Part 12

"What! so soon come back?" exclaimed Henry. "You cannot judge of the tone of the assembly, D'Artau. You should have heard more of their deliberations."

"There was no more to hear, Sire," replied D'Artau. "The Clergy were all agreed; every body had become wonderfully pacific in a moment. There had not been one voice raised for war, and fifty or sixty were raised against it; so their deliberations, as I have said, were almost concluded at the time I entered. They went to no vote, indeed, upon the subject, but agreed to pass on to another question."

"The villains! the crows!" exclaimed the King. "What did they give us as reasons, did you hear?"

"Why, they said, Sire," replied the officer, "that they had taxed themselves, time after time, for the purpose of carrying on the war with the Huguenots; that they had now again taxed themselves to the utmost of their means, and would not consent that any part of the sum thus raised should be diverted to make war upon their fellow Catholics, while nothing had yet been done against the enemies of their faith."

"The specious hypocrites!" exclaimed Henry. "But what said they all to the absence of the Duke of Guise?"

"It was said, Sire, as I heard, by several people, that he had evidently absented himself from policy, not wishing to oppose your Majesty, and yet unwilling to go to war with Savoy. Some said, indeed, Sire," he continued, "that Chapelle Marteau had acknowledged that this was the case. But that could not be so either, for the Duke sent for the President of the Tiers Etats last night, without being able to find him. That I know from the servants, so that what Chapelle said must have been out of his own head; while, on the contrary, I hear that Monsieur Magnac and the Count de Brissac, who were with the Duke for more than an hour last night, spoke vehemently against the Duke of Savoy amongst the Nobles at the Palais de Justice. Thus the Nobles were as unanimous for the war, as the other two States were against it."

"That should be the foot-fall of a Guise in the antechamber," said the King. "Who is without there?"

"The Duke of Guise, your Majesty," said a page entering almost as the King spoke, "craves audience for a moment."

"Admit him," said the King; "admit him:" and the next instant the Duke of Guise entered hastily in a riding dress.

"Your Majesty's gracious pardon," he said, "for presenting myself before you thus: but I heard tidings, as I came along, which I believed might give you great and exceeding pain."

"Well may it give me pain, cousin of Guise," replied the King. "Well may it give me pain, to find that my subjects are so insensible to their own honour or to mine, as to suffer a foreign enemy to encamp upon our native soil, without doing what best we may to drive him forth."

"It may, indeed, Sire," replied the Duke of Guise. "But the matter has not been properly explained; and neither the Tiers Etats nor the Clergy have seen it in its true light."

"But where was the Duke of Guise to explain it?" demanded Henry. "Where was the Generalissimo of my armies, the Lieutenant-general of my kingdom, the Grand Master of my household, the man whose voice is only second to my own in France--ay, and by Heavens! whose voice is sometimes first likewise? Where was he, I say; and how came he not to be present?"

"From the simplest of all possible causes, Sire," replied the Duke. "The business regularly appointed for this morning's discussion by the States was a mere trifling matter of some petty impost. I had not told your Majesty last night of this affair of Savoy, because I thought it would spoil the pleasure of your evening, and perhaps disturb your rest. I myself, however, neglected nothing. I instantly dispatched orders, in your Majesty's name, to my brother of Mayenne, to advance towards Piedmont with troops from Lyons. Before I rested, I sent for the Presidents of the Nobles and of the Tiers Etats. The latter, however, was not to be found; but I told Brissac and Magnac what had occurred, and begged them to prepare all minds for vigorous measures against Savoy, without disclosing the actual fact of aggression, that fact having only reached me by the excessive speed of my brother's courier. I felt perfectly certain that the news could not be known till to-night or to-morrow morning; and how it happened that your Majesty was informed of it so early, as to send down a message thereon to each of the three Estates, I really do not know."

"Very simply, my good cousin of Guise," replied the King, whose face had now relaxed from the harsh and acrid aspect it had borne throughout the morning; "it was Miron told me."

