recompense which the Cardinal always granted to those authors with whose productions he was satisfied. The prelate accordingly handed him a golden etui. 'Take this, friend Bertrand,' he said; 'it is to pay the fatigue and salary of the reader. The writer must seek payment from some more malignant man than myself.'" The celebrated Erasmus, Clement Marot the poet, and Rabelais the satirist, all benefited by the patronage or enjoyed the intimacy of the Cardinal, who, conjointly with his nephew the Cardinal Charles of Lorraine, is believed by some to have been indicated by the witty priest of Meudon in the character of Panurge. Passionately fond of art, the prelate-prince gathered around him the men of genius whom the largesses and magnificence of Francis I. seduced from Italy to France. He showed particular favour to Benvenuto Cellini, who presented him with some of his works and received from him costly gifts. "When in full blaze of fortune and favour, he caused to be built and decorated, with blind prodigality, after the designs of Primaticcio and by the pupils of that famous artist, the superb chateau of Meudon, in whose park was constructed, amongst other costly ornaments, a grotto, 'excellently fine and pleasant to save oneself from being wetted by the rain.' He had musicians in his service, and Arcadelt, a distinguished composer, some of whose works are still preserved and esteemed, was his maître de chapelle." His charity, although often too indiscriminate, sprang from real kindness of heart. Numerous children, belonging to poor families, were educated at his expense in the Paris schools. And his good grace in conferring favours doubled their value. The farmer of his abbey of Fécamp, having made the same receipt serve for three separate payments, and endeavouring to make it pass a fourth time, the Cardinal's receivers refused to admit it, and the case was referred to the prelate himself, who, having examined and recognised his signature, merely said, "Since John is there, John shall be believed," and ordered it to be definitively admitted. When he went abroad, "he usually," says Brantôme, "carried a great pouch, which his valet-de-chambre, who had charge of the money for his petty expenses, failed not to fill each morning with three or four hundred crowns: and as many poor as he met he put his hand into the pouch and gave, without stint or consideration, whatever he drew forth." The story is well known of the blind mendicant, who, having implored an alms of him in the streets of Rome, exclaimed, on receiving a handful of gold: "O tu sei Christo, o veramente il cardinal di Loriena." By the light which these details throw upon his character, it is not difficult to discern that the magnificent cardinal must have been a welcome courtier to the sumptuous Francis, who, during the period of his favour, made him his constant companion and delighted to do him honour. He sat upon the King's left hand on occasion of the lit de justice held at Paris on New Year's day 1537, at which Francis declared Charles of Austria attainted of rebellion and felony, and deprived of Artois, Flanders, and all the domains that he held en mouvance of the crown of France – a sentence more easily pronounced than enforced, and which of course entailed a war. Peace again concluded, in great measure by the diplomacy of the Cardinal, he it was, according to Du Bellay, who alone accompanied the King and Queen at dinner, on the day of Charles V.'s entrance into Paris. The friendship borne him by Francis, was the cause of his being charged to break to that monarch the death of his son, the Dauphin of France. Of the familiarity with which the King treated him, M. de Bouillé gives a specimen in a curious anecdote: "One day, at mass, the Cardinal did not perceive that a thief, who had managed to enter the chapel, had picked his pocket. The rogue, observing that the King had his eyes fixed upon him, with extraordinary coolness and audacity put his finger on his lips, looking at the same time significantly at Francis I., who took the hint and said nothing, in order not to spoil what he imagined to be an adroit practical joke. Service over, however, he made an observation which induced the Cardinal to put his hand in his pocket, when he discovered his loss. When the King had amused himself at his surprise, he ordered that what had been stolen should be restored; but the thief, who was perfectly serious in his intentions, had made his escape, which greatly increased the mirth of the monarch, thus cleverly duped. 'On the word of a gentleman,' he exclaimed, 'the rogue has made me his accomplice!'"
