

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE DAUPHIN CHARLES' FIRST NIGHT'S GUARD.

AFTER resisting every effort made by the powerful duke of Burgundy and his numerous army, Paris, as we have just seen, opened her gates by night to the simple captain of seven hundred lances. Sword in one hand and burning torch in the other, the Burgundians had swept through every street of the ancient and royal capital, quenching blood-red flames by effusions of blood, and drying up streams of blood by a fiercer conflagration. The humble instrument of this important event, Perrinet Leclerc, after having thus obtained what he most desired, full power over the constable's life, descended from his prominent station into the ranks of the people, where historical research, hereafter, will vainly seek him-departing, as entirely unknown from the scenes of private life, as, he had at his birth emerged from the ranks of the people to immortalize his plebeian name in a signal act of treason, connected with one of the greatest catastrophes which ever befel the French monarchy.

Meanwhile, through each of the gates of Paris (like vultures alighting on a battlefield) troops of men-at-arms, with their noble commanders, eagerly rushed into the capital, in order to seize upon a portion of that all-abundant prey on which royalty had hitherto alone possessed the privilege of feeding. L'Ile-Adam, as first-comer, enacted the part of lion; next followed the sire de Luxembourg, the brothers Fosseuse, Crèvecœur, and Jean de Poix; after them, the lords and captains of garrisons in Picardy and the Isle of France: and, bringing up the rear were the peasantry of the environs, who, in order that nothing should be left, filled their pouches with the baser metals, while their masters enriched themselves with golden plunder.

After the church-plate had been melted down--the coffers of the state emptied— all the golden fringe and every fleur-de-lis stripped from the royal mantle, and the deflowered velvet thrown, as it were in very mockery of royalty, upon the shoulders of the hapless Charles, he was irreverently seated on a half broken throne, a pen placed in his feeble hand, and four letters-patent laid on the table before him. L'Ile-Adam and Chatelux were created mareschals, Charles de Lens admiral, and Robert de Maille grand pannetier, and, the subscribing monarch considered himself to be freely reigning.

The populace gazed at these proceedings through the windows of the Louvre. "Well," they exclaimed, "these worthies having pillaged all the gold, have now it seems, a mind, to secure every office to themselves. Mighty lucky, indeed, for them, that the king has a greater number of signatures at his fingers' ends, than crowns in his coffers.-Well! help yourselves, gentlemen! help yourselves whilst ye can:-but mind ye, Hannotin of Flanders will soon be here, and if he be not satisfied with your portioning, 'tis likely he 'll put the whole of your lots together. and make one grand appropriation to himself."

Hannotin of Flanders (an epithet sometimes jestingly assumed by the duke of Burgundy) seemed, however, in no haste to make his appearance; his proud spirit was wounded that one of his captains should have gained entrance into a city at whose gates his own sword had twice knocked in vain when apprized of this unlooked-for event, he was at Montbelliard, and instead of continuing his route

The queen

towards the capital, he retired to Dijon, one of his principal towns. Isabel remained, meanwhile, at Troyes, trembling still for the success of her enterprize : during this time the duke and herself neither met nor held correspondence; like two accomplices in a midnight murder, they seemed equally fearful to hold communion, face to face, in the light of day.

Paris, all the while, was in a state of feverish and combustible excitement.-The people most anxiously desired the presence of the queen and the duke; and a report having gone abroad that these personages would not enter the city whilst a single Armagnac could be traced within its walls, this again was made the pretext for a fresh massacre of the suspected party, and, each night, a terrific cry went forth that there was some latent cause of danger. Thereupon the populace paraded the streets with torches, some declaring that the Armagnacs would enter by the gate SaintGermain, others by that of the Temple. Groups of men, headed by the butchers, who were to be recognised from their knives glittering at the end of their bare and brawny arms, now traversed the city in every direction, ready to execute the murderous bidding of the first who chanced to say-"Yonder is the house of an Armagnac," or "here comes one of that accursed party: "-Forthwith, the dwelling was fired, whilst some blade inflicted summary justice on its master.-In order to move abroad in safety, it became necessary to wear a blue hood and red cross. Some knowing ones, pretending extreme devotion, actually formed themselves into a Burgundian company, and assumed to themselves, as their characteristic name, 'that of Saint Andrew : each member wore a crown of red roses, and many priests, either from prudence or party-feeling, having enrolled themselves in this association, performed mass with chaplets around their heads. In fine, the spectator of scenes like these might have imagined that Paris was then but immersed in the intoxicating revelry of a carnival, had he not beheld in every street through which he traversed, so many spots of ground crimsoned by the recent slaughter of her citizens, or blackened by the fires which had consumed their dwellings.

