death-bed--Cardinal Beaufort made a strenuous effort to turn aside the
peril. He induced Philip and Bedford to agree to a personal interview,
and they went to Saint Omer for that purpose. But a question of
precedence arose: neither of them would pay the other the first visit.
In vain did the cardinal represent to Bedford that it was he who had
given the cause of offence, and it was he who had everything to lose
by the rupture. The self-willed Plantagenet would concede nothing. The
cardinal then tried Philip, calling him his dear nephew.[13] But the
Burgundian’s blood was up and he was as intractable as the Englishman.
So the two princes left St. Omer without seeing each other.
The envoys of the king of France and of the duke of Burgundy met in
the church of Saint Vaast in the town of Arras. Cardinal Beaufort took
part in the conference on behalf of England; and the cardinal of Santa
Croce on the part of the Roman pontiff. In an eloquent speech Beaufort
pleaded in the name of that Church of which he was a prince, that
Philip could renounce his alliance with England only at the cost of his
salvation. He had taken an oath, and if he broke that oath his soul
was lost. On the contrary the cardinal of Santa Croce maintained that
Philip’s first and greatest sublunary duty was to his liege lord king
Charles, and if he were recreant to that duty he would be damned. And
to prove that it was he and not the English cardinal who spoke by the
authority of the Church, he wrought a miracle on the spot. They brought
to him a consecrated wafer--the BREAD that the hand of the priest had
transformed into the very substance of the Omnipotent. He cursed it,
and it turned black; he blessed it and it turned white again.
This was beyond gainsaying. Beaufort withdrew; and the treaty of Arras
was signed, in which Philip dictated nearly his own terms. Among other
concessions Charles agreed to build an expiatory chapel at Montereau
where John-the-fearless had been murdered, and to maintain there daily
low mass for the repose of his soul. Not a word about John’s victim
the equally murdered Louis of Orleans the king’s uncle. His soul was
left to shift for itself without diplomatic succor. Time once more
vindicated its reputation for putting things to rights. Before the
century was out the generation of Charles VII. was extinct; and that of
the neglected Louis mounted the throne and sat there till the end.[14]
The defection of the duke of Burgundy resulted as Henry V. had
foreseen: it rendered hopeless the Plantagenet cause in France. But
indeed the tide had already turned, and the remnant of the kingdom left
to Charles VII. had suddenly shown itself a match for its enemies. The
superstitious spirit of the age attributed this change to the direct
interposition of Providence in the advent and career of Jeanne Darc
the famous Maid of Orleans; and the English have seemed willing to
leave this coloring upon it in order to throw a mist over some of
the most unfortunate passages of their military history. The true
explanation like most true explanations, is simple enough. There had
sprung up around the falling throne of Charles an array of military
talent not equalled elsewhere. Charles VII. was not a great king, but
so fortunate was he in making use of the greatness of others that he
gained the name of Charles-the-well-served. Foremost among those to
whom he owed that title, was his cousin the count Dunois called in the
early part of his career and in Shakspeare, the Bastard of Orleans.
So little can be gathered in English histories concerning this great
man, that I will say a word more about him. Louis of Orleans, the
husband of Valentina, was not true to her. An intrigue with the wife of
the lord of Canny, resulted in the birth of a boy. Why the mother did
not take charge of her offspring I do not know; but it is certain that
Valentina herself adopted this by-blow of her husband, and brought him
up with her own little brood. It is even said that he was her favorite
among them, from his singular wit and spirit. After having tried many
years in vain to bring the lordly assassin of her husband to justice,
Valentina lay on her death-bed. She called her children to her side;
she called to him who was not her child, but whom she loved as well;
and she told him that he above them all was chosen to be the avenger
of his father. But Heaven had marked out for him a higher rôle than to
avenge an unworthy sire. It was he who was ever at the side of the Maid
of Orleans eking out her inspiration with his own, and at times setting
aside the mandates she received from above, in favor of the suggestions
of his own genius; and then with true magnanimity ascribing to her all
the glory of the success.
After the capture of the Maid, the renown of Dunois, no longer obscured
by the cloud of superstition in which he himself had been willing to
envelop it, shone forth with its proper splendor.
