gret, the condemnation of the popular party. The greater part of the burghers fled at the news, and those who could not find an asylum elsewhere, hid themselves in the woods on the mountain between Rheims and Epernay. The king caused fifty houses belonging to the most obstinate of the rebels to be demolished, and after this he retired. When the burghers returned and saw their houses destroyed in token of chastisement and contempt for them, their hatred and rage knew no bounds. They demolished in retaliation the houses of the chevaliers who had taken part with the archbishop, and obliged the latter to shut himself up in a fortress near the palace.

Threatened a second time with being besieged by the revolutionists, Henry of France did not address himself to his brother, whom he found too lukewarm, but to a foreign sovereign, the count of Flanders. He invited him to come to Rheims with a troop of 1,000 chevaliers, which, reckoning the sergeants at arms by whom each chevalier was accompanied, would make in all about 6,000 men.

The members of the corporation, not having forces sufficient to resist this army, persuaded their party to leave the town, and either carry away or destroy all the provisions, in order to starve out the enemy. This precaution produced precisely the effect they expected, and, after the lapse of a day and a night, the Flemings retired, fearing to die of hunger. The archbishop did all he could to detain them longer, but, not being able to succeed, he entered into negociations with the burghers by means of his brother Robert de Drena. After having taken an oath to put all the refractory to the sword, to chastise a part of them by severe tortures, and to extract money from the rest at pleasure, he was obliged to make peace with the corporation, and to promise that he would respect the ancient laws of the town, contenting himself with the sum of 450 livres for all losses and claims.

The failure of the archbishop Henry's attempts against the liberty of the

burghers of Rheims was not without influence upon the conduct of his successor Guillaume de Champagne. This man, of a pacific nature, seems to have feared above everything the troubles occasioned by the struggle between the municipal power and the dominion of the church. He endeavoured to conciliate these two rival powers by a charter, which proposed to fix the limits of their respective rights. But this act, inspired we must acknowledge by a generous sentiment, was far from producing all the fruits which its author intended it should do. The principal cause of this mistake was an important omission, that of the word commune, due probably to chance merely, but which subsequently served as a pretext for new attempts at usurpation on the part of the archbishops. Indeed, the enemies of the corporation soon took advantage of this to maintain that it had no legal existence, and that the charter of William of Champagne had implicitly abrogated all previous concessions. The preamble of the charter ran in the following terms:—

Just as the lords of the soil in respecting the rights and liberties of their subjects, may gain the love of God and of their neighbour, so also in violating or altering the privileges obtained in years long past, may they incur the displeasure of the Most High, lose the favour of the people, and charge their souls with an eternal burden.

We then, induced by these motives, and considering the submission and devotion burghers have ever shown towards us which you our dear children and faithful until now, have judged it right to restore and confirm to you and your descendants in perpetuity, by the guarantee of our authority, the rights granted for a length of time, but badly protected, on account of the frequent change of seignors. We will that the magistrates be restored to the town, that they be chosen to the number of 12 from among the inhabitants of our ban by your common consent, that they be afterwards presented to us, and be renewed every year, on Good Friday. Lastly, that they swear to judge you according to justice, and to guard our rights faithfully in so far as it shall be in their power to do so.*

This charter, comprehending a great number of articles relative to the municipal police, was granted in the year 1182 by the Archbishop Guillaume, who pronounced an anathema against all who should oppose it.

In spite of his benevolent intentions, he continually experienced disgust towards the close of his life from the party quarrels which no charter could extinguish; for, though the Archbishop of Rheims was at the head of his church, he shared its administration with a chapter, whose views did not always accord with his own. This chapter showed itself exceedingly jealous of its rights of jurisdiction in the town, and neglected no opportunity of maintaining them to the detriment of the juris diction of the corporation. Chicanery was not wanting to obtain the desired end. Not only the condition of the person accused, but the nature of his crime, and the place where it had been committed, decided before which court the cause should be pleaded. There were perpetual conflicts between the aldermen and the ecclesiastical judges, and often even among the latter, according as they belonged to the jurisdiction of the archbishop or to that of the canons. On the other hand, the corporation, embittered by provocations, slight but of daily occurrence, was secretly agitated, and seemed ever ready to rise against the church. Grieved at seeing his good intentions produce so little benefit, Guillaume de Champagne complained bitterly in his letters to his friends. One of them, Etienne Bishop of Tournay, endeavoured in his reply to cheer him by pleasantries. "There are," said he, "in this world three kinds of brawlers, and

a fourth whom it is not easy to silence: a commune that will have the mastery-women who quarrel with each other-a herd of swine-and a chapter divided in opinion. We laugh at the second, we despise the third, but Lord deliver us from the first and the last!"

