"He! qu'avons-nous affaire Don! Don! Pourvu que j'ai à boire Trinque, seigneur, le vin est bon, His Basselin sometimes touched upon love, but it was all in the French way. True passion was out of the question with this merry dog of a miller. It was a glance, and a pretence of being wounded by a passing ray of light, and off again to his bottle. Of course, he neglected his mill, which was put into the hands of trustees; but he sang away as jovially as ever, and, when all other resources failed took arms for the defence of the city. He is described by the chroniclers, as the "joyeuse troubadour Normand, qui non moins bon patriot que bon chansonnier, fut tué, en 1417, en combattant les Anglais.' chansons were called "Vaux-de-Vires," after the locality out of whose romantic depths they issued, and hence originated the term Vaudeville, of which class of pleasant dramatic trifles, he is now acknowledged to be the father. A learned controversy was waged for some time about this term, which was asserted on one side to be derived from an earlier period, and from the custom of singing songs in the streets, by which the etymon was traced to the phrase voix-des-villes. But the dispute has been abandoned, and the paternity of the vaudeville is now universally surrendered to Olivier Basselin. A century or so later, Basselin was succeeded by Le Houx, an advocate, who lived at Vire, and who, like his predecessor, relinquished his business to follow minstrelsy and the bottle. Le Houx's chansons, like the myriads of airy lyrics that have floated through France since his time, followed closely in the channels which had been first opened up by his predecessor. His inspiration was at second-hand; but this was no great matter in a class of fugitive pieces which ran the round of the same gay, idle topics, and which might be thrown off with facility by any Frenchman who possessed the requisite lyrical faculty and constitutional levity. Le Houx was an enthusiastic admirer of Basselin, and collected, and edited his works; an act of loving zeal for which he was duly punished by the monks, who regarded the scandal with such indignation that they ordained him to do penance for it by a pilgrimage to Rome, from whence, however, he returned as incorrigible a libertine as ever. We must not leave Vire without a word upon the beauty of the women. It is the first thing that strikes a stranger in the streets of the little town. The character of the fair is different from that of all the other Norman women we have yet seen. The complexion is generally brunette, the mouth small and delicate, and the eyes are radiant with sprightliness and coquetry. The figure is smaller and more gracefully formed than that of the women of Caen or Rouen; and the dress is evidently chosen with considerable art to shew off these advantages to the utmost. They are particularly careful about the snowy whiteness of their linen; their petticoats, short and brilliant in colour, afford ample room and atmosphere to exhibit their small feet and ancles, with which they flirt as skilfully as with their eyes; their picturesque Cauchoisecaps, rising to a great height in the form of a VOL. XXIV. F F half-spread fan, with a long train hanging down the back; a transparent gauze over the shoulder and bosom, which are fully displayed by the extreme lowness of the dress; a pretty flying collar, called point-à-jour, and a black bead necklace, complete a costume so piquant and effective as to fascinate your attention the moment you enter the town. Of all the attractions of Vire, and they are numerous and charming, it is no heresy of taste to say that the conscious beauty of the women, of which they make so effective a display, is incomparably the most captivating. X.-VILLE-DIEU. FROM the seductive heights of Vire, after traversing a pleasant stretch of intervening country, we plunge into a valley, folding round us in diminishing coils till it terminates in a small circular dell, at the bottom of which stands the town of Ville-Dieu. It looks exactly as if it had been shot down into an abyss of trees, and had been considerably dislocated in the process. Whoever wishes to see a veritable town of the middle ages, with all its modes and tenements in perfect preservation, ought to go to Ville-Dieu. There is no space round about its staggering gables to enable the inhabitants to enlarge or re-construct it, even if they were so inclined. Its peculiar position renders improvement almost impossible, and its staple handicraft, which owes much of its reputation to the length and strength of its traditions, renders change of any sort undesirable. It seems to be a matter of policy, as well as necessity, with the people to keep up as well as they can the medieval character of the place. It must be allowed that they have succeeded to a miracle. I never saw a town which betrays so few touches of the hand of progress. It has the aspect of a place that had been thrown into a trance by some powerful wizard ages ago, and had remained in that condition ever since. Sunk in a profound solitude, the gloomy austerity of Ville-Dieu helps out that antique tone which is so curiously realized in its close, dark passages. At the first glance, it suggests the idea of a small city that had tumbled into a hollow-houses, trees, and all-everything gradually settling into its place in the course of time. Streets there are, no doubt, but they abut in upon each at such odd angles and abrupt turns that they resemble broken rows of dominoes placed in and out by the fingers of a man labouring under a severe fit of palsy. The quaint houses, black, small, and frightfully out of the perpendicular, inspire you with a