Bedford, after having hacked the spurs off the heels of one of his
bravest captains, because he had lost the battle of Patay, took the
field himself against Dunois; and at Lagni was forced to abandon to him
his cannon and his baggage. Subsequently Dunois was made lieutenant
general of France.
The hundred years war ended by the dismemberment not of the French
empire but of the English. The vast continental domains of the
Plantagenets, the inheritance of Eleanor of Aquitaine, containing
nearly one-third of France, which they had held three centuries--as
long indeed as they had held the throne of England--were all conquered
and annexed to the French crown. Nothing remained but the town of
Calais which however was not a part of Eleanor’s patrimony.
This was the severest blow England ever received: it reduced her to a
second class power, and left to her kings hardly more territory than
they had inherited from their Saxon predecessors. In treating of this
great war, English historians with some exceptions, strive to make
nothing conspicuous but English victories; and the thoughtful reader is
puzzled at the result, if indeed the result is disclosed to him. Well,
let him admire the patriotism of the English writers and look elsewhere.
But the Jaquelines! We have tried to explain how they were a cause,
albeit a minor one, of this outcome, by the dissention which the love
affairs of both fomented between the Plantagenets and the Burgundian
Valois. A major cause was the soldiership of Dunois and his companions
in arms.[15]
Three years after his marriage with Jaqueline of Luxembourg, the duke
of Bedford, worn out like his brother Henry, with care and toil, died
at Rouen, leaving his widow childless. Her further history demands that
we go back two years.
Near the town of Beauvais there was a dilapidated castle called
Gerberoy. In the neighborhood were hovering La Hire and Saintrailles
two of the hardest fighters in the service of king Charles. Bedford
feared that these gentlemen might seize Gerberoy and make it tenable,
so he despatched one of his captains the earl of Arundel to intercept
them. Arundel was approaching Gerberoy without having discovered any
signs of the enemy; and there was apparently nothing to apprehend from
a ruinous old stronghold which could not contain half as many men as he
had at his back. Nevertheless like a prudent general he sent forward
Sir Ralph Standish with a hundred men to reconnoitre. Sir Ralph arrived
under the walls, and observing a soldier on the parapet, summoned him
to surrender. The soldier answered with a gibe, and the next moment
Sir Ralph and his hundred men were flying for their lives. La Hire and
Saintrailles had thrown themselves into the place in the night with a
corps of picked men. Not content with putting to flight Sir Ralph, they
instantly fell upon the main body of the English which according to
Hume, was five times their number. Arundel was slain and his detachment
routed.
Among the prisoners taken, was an English knight named Richard
Woodville, and it is on this occasion, I believe, that he makes his
début on the page of history. He had fought with blind and misdirected
valor in the battle, and so had other knights whose names have not come
down to us. His name would not have spanned such a distance had it not
been his fate to become the father of the long line of kings referred
to in the beginning of this essay; nor is that the only royal line that
traces descent from him.
He soon recovered his liberty and entered the personal service of the
duke of Bedford as a sort of staff officer, and had frequent occasions
to admire the charming duchess. After Bedford’s death Sir Richard
ventured to lift his eyes to the widowed Jaqueline. Like Borssele he
was handsome; and Jaqueline of Luxembourg took a leaf out of the book
of Jaqueline of Bavaria, and became the bride of Sir Richard Woodville.
Their daughter was that Elizabeth Woodville, lady Grey who came and
knelt before Edward IV. and prayed that he would lift from her and her
children the attainder that had fallen upon them because her husband
had perished at Saint Albans, fighting for the House of Lancaster.
Edward granted her prayer, fell in love with her and married her. Their
daughter was Elizabeth Plantagenet who became the queen of Henry VII.
One more love story is needed to complete the mosaic. Catharine
of France widow of Henry V., became enamoured of what one English
historian calls “an obscure Welch gentleman named Owen Tudor.” This
was the gravest misalliance of all. Catharine of Valois, daughter of a
king, sister of a king, widow of a king, mother of a king, stooped to
be the wife of an obscure country gentleman. Their son Edmund Tudor,
married Margaret Beaufort of the Beaufort family already mentioned. The
son of Edmund Tudor and Margaret Beaufort was Henry earl of Richmond
who seized the crown as the prize of his victory at Bosworth, and
then strengthened his claim to it by marrying Elizabeth Plantagenet,
Elizabeth of York, daughter of Edward IV. and grand daughter of
Jaqueline.
