Montmorency rushed madly into the ranks of Schomberg's close battalions, and his horse falling and himself wounded, he lay in his heavy armor incapable of raising himself, and unsupported by the troops of Gaston. On being at length carried away a prisoner to the Marshal's tent, and his armor removed for he was nearly suffocated by the blood that flowed alike from his mouth and wounds -the portrait of Anne of Austria was found attached to his arm by a bracelet of diamonds. Montmorency had received seventeen wounds, five balls had remained in his body, and one had nearly severed his throat. He was not expected to live, and he was removed by the troops to Castelnaudary on a ladder covered with cloaks, the bearers weeping as if they had been attending a funeral. Thence he was taken in a litter, against the protestations of his surgeon, to the Château de Lectoure. Richelieu, who had arrived with the King at Lyons, dreaded nothing so much as that his prisoner should be carried away from him. He was preparing his master's mind for a tragic conclusion to the affair, and no argument that he used was so strong as that unfortunate discovery of the portrait. Yet was the Cardinal himself more jealous than the King, for he also had aspired to the favors of Anne of Austria. A council was assembled, and the inquiry was so long that de Montmorency had got sufficiently well to rise up to receive the Marquis de Brèze, brother-inlaw of Cardinal Richelieu, when that gentlemen came to remove him to Toulouse. He was perfectly prepared for his fate; he knew that to be put on trial was equivalent to a condemnation to death. He was conducted through the streets of Toulouse in a close carriage, surrounded by mousquetaires on foot and on horse, with a double row of Swiss, besides eight squadrons of light horse. The intervention of the most of the nobility of the country-of even Charles I. of England was of no avail. His enemies were to powerful, and too deeply bent on his ruin. "The day of his execution, the 30th of October, the Marshal woke at seven o'clock in the morning after a quiet night's rest. His surgeon presented himself as usual to dress his wounds. The hour is como,' he said, 'to cure all these wounds by one.' He took the scissors out of the surgeon's hands, and himself cut off his long moustaches, handing them over to a priest to be burnt as a last vanity of this world. "The Comte de Charlus then presented him self to conduct him to the scaffold. He was jacket, and he now cast over his shoulders & dressed as on the previous evening, in a white soldier's cloak of coarse cloth. He was first led to the chapel to hear the verdict. 'I thank you,' he said to the magistrates; 'I pray you assure all those of your company that I hold this verdict of the King's justice as a manifestation of God's clemency.' He was then handed that the execution should be carried out on the over to the grand provost. The verdict ordered Place de Salin; but, whether out of consideration for the Duke, or for motives of prudence, seeing the excitement that prevailed, the King allowed the scaffold to be erected in the interior court of the Capitole. This court, of limited dimensions, was filled with soldiers, charged to superintend the preparations for the execution. the windows around, dressed in their ceremoThe men of justice and the 'capitouls' occupied nial red cloaks. There was a statue of Henri IV. in the court which rose to the same hight as the scaffold--that is to say, to the hight of the first story and the Duke, remaining on the minister in attendance asked him if he his entrance with his eyes fixed on the statue, wished for any thing? No, father,' he replied; I was looking at the statue of Henri IV.; he was a great and generous prince; I had the honor to be his godson.' He was advancing towards the scaffold when a last attempt to save his life was made: the lieutenant of the guards, De Launay, once more wended his way to the palace. In the interval the Marshal-duke sat down on a bench in the court, near a balustrade, and conversed in a low voice with his confessor. His last words were: 'What do I feel within myself, father? I can assure you before God, to whom I am about to answer, that I never went to a ball, nor to a feast, nor to battle, with greater satisfaction than I go to die. Promise me, father, that you will say there is some vanity in it, which there is not; I nothing of this, for fear that it is thought that only mention it to you for my comfort and for yours.' "After a moment of terrible anxiety for all present, the messenger reäppeared, and it was seen on his face that there was nothing to hope for. The executioner had then 'main levée,' and the Duke walked with a firm step to the scaffold. his neck and shoulders, and presented his He assisted the executioner in baring naked arms to be tied; he begged one of the priests on his ascent to see that his head did not bound off to the ground, but to prevent its doing so if it was possible; his friends say that nothing horrified him so much as to see the head of a person roll from off the scaffold. Once upon the scaffold, he kneeled down, made no further observation, but kissing the crucifix, and recommending himself to the prayers of the ministers, he placed his head on the block. But finding this too low and badly fixed, he rose up again, and assumed another position. A groan of pain that he uttered, drawn from him by the wound in his throat, staid the arm of the executioner. He called out to him not to strike, and then he rose again and tried another position. This time he stretched out his arms, and, recommending his soul, his head