"I had forgotten, I had forgotten," replied the Duke. "He was in the room when the packet arrived, and I must have given vent to my thoughts aloud."

"Well, under such circumstances," replied the King, "I suppose I must pardon, cousin of Guise, your having gone to pay your homage somewhere else, as Monsieur de Villequier insinuates, when the King much wanted your presence."

"Monsieur de Villequier is, as usual, wrong," replied the Duke of Guise frowning upon him. "Where he seeks for or finds such abundance of evil motives to attribute to other men, I do not know. May it not be in his own bosom? I went, for your Majesty's service, to inspect a body of three thousand men, about to march early this morning from Laucome to join the army of the Duke of Nevers, and it was only as I returned that I heard of this unfortunate business."

"Perhaps his Highness thinks," said Villequier, not unwilling to increase any feeling of ill-will between the King and the Duke, "perhaps his Highness thinks that your Majesty would have done more wisely to have waited till his return, and not to have communicated the news from Savoy at all to the States, till you had consulted him upon it."

Villequier had almost said, "till you had asked his permission;" but he feared that a part of the King's anger might fall back upon himself. The Duke of Guise, however, saw through all his purposes in a moment, and replied, "Far from it, Monsieur de Villequier! I think, on the contrary, that I should have done more wisely if, instead of inspecting the troops at all--although Nevers, who is my enemy, might have reproached me for neglect--I had waited till the King had risen, to convey the expression of his will in person to the States-General, Sire, I humbly crave your Majesty's pardon for this one instance of neglect; and, to prove how sorry I am that it has occurred, I will undertake to show the Clergy and the Commons such good motives for changing their decision, that your Majesty's name and honour shall not suffer by the invasion of your territories unresisted."

"They will refuse you, Guise; they will refuse you," replied the King. "I know them well. You think to rule them, Guise; but the first time you speak of money to Commons or to Clergy, you will find that cabalistic word, money, acts on them as the sign of the cross upon the fiends we read of, and makes the seeming angels resume their shapes of devils in a moment."

"Well, Sire, well," exclaimed the Duke of Guise, tossing his lofty head with a proud smile, "if they refuse us, we will shame them. You and I together will put our lances in the rest, as in days of old: we will call the nobility of France about us; and I will promise, at my own expense, without craving these penurious Commons for a sol, with my own men and your Majesty's good help, in three weeks' time to drive the Savoyard back to his mountain den. But no, Sire, no! They will not refuse me; and I pledge myself before this hour to-morrow to bring you such tidings from both clergy and commons as you could wish to hear."

"If you do, cousin," cried the King eagerly, "if you do, you are my best of friends and counsellors for ever."

"Fear not. Sire; fear not," replied the Duke of Guise; "I will be bold to undertake it. But I must see the presidents and some of the deputies speedily, to know what are the vain and idle notions on which they have hesitated in regard to a step imperatively necessary. I will therefore humbly take my leave, beseeching you to think well of me during my absence, even though my good Lord of Villequier be at your Majesty's right elbow."

Thus saying the Duke retired, and the King, turning to Villequier, asked with some anxiety "Think you, Villequier, that he will succeed?"

"I know not, Sire," replied Villequier; "but I should judge not. They have too far committed themselves to retract, let the question be what it would, but are not at all likely to retract where money is concerned."

"Well, well," said the King; "I will hope the best. And now, Villequier, we must think of what can be done, in order not to lose the seventy-five thousand crowns. Mort Dieu! What a sum! In the very first place, we must call hither your young friend, wherever he may be, without loss of an hour. We must not have him appear at the Court, however. He must lie concealed, but be ready at a moment's notice. Let him bring what men he can with him. But above all, do not let him forget the crowns, Villequier. Let them be prepared.--Nay, smile not, I have a scheme for the purpose, which will mature itself in time. But no good plan should ever be hurried, and it should always be formed of elements as ductile as warm wax, that it may fit itself into the mould of circumstances. It will mature itself in time, Villequier; it will mature itself in time. But now to this other terrible business."