Thus did the blood of Beaufort come to the throne; and thus were
Jaqueline of Luxembourg and her true knight the progenitors of the line
which Macbeth said would stretch out to the crack of doom.
VALOIS, BURGUNDY, HAPSBURG, BOURBON.
(The italics mark the line of descent.)
_Charles-le-temeraire_, Charles-the-rash, miscalled by the English,
Charles-the-bold, was the last Valois duke of Burgundy. He left an
only child _Mary of Burgundy_ who married _Maximilian of Hapsburg_,
afterward emperor. Their son was the _Archduke Philip_ who is counted
as Philip the first of Spain though he never reigned. Philip married
_Joanna_ daughter of _Ferdinand_ and _Isabella_, and sister of
Catharine of Aragon wife of Henry VIII. The son of Philip and Joanna
was the great emperor _Charles-the-fifth_ who was Charles the first
of Spain. The crown of Spain then fell from father to son, to _Philip
II._, _Philip III._, _Philip IV._ and Charles II. where the male line
of the elder branch of Hapsburg ended. The crown then fell to _Philip
V._ (Bourbon), grandson of _Louis XIV._ and _Maria Teresa_ eldest
daughter of Philip IV.
The younger, the Austrian branch of the House of Hapsburg, is descended
from the emperor Ferdinand brother of Charles-the-fifth.
Hoche
Many years ago I knew a Frenchman whose father a captain of infantry,
had been killed in La Vendée fighting under Hoche. He had many things
to tell me about Hoche which interested me in his career, and led me to
treasure up in my memory whatever I came across afterwards concerning
him.
There was a certain confidential air about the communications of my
French friend, which leads me to say to the reader that I trust to his
honor not to divulge what I say to him touching the warrior in question.
The French themselves hold that next to Napoleon Bonaparte, the most
brilliant soldier thrown to the surface by the revolution, was Lazarus
Hoche. This seems too to be the opinion of a writer in the Encyclopedia
Brittanica who says that the death of Hoche deprived the French people
of the only man capable of making head against the ambition of the
Corsican. And it still adds force to that view to bear in mind how
short a time was allotted him to win immortality: he never lived to
be thirty. Indeed I remember but one general in history who died so
young with so high a reputation; and that was that wondrous boy Gaston
de Foix nephew of Louis XII., who fell at the age of twenty-three at
Ravenna after having there as elsewhere totally overthrown the famous
Spanish infantry.
Perhaps some honest reader still callow from the study of John Richard
Green, may remind me that that unique historian not only makes the
Spanish infantry triumphant at Ravenna, but cites it as their typical
exploit. Well, we must be thankful that Mr. Green does not cite the
Caudine Forks as the typical exploit of the Roman legions.
Lazarus Hoche was born near Versailles in June 1768. He was the son,
not of a common workman as some of the encyclopedias do vainly talk,
but of a common soldier, or rather of an uncommon soldier; for his
father on account of his uncommonness, was taken from the line and
made keeper of the royal kennels at Versailles; and the first useful
occupation of the boy, if useful it were, was to help his father in the
care of the king’s hounds.
Nature had endowed him with a handsome and vigorous body and a
precocious intellect. He had a maternal uncle who was curé of Saint
Germain-en-laye and a man of some learning. This good priest
interested himself in the education of his clever nephew, and taught
him the elements of latin and mathematics; and thus he received
instruction beyond what was common in his station in life. And you
academical gentlemen will insist I suppose, that his subsequent
advancement was all owing to this latin and mathematics.
But his instincts were military and he resolved to be a soldier, and
with a boyish longing at the same time, to see the world, he enlisted
when he was sixteen in what he supposed to be a regiment bound for the
Indies; but his friends had played a trick on him, and he found himself
enrolled in a home regiment. He made the best of it however, and soon
attracted the attention of his superiors by his prompt and intelligent
observance of duty.
But there were some exceptions to his good behavior. On one occasion
a soldier of his regiment had been killed in a pot-house brawl. Hoche
joined with some of his comrades in razing to the ground the house of
the assassin. For his share in this riot he was condemned to three
months imprisonment. Another act of violence which cost the life of
a fellow being, brought him no punishment whatever, as it was within
the tolerance of the service. A corporal was noted for his skill in
handling the sabre. He had already slain two opponents in his duels.
