what passes for the house cf one,

"that of Tristan l'Hermite,

the ill-omened executioner of Louis XI. It is a brick mansion, apparently of the fifteenth century; its front terminates in a gable" flanked by a stair-turret seventy feet high. Whoever lived in it, it is worth seeing as an example of domestic town-architecture of that period.

At the beginning of the action of the story introduced, Quentin Durward appeared on the summer morning already mentioned, a young Scotchman, brave, hardy, well-descended, wandering in search of occupation as a bowman or man-at-arms. He encountered two persons by whom he was led to Plessis.

Scott described the grim palace as it was in its sternest and most complete condition. Three strong walls and three deep fosses encompassed an "enclosure," within which "arose the castle itself, containing buildings of different periods, crowded around, and united with the ancient and grim-looking donjon-keep, which was older than any of them, and which rose, like a black Ethiopian giant, high into the air; while the absence of any windows larger than shot-holes, irregularly disposed for defence, gave the spectator the same unpleasant feeling which we experience on looking at a blind man. The other buildings seemed scarcely better adapted for the purposes of comfort, for the windows opened to an inner and enclosed court-yard." It was built of dark-colored materials and soot-tinted cement, in order to increase this gloomy effect. The entrance-way, through the various circumvallating defences, was intricate, and easily rendered of the most difficult passage. In addition, the whole environs of the castle were thickly studded "with every species of hidden pitfall, snare, and gin to entrap" any unguarded comer. If few examples of such strongholds remain in France, there are yet to be found houses of contemporaneous existence that were seats of the higher classes, and that yet give one adequate idea of their style of life. The well-known and very interesting Hôtel de Cluny at Paris is a perfect treasury of mediaval domestic relics: its quaint apartments seem to receive one back into the fifteenth century, and self-denial is required to prevent more thought of them than can be contained in this brief allusion. At Bourges (one hundred and forty-six miles south of Paris) is the Hôtel de la Chausée, or de la Ville, formerly the house of Jacques Cœur, minister of finance to Charles VII. the predecessor of Louis XI. This man, the great merchant prince and

Rothschild of his time, built this house at about the time Plessis was shaped; and it remains one of the most curious in France, and will give the traveller a very fair conception of a grand residence at the period of this story. The eastern front of the Castle of Blois dates back nearly to the same time. The Castle of Amboise, although of almost indefinite antiquity and produced by many architectural changes, may yet illustrate the best parts of Plessis. At it Louis XI. resided; and on Aug. 1, 1469, instituted the order of the knights of St. Michael. Its apartments were "restored" about twenty-five years ago, but have in that time experienced vicissitudes.

...

It is probable, however, that we must seek for the most complete extant example of edifices indicative of domestic and personal characteristics of Louis XI. at another "palace" or seat of his, also described in the novel, though it is not so prominent a scene, at Loches, about twenty miles south-east of Tours. Loches is "one of the most picturesque towns of Touraine," crowded around the base of a lofty rock bearing the imposing remains of a historic castle, once a royal palace, but during the reign of Louis XI. a prison " more dreaded than Plessis itself . . . described," says Scott, "as a place destined to the workings of those secret acts of cruelty with which even Louis shamed to pollute the interior of his own residence. There were in this place of terror dungeons under dungeons, some of them unknown even to the keepers themselves,— living graves, to which men were consigned, with little hope of farther employment during the rest of their life than to breathe impure air, and to feed on bread and water. At this formidable castle were also those dreadful places of confinement called cages, in which the wretched prisoner could neither stand upright nor stretch himself at length; an invention, it is said, of the Cardinal Balue" (who himself tenanted one of these dens for more than eleven years). The walls of the castle are even and perfect

masonry, apparently of Norman workmanship. It has a keep, now empty, with walls eight feet thick and one hundred and twenty feet high, resembling the keeps of London and Rochester. "Beside it rises a picturesque group of less ancient towers, in one of which, circular in form, are the terrible Cachots of Louis XI., extending downwards in four stories below one another." Two of them contained iron cages, that existed in them until 1789. The author of "Feudal Castles of France" gives an interesting sketch

of the history of this formidable stronghold, and considerable detail of its present aspect. He describes his approach to it and its characteristics in a pleasant and graphic manner. "As we emerged," he says, "from the vast old forest, which, in the sombre grandeur of its noble timber, and the width of its grass-grown roads, reminded us much of that of Fontainebleau, we came upon a steep declivity, bringing us down to the Valley of the Indre, on the opposite side of which, clothed in all the majesty of its singular beauty, burst upon our sight the rocky eminence of Loches, almost a Subiaco of the North. If we were to select among the châteaux of Touraine that which combined the highest pictorial perfection with the highest historical interest, we must point out that of Loches, as presenting to the artist, as well as the archæologist, all that is most captivating to the eye and to the intelligence. The approach to the old town of which this celebrated ancient castle is

the nucleus and the glory—is absolutely enchanting; we can remember nothing that will bear comparison with it in any part of France. ... On the summit of a steep and lofty rock towers this commanding relic of an age whose history is darkly intimated by the stern, uncompromising outline, whether of its rugged pedestal, or of its towers, its dungeons, its earthworks, and its outposts. . . . Scott's record of Loches is a living description, and eloquently conveys the feeling, almost of awe, with which one surveys it."

