I cannot resist quoting a little Latin couplet, given by Thevet in his quaint old "Vies des Hommes illustres." Mellin being sick has to take asses' milk, whereat he "Trojam evertit equus-Persas genus auxit equorum- says: CHAPTER XI. FRANCIS AND MARGARET. No account of the early French poets would be complete without some mention of the two who did so much for the cause of letters. This branch of the Valois family, whatever their faults, has the merit of being the first intelligent promoters of letters. Intelligent because they were themselves poets and authors, and in one case at least the best of the time. Their literary proclivities are traced to Valentine the accomplished mother of Charles Duke of Orleans. Francis and Margaret, children of Charles Count of Angoulême, grandchildren of Jean Count of Angoulême, had Charles for their great uncle. There are few families who can boast of so many authors in a hundred years as this of Valois. Charles of Orleans, Francis I., Margaret of Valois, Henry II., Charles IX., Renée of France, like Margaret, an esprit fort; Henry IV., Margaret's grandson; Margaret of France, daughter of Francis; Margaret of France, daughter of Henry II., and first wife of Henry IV; and, if we may reckon her among the number, Mary Queen of Scots. None of them poets of the first rank, but all of them writers of verse or prose of that kind which can only spring from culture and taste. The lives of Francis and Margaret belong to the History of France. We have only to do with their literary fame. Margaret, the first and best of the three Margarets, was two years older than her brother Francis, to whom she was passionately attached, and for whose sake she sacrificed her own happiness and gave up her time and labour. Forced into a political marriage with the Duke of Alençon at an early age, she voluntarily, on his death, married a man whom she disliked, and who illtreated her, the King of Navarre, for the promotion of her brother's objects. Francis, a man of many faults, knew at least how to recompense this devotion by his own love. He, who never deserted a friend, who loved his mother to the extent of committing an injustice for her sake which brought disaster upon France, was not likely to receive coldly a life-long sacrifice from a sister. He suffered himself to be guided by her counsels; he never did anything, so long as she was in Paris, without consulting her: through her he was nearly joining the Reformed party,—perhaps would have done so, had it not been for the battle of Pavia; and, in the very height of the popular frenzy against the Lutherans, sent to prison Beda, syndic of the Theological faculty, for reflecting on Margaret's orthodoxy, and kept him there till he died. "She was," says a contemporary, "not only the wisest of all the women in France, but of all the men. In all affairs of state there was no counsel so sure as hers to listen to. In the doctrine of Christianity she was so well versed that few people knew better how to treat of it.” She was a politician, a theologian, a scholar, a poet, a novelist. As a politician, she advised, received ambassadors, and during her brother's captivity went herself to Madrid, to treat with Charles. As a theologian she doubtless held views little short of Lutheranism. This point, however, she never reached, ever standing on the bounds of Catholicism, like Erasmus, but never willing to take the fatal step. It must be owned that there was little to gain by openly siding with men as violent as their adversaries, and neither so powerful nor so polite. So long as there was any reasonable chance of reform in the Church, suppression of abuses, and the spread of education among the clergy, schism would have been most impolitic for Margaret or for Francis. It must not be forgotten that there were two sets of Reformers; those who held Catholic views, but objected to present abuses, and those who held the right of private judgment, but with strange inconsistency limited that right to themselves and their followers. Erasmus represents the first set, Calvin the second. For Protestants to claim Erasmus as one of themselves is simply absurd. That Erasmus helped the Reformation, and, in spite of himself, hastened a catastrophe that some wise men have regarded as one of the great calamities of the human race, is of course true. In the little court of Margaret was plenty of free thought on all topics. To her seems to belong the great merit of being able to regard thought and art independently of their connexion with dogma. To be unsound, in those times, meant generally more than loss of literary fame: it meant personal danger of the worst kind. Dilettante esprits forts like Clément Marot might well tremble at the horrors of the stake, and though it was not an age when men shrank from pain, the stoutest heart might quail at sight of the unfortunate heretic suspended by thick ropes. over a burning pile; dipped and lifted alternately till the cords were burned through and his roasted body dropped living into the fire. There The dread of heresy hung over France in those evil years like a thick black cloud. No writer was safe, no scholar, no statesman; where men met to talk, suspicion lurked in corners to catch at something doubtful. was no safe subject but love and fair women; no security but in abject submission to the Church. Therefore Francis could only protect Clément Marot in exile; therefore he was compelled to declare, after assisting at the edifying spectacle of the heretic's punishment described above, that if his own son were tainted with heretical leanings he would discard him. It was lucky at least for Margaret that she was not in Paris, but safe in the country at her little court of Béarn. Even here she could not indulge freely in her speculations, and on one occasion the king, her husband, hearing that a lecture was going on in the Queen's chamber, burst in—too late to arrest the lecturer. In a fit of fury he struck the Queen on the face, exclaiming : "Madame! vous en voulez trop sçavoir." Margaret complained to Francis of her husband's ill-treatment, and Francis expostulated with him in strong terms. In person, Margaret strongly resembled Francis. Like him, "le roi au grand nez,” she had a long thin nose; thin, fine lips, and very sweet eyes. Her beauty, of which so |