He insulted Hoche who instantly challenged him. Hoche received a cut
across the forehead, which nearly split his skull, and left a long deep
scar there the rest of his days; but he put an end to the duelling of
his antagonist by running him through the body.
Of his personal comeliness it is related that once, on parade, a noble
lady pointed him out to her companion and exclaimed: What a splendid
looking general that would make! She little knew she was playing the
part of a prophetess.
And it was not long before his fine bearing stood him in still better
stead. Near by was a regiment of grenadiers of the king’s guard. These
superb fellows had noticed the soldier-like qualities of Hoche, and
they petitioned that he might be enrolled among them. The petition was
granted.
These men when in barracks, were allowed to earn money by any honest
industry that did not interfere with their duty, and Hoche addicted
himself to embroidery. If you think this an effeminate occupation for a
soldier, I would remind those of you who have been to sea in a sailing
ship, that you must have observed that sailors who are certainly
as rough as soldiers, are often skillful in needle work useful and
ornamental.
With the money Hoche earned in this manner, he bought books, especially
books of history; and as he dwelt upon the renown of Hannibal and of
Caesar, of Turenne and Condé, of Marlborough and of Frederic, it was
his dream to write his own name some day on that immortal list, I say
dream, for it could be nothing more then, under the old régime when the
command of armies was the prerogative of the nobility alone.
In 1789 occurred the first overt act of the French revolution--the
storming of the Bastille. It was the same year that George Washington
was inaugurated first president of the United States. The end of our
revolution was the beginning of that of the people of France, and ours
precipitated theirs. It was high time perhaps that the old régime
came to an end; but we Americans ought none the less look back upon
it with gratitude. Without its aid we could not have compassed our
independence. It was the troops sent us by Louis XVI. that offset the
German forces that came here in aid of our enemies.
Hoche was too well informed not to understand the issue between the
government and the people, and he believed in his heart that the
people were right; but he was the sworn soldier of the king and he
was determined to defend him so long as defence was possible. He was
present at Versailles when the Parisian mob worthily led by that frail
beauty Théroigne de Méricourt broke into the chateau and made the king
come out on the balcony with the cap of liberty on his head. Hoche
stood there shoulder to shoulder with his comrades ready to charge upon
the rabble the moment the signal was given. But the signal was never
given: Louis XVI. was the best of men and the worst of kings: He had
not the heart to shed the blood of his subjects, so they shed his blood.
Legend says there was also there on that occasion another young man of
still rarer qualities, who whispered to a companion that the king was
an imbecile not to order those fine guards to slaughter the vagabonds
and put an end to the disturbance. The anecdote may not be true, but it
is none the less characteristic: it is perhaps the reflex of what that
young man himself did a few years later.
The king was led to Paris and kept virtually a captive in the
Tuileries, and Hoche with his regiment passed under the command of La
Fayette whose purpose was not to overthrow the monarchy but to reform
it on a constitutional basis. But the French revolution was different
from ours: ours was aristocratic, a change at the head only, still
retaining remnants of feudal tyranny--such for example as the divine
right of sovereigns not to pay their debts--which we are not yet
emancipated enough to throw off. Theirs on the contrary was democratic,
or rather volcanic, the very dregs from the bottom thrown to the top.
La Fayette was obliged to fly for his life; and the army went over
and _fraternised_ as it was called, with the populace. The rise of
Hoche was now rapid. Beside courage he was gifted with a thoughtful
self-possession which never failed him. The display of this virtue on
an occasion when he covered the retreat of a beaten army, attracted the
notice of Carnot the minister of war--“the organiser of victory” as he
was called--and he made Hoche a brigadier general.
