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own country; and by those qualities he preserved the crown upon his head, which was in much danger by the enemies he had created to himself by his inadvertency upon his accession to the crown. But above all, his great bounty and liberality did him the greatest service. And yet, as he behaved himself wisely in time of distress, so when he thought himself a little out of danger, though it were but by a truce, he would disoblige the servants and officers of his court by mean trifling ways, which were little to his advantage; and as for peace, he could hardly endure the thoughts of it. He spoke slightly of some people, and rather before their faces than behind their backs, unless he was afraid of them, and of that sort there were a great many, for he was naturally timorous. When he had done himself any prejudice by his talk, or was apprehensive he should do, to make them amends whom he had injured, he would say to the person whom he had disobliged, "I am sensible my tongue has done me a great deal of mischief, but, on the other hand, it has sometimes done me good; however, it is but reason I should make some reparation for the injury." And he never used those kind of apologies to any person, but he did something for the person to whom he made it, and it was always considerable. is certainly a great blessing for any prince to have experienced adversity as well as prosperity, good as well as evil, and especially if the good outweighs the evil, as it did in our master. I am of opinion that the troubles he was involved in in his youth, when he fled from his father, and resided six years together in the Duke of Burgundy's court, was of great service to him; for there he learned to be complacent to such as he had occasion to use, which was no little improvement.


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Some five or six months before his death he began to grow jealous of everybody, especially of those who were most capable and deserving of the administration of affairs. He was afraid of his son, and caused him to be kept close, so that no man saw or discoursed with him but by his special command. At last he grew suspicious of his daughter, and his son-in-law, the Duke of Bourbon, and required an account of what persons came to speak with them at Plessis, and broke up a council which the Duke of Bourbon held there by his order. At the time the Count de Dunois and his son-in-law returned from conducting the ambassadors, who had been at Amboise to congratulate the marriage betwixt the Dauphin and the young Queen, the King being in the gallery, and seeing them enter with a great train into the castle, called for a captain of the guards, and commanded him to go and search some of the lord's retinue, to see whether they had any arms under their robes, and that he should do it in discourse, and so as no notice might be taken. Behold, then, if he had caused many to live under him in continual fear and apprehension, whether it was not returned to him again; for of whom could he be secure, when he was afraid of his son-in-law, his daughter, and his own son? I speak this not only of him, but of all other princes who desire to be feared, that revenge never befalls them till they grow old, and then, as a just penance, they are afraid of everybody themselves; and what grief do you think it must be to this poor king to be tormented with such terrors and passions?

He was still attended by his physician, Doctor James Coctier, to whom in five months time he had given 54,000 crowns in ready money, besides the bishopric of Amiens for his nephew, and other great offices and estates to him and his friends; yet this doctor used him so scurvily, one would not have given such unbecoming language to one's servants as he gave the king, who stood in such awe of him he durst not forbid him his presence. 'Tis true he complained of his impudence afterwards, but he durst not change him as he had done all the rest of his servants, because he had told him after a most audacious manner one day, "I know some time or other you will remove me from court, as you have done the rest; but be sure (and he confirmed it with an oath) you shall not live eight days after it."

With which expression he was so terrified, that ever after he did nothing but flatter and present him, which must needs be a great mortification to a prince who had been obeyed all along by so many brave men much above the doctor's quality.