Amongst the most blood-thirsty of these daily and nightly marauders was one man who had long distinguished himself by the coolness and tact with which he plied his self-chosen murderous calling. Not a building had been fired without the aid of his incendiary torch, nor a murder committed without the agency of his bloody hand. No sooner did he make his appearance with his red hood, sang-de-bœuf frock, and buff-belt across his breast, with his enormous two-handed sword, it's hilt touching his chin, it's point his feet, than all those desirous of beholding an Armagnac neatly decapitated, would follow at his heels; for it had even passed into a popular proverb, that master Cappeluche could cut off a head before the cap had time to perceive it ("faisait sauter la tête sans que le bonnet eût le temps de s'en apercevoir..")

Thus had Cappeluche become the hero of these bloody orgies; even the butchers. acknowledged him to be their master, and yielded him precedence. He was the head of every tumultuous assemblage, the leader in every insurrectionary movement; by a single word he could arrest the progress of the accompanying crowd, and at the slightest signal cause it to move hither or thither at pleasure: his influence, indeed, vested as it was in a single individual over such large masses of infuriated men, amounted almost to super-human power.

Whilst all Paris was thus ever resounding with the cries of murder, and nightly illuminated by the glare of incendiary fires, the eastern extremity of the ancient Bastile still exhibited its towering walls, frowning in loneliness and silence. The cries and lamentations from without, thence, gave back, no echoes; the glare of torches produced no reflection; the lofty raised draw-bridge, and lowered port-cullis, appeared to cut off all commerce with the rest of mankind. During the day, not a living being appeared upon the ramparts, and the citadel seemed to be its own sole guardian, save when an unwonted and suspicious concourse of persons approached its battlements ; then, from every stage and loophole of the fortification, a multitude of arrows, one in number for each threatened assailant, would instantly protrude forth, and be surely aimed at the aggressors;-but whether this was effected by machinery, or the hands of its defenders, it was impossible to discern.-On beholding this, the overawed and

disheartened crowd, even when led on by the redoutable Cappeluche himself, would instantly retreat; and, as the baffled multitude gradually withdrew, the arrows, in like measure disappeared within the fortress, whilst the venerable castle speedily resumed its air of quiet security, just as the porcupine, when the threatened danger is over, reposes upon its back, the thousand erected spears, by which it is wont to command respect from the rest of the animal world.

During the night time, within this redoubtable dungeon fortress there reigned alike silence and darkness; for, howsoever other quarters of Paris might be illuminated, whether lights shone from its streets or its casements, no ray was ever externally visible from within the grated windows of the Bastile, neither was sound of human voice ever heard to issue from its walls; and the only apparent token of animate existence which it ever presented, was the occasional appearance of a sentinel's head at the several windows of the four towers-erected at each angle of the building the only position whence the guardians of this fortress could reconnoitre, in order to prevent surprise at the foot of the ramparts; and these heads were wont to remain so motionless, that, thus projecting from the massive walls, and, illumed by the fitful moonlight, they might have been readily taken for some of those gothic masks of stone, which are frequently seen ornamenting the arches of bridges and adorning cathedral entablatures.

One dark night, however, towards the end of the month of June, whilst the sentinels were thus watching at each angle of the Bastile, two individuals ascended the steep and winding flight of steps leading to the platform.-The first visible on the terrace, was a man of from two to five and forty years of age, of colossal stature, and, to outward seeming, endued with muscular strength proportionate to his great height. He was cased in a complete suit of armour, but his only offensive weapon consisted of one of those long sharp pointed daggers, called poignards de merci; on this, by force of habit, his left hand rested, while he respectfully held in his right a velvet cap, trimmed with fur, worn by the knights during periods of repose, in lieu of their battle helmets, which often weighed from forty to five and forty pounds. His uncovered head exhibited to view a physiognomy marked by eyes of deep blue, over-arched with dark bushy eye brows: combined with these characteristics were an acquiline nose, and sun-embrowned complexion, which gave to his aspect an air of austerity, rendered still more commanding by a rounded beard of about an inch in length, and long black hair descending adown each side his cheeks. No sooner had this personage reached the platform, than, turning round, he extended his arm towards the opening whence he had just arisen; a soft and delicate hand met his strong and rigid grasp, and, raising himself by this support, a youth of from sixteen to eighteen years of age, clad in silk and velvet, with fair flaxen hair, slight figure, and delicately moulded limbs, sprung upon the terrace :-leaning on the arm of his companion, he seemed to be looking around for a seat to rest after this slight fatigue. But perceiving no such luxury he ingeniously contrived to supply its place, by joining his hands together, and forming a sort of ring, by means of which he suspended, rather than supported the weight of his frame upon his companion's athletic arm, and thus relieved his legs of, at least, one half the burthen which nature purposed them to bear. In this manner he proceeded to walk, though, apparently, far more out of complaisance towards his companion, than as an act agreeable to himself.