In 1792 the supreme authority of France was usurped by a body known
as the Convention. In 1793 the king was brought to the block, and all
Europe rose to avenge his death. The English government had fitted out
an army under the command of the duke of York, son of George III.,
to cooperate with the allied enemies of the new republic. York was a
methodical soldier, and minding the old rule not to leave a hostile
stronghold in the rear, he turned aside to besiege Dunkirk in the
north-east corner of France, instead of hastening south. Carnot caught
at the fault of the Englishman and put it to profit. He ordered Hoche
to throw himself into Dunkirk with a few battallions and hold it to
the last extremity. Hoche found the defences in bad condition and
the inhabitants who were a conglomeration of various nationalities,
not in the least disposed to aid him in repairing them. He seized
the chief magistrate and threw him into prison, and warned the other
functionaries that they would be sent to join him, if they did not come
up to his help against the English. They came; and by the time the duke
had established his lines of circumvallation with scientific skill,
Hoche and his men were prepared to do all that was expected of them,
namely, to keep the duke of York out of mischief for some time to come.
One day the sound of cannon was heard off south, and soon the English
were observed to be preparing to quit. Hoche though shut in from
outward news, penetrated the situation. An allied army under Freytag
coming up from the south-east, and a French army under Houchard coming
up from the south-west, had intercepted each other and given battle.
The English had received a message from Freytag, notifying them to come
to the aid of their friends. Hoche resolved that they should do nothing
of the sort. He sallied out upon them, threw them into some disorder
and thus detained them till the battle of Hondschoote was lost and won.
Houchard victorious pushed for Dunkirk. The English, hindered by this
fresh sortie of Hoche, came tardily and faultily into order of battle,
and after a short struggle, broke and fled leaving their artillery and
their baggage.
Hoche shared with Houchard the glory of this double victory. The
conduct of the duke of York was the subject of a parliamentary inquiry
in which he was duly whitewashed as became a prince of the blood. Had
he been a commoner he might have shared the fate of Admiral Byng.[16]
Carnot showed anew his appreciation of Hoche by giving him the
command of the army of the Moselle--a grave responsibility for a
youth of twenty-five; and Carnot made the mistake of not letting the
responsibility rest squarely upon his shoulders: he sent commissioners
to direct him.
An allied army superior in force and in a strong position, under the
duke of Brunswick, lay at Keyserslautern. The commissioners counselled
an attack. Hoche though daring was not rash, and the born instinct of
the soldier within him whispered that the risk was too great; so he
hesitated. The commissioners insisted, and he led forward his troops.
The battle lasted two days, and never perhaps was the genius of the
young general more conspicuous. Repulsed, he marched his men off the
field as he had marched them on--shoulder to shoulder, beaten but not
demoralized, and the enemy did not follow him up.
Carnot was sufficiently just not to blame him for this failure. On
the contrary he sent him reënforcements, and he sent him also what he
would willingly have dispensed with--fresh commissioners to advise him.
Hoche had pondered deeply the cause of his defeat, and had resolved
that that cause should not again operate. He refused to consult with
the commissioners: he would neither tell them his own plans nor listen
to theirs. Taking off his cap and shaking it in their faces in that
dramatic style so very French, he exclaimed: If that cap knew my
thoughts I would throw it in the fire! Finding him obdurate they went
back to Paris and made no favorable report of him.
Hoche had under him at this time several officers of about his own
age who afterwards made their mark in history: Moreau the victor of
Hohenlinden, who fell at last at Dresden fighting against France; Ney
the bravest of the brave. Desaix who came late but not too late on
the field of Marengo, and died at the head of his column; Le Fèvre
the hero of the 18. Brumaire when he scattered the council of the
five hundred with his grenadiers, and saved Bonaparte; Soult who won
his baton of marshal by piercing the Russian centre at Austerlitz.
He distinguished himself afterwards in Spain; and what is a more
interesting distinction for you esthetic gentlemen, he sold to the
French government for 615,000 francs--the highest price ever paid for
a picture--the sublime Murillo of the Louvre. And I am sorry I cannot
tell you how he came by it: there was scandal thereunto anent.
It is probable that Hoche imparted his plans to these able lieutenants,
for it is otherwise inexplicable that they should have acquiesced in
the strange measures he adopted. Instead of seeking the enemy, he took
every pains to avoid him. He blew up the bridges and tore up the roads;
and the allies seeing him bent on defensive measures only, failed to
watch him as he deserved. And there were disquieting rumors in Paris.
Hoche was certainly not a coward, but was he not a traitor? Had he not
sold himself for Austrian gold? Such things had been.