fell near the block, as he had wished. His blood spurted out upon the statue of Henri IV., and if tradition is to be believed, left its traces there for a long time afterwards." All this time the unfortunate Duchess could not approach her husband. Struck down by sickness at Béziers, when she was first informed of his having been made prisoner, she fainted away. When she came to herself, she at once sent off, ill as she was, her own medical man and her squire to bring back intelligence as to how he was. They found him at Villefranche, and the wounded man said to the squire: "Tell my wife the number and size of the wounds you have seen, and then assure her that that which I have made in her heart is far more painful to me than all the others." Madame de Montmorency, although so reduced by care and sickness, roused her self, and made desperate efforts to save her husband. She wrote to all his relations, persuaded Gaston not to go over to Spain, caused many fortresses that were in the hands of her friends to be given up to the King, and asked permission to throw herself at his Majesty's feet; but it was all in vain. After the fearful tragedy had been enacted, commissioners presented themselves at the Château de la Grange to seize her goods, and to order her to quit Languedoc for Moulins, La Fère, or Montargis. She offered no resistance, nay, was totally indifferent to the act of spoliation and as to where she was to go; she said to Moulins to be near her husband's remains. She was so ill that she had to travel by short journeys, and so poor that she had to sell her carriage horses to enable her to finish her journey. All she wished for was death as a relief to her sufferings. She was imprisoned at first in an old feudal castle that was falling into ruins. One day she saw a snake come forth from a crevice in the walls of her room, and glide towards her. A sudden gladness filled her soul; she held out her arm towards it, but an attendant coming in at the time frightened the reptile, which fled away, the Duchess watching it with a look of grievous despair. After two years' captivity, she was allowed to retire from the world in the convent of the Visitation at Moulins, where we found her at the commencement of this article. Here she devoted what remained to her of her worldly goods to enlarging and improving the convent, and to the construction of a monument to the memory of her husband. She received visits from Louis XIII. and Gaston, and afterwards from Louis XIV., from the widow of Charles I., and from Christina of Sweden. She lived to hear of the death of the implacable enemy of her husband-Cardinal Richelieu-and she ultimately sank into an eternal rest in perfect odor of sanctity. "Of all women," says her biographer, "who have earned celebrity by their devotion and love, none can surpass the widow of Montmorency; her virtue had no shady side, and was entombed in her perfection." Sketches like these of a by-gone epoch and of an extinguished race of men and women, are not without their utility as well as their picturesque and romantic interest. M. de Montmorency, among the last of the great feudal vassals of the crown, was not the last of those who represented the "esprit gentilhomme " of a past generation, but he was among the last with whom, despite his faults and errors, which were as much those of the times he lived in as his own, that chivalrous spirit attained its highest perfection. Without going so far as a Capefigue, who would have us ever regret the loss of the gallant gentleman who would go to battle in laced frills and scented kerchiefs, still it is impossible not to feel that they were a far more cultivated, more delicate-minded, and high-principled race than their descendants-the Montmorencys, the Liancourts, the Périgords, the Lafayettes, the Noailles, the Rochambeaus, and the Birons, who scratched their very escutcheons in times of revolution, adopted their family cognomens, Bouchard, Mottier, and Guy, and "committed a stupid suicide which did not even profit to their pride.” THE Italian tourist of the earlier part of this century doubtless still preserves a vivid recollection of the predatory habits familiar to some portion of the inhabitants of classic Italy, and of the time when it was an act of heroism, if not of insane foolhardiness, to travel without a strong escort through many of its loveliest scenes. teous bearing, not unfrequently characterized these daring outlaws; and rumor said, that this shadow of chivalric conduct was attributable to one of their chiefs, who was infinitely less ferocious than the desperate gang over whom he had found the means of acquiring influence. Leonardo, or İl Leone-the Lion, as he was generally called-had not always folNot alone in Southern Italy, in the ill-lowed such degrading courses. He was governed States of the Church, and the younger son of an Italian nobleman; among the lawless semi-barbarians of Ca- he had received a good education, and he labria; not alone amidst the deep solitudes had, at one time, mixed in good society. of the Apennines, but even where civiliza- But his mind not having been imbued with tion was more dominant, and where se- those religious principles which alone can curity should have been better established, give strength to withstand the allurements had rapine fixed its strongholds. In the of vice, he fell into evil habits, gambled Venetian territories, at no very great dis- away his small inheritance, and, having tance from the beautiful and picturesque wound up his reckless career by entering Lago di Garda, a troop of brigands had into a political conspiracy against the