The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1844-04-09 00:00:00

SELECTIONS.

AN INCIDENT OF THE REIGN OF LOUIS XIV.
(From Tom Burke of " Ours.")
I am going somewhat far back in history, but have no
fears on that head, Burke ; my story is a very brief one.
There was once upon a time in France a mom: ch of some
repute, called Louis the Fourteenth ; a man, if fame be
not unjust, who possessed the most kingly qualities of
which we have any record in books. He was brave, mu-
nificent, high-minded, ardent, selfish, cruel, and ungrate-
ful, beyond any other man in his own dominions ; and,
like people with such gifts, he had the good fortune to
attach men to him just as firmly and devotedly as though
he was not in his heart devoid of every principle of friend-
ship and affection. I need not tell you what the ladies of
his reign thought of him—my present business is with the
ruder sex. Among the courtiers of the day was a certain
Viscomte Arnoud de Gency • a young man who, at the age
of eighteen, won his grade oicolonel at the siege of Besan-
con, by an act of coolness and courage worth recording.
He deliberately advanced into one of the breaches, and
made a sketch of the interior works of the fortification,
while the enemy's shot was tearing up the ground around
him. When the deed was reported to the king he inter-
rupted the relation, sayina--
" Don't tell me who did this, for I have made De Gency
a colonel for it." So rapidly did Louis guess the author
of so daring a feat.
From that hour the young colonel's fortune was made.
He was appointed one of the gentlemen of the chamber to
his majesty, and distinguished by almost daily marks of
royal intimacy. His qualities eminently fitted him for the
tone of the society he lived in—he was a most witty con-
verser, a good musician, and had, moreover. a very hand-
some person ; gifts not undervalued at " Saint Germain."
Such were his social qualities ; and so thoroughly did
he understand the king's humour, that even La Valliere
herself saw the necessity of retaining him at the court,
and, in fact, made a confidant of him on several occasions
of difficulty. Still, with all these favours of fortune—
when the object of envy to almost all the rest of the house-
hold—Arnoud de Gem, was suffering in his heart one of
the most trying afflictions that can befall a proud man so
placed :he -was in actual poverty—in want so pressing,
that all the efforts he could make, all the contrivances he
could practise, were barely sufficient to prevent his misery
being public. The taste for splendour in dress and equi-
page which characterised the period had injured greatly
his private fortune; while the habit of high play, which
Louis encouraged and liked to see about him, completed
his ruin. The s *lary of his appointments was merely
enough to maintain his daily expenditure •, and thus was
he, with a breaking heart, obliged not only to mix in all
the reckless gaiety and frivolity of that voluptuous court,
but still more, tax his talents and his energies for new
themes of pleasure—fresh sources of amusement.
Worn out, at length, by the long struggle between his
secret sorrow and his pride, he resolved to appeal to the
king, and, in a few words, tell his majesty the straits to
which he was reduced, and implore his protection. To this
he was impelled not solely on his own account, but on
that also of his only child, a buy of eight or nine years
old, whose mother died in giving him birth.
An occasion soon presented itself. The king had given
orders for a hunting party at St. Cloud ; and, at an early
hour of the morning, De Geoff, in his hunting dress, took
up his position in one of the ante-chambers through which
the king must pass—not alone, however ; at his side there
stood a lovely boy, also dressed in the costume of the
chase. He wore a velvet doublet of green, slashed with
gold, and ornamented by a broad belt, from which hung
his couteau de chasse; even to the falcon feather in his
cap—nothing was forgotten.
He had not waited long when the folding-doors were
thrown wide, and a moment after Louis appeared, accom-
panied by a single attendant, the Marquis de Verneuil,
unhappily one of the very few enemies Arnoud possessed
in the world.
" Ah, De Gency ; you here ?" said the king, gaily.
" They told me Brehm' had been unfavourable lately,
and that we should not see you."
" It is true, sire," said he, with a sad effort at a smile;
" it is only on your majesty fortune always smiles."
" Pardie you must not say so ; I lost a rouleau last
night. But whom have we here ?"
" My son, so please you, sire, my only son, who desires,
at an earlier stage than even his tether did, to serve your
majesty."
" How like his mother," said the king, pushing back
the fair ringlets from the boy's forehead, and gazing almost
fondly on his handsome features; "holy like her,—she
was a Courcelles."
" She was, sfre," said Arnoud, as the tears fell on his
cheek-bone and coursed slowly along his face.
" And you want something for him," said the king, re-
suming his wonted tone, while he busied himself with his
sword-knot; " Is it not so ?"
" If I might dare to ask—"
" Assuredly you may. The thing is, what can we do ?
Eh, Verneuil, what say you ? He is but an infant."
"True, sire," replied the marquis, with a look of re-
spect in which the most subtle could not discover a trait
of his sarcastic nature ; " but there is a place vacant."
" Ah. indeed," said the king quickly. " What is it ?
he shall have it."
" Monsieur Jacotot, your majesty's head cook, stands
in need of a turnepit," said he in a low whisper, only
audible to the king.
" A turnapit I" said the king ; and scarcely was the
word uttered when, as if the irony was his own, he burst
into a most immoderate fit of laughter, an emmotion that
seemed to increase as he endeavoured to repress it; when
at the instant the cor de chasse, then heard without, gave
a new turn to his thoughts ; and he hurried forward with
De Verneuil, leaving De Gency and his son rooted to the
spot—indignant passion in that heart which despair and
sorrow had almost rendered callous.
His majesty was still laughing as he mounted his barb
in the court-yard; and the courtiers, like well-bred gen-
tlemen, laughed as became them, with that low, quiet
laugh which is the meet chorus of a sovereign's mirth,
when suddenly two loud reports, so rapidly following on
each oth-r as almost to seem one, startled the glittering
coriege, and even made the Arab courser of the king plunge
madly in the air.
" Par St. Denis! messieurs," sad Louis passionately,
" this pleasantry of yours is ill thought of. Who has dared
to do this ?"
But none spoke. A terrified look around the circle was
the only reply to the king's question, whew a page rushed
forward, his dress spotted and blood-stained, his face pale
with horror—
" Your majesty—ah, sire !'' said he, kneeling ; but sobs
choked him, and be could not utter more.
" What is this ?—w;11 no one tell ?" cried the king, as
a frown of dark omen shadowed his angry features.
" Your majesty has lost a brave, an honest, and a fa:th-
ful follower, sire," said Monsieur de Coulanges. "Arnoud
de Gency is no more."
" Why, I saw him this instant," said the king. "He
asked me some favour for his boy."
" True, sire," replied De Coulanges mournfully ; but
he checked himself in time; for already the well-known
and (leaded expression of passion bad mounted to the
king's face.
" Dismiss the chasse,' gentlemen," said he. in a low,
thick voice ; " and do you, Monsieur de Verneuil, attend
me

