Historic Boys Part 19

FOOTNOTES:

[Z] 'Tzin is the Aztec for prince, or lord. Thus the last of the Montezumas, the n.o.blest of Aztec heroes, was Guatemo-tzin, the 'tzin or prince Guatemo.

[AA] Maxtlatl, the girdle or wide sash worn by runners and soldiers in battle.

[AB] Maguey, the great Mexican aloe, from the leaves of which the Aztec made their paper. This wonderful plant indeed was, as Prescott says, "meat, drink, clothing and writing materials to the Aztecs."

[AC] "Cacique in Mexico and prince in Wales."--Byron.

[AD] "The Hungry Fox" (Nezahual-Cayotl), "the greatest monarch who ever sat upon an Indian throne," according to Prescott the historian, was the father of Nezahual-pilli, the 'tzin of Tezcuco and the grandfather of Ixtlilochitl the boy cacique. The story of his life is full of marvel, and he was altogether one of the most attractive and remarkable characters in Aztec history.

[AE] Quetzal-Coatl, the Aztec G.o.d of the air. He was said to be fair-skinned, and the Aztecs had a prophecy that promised his return to earth. Hence the Spanish invaders were, at first, taken for G.o.ds and but little resistance offered them. Read General Lew Wallace's beautiful Aztec story: "The Fair G.o.d."

[AF] The kings of Tezcuco, like that celebrated Caliph of Arabian story, Haroun al-Raschid, would often mix in disguise with their people, talking with all cla.s.ses, and frequently rewarding merit and punis.h.i.+ng wrong-doers.

[AG] Transparent quills filled with gold dust, bags of cacao, (s.h.i.+ning chocolate beans), and bits of tin cut in the form of a T, made up the circulating currency, or money, of the Aztecs.

[AH] _Ixoxal_, an Aztec word applied to cheating in the game of _totoloque_, and signifying false scoring.

[AI] _Tamane_, the lowest order of Aztec slaves. Used as a term of contempt among the higher cla.s.ses.

[AJ] Haloc, the Aztec G.o.d of the sea.

[AK] "The Smoking Hill," the signification of the name of the great Mexican volcano, Popocatepetl.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

X.

LOUIS OF BOURBON, THE BOY KING.

(_Louis XIV. of France; afterward known as the Grand Monarque._)

[A.D. 1651.]

"Hus.h.!.+" Pretty little Olympia Mancini's night-capped head bobbed inquiringly out of the door that opened into the corridor of the Gallery of Ill.u.s.trious Personages in the old Palais Royal, as a long, low, distant murmur fell upon her ears.

"Hark!" Through the opposite door popped the sleep-tousled head of the awakened Armand, the bright young Count of Guiche, as hoa.r.s.er and higher rose the angry sound, while, in the Queen's Gallery, stout old Guitat, captain of the regent's guard, stopped in his rounds to listen. Louder and nearer it came until it startled even the queen regent herself. Then the quick, sharp roll of the _rataplan_ sounded through the miserable streets of the old city, as with ever-increasing shouts of "_Aux armes! aux armes!_ They are stealing the king!" all Paris swarmed down the Rue de Honore, and clamored at the outer gates of the great Palais Royal.

Did you ever hear or see a mob, boys and girls? Probably not; but ask father, or mother, or uncle, or any one you know who has ever had such an experience, if he thinks there is any sound more terrifying than that threatening, far-away murmur that grows each second louder and more distinct, until it swells and surges up and down the city streets--the hoa.r.s.e, mad shouts of a mob. It was such a sound as this that on that dreary midnight of the tenth of February, 1651, filled the dark and narrow and dismal streets of old Paris, startling all the inmates of the Palais Royal, as under the palace windows rose the angry cry:

"The King! the King! Down with Mazarin!" The two anxious-faced young persons, a girl and a boy of thirteen or thereabout, who were peeping out into the corridor, looked at one another inquiringly.

"Whatever is the matter, Count?" asked dainty little Olympia, the pretty niece of the Queen's prime-minister, Mazarin.

But for answer the light-hearted young Armand, Count of Guiche, whom even danger could not rob of gaiety, whistled softly the air that all rebellious Paris knew so well:

"A wind of the Fronde Has this evening set in; I think that it blows 'Gainst Monsieur Mazarin.