established their head-quarters, having government, was obliged to fly from the found a safe retreat amidst that chain of neighborhood of his paternal home, and the Alps which terminates near Chiusa. to seek elsewhere the means of subsistBy these bandits many an unsuspecting ence. It was at this juncture that, in traveler was adroitly eased of his lug-a measure compelled by necessity, he gage; and in some cases, especially if the robbers met with ineffectual resistance, scenes of violence were enacted. Yet a kind of wild generosity, a degree of cour "We should convey an exceedingly imperfect idea of the poetry of Italy, did we omit to say a few words of the Improvisatori. Their talent, their inspiration, and the enthusiasm which they excite, are all most illustrative of the national character. In them we perceive how truly poetry is the immediate language of the soul, and the imagination. The talent of an improvisatore is the gift of nature, and a talent which has frequently no relation to the other faculties. The improvisatore generally begs from the audience a subject for his verse. After having been informed of this subject, he remains a moment in meditation, to view it in its different lights, and to shape out the plan of the little poem he is about to compose. His eyes wander around, his features glow, and he struggles with the spirit which seems to animate him."-Literature of the South of Europe. By J. C. L. SIMONDE DE SISMONDI. sought concealment and shelter among the robber-band, who eventually elected him as one of their leaders; for even in that wild community talents and education commanded respect. Time rolled on, and it may be that I Leone would have pined to return to civilized society, and to exchange his almost savage freedom for the unforgotten advantages and pleasures which he had once enjoyed, had not a softer tie than that of fealty to his adventurous_com. panions thrown its charm around his heart. He had seen, admired, and, with her own consent, carried off and married a beautiful peasant girl; and to embellish her mountain dwelling, to protect her from danger, and to cheer her solitude, now became the principal objects of his existence, although he did not relinquish the wretched profession which circumstances, or, as he said, "fate," had driven him to follow. But, as if Providence had determined to punish him for his evil deeds, the one ewe-lamb, the being whom he loved so much, was snatched from him by death, and Leonardo was left with one motherless child, a lovely little girl of about three years of age. The innocent Ninetta was a favorite with the whole rude community; the rough men, the coarseminded women, the hardy,sun-burnt children, all loved her; and she looked among them like a little cherub who had strayed from her home in the skies, or had been sent on a mission of celestial love to mollify the iron hearts around her. Il Leone devoted his spare time to the education of his daughter, who proved to be an extremely clever, intelligent child. He taught her to read and write, and to play on a guitar, of which one of the bandits had robbed an unwary traveler as a present for the little favorite. He recited to her passages from the best poets of Italy; from Tasso, Ariosto, Petrarca, and Metastasio; he related to her anecdotes and incidents from the histories of Greece and Rome, and from the scarcely less stirring annals of the early republics and petty Sovereignties of her own romantic country; but that far more essential knowledge which is to be learned from the Holy Scriptures he did not impart to her, probably because he was ignorant of it himself. Did the opening floweret then grow up into a noxious weed? No; happily it was not so ordained. One day, when Ninetta was about nine years of age, she had followed a pet goat, and with this companion had rambled to a great distance beyond her accustomed haunts; up hill and down dale, from crag to crag, the little mountaineer pursued her roving guide, till at last a tract of country burst on her view which she had never before beheld, and almost at the same moment she perceived, by the length of her own shadow, that day was on the decline. The goat was still skipping onwards, now browsing on the short grass which grew in patches here and there, now sniffing the mountain breeze, and bounding in joyous liberty from one projecting ledge of rock to another, regardless of the silver voice of its young mistress, whose clear, bell-like tones, repeated by the echo of the hills, in vain called it to return. "What shall I do ?" said the little girl to herself; "it will soon become dark, and how am I to find my way home? Ah! naughty goat, to lead me so far! And what if there should be wolves prowling about!" Fear and fatigue overcame poor Ninetta, and she sank down in hopeless lassitude on a mossy stone. At length a thought struck her. "I will sing-sing very loud-and perhaps some traveler by these mountain paths may hear me, and come to my aid." She sang accordingly, and her liquid notes, floating on the evening breeze, did reach the ear of a kind-hearted being, who hastened in the direction of the voice. The person who heard her was Father Anselmo, a pious hermit, who had taken up his abode amidst the solitude of these lonely hills. Ninetta was looking round wistfully to see if she could discern any human creature approaching, when her eye fell on the figure of the hermit, just as he emerged from a projecting rock near her. His pale countenance and emaciated features, his thin, almost transparent hand, and the dark-gray cloak floating around him, almost the hue of the rock from which he seemed