CHAPTER III.
THE POET-KING.
The next day and those that followed were devoted to festivals, balls,and tournaments.
The same amalgamation continued to take place between the two parties.The caresses and compliments lavished were enough to turn the heads ofthe most bigoted Huguenots. Pere Cotton was to be seen dining andcarousing with the Baron de Courtaumer; the Duc de Guise went boating onthe Seine with the Prince de Conde. King Charles seemed to have laidaside his usual melancholy, and could not get enough of the society ofhis new brother-in-law, Henry. Moreover, the queen mother was so gay,and so occupied with embroidery, ornaments, and plumes, that she couldnot sleep.
The Huguenots, to some degree contaminated by this new Capua, began toassume silken pourpoints, wear devices, and parade before certainbalconies, as if they were Catholics.
On every side there was such a reaction in favor of the Protestants thatit seemed as if the whole court was about to become Protestant; even theadmiral, in spite of his experience, was deceived, and was so carriedaway that one evening he forgot for two whole hours to chew on histoothpick, which he always used from two o'clock, at which time hefinished his dinner, until eight o'clock at night, when he sat down tosupper.
The evening on which the admiral thus unaccountably deviated from hisusual habit, King Charles IX. had invited Henry of Navarre and the Ducde Guise to sup with him. After the repast he took them into hischamber, and was busily explaining to them the ingenious mechanism of awolf-trap he had invented, when, interrupting himself,--
"Isn't the admiral coming to-night?" he asked. "Who has seen him to-dayand can tell me anything about him?"
"I have," said the King of Navarre; "and if your Majesty is anxiousabout his health, I can reassure you, for I saw him this morning at six,and this evening at seven o'clock."
"Aha!" replied the King, whose eyes were instantly fixed with asearching expression on his brother-in-law; "for a new-married man,Harry, you are very early."
"Yes, sire," answered the King of Navarre, "I wished to inquire of theadmiral, who knows everything, whether some gentlemen I am expecting areon their way hither."
"More gentlemen! why, you had eight hundred on the day of your wedding,and fresh ones join you every day. You are surely not going to invadeus?" said Charles IX., smiling.
The Duc de Guise frowned.
"Sire," returned the Bearnais, "a war with Flanders is spoken of, and Iam collecting round me all those gentlemen of my country and itsneighborhood whom I think can be useful to your Majesty."
The duke, calling to mind the pretended project Henry had mentioned toMarguerite the day of their marriage, listened still more attentively.
"Well, well," replied the King, with his sinister smile, "the more thebetter; let them all come, Henry. But who are these gentlemen?--braveones, I trust."
"I know not, sire, if my gentlemen will ever equal those of yourMajesty, or the Duc d'Anjou's, or the Duc de Guise's, but I know thatthey will do their best."
"Do you expect many?"
"Ten or a dozen more."
"What are their names?"
"Sire, their names escape me, and with the exception of one, whomTeligny recommended to me as a most accomplished gentleman, and whosename is De la Mole, I cannot tell."
"De la Mole!" exclaimed the King, who was deeply skilled in the scienceof genealogy; "is he not a Lerac de la Mole, a Provencal?"
"Exactly so, sire; you see I recruit even in Provence."
"And I," added the Duc de Guise, with a sarcastic smile, "go evenfurther than his majesty the King of Navarre, for I seek even inPiedmont all the trusty Catholics I can find."
"Catholic or Huguenot," interrupted the King, "it little matters to me,so they are brave."
The King's face while he uttered these words, which thus unitedCatholics and Huguenots in his thoughts, bore such an expression ofindifference that the duke himself was surprised.
"Your Majesty is occupied with the Flemings," said the admiral, to whomCharles had some days previously accorded the favor of entering withoutbeing announced, and who had overheard the King's last words.
"Ah! here is my father the admiral!" cried Charles, opening his arms."We were speaking of war, of gentlemen, of brave men--and _he_ comes. Itis like the lodestone which attracts the iron. My brother-in-law ofNavarre and my cousin of Guise are expecting reinforcements for yourarmy. That was what we were talking about."
"And these reinforcements are on their way," said the admiral.
"Have you had news of them?" asked the Bearnais.
"Yes, my son, and particularly of M. de la Mole; he was at Orleansyesterday, and will be in Paris to-morrow or the day after."
"The devil! You must be a sorcerer, admiral," said the Duc de Guise, "toknow what is taking place at thirty or forty leagues' distance. I shouldlike to know for a certainty what happened or is happening beforeOrleans."
