Part 4

"My Lord," she said, as soon as the conversation was resumed, "I did not mean exactly to say that you are the active cause of these proceedings, or that you have excited the people. What I meant was, that your presence in Paris is the occasion of this emotion. You cannot doubt that it is so; and therefore, being in this respect the cause, it is only yourself who can provide the remedy."

"Pardon me, madam," replied the Duke of Guise; "I do not see how that can be. In the first place, I have all along denied that I am the cause, either inert or active. The people have risen for their own defence, though, certainly, my defence and my welfare is wrapped up in that of the people. In the next place, I know not what remedy can be provided in the present state of affairs. What have you to propose, madam?"

"What I came to propose, my fair cousin," replied the Queen, "and what, I am sure, is the only way of quieting the tumult that now exists, is, that you should quit Paris immediately.--Nay! nay! hear me out. If I propose this thing to you, it is not without being prepared and ready to offer you such inducements and recompences, both for yourself and all your friends, as may show you how highly the King, my son, esteems you, and at what a price he regards the service you will render him. Look at this paper, good cousin of Guise, signed with his own name, and see what perfect security and contentment it ought to give you."

The Duke of Guise, however, put the paper gently and respectfully from him, replying, "Madam, what you propose is impossible. Either the people of Paris have risen in their own defence, in which case my leaving the city would have no effect upon the tumult, or else they have risen in mine, when it would be base to abandon them. I believe the first of these cases is the true one, and that, therefore, by staying in Paris, I may serve the King far more effectually than I could by quitting the city."

Catherine de Medici had nothing directly to reply to the reasoning of the Duke; but she answered somewhat warmly, "By my faith, your Highness, I think some day you will logically prove that the best way to serve the King is to take the crown off his head."

"Madam," replied the Duke drily, "Messieurs d'Epernon, Villequier, Joyeuse, D'O., and others, have long been trying to prove the proposition which your Majesty puts forth; but they have not yet convinced me of the fact,--nor ever will. They, madam, are or have been those who have put the King's crown in danger; and, as far as regards myself, I have but to remind you that if I had any designs upon the King's person, five hundred men sent out this morning by the Porte de Nesle, and five hundred more by the Porte Neuve, would be quite sufficient for all the purposes your Majesty attributes to me."

Catherine de Medici turned deadly pale, seeing how easily the palace itself might be invested. At that instant one of the Duke's officers again entered, and spoke to him for a moment or two apart. The Queen quietly took up a pen from the table, wrote a few words on a slip of paper, and opening the door of the cabinet demanded in a low voice, "Is Pinart there?"

A gentleman instantly started forward, and putting the paper in his hands, she spoke to him for a moment in a whisper, ending with the words, "Use all speed!" Then re-entering the cabinet, she took her seat while the Duke was yet speaking with his friend.

"Cousin of Guise," she said, as soon as he had done, and the stranger had departed, "you have certainly given me strong proof that you have no evil intentions; but such power is, alas! very dangerous to trust one's self with. Read that paper, I beseech you, and tell me if there be any other thing you can demand--any other condition which will induce you to quit Paris even for a few days?"

"It were useless for me to read it, madam," replied the Duke. "Nothing on earth that could be offered me would induce me to quit Paris at this moment. But believe me, madam, my being here has nothing to do with the continuance of the tumult. I have sent out all my friends and officers and relations already to calm the disturbance. But it is the King who is the cause of it, or, rather, the King's evil advisers. As he has occasioned it, he must put a stop to it."

"What would you have him do?" demanded Catherine de Medici quickly. "How would you have him act?"

"In the first place," replied the Duke, "let him recall his troops; let them be withdrawn from every post they occupy! Their presence was the cause of the people's rising, and as soon as they are gone, the emotion will gradually subside."

"He has sent the order of recall already," replied Catherine; "but it is impossible to execute it. Hemmed in by barricades on every side, how can they retire, or take one step without danger?"

"That I trust," replied the Duke, "can soon----"

But he was interrupted in the midst of what he was saying by the sudden entrance of Charles of Montsoreau.

"I beg your Highness to pardon me," he said. "Your Majesty will, I am sure, forgive me, when I ask if you know what has become of Mademoiselle de Clairvaut?"

There was anxiety and apprehension in every line of Charles of Montsoreau's countenance, and the Queen's brow instantly gathered together with a look of mingled surprise and apprehension.

"She followed me into the hotel; did she not?" exclaimed the Queen. "I got out of the chair first, and she came immediately after. Surely I saw her upon the stairs!"

"The porter, madam, declares, that there was no lady entered with your Majesty; that two or three gentlemen came in; and that it was some time before your chair, and the rest of your male attendants could come up, on account of the crowd. I have ventured to ask Madame de Montpensier and the rest of the ladies in the house, before I intruded here: but no one has seen Mademoiselle de Clairvaut, and she is certainly not in the house."

