Quentin Durward | Page 5

of more
than three hundred of these independent nobles, to whom incest,
murder, and rapine were the most ordinary and familiar actions.
Besides these evils, another, springing out of the long continued wars
betwixt the French and English, added no small misery to this
distracted kingdom. Numerous bodies of soldiers, collected into bands,
under officers chosen by themselves, from among the bravest and most
successful adventurers, had been formed in various parts of France out
of the refuse of all other countries. These hireling combatants sold their
swords for a time to the best bidder; and, when such service was not to
be had, they made war on their own account, seizing castles and towers,
which they used as the places of their retreat, making prisoners, and
ransoming them, exacting tribute from the open villages and the
country around them -- and acquiring, by every species of rapine, the
appropriate epithets of Tondeurs and Ecorcheurs, that is, Clippers and
Flayers.
In the midst of the horrors and miseries arising from so distracted a
state of public affairs, reckless and profuse expense distinguished the
courts of the lesser nobles, as well as of the superior princes; and their
dependents, in imitation, expended in rude but magnificent display the
wealth which they extorted from the people. A tone of romantic and
chivalrous gallantry (which, however, was often disgraced by

unbounded license) characterized the intercourse between the sexes;
and the language of knight errantry was yet used, and its observances
followed, though the pure spirit of honourable love and benevolent
enterprise which it inculcates had ceased to qualify and atone for its
extravagances. The jousts and tournaments, the entertainments and
revels, which each petty court displayed, invited to France every
wandering adventurer; and it was seldom that, when arrived there, he
failed to employ his rash courage, and headlong spirit of enterprise, in
actions for which his happier native country afforded no free stage.
At this period, and as if to save this fair realm from the various woes
with which it was menaced, the tottering throne was ascended by Louis
XI, whose character, evil as it was in itself, met, combated, and in a
great degree neutralized the mischiefs of the time -- as poisons of
opposing qualities are said, in ancient books of medicine, to have the
power of counteracting each other.
Brave enough for every useful and political purpose, Louis had not a
spark of that romantic valour, or of the pride generally associated with
it, which fought on for the point of honour, when the point of utility
had been long gained. Calm, crafty, and profoundly attentive to his own
interest, he made every sacrifice, both of pride and passion, which
could interfere with it. He was careful in disguising his real sentiments
and purposes from all who approached him, and frequently used the
expressions, "that the king knew not how to reign, who knew not how
to dissemble; and that, for himself, if he thought his very cap knew his
secrets, he would throw it into the fire." No man of his own, or of any
other time, better understood how to avail himself of the frailties of
others, and when to avoid giving any advantage by the untimely
indulgence of his own.
He was by nature vindictive and cruel, even to the extent of finding
pleasure in the frequent executions which he commanded. But, as no
touch of mercy ever induced him to spare, when he could with safety
condemn, so no sentiment of vengeance ever stimulated him to a
premature violence. He seldom sprang on his prey till it was fairly
within his grasp, and till all hope of rescue was vain; and his

movements were so studiously disguised, that his success was generally
what first announced to the world the object he had been manoeuvring
to attain.
In like manner, the avarice of Louis gave way to apparent profusion,
when it was necessary to bribe the favourite or minister of a rival prince
for averting any impending attack, or to break up any alliance
confederated against him. He was fond of license and pleasure; but
neither beauty nor the chase, though both were ruling passions, ever
withdrew him from the most regular attendance to public business and
the affairs of his kingdom. His knowledge of mankind was profound,
and he had sought it in the private walks of life, in which he often
personally mingled; and, though naturally proud and haughty, he
hesitated not, with an inattention to the arbitrary divisions of society
which was then thought something portentously unnatural, to raise
from the lowest rank men whom he employed on the most important
duties, and knew so well how to choose them, that he was rarely
disappointed in their qualities. Yet there were contradictions in the