horrible suspicion that there is a power of vitality in them, not to step out of their foundations, but to fall upon you of their own volition, being apparently independent of the law of gravitation; and, as you move cringingly along, you expect every moment to be buried under a mass of stones and smashed timber, the streets looking as if they were premeditatingly toddling about you with a drunken intent to shut you up. Then there is a river, or rivulet, running, or sprawling, through Ville-Dieu, and a bridge you can hop over, and osiers growing near at hand, and an occasional melancholy willow weeping as fast as it can into the stream, and glimpses of green woods, convertible by the imagination into dim retreats for the fairies, who, from time immemorial have haunted this grim valley, and played mischievous pranks with the inhabitants. How they have made the contents of the pot au feu fly up the chimney; how they have turned many a brave old woman's petticoats inside out; how they have whisked off old men's wigs, and made the hearts of young girls beat till they have broken the strings of their bodices, are incidents in the history of Ville-Dieu which are said to be recorded upon the most respectable authority. If one could get out of one's head the ragged clumps of gables knocking each other about as if rocking in the fury of a tempest, the stunted entries and windows, the crazy dormitories stretching their necks out of the roofs as if they wanted to look down into the street, and the blue-black pools of water with treacherous little rocks of stones in them that make the navigation of the town a dangerous undertaking-if one could get all these things out of one's head, it might be possible to conjure up a troop of fairies in the twilight of this lower world. But the fairies are more select in their taste, and having so many choicer places in these valleys for their recreation, would hardly think of setting up even a branch establishment at Ville-Dieu. The origin of Ville-Dieu is traced to a company of the knights of Malta, who gathered around them on this spot a body of workmen skilful in the fabrication of articles used in the ceremonies of the church, such as censers, long candlesticks, sconces, and the like. These still constitute the great business of the town. The women, as usual, occupy themselves in making lace, but how they manage to make it in their murky doorways, rarely visited by enough of light to enable them to see the outlines growing under their hands, is rather a perplexing consideration. This lace-making, however, so common in all the towns and villages, especially in the most ragged parts of them, is an insignificant item in the industry of Ville-Dieu compared with the copper-works. It is impossible to pass through the town without discovering this fact. Nor is the copper manufacture confined to sacred purposes. It embraces secular as well as ecclesiastical objects, and the windows and shop-fronts, and benches stretching half-way into the streets, which can ill afford such an invasion of their limited space, present a promiscuous collection of brass-kettles and candelabras, saucepans and cherubims, burnished crucifixions and angels with their wings beaten out, lying aslant and upside down amongst stewpans and skillets. You literally pick your steps through a dazzling variety of church furniture and kitchen utensils. The early interest attached to its copper crosses and cathedral lamps survives as freshly as ever in Ville-Dieu. It is one of the very few places in France where the old religious festivals are kept up with all the ancient pomp and enthusiasm. The fête Dieu is here a solemnity to which the whole country round subscribes either in money or attendance, or both. It realizes the elaborate magnificence and theatrical art of a former age. The altar, on this occasion, is set forth with prodigal costliness; the church is illuminated from the floor to the roof; an army of priests gives an imposing importance to the ceremonies; troops of young people are dressed up to represent the various prominent personages of the Bible; and the neighbouring parishes, in addition to crowds of curious spectators from distant quarters, pour in their populations to swell the grandeur of the processions. A visit to Ville-Dieu during this annual spectacle may be recommended to people who have abundance of leisure and a liberal relish for a pious galantie-show on a large scale. THE DECISIVE BATTLES OF THE WORLD. BY PROFESSOR CREASY. THE BATTLE OF ARBELA, A.D. 331. "The victory of Charles Martel [at Tours] has immortalised his name, and may justly be reckoned among those few battles of which a contrary event would have essentially varied the drama of the world in all its subsequent scenes; Marathon, ARBELA, the Metaurus, Chalons, and Leipsic."-HALLAM. "Alexander deserves the glory which he has enjoyed for so many centuries and among all nations: but, what if he had been beaten at Arbela, having the Euphrates, the Tigris, and the deserts in his rear, without any strong places of refuge, nine hundred leagues from Macedonia !"-NAPOLEON. “Asia beheld with astonishment and awe the uninterrupted progress of a hero, the sweep of whose conquests was as wide and rapid as that of her own barbaric kings, or of the Scythian or Chaldæan hordes; but, far unlike the transient whirlwinds of Asiatic warfare, the advance of the Macedonian leader was no less deliberate than rapid: at every step the Greek power took root, and the language and the civilization of Greece were planted from the shores of the Ægæan to the banks of the Indus, from the Caspian and the great Hyrcanian plain to the cataracts of the Nile; to exist actually for nearly a thousand years, and in their effects to endure for ever."