"Is this the way I am treated?" exclaimed the Duke of Guise, his brow gathering into a tremendous frown. "Is this the way that I am sported with at the very moment----"

"Nay! nay! nay! Cousin of Guise," exclaimed Catherine de Medici, rising from her seat and clasping her hands. "So help me, Heaven, as I have had no share in this! I descended from my chair in the midst of the crowd--knowing terror and agitation, such as, indeed, I never knew before--and I thought that this poor girl had followed. I was too much engrossed with the thought of my son's throne tottering to its foundation to pay much attention to any thing else; but Monsieur de Logères himself can tell you, that I treated her with all kindness, and that mine was the order for her liberation."

"Indeed it was, my Lord," replied Charles of Montsoreau. "Her Majesty displayed every sort of kindness, and Mademoiselle de Clairvaut was in the same chair with her when I left her, scarce a hundred yards from these gates. I fear, my Lord, however, that there are machinations taking place, which I must explain to you. And in a low voice he told the Duke what he had seen while returning from the Marché Neuf.

"This Nicolas Poulain is a villain," exclaimed the Duke after he had listened. "I have received the proofs thereof this very morning. Ho! without there!--Madam, by your leave," he continued, turning to the Queen, "I would fain speak with these attendants of yours, but dare not presume to command them hither in your presence."

The Queen immediately directed all those who had followed her chair, or had borne it, to be called in, and the Duke questioned them sharply, in a stern and lofty tone, regarding what they had seen of Mademoiselle de Clairvaut after the Queen had passed on.

The answer of each was the same however, namely, that none of them had seen any thing of her. Some had accompanied the Queen and kept the way clear, and two others who, had remained with the chair, as well as the bearers themselves, declared that the young Lady, after having descended from the Queen's chair had gone on; that there was an immediate rush of the people, which separated them from the rest of the royal train; and that what between the pressure and confusion that immediately took place, and the kicking of one of the chargers, which made the people run back with cries and affright, they had seen nothing more of the party to which they had belonged, till they had made their way up to the Hôtel de Guise and obtained admission.

The Duke paused with a gloomy and anxious brow. "Go, some one," he said at length, "go up to Philibert of Nancy, who was placed above, to watch what was taking place from the top of the house. Ask him what he saw after the Queen's arrival, and bring me down word."

"May I go, my Lord?" demanded Charles of Montsoreau.

The Duke nodded his head, and the young nobleman sprang up the stairs, and guided by one of the servants found the watchman, who had been placed at the top of the house to report from time to time whatever occurrences of importance he might perceive in the neighbouring streets. All the information the man could give, however, was, that he had seen a party separate from the rest of the people, almost immediately after the Queen's entrance; that they seemed to be taking great care of some person in the midst of them, who, he fancied, had been hurt by the kicking and plunging of a horse which he had remarked hard by. The party had turned the corner of the street without attracting his attention farther; but, he added, that a moment or two afterwards he thought he had heard a shrill cry coming from the direction which they had taken.

With such tidings only, and with his heart more agonised than ever, Charles of Montsoreau returned to the Duke, who was still standing gloomily by the Queen, who, on her part looked up at his dark and frowning countenance with a degree of calmness which did not seem quite so natural as she could have wished.

"Whatever has happened, my Lord Duke," she said, after listening to the young nobleman's report, "whatever has happened, on my honour, on my salvation, I have had no share in it; and I promise you most solemnly, not to rest a moment till I have discovered what has become of your ward, and have made you acquainted therewith. If she be in the Court of my son, I make bold to say, that she shall be instantly restored to you: but I cannot believe that it is so, as it is impossible for Villequier to have passed those barriers without being torn to pieces by the people."

Still the Duke remained thinking gloomily without making any answer. "Logères," he said at length, "I must trust you with this business, for I have more matters to deal with than I can well compass. From what you said just now, and from what the boy Ignati told me, I know how you stand with our poor Marie. You know what I said, and what I promised long ago. Seek her, find her, and wed her! Monsieur de St. Paul will tell you where your own men are; take her, wherever you find her: by force, if it be necessary; and if any man, calling himself a gentleman, oppose you, cleave him to the jaws. I will bear you out in whatever you do: there is my signet: but stay; you had better see Marteau Chapelle and Bussi about it. They know every house in Paris, and I can spare them now from other affairs: bid them go with you and aid you; and tell Chapelle---- What is it now, Brissac? You look confounded and alarmed."

"The news I have will confound your Highness also, I am sure," replied Brissac; "to alarm you is not possible, I fancy. I have just received intelligence from the Porte de Nesle, my Lord, that the King has quitted Paris, and taken the road to Chartres!"