"Pray, Sire, what is that?" demanded Villequier with some alarm, for since his arrival at Blois Henry had shown so much more activity and application to serious matters, that even his favourite had forgotten his character. "Pray, what terrible business does your Majesty speak of?"

"Have you not heard," exclaimed the King, "have you not heard, that the boat was upset in coming down the Loire--the boat with the parrots and monkeys; and my great beautiful black ape, Ridolin-din-din, was nearly drowned, and has caught such a cold, that it is feared he will die!--Sweet creature, he is a beauty, and in his woollen nightcap and long gown is not at all unlike my mother. Poor fellow, have you not heard him coughing in the room beyond? I must go and give him some confection of quinces."

During a considerable portion of the day Henry devoted himself to his ape, but towards evening his anxiety in regard to the States and to the eruption of the Duke of Savoy seized upon him again. This was terribly increased by the arrival of a new courier, bearing more ample particulars than the former. The king slept ill at night, and rose early the next morning; but still all the reports brought him of the disposition of the States made him imagine that no means would be taken to curb the enemy, and that he himself would be left by his subjects the mockery and by-word of Europe, unable to repel the outrages of even the pettiest of all the neighbouring princes. The sneers of many of his favourites and courtiers at the Duke of Guise, too--their ironical smiles at the very idea of his being able to change the announced determination of two great bodies in the State, tended to irritate the King still more, and to drive him almost to madness.

In this state of mind he was walking up and down his chamber between eleven and twelve o'clock on the succeeding day, when suddenly hearing the bustle of many feet without, he himself threw open the door and beheld the Duke of Guise approaching with his usual train and several other persons.

There was in the noble countenance of the Duke the glad consciousness of success; but Henry, eager for confirmation, exclaimed, "What is it, cousin of Guise? What is it? Uncertainty drives me wild."

"Health to your Majesty," replied the Duke. "These gentlemen who follow me. Messieurs Brissac and Magnac, the Presidents of the Nobility, the Archbishop of Lyons representing the Clergy, and my good friend, Chapelle Marteau, President of the Third Estate, humbly approach your Majesty with a petition, that as the Duke of Savoy has committed a wanton infringement upon the territories of France, you would be graciously pleased to pronounce a declaration of war against that Prince, in which your dutiful subjects will aid and support your Majesty to the best of their ability."

The King's joy knew no bounds, and throwing his arms around the Duke of Guise, he kissed him on both cheeks. Recovering himself, however, in a few minutes, he received the deputies from the States with some degree of dignity. His joy, however, was still exuberant; and, in dismissing the petitioners, he said that the declaration should be immediately issued, and that he would trust to his best friend and wisest counsellor, pointing to the Duke of Guise, to repel speedily, with that unconquerable hand which had won so many victories, this new aggression upon the territory of France.

As soon as the deputies were gone, he burst forth again in the same strain, vowing to the Duke that he loved him beyond every thing on earth, that his attachment should be unalterable and inviolate, and that whatever might be said or urged against the Duke, he would never believe it.

"Cousin of Guise," he exclaimed, "there are people who would fain persuade me that you aim at my crown, and perhaps there are others who may try to persuade you that I aim at your liberty or life, I know there are."

"Sire, we neither of us believe them," replied the Duke.

"Let us never believe them," answered the King; "let us never believe them. Let us swear, Guise, let us swear to hold good faith and undoubting sincerity and true friendship to each other for ever! Let us swear it upon the altar even now! Let us swear it by the Holy Communion, by which we dare not swear falsely, and then the insinuations of our enemies will be as empty air!"

"Most willingly, Sire," replied the Duke; "I am ready this moment. It is near the hour of mass, and having nothing in my heart but good towards your Majesty, I am ready this very moment."