-ARNOLD. THREE of the Six Battles which our great historian, Hallam, selects as the most important in the history of the world, have been the subjects of portions of a series of papers which appeared in this periodical during the first half of the present year. The high authority of Hallam makes the others which he mentions worthy of the same consideration; and, if confirmation of Hallam's judgment respecting Arbela were requisite, such confirmation would be amply supplied by the deliberate opinion of Napoleon as to the decisive effect which a reverse at Arbela would have produced on the career of Alexander; and by the emphatic language in which Arnold has impressed on us how important Alexander's career of conquest has been to the whole human race. A long and not uninstructive list might be made out of illustrious men, whose characters have been vindicated during recent times from aspersions which for centuries had been thrown on them. The spirit of modern inquiry, and the tendency of modern scholarship, both of which are often said to be solely negative and destructive, have, in truth, restored to splendour, and almost created anew, far more than they have assailed with censure, or dismissed from consideration as unreal. The truth of many a brilliant narrative of brilliant exploits has of late years been triumphantly demonstrated, and the shallowness of the sceptical scoffs with which little minds have carped at the great minds of antiquity, has been, in many instances, decisively exposed. The laws, the politics, and the lines of action adopted or recommended by eminent men and powerful nations have been examined with keener investigation, and considered with more comprehensive judgment than formerly were brought to bear on these subjects. The result has been at least as often favourable as unfavourable to the persons and the states so scrutinised; and many an oft-repeated slander against both measures and men has thus been silenced, we may hope for ever. The veracity of Herodotus, the pure patriotism of Pericles, of Demosthenes, and of the Gracchi; the wisdom of Clisthenes and of Licinius as constitutional reformers, may be mentioned at random as facts which recent writers have cleared from unjust suspicion and censure. And it might be easily shewn that the defensive tendency which distinguishes the present and recent great writers of Germany, France, and England, has been equally manifested in the spirit in which they have treated the heroes of thought and heroes of action who lived during what we term the Middle Ages, and whom it was so long the fashion to sneer at or neglect. The name of the victor of Arbela has led to these reflections; for, although the rapidity and extent of Alexander's conquests has through all ages challenged admiration and amazement, the grandeur of genius which he displayed in his schemes of commerce civilization and of comprehensive union and unity among nations, has, until lately, been comparatively unhonoured. This long continued depreciation was of early date. The ancient rhetoricians,-a class of babblers, a school for lies and scandal, as Niebuhr justly termed them,-chose, among the stock themes for their common-places, the character and exploits of Alexander. They had their followers in every age; and, until a very recent period, all who wished to "point a moral or adorn a tale" about unreasoning ambition, extravagant pride, and the formidable frenzies of free will when leagued with free power, have never failed to blazon forth the so-called madman of Macedonia as one of the most glaring examples. Without doubt, many of these writers adopted with implicit credence traditional ideas, and supposed, with uninquiring philanthropy, that in blackening Alexander they were doing humanity good service. But also, without doubt, many of his assailants, like those of other great men, have been mainly instigated by "that strongest of all antipathies, the antipathy of a second-rate mind to a first-rate one,"* and by the envy which talent often bears to genius. Arrian, who wrote his history of Alexander, when Hadrian was emperor of the Roman world, and when the spirit of declamation and dogmatism was at its full height, but who was himself, unlike the dreaming pedants of the schools, a statesman and a soldier of practical and proved ability, well rebuked the malevolent aspersions which he heard continually thrown upon the memory of the great conqueror of the East. And one of the most distinguished soldiers and writers of our own nation, Sir Walter Raleigh, though he failed to estimate justly the full merits of Alexander, has expressed his sense of the grandeur of the part played in the world by "The Great Emathian Conqueror" in language that well deserves quotation: "So much hath the spirit of some one man excelled as it hath undertaken and effected the alteration of the greatest states and commonweals, the erection of monarchies, the conquest of kingdoms and empires, guided handfuls of men against multitudes of equal bodily strength, contrived victories beyond all hope and discourse of reason, converted the fearful passions of his own followers into magnanimity, and the valour of his enemies into cowardice; such spirits have been stirred up in sundry ages of the world, and in divers parts thereof, to erect and cast down again, to establish and to destroy, and to bring all things, persons, and states to the same certain ends, which the infinite spirit of the Universal, piercing, moving, and governing all things, hath ordained. Certainly, the things that this king did, were mar * De Stäel. |