The Duke of Guise turned towards Catherine de Medici, and gazed upon her sternly, saying, "You have done this, madam! You amuse me, while you destroy me!"[1]

[Footnote 1: I have given the Duke's own words without variation.]

"I _have_ done this, cousin of Guise," replied the Queen, "and I have done wisely for all parties. I have removed from you a great temptation to do an evil action--a temptation which I saw that you yourself feared; and while I have removed that danger from you, my advice has put my son in safety."

"Madam," replied the Duke, "I felt no temptation: my resolution was firm, positive, and unshaken; and had I chosen to compromise the King's safety, or do wrong to his legitimate authority, the Louvre would have been invested six hours ago, for the people were already on their march, if I had not stopped them. I wonder that he escaped in safety, however, for they are very much infuriated at the sight of these soldiers."

"He walked from the Louvre," replied Brissac, "on foot to the Tuilleries, I hear, followed by some half dozen gentlemen; he then mounted his horses in the stables, and rode out suddenly; but it is said that they fired at him from the Porte de Nesle. The people, however, as they hear it, are becoming quite furious, and I fear that we shall not be able to keep them from massacring the soldiery."

"You see, madam," replied the Duke of Guise, still thinking alone of the King's escape, "you see, madam, to what danger the King has exposed himself. Had he remained in Paris no evil could have befallen him. He was safe, on my life, and on my honour.

"I believe you, cousin of Guise; I believe you;" replied the Queen, who thought she saw that the tone of the Duke of Guise was not quite so peremptory as it had been, while the King had seemed entirely in his power. "But now, in order to prove your good will entirely, let me beseech you to exert yourself to save the unhappy men who have been placed in such a situation of danger."

"That shall soon be done, madam," replied the Duke; "and as soon as this is done, I too must take means for finding my ward. In the meantime, madam, I will beseech you to use such measures at the Court, as may insure that the people of Paris, and of the realm in general, shall not be driven again to such acts as these, remembering, that as you warned me not long ago, popularity is the most transient of all things, and that mine may not last long enough to save the state a second time from the dangers that menace it."

"I understand you, cousin of Guise; I understand you;" replied the Queen. "It may not last long enough, or it may not be willingly exerted: but I give you my promise, that every thing shall be done to content you; and with that view I have already demanded that the insolent, greedy, and ambitious Epernon shall be banished from the Court, and stripped of his plundered authority.--But hark!" she continued, "I hear the firing recommence. Wait not for further words, or for any ceremonies; I will find my way back to the Louvre without difficulty. Go, my Lord, go at once, and save the poor Swiss from the fury of the people!"

The Duke bowed low, took up his hat and sword, and without other arms walked out into the streets.

CHAP. III.

Passing out by the rooms belonging to the porter, instead of by the Porte Cochère, the Duke of Guise, followed by a number of his officers, presented himself to the people on the steps which we have already noticed. The moment he appeared, the whole street rang with acclamations, a path was instantly opened for him through the midst of the people, and mounting his horse he rode on, the barricades opening before him, as if by magic, wherever he came, and the people rending the air with acclamations of his name.

From time to time he stopped as he went, either bending down his proud head to speak to some of those whom he knew, or addressing the general populace in the neighbourhood of the different barriers, exhorting them to tranquillity, and beseeching, commanding, and entreating them to desist from all attacks upon the soldiery. His words spread like lightning from mouth to mouth; and though he went in person to several of the different points where the unequal contest was actively going on, the assault upon the troops was stopped in other quarters also, by the mere report of his wishes.

Thus, as it were in triumph, totally unarmed amidst the armed multitude, he went ruling their furious passions, as if by some all-powerful charm. The most violent, the most exasperated, the most sullen, uttered not one word in opposition to his will, and showed nothing but promptness and zeal in executing his commands. Before he reached the Place de Grève even, towards which his course was directed, the screams, the cries, the shouts, the firing, had ceased in every part of Paris, and nothing was heard throughout that wide capital but the rending shouts of joy, with which the multitude accompanied him on his way.

On entering the Place de Grève the Duke looked sternly up at the windows of the Hôtel de Ville, but did not enter the building. He said, however, speaking to those immediately surrounding him, "A week shall not have elapsed before we have cleared that house of the vermin that infest it; and the people shall be freed from those who have betrayed them."

Then dismounting from his horse, and ascending the steps leading to the elevated space, called the Perron of the Hôtel de Ville, he lifted his hat from his head for a moment, as a sign that he wished to address the people. All was silent in an instant; and then were heard the full rich deep tones of that eloquent voice, pouring over the heads of the multitude, and reaching the very farthest parts of the square.