"Come then, come to the chapel," cried the King. And taking the Duke of Guise by the hand he led the way, followed by only the two attendants who were in the anteroom. In ten minutes more the King and the Duke might be seen kneeling before the same altar, calling down the wrath of God upon their heads if they ever did one act of enmity towards each other, drinking of the same consecrated cup, and dividing the host between them.[8]

[Footnote 8: This awful fact is but too certain.]

CHAP. X.

It was a bright clear frost, all the ancient houses and streets of that most curious and interesting old town, called Blois, were seen clear and defined, without the slightest thin particle of smoke or haze, and from the high windows of the chamber of Catherine de Medici the servant, who sat and gazed out, might see the slightest object that passed along the road below.

As she thus sat and gazed, her eyes fell upon a glittering troop of cavaliers who issued forth from the castle gates, and took their way through the town, and she could see the princely form of the Duke of Guise, and the strong frame of Brissac, and the graceful person of Charles of Montsoreau, riding nearly abreast at the head of the troop.

"The Duke has gone forth, may it please your Majesty," said the woman, turning to the bed on which lay Catherine de Medici, sick in body and uneasy in mind. "The Duke has gone forth, and a large train with him."

"Then the King will soon be here," replied the Queen-mother. "Go into the further chamber, good Bridget, and wait there till he leaves me. If Madame de Noirmontier arrives from Paris before he is gone, bid her wait there too. I will see her after, and be glad to see her."

The attendant had scarcely retired, when Henry III. himself entered with a slow step, a dull frowning brow, and lips turned down, giving his countenance a diabolical expression of sneering malice, which contrasted strongly with the white and red paint which he had used, and the gay foppery of his apparel.

"You sent for us, good mother," he said. "How goes it with you? Has the fever left you, or do you still suffer?"

"My sufferings are of no moment," replied Catherine de Medici. "They will soon pass, Henry, and I shall be well again. But the illnesses of states pass not so soon, my son; and upon your acts, at the present moment, depends the welfare of France for centuries."

"I know it, madam," replied Henry sullenly. "But may I ask upon what particular occasion your Majesty has thus resumed the maternal rod?"

"The occasion is this, my son," replied the Queen: "I find that you are opposing Guise, when you have no power to oppose him; and you are opposing him in things where your opposition will not increase your power, but will increase his. Were you to oppose him firmly but stedfastly on points where reason, and right, and the welfare of the State were upon your side, however blind they might be for a time, the people would come over to your side in the end. But if you oppose him in things where your pride, or your vanity, or your selfishness is concerned, depend upon it his party will every day increase; for Guise having identified himself with the people and the Catholic Church, his foibles will be treated far more leniently by both church and people than yours."

"Guise!--Guise!--Guise!" cried the King in a bitter tone. "For ever, Guise! I am sick to death of the very name. What would you have, Madam? Have I not yielded almost every thing to him? Have not all his demands been granted, till they become so numerous that I have not wherewithal to stop their mouths? Did I not sign the decree of July? Did I not declare old scarlet Bourbon next heir to the Crown? Did I not satisfy the cravings of Nemours and of Mayenne? Did I not banish Epernon; give the Duke all sorts of posts; yield him up towns and cities? Did I not render him king of one half of France? What is it that I have refused him?"

"In many points you mistake, my son," replied the Queen. "You have yielded more than one of these things, not to him, but to the League. You refused to him, too, the sword of Constable; and in that perhaps you were right. At all events he himself seemed to think that you were so, for he has not pressed the demand: but after promising to the League, as one of their towns of surety, the city of Orleans, which both you and I know was promised, you would now persuade Guise and the League that it was inserted in the edict by mistake, and that the town promised was Dourlans, a heap of hovels on a little hill, as if you thought that, by such a trumpery evasion, you could deceive the keen wit of a Lorraine. Guise, of course, set his foot upon the small deception. But what are you doing now? Quarrelling with him because he demands that which has been recognised as a right of every generalissimo in the kingdom; namely, the right of having his own prevôt and guards. Such has ever been the case, as you well know. The matter is a trifle, except to your own jealous disposition; and even were he not right, it would still be but a trifle. But when he is right, and you are wrong, the refusal is an insult, and the matter becomes of importance."