The existence of these two hostile governments, each trying unceasingly to subjugate and ruin the other, constituted a singular state of things. It was not known, properly speaking, to which the town belonged; for at one time the corporation appeared master there, appointed the commanding officers of the watch and of the guard, and had in its power the keys of the gates; at another, the archbishop claimed the keeping of the keys and the exercise of military authority. Violent debates arose on this subject, in which each party, before having recourse to force, endeavoured to defend their arguments. The archbishop relied on the antiquity of his authority, and the burghers asserted that the defence of the town naturally belonged to those whom it most concerned.

In the year 1211, in a contest of this nature, the aldermen were determined to maintain their rights against the archbishop Aubry de Haut-Villiers. The archbishop, finding himself too weak to employ force, addressed his reclamations to the King, Philippe Auguste, who decided against the burghers, as may be seen by the following letter:

Philippe, by the grace of God King of

the French, to his friends the aldermen and citizens of Rheims, greeting and friendship.

We give you notice and command you strictly to render, without opposition or

delay, to our well-beloved and trusty Archbishop Aubry, the keys of the gates of the town of Rheims, which he holds from us; to obey his proclamations (bans) in the same manner as they were observed in the time of his predecessors; and, lastly, not to receive into the town, without his permission, those persons whom he may have banished, but to conduct yourselves towards the archbishop your

lord in such a manner as that he shall no longer have occasion to address any complaints to us on your account, for we can neither deprive him of, nor guarantee to him, the possession of that which he holds from us.

In the following year new grievances were addressed to the King by the Archbishop of Rheims. He complained that the burghers refused to obey his ordinances, unless they were rendered according to the advice, and with the consent, of the municipal magistrates. Aubry de Haut-Villiers was irritated by this refusal, and by the pretensions of the corporation, who, according to him, did the King as great an injury as himself, since they attempted to diminish the privileges of one of the grand fiefs of the crown.

Philippe Auguste looked upon it in the same light, and addressed more imperative injunctions to the burghers:

We command you (said he to them) to observe with humility the archbishop's proclamations (bans). If you find them unreasonable, lay your complaint before him peaceably, as to your seignor, and request him to amend what ought to be amended, never opposing his orders, advising and praying him as to a lord, in order that he may be provided as he ought against any danger that may arise; but if on being requested he refuse to do it, address your remonstrances on this matter to us, and we will do with pleasure as respects it all that it is our duty to do.

This vague promise of a protection, which until then had only been extended to their enemies, could not induce the burghers of Rheims to abandon themselves to the mercy of the episcopal power. What passed daily between them and the agents of this power was much graver than the mild tone of the official despatches would lead us to believe.

The archbishops of Rheims possessed at the northern extremity of the town a fortress, built it is supposed by Henry of France; here they main

tained a numerous garrison of chevaliers and archers. On the side towards the country the fortifications consisted of some towers raised even on the with the outworks by a drawbridge; fosse of the town, and communicating but the opposite side presented more formidable defences. The walls were thicker, the fosses larger and deeper, and the ramparts, well terraced, were fortified with engines, all indicating that this citadel was intended not so much to protect the town from without as to control and terrify the inhabitants.

This castle was called the PorteMars, because an ancient triumphal arch consecrated to the god Mars, and which formerly served as a gate to the town, was inclosed in this new building. At the foot of the walls, towards the country, the archbishops had a small palace adorned with gardens; this they occupied in time of peace, but at the least appearance of a disturbance, they quitted it to retreat to the fort.