The king had ordered several cruel prisons to be made, some of iron, some of wood, but covered with iron plates both within and without, with terrible cages about eight foot wide and seven high; the first contriver of them was the Bishop of Verdun, who was the first that hanselled them, being immediately put in one of them, where he continued fourteen years. Many bitter curses he has had since for his invention, and some from me, having lain in one of them eight months together, in the minority of our present king. He also ordered heavy and terrible fetters to be made in Germany, and particularly a close ring for the feet, which was extreme hard to be opened, and like an iron collar with a thick weighty chain, and a great globe of iron at the end of it, most unreasonably heavy, which engines were called the king's nets. However, I have seen many eminent and deserving persons in these prisons, with these nets about their legs, who have afterwards been advanced to places of trust and honour, and received great rewards from the king: among the rest a son of the Lord de la Grutase (who was taken in battle), whom the king married very honourably afterwards, made him his chamberlain, and Seneschal of Anjou, and gave him the command of a hundred lances. The Lords de Viennes and Verger, both prisoners of war, had commands given them in his army, were made his or his son's chamberlains, and had great estates given them. Monsieur de Rochefort, the constable's brother, had the same, as also one Roquebertin, a Catalonian and prisoner of war, besides others of several countries too numerous to be mentioned in this place. This by way of digression. But to return to my principal design. As in his time this barbarous variety of prisons was invented, so before he died he himself was in greater torment, and more terrible apprehension than those whom he had imprisoned, which I look upon as a great mercy towards him and part of his purgatory; and I have mentioned it here to show that there is no person, of what station or dignity soever, but is punished some time or other, either publicly or privately, especially if he has been the cause of other people's sufferings and misfortunes. The king, towards the latter end of his days, caused his castle of Plessis-les-Tours to be encompassed with great bars of iron, in the form of a grate, and at the four corners of the house four watch-towers of iron, strong, massy, and thick, to be built. The grates were without the wall, on the other side of the ditch, and went to the bottom. Several spikes of iron were fastened into the wall, set as thick by one another as was possible. He placed likewise ten bowmen in the ditches to shoot at any man that durst approach the castle till the opening of the gate; ordered they should lie in the ditches, but retire into the watchtowers upon occasion. He was sensible enough that this fortification was too weak to keep out an army or any great body of men, but he had no fear of such; his great apprehension was, that some of the nobility of his kingdom, having intelligence within, should attempt to make themselves masters of the castle by night, and having possessed themselves of it, partly by affection, partly by force, should deprive him of the regal authority, and take upon themselves the administration of public affairs, upon pretence he was incapable of business, and no longer fit to govern. gate of du Plessis was never opened, nor the drawbridge let down, before eight in the morning, at which time the courtiers were let in; and the captains ordered their guards to their several posts, with a main guard in the middle of the court, as in a town upon the frontiers that was closely besieged. Nor was any person admitted to enter but by the wicket, and those only by the king's order, unless it were the steward of his household, and such officers as were not admitted into the presence. Is it possible then to keep a prince (with any regard to his quality) more strictly


confined than he kept himself? The cages which were made for other people were about eight foot square; and he (though so great a monarch) had but a small square of the court of the castle to walk in, and seldom made use of that, but generally kept himself in the gallery, out of which he went into the chambers, and from thence to mass, but not through the court. Who can deny but he was a sufferer, as well as his neighbours ? considering his being locked up, guarded, afraid of his own children and relations, and changing every day those very servants whom he had brought up and advanced; and though they owed all their preferment to him, yet he durst not trust any of them, but shut himself up in those strange chains and inclosures. If the place where he confined himself was larger than a common prison, his quality was as much greater than a common prisoner's. It may be urged that other princes have been more given to jealousy than he, but it was not in our time, and perhaps their wisdom was not so eminent nor their subjects so good. They, too, might probably be tyrants and bloody-minded, but our king never did any person a mischief who had not offended him first. I have not recorded these things purely to represent our master as a suspicious and mistrustful prince, but to show, that by the patience which he expressed in his sufferings (like those which he inflicted on other people), they may be looked upon, in my judgment, as a punishment which God inflicted upon him in this world, in order to deal more mercifully with him in the next, as well in those things before mentioned as in the distempers of his body, which were great and painful, and much dreaded by him before they came upon him; and likewise that those princes, who are his successors, may learn by this example to be more tender and indulgent to their subjects, and I will not accuse him, less severe in their punishments than our master had been. or say I ever saw a better prince, for though he oppressed his subjects himself, he would never see them injured by any body else.

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In hunting, his eagerness and pain were equal to his pleasure, for his chase was the stag, which he always run down. He rose very early in the morning, rode sometimes a great way to his dogs, and would not leave his sport let the weather be never so bad; and when he came home at night was always very weary, and generally in a violent passion with some of his courtiers or huntsmen, for hunting is a sport not always to be managed according to the master's direction; yet, in the opinion of most people, he understood it as well as any man of his time. He was continually at his sports, lying up and down in the country villages as his recreations led him, till he was interrupted by the war.



[THE 'Faustus' of Goethe has perhaps the widest European reputation of any poem of modern times. There are several translations of it in our own language. Without undervaluing other translations, that of Dr. Anster, of Trinity College, Dublin, (parts of which were originally published in Blackwood's Magazine,) appears to us to combine many of the highest requisites of a good poetical version, with faithfulness and facility. We cannot attempt an analysis of this remarkable drama, which, amidst all its merits, has many passages, and suggests many ideas, which are scarcely within the limits of the pleasurable in poetry; but we subjoin a scene or two, from its commencement, which beautifully depict the feelings of a mind satiated with all worldly knowledge, and aspiring to penetrate mysteries which are wisely put beyond the comprehension of man. The story of Faustus,' the daring student who made a compact with the powers of darkness, was treated by other German poets before Goethe: and it is the subject of a very remarkable drama by Marlowe, the early contemporary of Shakspere. Goethe was born in 1749; died in 1832.]