A wind of the Fronde Has this evening set in!"

"The Fronde!" exclaimed Olympia, hastily; "why, what new trick do they play?"

"Faith, mam'selle," the boy count replied, "'t is a trick that may set us all a livelier dance than your delightful _la bransle_. The people are storming the palace to save the little king from your n.o.ble uncle, my lord cardinal."

"But my uncle, Count Armand, is at St. Germain, as sure all Paris knows,"

Olympia replied, indignantly.

"Ay, 't is so, _ma belle_," young Armand replied, "but they say that the queen will steal away to St. Germain with his little Majesty, and so here come the people in fury to stay her purpose. Hark! there they go again!"

and as, before the gates, rose the angry shouts, "The King! the King! Down with Mazarin!" these sprightly young people drew hastily back into the security of their own apartments.

"_Down with Mazarin!_" It was the rallying cry that stirred the excitable people of Paris to riot and violence in those old days of strife and civil war, over two hundred years ago,--the troublesome time of the Fronde. The court of the Queen Regent Anne, the Parliament of Paris, and the great princes of France were struggling for the mastery, in a quarrel so foolish and unnecessary that history has called it "the war of the children," and its very nickname, "the Fronde," was taken from the _fronde_, or sling, which the mischievous boys of Paris used in their heedless street fights.

Probably not one half of those who shouted so loudly "Down with Mazarin!"

understood what the quarrel was about, nor just why they should rage so violently against the unpopular prime-minister of the queen regent, the Italian Cardinal Mazarin. But they had grown to believe that the scarcity of bread, the pinching pains of hunger, the poverty, and wretchedness which they all _did_ understand were due, somehow, to this hated Mazarin, and they were therefore ready to flame up in an instant and to shout "Down with Mazarin!" until they were hoa.r.s.e.

And now in the great palace all was confusion. Lights flashed from turret to guard-room, casting flickering shadows in the long pa.s.sages, and gleaming on the gay liveries of the guard as it stood to arms in the gallery where Olympia and Armand had held hurried conversation. Below, the narrow postern opened hastily, and through the swaying and excited crowd pressed the Captain Destouches and his escort of Swiss guards, hurrying with his report to his master, the timorous Duke of Orleans, uncle of the king, and bitter enemy of Mazarin and the regent.

"The King! the King!" rose the people's cry, as they crowded Destouches'

little band.

"He is in there," said the guardsman, pointing to the palace.

"Can one see him?" demanded a rough fellow, das.h.i.+ng a flambeau close to the guardsman's face.

Destouches shrugged his shoulders meaningly. "Friend," he said, "I have just seen his little Majesty asleep. Why should not you?"

"The King! the King! We must see the King!" shout the swaying crowd.

There is a dash against the trellised gates of the palace, a dash and then a mighty crash, and, as the outer gate falls before the people's a.s.sault, the great alarm bell of the palace booms out its note of danger. Then guards and gentlemen press hastily toward the royal apartments in defence of the queen and her sons, while ladies, and pages, and servants scatter and hide in terror.

But Anne, Queen Regent of France, was as brave as she was shrewd.

"What is the people's wish?" she demanded, as the Duc de Beaufort entered her apartment.

"To see his Majesty with their own eyes, they say," was the reply.

"But can they not trust their queen, my lord?" she asked.

"Their queen, your Highness? Yes. But not Mazarin," said the blunt duke.

"Ho, there, d'Aumont," said the queen to the captain of the palace guard, "bid that the portals be opened at once! Draw off your guard. And you, my lords, stand aside; we will show the king to our good people of Paris and defeat the plots of our enemies. Bid the people enter."

"But----" said d'Aumont, hesitatingly, fearful as to the result of this concession to the mob.

"Give me no buts!" said Anne, imperiously. "Bid the people enter," and, unattended save by M. de Villeroi, the king's governor, and two of her ladies-in-waiting, she pa.s.sed quickly through the gallery that led to the magnificent bedchamber of the little King Louis.

"What now, madame?" was the greeting she received from a handsome, auburn-haired boy of twelve, who, as she entered the apartment, was sitting upright in his bed. "Laporte tells me that the rabble are in the palace."