The

It was in the castle of Porte-Mars that the episcopal court sat. people trembled at being cited before it, for, once within the fortress, no one could hope to leave it without having to pay a ransom. As soon as a burgher the archbishop, such as having spoken was accused of the least offence against ill of his authority, or called in question a decision of his court, the serjeants at arms, lowering their draw-bridge, went out of the castle in good order, and took a kind of military promenade through the town, to seek and seize the guilty man. If they did not find him after having traversed the streets and searched the houses, they stopped the first person that fell into their hands, and carrying him with them by force, they retained him prisoner in the castle until the person they wanted was exchanged for him. The unfortunate creatures detained under whatever pretext in the archbishop's prisons, were treated with the more severity in order to compel their family to buy them dearer. They were loaded with irons of an enormous weight, and confined in unhealthy dungeons without any other nourishment than bread and water, and of this they were sometimes deprived. If the prisoner's family, whom they were careful to inform of his condition,

and was naturally endowed to assume that distinctive line.

He was followed by three or four couple of the "ladies and gentlemen of the company," and of some of them it might be said that shoes were things they did not much stand upon. They moreover had a shabby-genteel air about them; looked hungry and happy, and wore one hand in the pocket, upon an economising principle in reference to gloves. The light comedian cut jokes with the spectators, and was soon invited to the consequence he aimed at-an invitation to "take a glass of wine." The women were more tawdry-looking than the men, but they wore a light-hearted, romping aspect, -all except the young lady who played Ophelia and Columbine, who carried a baby, and looked as if she had not been asleep since it was born, which was probably the case.

The cortège was closed by a fine gentlemanlike man who led by the hand a little girl some ten years old; and no one could look for a moment at them without at once feeling assured that there was something in them which placed them above the fellows with whom they consorted. They were father and daughter. He, manager; she, a species of infant-phenomenon. In his face were to be traced the furrows of disappointment; and in his eyes the gleams of hope. Her face was, as faces of the young should ever be, full of enjoyment, love, and feeling. The last two were especially there for the father whose hand she held, and into whose face she looked ever and anon with a smile, which never failed to be repaid in similar currency.

The refined air of the father and the graceful bearing of the modest daughter won commendation from all beholders. He was an ex-surgeon of Cork who had given up his profession in order to follow the stage. People put him down as insane; and so he was; but it was an insanity which made a Countess of his daughter. His name was Farren; and the child, pet daughter of a pretty three, was the inimitable Lizzy.

If the mayor could have read into faturity, he would have knelt down and kissed Lizzy Farren's shoe-buckles. As he could not, he only saw in the sire a vagabond, and in the child a

mountebank. On the former he hurled down the whole weight of his magisterial wrath. It was in vain that the manager declared that he was on his way to solicit the mayor's licence to act in Salisbury. That official gentleman declared that it was an infraction of the law to pass from the suburb of Fisherton into the borough of Salisbury, until the mayor's permission had been signified.

"And that permission I will never give," said his worship. "We are a godly people here, and have no taste for rascal-players. As his Majesty's representative, I am bound to encourage no amusements that are not respectable."

"But our young king," interrupted Mr. Farren, is himself a great patron of the theatre."

This was worse than a heavy blow at single-stick, and the mayor was the more wroth that he had no argument ready to meet it. After looking angry for a moment, a bright thought struck him.

"Aye, aye, sir! you will not, I hope, teach a mayor either fact or duty. We know, sir, what the King (God bless him!) patronizes. His majesty does not patronise strollers. He goes regularly to an established church, sir, and to an established theatre; and so, sir, I as mayor support only establishments. Good Heavens! what would become of the throne and the altar, were a mayor of Sarum to do otherwise!"

As Mr. Farren did not well know, he could not readily tell; and as he stood mute, the mayor continued, from his coigne of vantage, to pour down obloquy upon the player and his vocation. At every allusion which he made to his predilection only for amusements that were respectable and instructive, the single stick-player and his man drew themselves up, cried "Hear, hear!" and looked down upon the actors with an air of burlesque contempt. The actors, men and women, returned the look with a burst of incontrollable laughter. The mayor took this for deliberate insult aimed at himself and at what he chose to patronize. His protégés looked the more proud, and became louder than ever in their selfapplauding "hear, hear!" The players the while shrieked with laughtereven Mr. Farren and Lizzy could not