The translators have some excuse for their ignorance regarding the king of Yvetot; for few Frenchmen of the present day, with the exception of antiquaries, consider him to have been anything else than a popular myth. Be it our task, then, to jot down some authentic notices of that ancient, and now extinct monarchy.

Yvetot, a town and commune of ancient Normandy (Pays de Caux), in the department of Seine-Inferieure, now traversed by the railway leading from Havre de Grace to Rouen, was, in the sixth century, the seigniory of one Vauthier, chamberlain to Clotaire I., the royal son of Clovis and Clotilda. Nothing whatever is known of the earlier part of Vauthier's history, more than that he held the fief of Yvetot from Clotaire by the feudal tenure of military service. An able and trustworthy statesman in the council-chamber, a valiant and skilful commander in the battle-field, the chamberlain lived on terms of the most intimate familiarity with his king, who ever lent a ready ear to his sage suggestions. This high honour, however, being not at all agreeable to the other followers of the court, they entered into a conspiracy to ruin the favourite chamberlain. Taking advantage of his absence, they perfidiously vilified him to the king. The chroniclers do not state what were the exact charges brought against him, but they must have been weighty and artfully insinuated, for the rude and truculent Clotaire swore that he would, with his own hand, slay the Sieur of Yvetot, when and wherever he should chance to meet with him. The reader must not be surprised at such a vow: in those days, sovereigns frequently indulged in a plurality of offices, and could upon occasion perform the duty of the executioner as well as that of the judge. Vauthier happened to have a friend at court, who sent him timely warning of this state of affairs; and not thinking it by any means prudent to expose himself to the lethal fury of a king who had unscrupulously killed his own nephews, he left the country, and joined the army of the north, then fighting against the Thuringian pagans, the enemies of Clotaire and his religion, such as it was.

After ten years of arduous service and heroic exploits, Vauthier, crowned with glory, and hoping that time had mollified the malignant feelings of the king, turned his face once more towards his native country. But at that period bad passions were not so easily effaced; besides, the accusers of Vauthier were now doubly interested in keeping him at a distance. The Lord of Yvetot, hearing how matters stood, to make sure of a favourable reception, proceeded, in the first instance, to Rome, where he made a friend of Pope Agapet, who sent him with letters to Clotaire, in the capacity of an envoy. Under the shield of so sacred a function, Vauthier had no hesitation in repairing to Soissons, and presenting himself before the king; yet, to be still more secure, he chose for that occasion the solemnities of Good Friday—the anniversary of the great day of Christian mercy. Clotaire was at the high altar of the cathedral, celebrating the holiest rites of the church before a crucifix veiled in mourning, when Vauthier made his presence known. Throwing himself on his knees in humble supplication, he presented the letters of the sovereign pontiff, and implored pardon, if he had been guilty, by the merits of Him who, on the same day, had so freely shed his blood for the salvation of all mankind. The ferocious and implacable king recognised the suppliant, and, without regard to the sanctity of either the place or the day, drew his sword, and, with one blow, struck the unfortunate chamberlain dead on the stone pavement, at the very steps of the altar.

Violent passions have, generally speaking, rapid revulsions. Scarcely was Vauthier's body cold, when the king repented his hasty deed. The clergy read to him the letters from Pope Agapet, which attested the innocence of his former favourite; and they represented to him, that he had committed the grossest description of sacrilege, the sin from which the sovereign pontiff alone could absolve. In a short time the barbarous Clotaire passed from a state of rabid fury to one of the most abject despair, so that he required little persuasion from the clergy ere he sent a messenger to Rome, bearing rich presents, to beg for absolution from the pope. The messenger arrived at Rome just as Agapet was at the point of death; yet the business being urgent, and the presents valuable, he was ushered into the sick-chamber of the dying head of the Christian church. Supported by attendants, the pope proceeded to pronounce, in a feeble voice, the penitential discipline of Clotaire. He said that the king could not expect pardon unless he gave the highest possible satisfaction to the heirs of the murdered man: but here a fit of coughing attacked and carried off his holiness, so that whatever penance he intended to inflict was never known. Clotaire, however, determined to expiate his crime, long pondered upon the meaning of the pope's dying words, and at last concluded that, as there was nothing higher than a king, the words 'highest satisfaction' meant that he should raise the heir of Vauthier to the royal dignity. Accordingly, he by charter erected the seigniory of Yvetot into a kingdom—an act in perfect consonance with the ancient French feudal law, which enfranchised the family of the vassal from all homage and duty, if his lord laid violent hands upon him.

