propriations were made for strengthening Montmartre, and for defraying
the expenses of the war.[229]

[Sidenote: CALAIS SURPRISED BY GUISE.]

With these and other resources at his command, Henry was speedily
enabled to subsidize a large body of Swiss and German mercenaries. The
native troops serving abroad were ordered home. The veteran Marshal
Termes came, with a large corps, from Tuscany, and the duke of Guise
returned, with the remnant of his battalions, from Rome. This popular
commander was welcomed with enthusiasm. The nation seemed to look to him
as to the deliverer of the country. His late campaign in the kingdom of
Naples was celebrated as if it had been a brilliant career of victory.
He was made lieutenant-general of the army, and the oldest captains were
proud to take service under so renowned a chief.

The government was not slow to profit by the extraordinary resources
thus placed at its disposal. Though in the depth of winter, it was
resolved to undertake some enterprise that should retrieve the disasters
of the late campaign, and raise the drooping spirits of the nation. The
object proposed was the recovery of Calais, that strong place, which for
more than two centuries had remained in possession of the English.

The French had ever been keenly sensible to the indignity of an enemy
thus planting his foot immovably, as it were, on their soil. They had
looked to the recovery of Calais with the same feelings with which the
Spanish Moslems, when driven into Africa, looked to the recovery of
their ancient possessions in Granada. They showed how constantly this
was in their thoughts, by a common saying respecting any commander whom
they held lightly, that he was "not a man to drive the English out of
France."[230] The feelings they entertained, however, were rather those
of desire than of expectation. The place was so strong, so well
garrisoned, and so accessible to the English, that it seemed
impregnable. These same circumstances, and the long possession of the
place, had inspired the English, on the other hand, with no less
confidence, as was pretty well intimated by an inscription on the bronze
gates of the town,--"When the French besiege Calais, lead and iron will
swim like cork."[231] This confidence, as it often happens, proved their
ruin.

The bishop of Acqs, the French envoy to England, on returning home, a
short time before this, had passed through Calais, and gave a strange
report of the decay of