Five minutes elapsed, ere the silence of night was interrupted by either; and as they paced up and down the circumscribed limits of the plat-form-their steps gave birth to but one single sound; so completely was the youth's light foot-fall overpowered by the soldier's heavy tread, that the one might have been regarded as the body, the other the shadow, both animated by a single soul. The warrior, at length, suddenly, halting, directed the attention of his young companion towards Paris, their elevated position commanding a complete view of the city.

This chanced to be precisely one of those nights of tumultuous outbreak which we have been endeavoring to depict. At first, nothing was discernible in the distance, save a confused line of houses extending from east to west-whose continuous roofs, in the overshadowing gloom, seemed linked together like the close-fitting bucklers

of a troop of soldiers moving to an assault-but, suddenly, when the mob pursued a route parallel to the range embraced by the spectator's vision, the blaze of torches illuming the entire length of a whole street, seemed, by a broad line of light, to cleave asunder some quarter of the city. Then were shadows seen in the ruddy glare pressing, tumultuously, onwards, while angry yells, intermingled with piercing cries, and broad shouts of laughter, rose upon the air, until reaching some square or bisected way, the crowd disappeared, although the accompanying sounds were still equally audible: the whole scene too being thus enwrapped in gloom, the noises which issued forth from the darkness resembled the stifled wailings of the hapless city, devastated alike by the torch, and the sword of civil war. Listening to these sounds, and gazing at the spectacle before him, the soldier's countenance assumed an expression of more than wonted gravity; his contracted brows united themselves into one; he stretched his left arm towards the palace of the Louvre, and so tightly were his teeth compressed together, that scarcely could the following words addressed by him to his youthful companion find passage through his lips. "My lord, behold thy city.-Can'st thou recognise it?" As Duchâtel spoke, a shade of deep melancholy passed over the young man's countenance, such as, an instant before, it might have been supposed incapable of exhibiting. He fixed his eyes on the warrior's, and, having looked at him for a moment, in silence, "My brave Tanneguy," said he "often, at this hour, from the windows of the hôtel St. Paul have I gazed upon Paris, even as we now regard her from this terrace of the Bastile; sometimes, indeed, I have beheld her tranquil, but, alas! never yet have I seen her happy."

Duchâtel started with surprise, having little expected such an answer from the youthful dauphin. He had enquired of him as he would have questioned a thoughtless boy, and had received the answer of a sagacious man. "Pardon my prince," resumed Duchâtel," until this day I had believed that thou wert thyself wholly occupied in vain pleasures, and concerned thyself not with the affairs of France."

"My father," replied the dauphin, who, from the time he had been rescued by his present companion from the hands of the Burgundians, had always addressed him by that tender appellation, "In truth, my father" said he, "thy reproach is, at least, but partly merited: whilst my two brothers, (now, alas! summoned before the throne of GOD), were next in succession before me on the throne of France, true it was, and I confess it, my time and thoughts were wasted in frivolous amusements and vain enjoyments; but since the Almighty hath recalled them to himself, and that, too, in a manner as unexpected as terrible, I have ceased to delight in those empty pleasures to reflect upon the one all-engrossing subject, that at the death of my beloved father (whom GoD preserve!) this noble kingdom of France will have none other master than myself."

"Therefore my brave young prince," returned Tanneguy, with visible delight "thou art determined to defend her, tooth and nail, as well against Harry of England, as against John of Burgundy."

"Aye Tanneguy; against each of them separately, or both in league, as it best liketh them."

"Ah! my noble prince," exclaimed the veteran, "God hath surely put those words into thy mouth, to comfort the heart of thine old friend." During these three years past, this is the first time that I have breathed freely, for could'st thou but have known the conflicting feelings which have rent my heart, on beholding the monarchy, in defence of which I have devoted my days, my honor, my life, torn as it has been by intestine faction, and the unhappy kingdom, of which thou art the sole remaining hope, a prey to such attacks as these-could'st thou but have known how oft I have enquired within myself, whether, indeed, the period had not, at length, arrived, for this ancient monarchy to give place to some other, and, whether each renewed effort to uphold her, were not an act even of rebellion against GOD, by whom she seemed forsaken; for (and may Heaven forgive me, if there be aught of blasphemy in what I am about to say); for, during the last thirty years, each time that Providence has visited thy noble race, it has seemed, in truth, but for the purpose of afflicting it by some humiliation or calamity.