From that time until the latter part of the eighteenth century, the descendants of Vauthier reigned as independent sovereigns of their little kingdom of Yvetot, owing neither tribute, service, nor allegiance to any other power. Consequently, until the great Revolution, which, like the bursting of a pent-up deluge, changed the features of the whole country, the inhabitants of Yvetot paid no taxes to the government of France.

Historians and jurisconsults have written many grave and learned dissertations on the curious position of this little kingdom shut up in a greater one; and, though they differ in some trifling respects, they all coincide in concluding, that the king of Yvetot, being independent of any other potentate, was never obliged to engage in quarrels which did not concern him, and accordingly lived in peace with his neighbours, whom he never pretended to frighten. Moreover, in spite of courtiers and counsellors, statecraft and politics were unknown in Yvetot; thus the king remained neuter during the various wars that raged around him, though he could bring an army of one hundred and twenty royal troops into the field. The seriousness of these disquisitions has been occasionally enlivened by a spice of pleasantry. We are told how the king of Yvetot kept his own seals, and was his own minister of finance; that his court consisted of a bishop, a dean, and four canons, not one of whom ranked higher in the church than a parish cure; four notaries, dignified by the title of judges, representing the states of the kingdom, formed the senate, and composed his majesty's privy-council; four of the best-looking of the tenants' daughters were ladies of the bed-chamber and maids of honour to the queen; four stalwart body-guards attended on all occasions of ceremony—at other times, they worked as agricultural labourers on the royal farm; a footman performed the duty of chamberlain, and, when necessary, that of herald; a groom was master of the horse; a gardener superintended the woods and forests. This, however, is only a traditionary account of the court of Yvetot; and, lest the reader should think it all a joke, we shall specify some of the documentary evidence still extant respecting that little kingdom.

A decree of the Court of Exchequer of Normandy, executed in the year 1392, mentions the king of Yvetot; and various letters-patent, granted by monarchs of France in 1401, 1450, and 1464, acknowledge and confirm the title. In the early part of the fifteenth century, when Normandy was under English rule, one John Holland, an Englishman, claimed, in the name of his master Henry VI., certain taxes and feudal duties from the kingdom of Yvetot. Strange to say, in those semi-barbarous days, the case was tried in a court of law, and the issue given against Holland, the court fully recognising the Lord of Yvetot as an independent king. A letter of Francis I., addressed to the queen of Yvetot, is still in existence. In one of the many episodes of the wars of the League, it happened that Henry IV., compelled to retreat, found himself in Yvetot, and determined not to recede further, he cheered his troops by jocularly saying: 'If we lose France, we must take possession of this fair kingdom of Yvetot.' At the coronation of his second wife, Mary de Medici, the same monarch rebuked the grand chamberlain for not assigning to Martin du Belley, then king of Yvetot, a position suitable to his regal dignity. The Belley dynasty reigned in Yvetot for 332 years. The last king of that petty kingdom was D'Albon St Marcel, who, when at the court of Louis XVI., modestly assumed no higher rank than that of a prince. The Revolution, as we have already intimated, swept away the ancient crown, and the King of Yvetot is now nothing more than the title of a song, with its burden—

Ha, ha, ha! Ho, ho, ho!



RELATIONSHIPS.

MASTER AND SERVANT.

The relationship of a master and servant—or, to use the modern phrase, employer and employed—is properly constituted by the agreement of one individual to perform certain duties to another; that is, instead of being guided solely by his own will, to submit himself to perform in certain matters the will of another.

The extent of duty which is embraced in the contract may vary very much. It may be only for the performance of one single act, or it may be for almost the whole range of daily avocations and duties. There is often a vagueness about the limit of duties, and we often find the master inclined to exact more than the servant is inclined to give. There are very good reasons why masters should not consider themselves as having a right to a full command and power over their servants in all things; nay, that in things not within the contract, they should be inclined to admit a certain equality in the two parties. Masters are too apt to regard themselves as the lords of their servants in all respects and at all times. They exercise an authority and assume a superiority in matters beyond the contract.

On their side, servants often grudgingly perform the duties they have undertaken. These two causes of discontent produce the worst results.