to her fancy to have issued, gave him quite an unearthly appearance, and, with a cry of terror, Ninetta hid her face in her lap. The child had often heard, among the bandits' wives, tales of ghosts, and hobgoblins, and evil spirits who haunted lonely spots, and one of these immaterial beings she imagined the form at her side to be. But Father Anselmo, gently placing his hand on her head, and with kind words quieting her fears, led her to his hermitage, and giving her some bread and fruit, promised to show her the way towards her home. "Rest here awhile, however," he said, "until the moon rises, and then you will pass more safely across the shorter sheeptrack, by which I will take you." The hermit lighted a lamp, for it was almost dark in the sort of cave or recess in the rocks which formed his cell, and, after gazing for a few moments on the interesting countenance of the little girl, he began to question her respecting her religious knowledge. Alas! on this subject crude and vague indeed were the child's ideas. She knew there was a God who had made the hills and lakes, the trees and flowers she loved so much; she had heard of the Virgin Mary, and of three or four saints who were patronized by the banditti and their wives; and she entertained for a little ebony cross, which was suspended by a ribbon round her neck, a sort of innate reverence, because her mother had kissed it when dying, and because she had been told it was a symbol of something very holy; but all else was chaos in her young mind. Father Anselmo showed her a picture in which the infant Jesus was represented, spoke to her of his mission to this world, his career on earth, and his ascension to heaven; and told her of the resurrection of the dead, and of the life to come. Ninetta listened with wonder and delight; she drank in eagerly the hermit's words, and when, at length, she parted from her venerable guide, who had accompanied her to within a short distance of her home, she gladly accepted his invitation to visit Him again. Often and often afterwards did she trip over the now familiar path to the solitary abode of her kind instructor, nor did Leonardo forbid these visits, for the retreat of the aged hermit was well known to the bandits, who never thought of molesting him. But if Anselmo's lessons made Ninetta wiser, they also caused her much anxiety, for the truth was now apparent to her that her father and his companions were leading lives opposed to the laws of God. and man. She grieved deeply for this, and as she grew older she became more intensely solicitous to withdraw her parent from his guilty associates and his own evil courses. Many were the consultations she held with the benevolent hermit on this subject; but her plans and wishes were alike vain, until a higher power was graciously pleased to interpose on her behalf. One day a terrible storm broke out, the thunder rolled, and the lightning glared. It happened that Il Leone was returning from a predatory expedition with some of his band, when a fearful flash of lightning struck himself and one of his followers to the ground. For a few moments he lay, as it were, stunned, and when at length he slowly arose, all was dark around him. He had been struck blind by the same flash which had instantaneously deprived his companion of life. Of what use could their blind chief be to the reckless banditti? His vigor of mind seemed to have fled with his sight. He was no longer the boldest in planning enterprises, the most daring in executing them; and at length, having become a burden to his companions, he lent a will. ing ear to his daughter's entreaties that they should go to some place where, by her industry, she might maintain him and herself. The youthful and inexperienced Ninetta little dreamed of the difficulties she might have to encounter; but even had she known them, her sense of duty, and the energy of her mind, would have induced her to try to overcome them. At this period Father Anselmo was of much use to Leonardo and his daughter. He advised them to go to Verona, where there was but little chance of Leonardo's being recognized, especially as his hair, since the lightning-stroke which had de prived him of sight, had gradually but ra pidly become gray; and premature old age seemed to have crept alike over his body and his mind. For Ninetta's sake, the hermit gave them a letter to a respectable elderly female who resided in the suburbs of Verona, and who had been at one time a confidential servant in his sister's family; and as the bandits had not been so ungenerous as to let their former chief go from them in a state of destitution, Leonardo was able to pay for their humble lodgings in her quiet cottage on the banks of the Adige. From the good old dame with whom she now resided, Ninetta speedily ac quired some knowledge of those little feminine arts so useful in domestic life. But it was necessary to adopt some means of gaining a livelihood when their store should be exhausted. Ninetta bethought her of weaving baskets, in which occupation she could teach her father to assist her, and of selling them, together with flowers, in the streets of Verona. She succeeded beyond her utmost expectations. Few persons passed the beautiful flower-girl, leading her blind father carefully along, without purchasing a nosegay. from her; and if at times the flower trade became dull, Ninetta found that to strike a few chords on her guitar, and to sing some of her wild mountain airs, never failed to attract a crowd around her, and to fill her father's hat with small coins. As she grew older her genius ripened, and she became noticed also as an impro |