The coit4e was soon scattered ; and the Marquis de
Verneuil followed the king, with an expression where fear
and dread were not to be mist .ken.
Monsieur de Verneuil did indeed seem an altered man
when he appeared among his friends that evening. What-
ever the king had said to him assuredly had worked its due
effect; for all his raillery was gone; and even the veriest
trifler of the party might have dared an encounter with
wits, which then were subdued and broken. Next morn-
ing, however, the sun shone out brilliantly. The king
was in high spirits, the game abounded ; and his majesty
with his own hand brought down eight pheasants. The
Marquis de Vernenil could hit nothing ; for although the
best marksman of the day, his hand shook, and his sight
failed him ; and the king won fifty louis from him before
they reached Saint Germain.
Never was there a happier day, nor followed by a plea-
santer evening. The king supped in Madame de la
Valliere's apartment; the private band played the most
delicious airs during the repast ; and when at length the
party retired to rest, not one bright dream was clouded by
the memory of Arnoud de Gency.

ANTIQUITY OF HERALDRY.—There can be little doubt
but that, with all its absurdities heraldry is a most an-
cient science. The twelve Hebrew tribes bore on their
banners insignia, under which the dying patriarch Jacob
had typified them (Gen. xlix.) The supporters of our own
national arms were regal emblems, even in the days of
Balsam. When that bold bad man would speak of the
victories and power of Israel, he selects those two animals
in illustration (Numbers xxiii. 22, 24 ; xxiv. 8, 9)—the
lion, as the emblem of conquest; the unicorn, that of
strength.—Dublin University Magazine.
WHAT SHOULD BE DONE WITH THE CONVICTED CON-
VICTED CONSPIRATORS I—Whatever sentence the judges
of the land pronounce upon the convicted conspirators,
let it be enforced. The purity of that bench—which is
not the less unsullied that the rancour of party spirit has
dared to asperse it—will not visit their crime with any
strained infliction. They will be treated like other men
so circumstanced. See to it, then, that you mitigate not
their doom, as you would not that of others. Let not
Irish treason have favour that is withheld from English.
Let not popery press her claim, that a divided allegiance
may excuse disloyalty, and be not lenient to the papist
where you have been merciless to the protestant. This
Point, so insignificant in some respects,
is all-important
in others. For the individua!s we care nothing ; or, if we
have any feeling, it is the ordinary one of regret, that men
of education and position should have compromised them-
selves and their liberty by a course of wanton agitation
and diiturbance. But for the cause of peace, for the hope
of future advantage to Ireland, for the success of that
better state we look for with longing and anxiety, we say.
punish the evil-doers, set men an example of the fruits of
rebellious disturbance. Disabuse the peasant mind of the
invulnerability of their arch deceiver. Let them know
that be who boaeted the fertility of his wiles, has found
the law too strong for him. Show them the libellous dis-
seminators of rebellion in rhyme, and prose treason, at
the bars of Kilmainham. Let the " Freeman" be a mis-
nomer as palpable as the " Nation," or the " Pilot."
Do this, and your measure of conciliation—if such a name
convey ne false impression—will show that you can be
University
generous while just, and that a sense of right, whether to
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