The practical remedy seems to be, that masters ought more generally to recognise and act on the principle, that the lordship they bargain for is not of the whole man, but only in certain respects and duties; and that it is only as regards those duties they can expect their servant to surrender his will to the guidance of his master's: while it should be equally impressed on the servant, that in those respects in which he has agreed to submit to and execute the will of his master, that submission and surrender of his will should be absolute, and without the least reserve or limitation. Perfect obedience is a beautiful fulfilment of duty, and defensible on the grounds of common-sense; for as no one can serve two masters—that is, in the performance of any particular duty—so no man can both obey his own inclination and submit himself to his master's will in the performance of the same act.

On moral grounds, it is improper that any one should attempt to execute in all things the will, of any earthly master; for there is a power, and, in most cases, several powers, superior to both master and servant, to whom both owe duties; and therefore the servant cannot legally, nor without failure in his higher duties, enter into any contract which may hinder the performance of those duties. In matters of the law, it is held that such a contract is not binding; and thus, in the case of a moral law being contravened by a contract, a door of escape is open to those who have entered into such contract, it being in opposition to the will of a higher authority.

When a servant, therefore, is in duty bound to execute the will of his master, his obedience should be perfect. All hesitation or murmuring is a violation of his contract—a breaking of his promise and agreement.

But the master and servant should equally learn, that in other respects, and at other times, the parties are not necessarily in the state of superior and inferior; but, unless from some other cause, are to be regarded as on a footing of equality; and this is the true interpretation of the doctrine of fraternity and equality, which has, from not being properly understood, played such wild work among some neighbouring nations. In this sense, however, it is safe and useful.

Not only, however, may the individuals who sometimes and in some respects are master and servant, be at other times and in other respects regarded as on a level, but they may with propriety, and often do, change places. The servant becomes of right the master. For if he should employ that master as his physician or lawyer, no matter what may be considered the respective ranks of the parties, the physician or lawyer must, to perform his duty, become the servant, and submit his will in the business he is employed in to that of his employer.

This way of regarding servitude is not a degrading one, but the reverse. Nothing is so pleasant to a reasonable and truly noble mind as to pay obedience to those to whom it is due; and if the adaptability of the same individual to be both master and servant was more practically carried out, our civilisation would work more smoothly, and we should probably approach more to that desirable state in which no one would have a stigma attached to him from his birth or occupation, but only from the manner in which he performed his duty.

It would help considerably towards a proper understanding of the relationship between employers and employed, if the employed would, for their own sake, maintain that degree of self-respect which would induce others to respect them. On this point we would speak kindly, yet frankly, and cannot do better than quote a passage from a small treatise on Political Economy, just published.[7] 'The true relationship between employers and employed is that subsisting between a purchaser and a seller. The employer buys; the employed sells; and the thing sold is labour. Attaining a clear conviction on this point, the connection between the two parties is that of mutual independence. Thrown much together, however, a spirit of courtesy and good-fellowship ought to temper the intercourse, and it will be the better for all parties if this spirit prevails. In some situations, however, there is shewn a disposition on the part of workmen to ask favours of employers—as, for example, seeking to absent themselves on holidays without a corresponding reduction in the amount of wages. This seems to be as wrong as it would be for the employer to ask his workmen to labour certain days for nothing. The rights and obligations are distinctly mutual. One has no right to encroach on the other; and, indeed, there can be no encroachment, no favour asked, on either side, without a certain loss of independence. This feeling of independence should be carefully cultivated and preserved, along with those habits of courtesy which soften the general intercourse of society.'

We are happy to add, that, to all appearance, a great advance in all these respects has been made within these few years—disagreements respecting wages and other circumstances between employers and employed, being conducted and finally adjusted in a spirit very different from what used to be manifested a quarter of a century ago.

FOOTNOTES:

[7] Political Economy: Chambers's Educational Course.



THIRST IN THE ARCTIC REGIONS.