Faustus. River and rivulet are freed from ice.

In Spring's affectionate inspiring smile


Green are the fields with promise-far away
To the rough hills old Winter hath withdrawn
Strengthless but still at intervals will send
Light feeble frosts, with drops of diamond white,
Mocking a little while the coming bloom-
Still soils with showers of sharp and bitter sleet,
In anger impotent, the earth's green robe;
But the sun suffers not the lingering snow-
Every where life-every where vegetation-
All nature animate with glowing hues—
Or, if one spot be touched not by the spirit
Of the sweet season, there in colours rich
As trees or flowers, are sparkling human dresses!
Turn round, and from this height look back upon
The town; from its black dungeon gate forth pours,
In thousand parties, the gay multitude,
All happy, all indulging in the sunshine!
All celebrating the Lord's resurrection,
And in themselves exhibiting as 'twere
A resurrection too-so changed are they,

So raised above themselves. From chambers damp
Of poor mean houses-from consuming toil
Laborious-from the workyard and the shop-
From the imprisonment of walls and roofs,
And the oppression of confining streets,
And from the solemn twilight of dim churches-
All are abroad-all happy in the sun.

Look, only look, with gaiety how active,

Through fields and gardens they disperse themselves! How the wide water, far as we can see,

Is joyous with innumerable boats!

See, there, one almost sinking with its load
Parts from the shore; yonder the hill top paths
Are sparkling in the distance with gay dresses!
And hark! the sounds of joy from the far village!
Oh! happiness like this is real heaven!

The high, the low, in pleasure all uniting-
Here may I feel that I too am a man!

Wagner. Doctor, to be with you is creditable
Instructive too: but never would I loiter

Here by myself—I hate these coarse amusements:
Fiddlers, and clamorous throats, and kettle drums,
Are to my mind things quite intolerable;
Men rave, as if possessed by evil spirits,
And call their madness joy and harmony!
(Peasants dancing and singing.)
The shepherd for the dance was drest
In ribands, wreath, and Sunday vest;
All were dancing full of glee,

Underneath the linden tree!

'Tis merry and merry-heigh-ho, heigh-ho,
Blithe goes the fiddle-bow!

Soon he runs to join the rest;
Up to a pretty girl he prest;
With elbow raised and pointed toe,

Bent to her with his best bow

Pressed her hand: with feigned surprise,

Up she raised her timid eyes!

""Tis strange that you should use me so,
So, so-heigh-ho-

"Tis rude of you to use me so."

All into the set advance,

Right they dance, and left they dance-
Gowns and ribands how they fling,
Flying with the flying ring;

They grow red, and faint, and warm,
And rested, sinking, arm-in-arm.
Slow, slow, heigh-ho,

Tired in elbow, foot, and toe!
"And do not make so free," she said,
"I fear that you may never wed;
Men are cruel"-and he prest
The maiden to his beating breast.
Hark! again, the sounds of glee
Swelling from the linden tree.

'Tis merry, 'tis merry-heigh-ho, heigh-ho,
Blithe goes the fiddle-bow!

Old Peasant. This, doctor, is so kind of you.
A man of rank and learning too;
Who, but yourself, would condescend
Thus with the poor, the poor man's friend,
To join our sports? In this brown cheer
Accept the pledge we tender here,

A draught of life may it become,

And years, on years, oh! may you reach,
As cheerful as the beads of foam,

As countless, too, a year for each!

Faustus. Blest be the draught restorative!

I pledge you-happy may you live!


[The people collect in a circle round him




Faustus. A few steps farther, and we reach yon stone; Here sit we down and rest after our walk;Here have I often sate in thoughtful mood Alone and here in agonies of prayer, And fast, and vigil-rich in hope-in faith Unwavering-sought with tears and sighs, and hands Wringing in supplication, to extort

From Him in heaven that He would stay that plague.

These praises come upon my ear like scorn-
Oh, could you read the secrets of this heart,
You then would see how little we deserved,
Father or son, the thanks of these poor people.
My father, a reserved and moody man,

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