"Madam," said the King bitterly, "in spite of all you say. Guise shall not absolutely be King of France. Has he not here, within these three days, refused me an impost necessary to maintain my dignity as a King, and to provide for the safety of the State? Does he not try to keep me a beggar, that I may have no means of asserting my own rights and dignity?"

"No," replied the Queen; "No, Henry! He did not refuse you the impost; it was the States. If I heard rightly, he spoke in favour of it."

"Ay, spoke!" cried the King. "But how did he speak? Lukewarmly--unwillingly. The States soon saw which way his wishes turned. Had he not been playing the hypocrite, he would have commanded it in a moment. Did he not show how he could command in that business of Savoy? Four-and-twenty hours were sufficient for him to make every man in Clergy and in Commons eat their words. This is something very like sovereign power, madam. It is power such as I never possessed myself."

"Ay, and then you were grateful to him for its exercise," replied Catherine; "and swore eternal friendship to him on the altar!"

"Certainly, but his ambitious views have become far more outrageous since then," replied the King angrily. "Has he not exacted that Henry of Navarre shall be excluded by name from the succession? Has he not forced the Count de Soissons to receive absolution from the Pope? Has not he blazed abroad, throughout all the world, the letters of the Pope himself, thanking him for his efforts to put down heresy, and exhorting him to persevere, as if he and none other were King of France? And now he must have guards, must he! now he must have guards! When will the crown be wanted? His leading staff is already the sceptre, for it sways all things; his chair is already the throne, for from it emanates every movement of the States-General of France. Yes, madam, yes! the throne and sceptre he has gained; and I see the leaves of his ducal coronet gradually changing themselves into fleurs-de-lis, and the bandlets of the close crown ready to meet above his head."

"But to the guards which he demands," said Catherine de Medici, "he has a right, as Lieutenant-general of the kingdom; and why should you oppose him on a point where he is right?

"Ay, the guards! the guards!" cried Henry. "Let him have them, madam; let him have them. But nevertheless, in a few days, all this will be over." And so saying, without waiting for further reply, the King turned and quitted his mother's chamber.

Following a private staircase, which had been so constructed as only to afford a means of communication between the various apartments of the royal family, the King descended to a large chamber, or sort of hall, with a deep window looking out towards the Loire. He found already in that chamber several of his most intimate and confidential friends and favourites, who, notwithstanding the high degree of confidence which the King placed in them, viewed the gloomy sullenness of his countenance with some sort of apprehension. In truth, when the fit was upon him, it could never be told where the blow would fall; and he often thus deprived himself of counsel and assistance in his moments of greatest need.

There were some, however, then present, whose purpose it was to exasperate the irritation which he suffered, even at the risk of injuring, in some degree, themselves; and the Maréchal d'Aumont, who had been waiting there for his return, advanced, and though the King addressed not one word to him, but walked on sullenly till he had almost touched him, he began the conversation first, speaking in a low tone. At length the King stopped abruptly, and, gazing in his face, exclaimed, "What, without my veto; without my consent and approbation? Do the States propose that their determinations be law without the King?"

"They do, Sire," replied the Maréchal d'Aumont; "and I doubt not they would consider that the approbation of the Duke of Guise would be quite sufficient. They have already made him feel that such is the case, Sire; for one of his creatures offered me not long ago, if I would attach myself to him, to make me Governor of Normandy, declaring that the States, at a word from the Duke, would make your Majesty take it from the Duke of Montpensier, to whom you had given it."

The King paused for a moment, with his hands clasped, and his eyes gazing on the ground. At length he raised them suddenly, saying, "Hark ye, D'Aumont!" and then spoke a few words in a whisper, as the Marshal bent down his ear.