Again recalling his story, we recall the incident that Quentin Durward was led, by the two persons whom he met, to Plessis, and that he breakfasted at the Fleur de lys inn with the elder, under whose auspices, he there also obtained quarters. But better fortune than this permitted him, when he went to his room, to hear from a neighboring turret a pretty maid singing, to the notes of a lute that she played, a charming love-song; and he had a delightful glimpse of her while she sang. He soon found that she was very mysterious and inaccessible; and yet that she must become the heroine of an important portion of his career. He was led towards this by the result of an interview with an uncle, Ludovic Lesly, an old archer in the royal Scotch Guard, in which Quentin took service and was stationed at the Castle of Plessis-les-Tours. There he found that one of his guides on the summer morning was the King, into whose further acquaintance and even confidence he before long was admitted, on account of his character and an act by which he saved the royal life at a boar hunt. His fortunes were again ad

vanced by Louis, who, after a defiance brought by the ambassador of the Duke of Burgundy, sent him on a difficult and dangerous expedition to Liège in Flanders. He was intrusted with the escort thither of two ladies, under royal protection, one of whom was a ward of Louis' hostile and powerful vassal, the Duke. The value and nature of this protection, and the King's real object in the mission, were proved within a short time; and so also were Quentin's pluck and worth. His reward appeared in the fact that he was appointed to attend upon the fascinating singer whom he heard when he first arrived at Plessis. Her name was there said to be Jacqueline; but really she was Isabelle, disguised Countess of Croye. Many obstructions were opposed during the journey of the party; but these, and the various adventures of travelling in that turbulent age, were successfully encountered, and, on the tenth or twelfth day, quarters were found at the Franciscan convent at Namur. There Quentin learned from the prior the condition of Liège. He detected, also, a plot, in which his guide was engaged, for consummating one of the King's objects in the mission, — the betrayal of the ladies in his charge to the high-born but ferocious marauder, William de la Marck, surnamed expressively, from his character, "the Wild Boar of Ardennes." Quentin thwarted this purpose by changing the route to Liège, where he at length arrived safely with his party, and where he hoped to place the ladies awhile under protection of the Prince Bishop.

Liège, during centuries an important place, is now a well-known city on the great thoroughfare between central Belgium and the Rhine, and is busy with manufactures and picturesque in situation. Although devastations have often swept over it, it contains not a few relics of antiquity. The party in the story are said to have found the bishop established at his "beautiful Castle of Schonwaldt, about a mile without Liège." Travellers need spend no time in search for this residence, and indeed for other Belgian scenes of this story; they have disappeared; or if they have not disappeared, the reason is that they had not a real existence to leave. Scott never visited these localities of his story; so that, in various degree, they were imagined by him. And yet, as a writer remarks, "from the vividness of his description of the town, and the perfect consistency of all his topographical details, few readers would doubt that he was personally acquainted with it." His treatment of its history is generally correct, but some occurrences are

adapted to the effect of his composition. At the time of the story, the citizens of Liège, always enterprising and unquiet, numbered one hundred and twenty thousand. They had become elated by wealth and power, and insubordinate to the bishop and to Charles the Bold, Duke of Burgundy, to whom they owed allegiance. In 1467, only three years before Quentin's supposed visit, the Duke severely punished this insubordination, that, notwithstanding, again during the next year broke into an open revolt, instigated, it is said, by Louis XI. They then seized the bishop, and brought him prisoner, from his castle at Tongres, to their own city. They were led by a man called Le Sauvage, under whom they committed many atrocities. In 1482, after the death of the Duke, Marck murdered the bishop. This revolt and murder are combined in the action of the story. The Duke actually subdued this fierce rebel and the Liègeois, and destroyed the city, except the ecclesiastical buildings. At "Schonwaldt," Quentin was separated from the Countess Isabelle, and soon had an opportunity to become acquainted with Liège as it was both before and during the continuance of this revolt. He beheld and admired "the lofty houses; the stately, though narrow and gloomy streets; the splendid display of the richest goods and most gorgeous armor in the warehouses and shops around; the walks crowded by busy citizens of every description, passing and repassing with faces of careful importance or eager bustle, the hugh wains, which transported to and fro the subjects of export and import . . . the canals" of communication, "traversing the city in various directions," and the ancient and then numerous churches. This mediæval Liège has nearly disappeared; and yet the city contains curious old edifices, that, although generally not as old as Quentin's time, yet perhaps sufficiently illustrate it. The Cathedral of St. Lambert — a building of the eighth century, in which Quentin is represented to have heard mass was utterly destroyed during the excesses of the French revolutionary invasion. It stood opposite the Palais de Justice, or former Episcopal palace. The latter, somehow apt to be associated with this story, was built by Prince Bishop Erard de la Marck in 1533, and remains a very interesting structure. The most noticeable portion is the court surrounded by a large, quaint, cloister-like colonnade, having a pier at each of the four corners, and, between these, sixteen pillars on two sides, and twelve on the other two, besides engaged pillars at the piers. Each of

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