Coligny remained unmoved at this savage onslaught, which evidentlyalluded to the death of Francois de Guise, the duke's father, killedbefore Orleans by Poltrot de Mere, and not without a suspicion that theadmiral had advised the crime.
"Sir," replied he, coldly and with dignity, "I am a sorcerer whenever Iwish to know anything positively that concerns my own affairs or theKing's. My courier arrived an hour ago from Orleans, having travelled,thanks to the post, thirty-two leagues in a day. As M. de la Mole hasonly his own horse, he rides but ten leagues a day, and will not arrivein Paris before the 24th. Here is all my magic."
"Bravo, my father, a clever answer!" cried Charles IX.; "teach theseyoung men that wisdom as well as age has whitened your hair and beard;so now we will send them to talk of their tournaments and theirlove-affairs and you and I will stay and talk of our wars. Goodcouncillors make good kings, my father. Leave us, gentlemen. I wish totalk with the admiral."
The two young men took their departure; the King of Navarre first, thenthe Duc de Guise; but outside the door they separated, after a formalsalute.
Coligny followed them with his eyes, not without anxiety, for he neversaw those two personified hatreds meet without a dread that some newlightning flash would leap forth. Charles IX. saw what was passing inhis mind, and, going to him, laid his hand on his arm:
"Have no fear, my father; I am here to preserve peace and obedience. Iam really a king, now that my mother is no longer queen, and she is nolonger queen now that Coligny is my father."
"Oh, sire!" said the admiral, "Queen Catharine"--
"Is a marplot. Peace is impossible with her. These Italian Catholics arefurious, and will hear of nothing but extermination; now, for my part, Inot only wish to pacify, but I wish to put power into the hands of thosethat profess the reformed religion. The others are too dissolute, andscandalize me by their love affairs and their quarrels. Shall I speakfrankly to you?" continued Charles, redoubling in energy. "I mistrustevery one about me except my new friends. I suspect Tavannes's ambition.Vieilleville cares only for good wine, and would betray his king for acask of Malvoisie; Montmorency thinks only of the chase, and spends allhis time among his dogs and falcons; the Comte de Retz is a Spaniard;the De Guises are Lorraines. I think there are no true Frenchmen inFrance, except myself, my brother-in-law of Navarre, and you; but I amchained to the throne, and cannot command armies; it is as much as I cando to hunt at my ease at Saint Germain or Rambouillet. My brother-in-lawof Navarre is too young and too inexperienced; besides, he seems to meexactly like his father Antoine, ruined by women. There is but you, myfather, who can be called, at the same time, as brave as Caesar and aswise as Plato; so that I scarcely know what to do--keep you near me, asmy adviser, or send you to the army, as its general. If you act as mycounsellor, who will command? If you command, who will be mycounsellor?"
"Sire," said Coligny, "we must conquer first, and then take counselafter the victory."
"That is your advice--so be it; Monday you shall leave for Flanders, andI for Amboise."
"Your Majesty leaves Paris, then?"
&n
bsp; "Yes; I am weary of this confusion, and of these fetes. I am not a manof action; I am a dreamer. I was not born to be a king; I was born to bea poet. You shall form a council which shall govern while you are atwar, and provided my mother is not in it, all will go well. I havealready sent word to Ronsard to join me; and yonder, we two together,far from all tumult, far from the world, far from evil men, under ourmighty trees on the banks of the river, with the murmur of brooks inour ears, will talk about divine things, the only compensation whichthere is in the world for the affairs of men. Wait! Hear these lines inwhich I invite him to join me; I wrote them this morning."
Coligny smiled. Charles IX. rubbed his hand over his brow, yellow andshining like ivory, and repeated in a kind of sing-song the followingcouplets:
"Ronsard, I am full sure that if you see me not, Your great King's voice by you will shortly be forgot. But as a slight reminder--know I still persevere In making skill of poesy my sole endeavor. And that is why I send to you this warm appeal, To fill your mind with new, enthusiastic zeal.
"No longer then amuse yourself with home distractions; Past is the time for gardening and its attractions. Come, follow with your King, who loves you most of all, For that the sweet strong verses from your lips do fall. And if Ardoise shall not behold you shortly present, A mighty quarrel will break out and prove unpleasant!"
"Bravo! sire, bravo!" cried Coligny, "I am better versed in matters ofwar than in matters of poetry, but it seems to me that those lines areequal to the best, even written by Ronsard, or Dorat, or even Michel del'Hopital, Chancellor of France."
