e secretary, are still more
mischievous than our own: these elected among themselves four
competitors, made a senate to burlesque the diet, and went to
loggerheads. Those who represented the archduke were well beaten, the
Swede was hunted down, and for the _Piastis_, they seized on a cart
belonging to a gentleman, laden with provisions, broke it to pieces, and
burnt the axle-tree, which in that country is called a _piasti_, and
cried out _The Piasti is burnt!_ nor could the senators at the diet that
day command any order or silence. The French party wore white
handkerchiefs in their hats, and they were so numerous as to defeat the
others.

The next day, however, opened a different scene; "the nobles prepared to
deliberate, and each palatine in his quarters was with his companions on
their knees, and many with tears in their eyes, chanting a hymn to the
Holy Ghost; it must be confessed that this looked like a work of God,"
says our secretary, who probably understood the manoeuvring of the
mock combat, or the mock prayers, much better than we may. Everything
tells at an election, burlesque or solemnity!

The election took place, and the Duke of Anjou was proclaimed King of
Poland--but the troubles of Montluc did not terminate. When they
presented certain articles for his signature, the bishop discovered that
these had undergone material alterations from the proposals submitted to
him before the proclamation; these alterations referred to a disavowal
of the Parisian massacre; the punishment of its authors, and toleration
in religion. Montluc refused to sign, and cross-examined his Polish
friends about the original proposals; one party agreed that some things
had been changed, but that they were too trivial to lose a crown for;
others declared that the alterations were necessary to allay the fears,
or secure the safety, of the people. Our Gallic diplomatist was
outwitted, and after all his intrigues and cunning, he found that the
crown of Poland was only to be delivered on conditional terms.

In this dilemma, with a crown depending on a stroke of his
pen,--remonstrating, entreating, arguing, and still delaying, like
"Ancient Pistol" swallowing his leek, he witnessed with alarm some
preparations for a new election, and his rivals on the watch with their
protests. Montluc, in despair, signed the conditions--"assured,
however," says the secretary, who groans over this _finale_, "that when
the elected monarch should arrive,