The use of snow when persons are thirsty does not by any means allay the insatiable desire for water; on the contrary, it appears to be increased in proportion to the quantity used, and the frequency with which it is put into the mouth. For example, a person walking along feels intensely thirsty, and he looks to his feet with coveting eyes; but his good sense and firm resolutions are not to be overcome so easily, and he withdraws the open hand that was to grasp the delicious morsel and convey it into his parching mouth. He has several miles of a journey to accomplish, and his thirst is every moment increasing; he is perspiring profusely, and feels quite hot and oppressed. At length his good resolutions stagger, and he partakes of the smallest particle, which produces a most exhilarating effect; in less then ten minutes he tastes again and again, always increasing the quantity; and in half an hour he has a gum-stick of condensed snow, which he masticates with avidity, and replaces with assiduity the moment that it has melted away. But his thirst is not allayed in the slightest degree; he is as hot as ever, and still perspires; his mouth is in flames, and he is driven to the necessity of quenching them with snow, which adds fuel to the fire. The melting snow ceases to please the palate, and it feels like red-hot coals, which, like a fire-eater, he shifts about with his tongue, and swallows without the addition of saliva. He is in despair; but habit has taken the place of his reasoning faculties, and he moves on with languid steps, lamenting the severe fate which forces him to persist in a practice which in an unguarded moment he allowed to begin.... I believe the true cause of such intense thirst is the extreme dryness of the air when the temperature is low.—Sutherland's Journal.



AN AUSTRALIAN MISS.

The precocity of the Australian youth, to be properly understood and believed, can only be fully appreciated by being an eye-witness to some of these very extraordinary young creatures. I have seen a girl of ten years of age possess all the manner of an old lady of sixty: she would flirt with three men at a time, and have a ready answer for them when teasing her; would move like an accomplished actress, manipulate gracefully, play whist, chess, and other games, and talk about getting married. This child, for such I must call her, was a greater mental giant than O'Brien, with his moving mountain of flesh, and far more entertaining than twenty Tom Thumbs.—Shaw's Tramp to the Diggings.



THE DAY OF REST.

Rest, rest! it is the Day of Rest—there needs no book to tell The truth that every thoughtful eye, each heart can read so well; Rest, rest! it is the Sabbath morn, a quiet fills the air, Whose whispered voice of peace repeats that rest is everywhere.

O weary heart! O heart of wo! raise up thy toil-worn brow; The fields, the trees, the very breeze—they all are resting now: The air is still, there is no sound, save that unceasing hum, That insect song of summer-time that from the woods doth come.

And even that seems fainter now, like voices far away, As though they only sang of rest, and laboured not to-day; The hum of bees seems softer, too, from out the clear blue heaven, As if the lowliest creatures knew this day for rest was given.

The spacious tracts of meadow-land, of bean-fields, and of wheat, And all the glebe, are undisturbed by sound of Labour's feet; The cotter in his Sunday garb, with peace within his breast, Roams idly by the garden-side, and feels himself at rest.

The streams, the trees, the woods, the breeze, the bird, and roving bee, Seem all to breathe a softer sound, a holier melody; Yon little church, too, tells of rest, to all the summer air, For the bell long since has ceased to peal that called to praise and prayer.

But while I stand 'mid these tall elms, a sound comes creeping near, That falls like music heard in dreams upon my charmed ear; Like music heard in dreams of heaven, that sacred sound doth steal From where the old church aisles repeat the organ's solemn peal.

Now Heaven be praised! a gracious boon is this sweet rest to me— How many shall this truth repeat to-day on bended knee! How many a weary heart it cheers, how many an aching breast: Now Heaven be praised, a gracious boon is this sweet Day of Rest!

PICTOR.

TORQUAY.



'THE BIRKBECK MAGAZINE.'

Some numbers have been sent to us of a cheap London periodical with this title. Its peculiarity is, that the promoters and contributors are young men, members of the Mechanics' Institution, Southampton Buildings, who intend throwing open their columns to unknown writers connected in a similar way with the other Mutual Improvement Societies. A considerable circulation might be secured by this plan; and perhaps such a work may be as well calculated to elevate the aspirations, and excite wholesome emulation, as the productions of more practised pens.

* * * * *

Printed and Published by W. and R. CHAMBERS, High Street, Edinburgh. Also sold by W. S. ORR, Amen Corner, London; D. N. CHAMBERS, 55 West Nile Street, Glasgow; and J. M'GLASHAN, 50 Upper Sackville Street, Dublin.—Advertisements for Monthly Parts are requested to be sent to MAXWELL & CO., 31 Nicholas Lane, Lombard Street, London, to whom all applications respecting their insertion must be made.

THE END