"My friends and fellow-citizens," he said. "You have this day acquired a great and glorious victory. You have triumphed over the efforts of despotic power, exerted, I am sure, not by the King's own will and consent, but by the evil counsels, and altogether by the evil efforts, of minions, peculators, and traitors. The real merit of those who win great victories and achieve great deeds, is ascertained more by the way in which they use their advantages, than by the way in which those advantages have been gained. Were you a mean, degraded, unthinking race of men, who had been stirred up by oppression into objectless revolt, you would now content yourselves with wreaking your vengeance on a few pitiable and unhappy soldiers, who in obedience to the commands which they have received, have been cast into the midst of you, like criminals of old, given up naked to a hungry lion. But you are not such people; you have great objects before you; you know and appreciate the mighty purposes for which you have fought and conquered; and though driven by self-defence to resist the will of the King, you are still men to venerate and respect the royal authority; and even while you determine, for his sake as well as for your own, never to rest satisfied till the Catholic Church is established beyond the power of heretics to shake; till the Court is freed from the minions and evil counsellors that infect it; till the finances of the state are collected, and administered by a just and a frugal hand; and till the whole honours, rewards, and emoluments of the country are no longer piled upon one man--though you are determined to seek for and obtain all this, nevertheless, I know, you are not men to trench in the least upon the royal authority, farther than your own security requires, or to injure the royal troops whom you have conquered, when they are no longer in a situation to do you wrong. You will remember, I am sure, that they are our fellow-christians and our fellow-men, and you will treat them accordingly. I have therefore," he said, "requested my friends and fellow-labourers in your cause, Monsieur de Brissac and Monsieur de St. Paul, to conduct hither in safety the French and Swiss troops from the different quarters in which they have been dispersed. Their arms will be brought hither by our own friends, and in the manner which we shall deal with these two bodies of soldiery, I trust that we shall meet still with the approbation of our brethren."

While thus speaking, the Duke of Guise had been interrupted more than once by the applauses of the people, and in the end loud and reiterated acclamations left no doubt that all he chose to do would receive full support from those who heard him.

While he was yet speaking--according to the orders which he had given as he came along--the arms of the Swiss and French guards were brought in large quantities, by different bodies of the citizens: some carrying them in hand-barrows, some bearing them upon their shoulders; and it was a curious sight to see men and boys, and even women, loaded with morions, and pikes, and swords, and arquebuses, bringing them forward through the crowd, and piling them up before the princely man who stood at the top of the steps, surrounded by many of the noblest and most distinguished gentlemen in France.

This sight occupied the people for some minutes, and then a cry ran through the square of "The Swiss! the Swiss!" The announcement caused some agitation amongst the populace, and some forgetting that the soldiery were disarmed, unslung their carbines, or half drew their swords, as if to resist a new attack. The discomfited soldiers, however, came on in a long line, two abreast, now totally disarmed, and seeming by their countenances yet uncertain of the fate that awaited them. With some difficulty a space was made for them in the Place de Grève, and being drawn up in two lines, the Duke commanded them to take their arms, but not their ammunition. Two by two they advanced to the pile; and each man, as far as possible, selected his own, when it appeared, to use the words of the Duke of Guise himself, when recounting the events of that day to Bassompiere, that there never had been such complete obedience amongst so agitated a multitude; for not one sword, morion, pike, or arquebuse, of all the Swiss and French there present, was found to be wanting.[2]

[Footnote 2: This extraordinary fact reminds us of days not long passed.]

When all was complete, the Duke of Guise turned to the soldiery, saying in a loud and somewhat stern tone, "The people of Paris considering that you have acted under the commands of those you have sworn to obey, permit you for this once to retire in safety from the perilous situation in which you have been placed; but as there are points which make a considerable difference between the Swiss troops in the pay of France and the French troops themselves, there must be a difference also in their treatment. The Swiss, as foreigners, could have no motive or excuse for refusing to obey the commands imposed upon them; the French had to remember their duty to their country and to their religion. The Swiss, therefore, we permit to march out with colours flying and arms raised; the French will follow them, with their arms reversed and their colours furled."

A loud shout from the people answered this announcement; for throughout the course of that eventful day, the Swiss had acted with moderation and discipline, whereas the licentious French soldiery had during the early morning, while they thought themselves in possession of the capital, displayed all the brutal insolence of triumphant soldiery.

The Duke of Guise spoke a few words to Brissac and to St. Paul, and those two officers put themselves at the head, Brissac of the Swiss, and St. Paul of the French guards. Each held a small cane in his hand, and with no other arms they led the two bands from barrier to barrier through the city, till they were safe within the precincts of the Louvre.

Scarcely had these two parties quitted the Place de Grève, however, drawing a number of people from that spot, when information was brought to the Duke, that there were still two bands of soldiers in the city, one in the Cemetery of the Innocents, and one under the Chatelet, but both threatened by the people with instant destruction.