Powerfully supported at court by his brother, Claude of Lorraine was no less ably seconded in the field by his son Francis, Count of Aumale, a young hero destined ultimately to surpass even him in glory, and to raise the name of Guise to its apogee of splendour. The constantly-recurring wars with the Emperor yielded him abundant opportunities to display his prowess. In the campaign of 1543 he did good service, until, at the siege of Luxemburg, he was dangerously wounded above the ankle by an arquebuse ball. "Carried, almost without hopes – on account of the fracture of the bones and the injury to the nerves – first to his tent and then to Longwy, five leagues in rear, he owed his recovery to the attention of the King, who sent him his own physicians, and to the care bestowed upon him by his father. And nevertheless, when he suffered signs of pain to escape him during the dressing, the Duke of Guise addressed to him reproaches by which it will be seen that he subsequently profited, saying to him – a noble and stoical maxim – 'That persons of his rank ought not to feel their wounds, but, on the contrary, to take pleasure in building up their reputation on the ruin of their bodies.'" It was in no feather-bed school that the Guises were educated. Nearly at the same time that the Count d'Aumale was hit before Luxemburg, Gaspard de Coligny-Châtillon, then his rival in valour, and at a subsequent day his deadly foe, was severely wounded in the throat at the siege of Binche.
In the war in which these incidents occurred, England was allied with the Emperor against France. Personal motives combined with political irritation to dispose the violent and uxorious Henry VIII. to a rupture with Francis I. Mary of Lorraine, daughter of the Duke of Guise, and widow of Louis of Orleans, duke of Longueville, had been given in marriage to James V. of Scotland, in preference to Henry, who, inflamed by the report of her beauty, had solicited her hand as a pledge of perpetual alliance with France. Dazzling as was the offer of so powerful a sovereign, his anti-catholic acts, and his evil reputation as a husband, deterred the Guises from entertaining it; and Francis I., obeying the dictates of feeling rather than those of prudence, extricated them from a dilemma by alleging a previous promise to the Scottish king. It is said that Henry would then gladly have espoused Louisa, second daughter of the Duke, and that, means being found to elude his pursuit, this second disappointment further augmented his rancorous feelings towards Francis and the house of Guise. However this may have been, the war with England continued subsequently to the conclusion of peace between Francis and Charles – chiefly in Picardy, around Boulogne, which Henry held, and in whose neighbourhood his army was encamped. Some severe skirmishes and partial engagements occurred, and in one of these the Count of Aumale received a wound, probably the severest ever survived by mortal man, from the lance of an English officer. The weapon, according to the description of Ambrose Paré, entered "above the right eye, declining towards the nose, and piercing through on the other side, between the nape and the ear." So violent was the blow that the weapon broke in the head, into which it had penetrated more than half a foot, the entire lance-iron and two fingers' breadth of the staff remaining in the wound. Paré explains the possibility of such a wound, in an age when helmets and visors were in use, by mentioning that the Count always went into action with his face bare.
"Terrible as was the shock," says M. de Bouillé, "it did not unhorse d'Aumale. He still made head against his foes, succeeded in forcing a passage through them, aided by his young and valiant brother Claude, and by de Vieilleville – who, alone of all, had not abandoned him – and rode gloriously into camp. His appearance was frightful; his face, armour, and clothes were deluged with blood. The surgeons, stupified by the depth and gravity of the wound, despaired of cure, and refused to inflict useless sufferings upon the patient. But Ambrose Paré, the King's surgeon, sent by Francis with orders to try every means of saving the hero's life, was not discouraged. Confiding in his skill, and in the firmness of the wounded man, he resolved to attempt an operation, terrible indeed, but admirable for those days, and worthy alone to insure celebrity to him who imagined it. The lance-head was broken off so short, that it was impossible to grasp it with the hand. Taking then a blacksmith's pincers, to draw it out with great force, and assisted, amongst others, by Master Nicolle Lavernan, a very experienced surgeon, he asked the Lorraine prince, in presence of a crowd of officers shuddering with horror, if he would submit to the employment of such means, and would suffer him to place his foot upon his face. 'I consent to everything; proceed,' replied d'Aumale. Nor did his fortitude abandon him for an instant during this cruel operation, which was not effected without fracture of bones, nerves,
