Quentin Durward | Page 3

of his
deathbed might of itself be a warning piece against the seduction of his
example. Jealous of every one, but chiefly of his own son, he immured
himself in his Castle of Plessis, intrusting his person exclusively to the
doubtful faith of his Scottish mercenaries. He never stirred from his
chamber; he admitted no one into it, and wearied heaven and every
saint with prayers, not for forgiveness of his sins, but for the
prolongation of his life. With a poverty of spirit totally inconsistent
with his shrewd worldly sagacity, he importuned his physicians until
they insulted as well as plundered him. .
It was not the least singular circumstance of this course, that bodily
health and terrestrial felicity seemed to be his only object. Making any
mention of his sins when talking on the state of his health, was strictly
prohibited; and when at his command a priest recited a prayer to Saint
Eutropius in which he recommended the King's welfare both in body
and soul, Louis caused the two last words to be omitted, saying it was
not prudent to importune the blessed saint by too many requests at once.
Perhaps he thought by being silent on his crimes he might suffer them
to pass out of the recollection of the celestial patrons, whose aid he
invoked for his body.
So great were the well merited tortures of this tyrant's deathbed, that
Philip de Comines enters into a regular comparison between them and
the numerous cruelties inflicted on others by his order; and considering
both, comes to express an opinion that the worldly pangs and agony
suffered by Louis were such as might compensate the crimes he had
committed, and that, after a reasonable quarantine in purgatory, he
might in mercy he found duly qualified for the superior regions ... The
instructive but appalling scene of this tyrant's sufferings was at length
closed by death, 30th August, 1483.
The selection of this remarkable person as the principal character in the
romance -- for it will be easily comprehended that the little love
intrigue of Quentin is only employed as the means of bringing out the

story -- afforded considerable facilities to the author. In Louis XI's time,
extraordinary commotions existed throughout all Europe. England's
Civil Wars were ended, rather in appearance than reality, by the short
lived ascendancy of the House of York. Switzerland was asserting that
freedom which was afterwards so bravely defended. In the Empire and
in France, the great vassals of the crown were endeavouring to
emancipate themselves from its control, while Charles of Burgundy by
main force, and Louis more artfully by indirect means, laboured to
subject them to subservience to their respective sovereignties. Louis,
while with one hand he circumvented and subdued his own rebellious
vassals, laboured secretly with the other to aid and encourage the large
trading towns of Flanders to rebel against the Duke of Burgundy, to
which their wealth and irritability naturally disposed them. In the more
woodland districts of Flanders, the Duke of Gueldres, and William de
la Marck, called from his ferocity the Wild Boar of Ardennes, were
throwing off the habits of knights and gentlemen to practise the
violences and brutalities of common bandits.
[Chapter I gives a further account of the conditions of the period which
Quentin Durward portrays.]
A hundred secret combinations existed in the different provinces of
France and Flanders; numerous private emissaries of the restless Louis,
Bohemians, pilgrims, beggars, or agents disguised as such, were
everywhere spreading the discontent which it was his policy to
maintain in the dominions of Burgundy.
Amidst so great an abundance of materials, it was difficult to select
such as should be most intelligible and interesting to the reader: and the
author had to regret, that though he made liberal use of the power of
departing from the reality of history, he felt by no means confident of
having brought his story into a pleasing, compact, and sufficiently
intelligible form. The mainspring of the plot is that which all who know
the least of the feudal system can easily understand, though the facts
are absolutely fictitious. The right of a feudal superior was in nothing
more universally acknowledged than in his power to interfere in the
marriage of a female vassal. This may appear to exist as a contradiction

both of the civil and canon laws, which declare that marriage shall be
free, while the feudal or municipal jurisprudence, in case of a fief
passing to a female, acknowledges an interest in the superior of the fief
to dictate the choice of her companion in marriage. This is accounted
for on the principle that the superior was, by his bounty, the original
granter of the fief, and is still interested that the marriage of the vassal
shall place no