Louis XI., than whom no man had less of religion or more of superstition, had an amusing adventure with an astrologer. Having heard that one of these prophets had predicted the death of a woman of whom he was very fond, he sent for him and asked him the question, “You, who know everything, when will you die?” The astrologer, somewhat taken aback, and fearing the monarch’s malicious nature, replied, “Sire, three days before your Majesty.” “Fear and superstition,” it is said, “overcame the monarch’s resentment, and he took special care of the adroit impostor.” But this was only one instance of his contradictory character, for, although there was no God in his heaven, strange to say, he “believed in an invisible world of saints, having exclusive power over the events of this life,” and he was ever seeking to propitiate them in the most childish manner. Louis XI. further attributed great superstitious worth to the ceremony of his coronation, and “adored the holy oil brought down from heaven for the anointment of Clovis, showed the greatest satisfaction at being anointed with it, and enjoyed the sanctity more than the splendour of the ceremony.” Marie de Medicis and Louis XIII. were both remarkable for the same sort of credulity, and it has been commonly said that the supposed skill of the Maréchale d’Ancre in the occult sciences was in a great measure the source of her influence over the princess. Anne of Austria, eager to satisfy herself in advance of the fate of the infant to which she was about to give birth, determined, with the superstition common to that age, to cause its horoscope to be drawn by an able astrologer at the moment it was born. Having expressed her wish to Louis XIII., he confided the care of discovering the required astrologer to Cardinal Richelieu, who, having some previous knowledge of a certain seer named Campanella, he immediately despatched a messenger to command his presence. He was traced to the dungeons of Milan, where he was awaiting his trial as a sorcerer, having been seized by the Italian Inquisition, and whence he was allowed to obtain his release. On the birth of the Dauphin, Campanella was requested to proceed with his task without delay, and to speak the truth fearlessly. Accordingly, he announced that his combinations had informed him that “the infant would be as luxurious as Henry IV., and of conspicuous haughtiness; that his reign would be long and laborious, although not without a certain happiness; but that his end would be miserable, and entail both religious and political confusion upon the kingdom”--which proved a very fair forecast.[173]