"Ah! my father!" exclaimed Charles IX.; "would what you said were true!For the title of poet, you see, is what I am ambitious, above allthings, to gain; and as I said a few days ago to my master in poetry:
"'The art of making verse, if one were criticised, Should ever be above the art of reigning prized. The crowns that you and I upon our brows are wearing, I as the King receive, as poet you are sharing. Your lofty soul, enkindled by celestial beams, Flames of itself, while mine with borrowed glory gleams. If 'mid the gods I ask which has the better showing, Ronsard is their delight: I, but their image glowing. Your lyre, which ravishes with sounds so sweet and bold, Subdues men's minds, while I their bodies only hold! It makes you master, lifts you into lofty regions, Where even the haughty tyrant ne'er dared claim allegiance.'"
"Sire," said Coligny, "I was well aware that your Majesty conversed withthe Muses, but I did not know that you were their chief counsellor."
"After you, my father, after you. And in order that I may not bedisturbed in my relations with them, I wish to put you at the head ofeverything. So listen: I must now go and reply to a new madrigal my dearand illustrious poet has sent me. I cannot, therefore, give you thedocuments necessary to make you acquainted with the question nowdebating between Philip II. and myself. There is, besides, a plan of thecampaign drawn up by my ministers. I will find it all for you, and giveit to you to-morrow."
"At what time, sire?"
"At ten o'clock; and if by chance I am busy making verses, or in mycabinet writing, well--you will come in just the same, and take all thepapers which you will find on the table in this red portfolio. The coloris remarkable, and you cannot mistake it. I am now going to write toRonsard."
"Adieu, sire!"
"Adieu, my father!"
"Your hand?"
"What, my hand? In my arms, in my heart, there is your place! Come, myold soldier, come!"
And Charles IX., drawing Coligny toward him as he bowed, pressed hislips to his white hair.
The admiral left the room, wiping away a tear.
Charles IX. followed him with his eyes as long as he could see, andlistened as long as he could catch a sound; then, when he could nolonger hear or see anything, he bent his head over toward his shoulder,as his custom was, and slowly entered his armory.
This armory was the king's favorite apartment; there he took hisfencing-lessons with Pompee, and his poetry lessons with Ronsard. He hadgathered there a great collection of the most costly weapons he had beenable to find. The walls were hung with axes, shields, spears, halberds,pistols, and muskets, and that day a famous armorer had brought him amagnificent arquebuse, on the barrel of which were inlaid in silverthese four lines, composed by the royal poet himself:
"_Pour maintenir la foy,_ _Je suis belle et fidele._ _Aux ennemis du Roi,_ _Je suis belle et cruelle._"[1]
Charles, as we have said, entered this room, and after having shut thedoor by which he had entered, he raised the tapestry that masked apassage leading into a little chamber, where a woman kneeling before a_priedieu_ was saying her prayers.
As this movement was executed noiselessly, and the footsteps of theking, deadened by the thick carpet, made no more noise than a phantom's,the kneeling woman heard no sound, and continued to pray. Charles stoodfor a moment pensively looking at her.
She was a woman of thirty-four or thirty-five years of age, whosevigorous beauty was set off by the costume of the peasants of Caux. Shewore the high cap so much the fashion at the court of France during thetime of Isabel of Bavaria, and her red bodice was embroidered with gold,like those of the _contadine_ of Nettuno and Sora. The apartment whichshe had for nearly twenty years occupied was close to the King'sbed-chamber and presented a singular mixture of elegance and rusticity.In equal measure the palace had encroached upon the cottage, and thecottage upon the palace, so that the room combined the simplicity of thepeasant woman and the luxury of the court lady.
The _priedieu_ on which she knelt was of oak, marvellously carved,covered with velvet and with gold fringes, while the Bible from whichshe was reading (for she was of the reformed religion) was very old andtorn, like those found in the poorest cottages; now everything in theroom was typified by the _priedieu_ and the Bible.
"Eh, Madelon!" said the King.
The kneeling woman lifted her head smilingly at the well-known voice,and rising from her knees,--
"Ah! it is you, my son," said she.
"Yes, nurse; come here."
Charles IX. let fall the curtain, and sat down on the arm of aneasy-chair. The nurse appeared.
"What do you want with me, Charlot?"
"Come near, and answer in a low tone."
The nurse approached him with a familiarity such as might come from thatmaternal affection felt by a woman for her nursling, but attributed bythe pamphlets of the time to a source infinitely less pure.
"Here I am," said she; "speak!"
"Is the man I sent for come?"
"He has been here half an hour."
Charles rose, approached the window, looked to assure himself there wereno eavesdroppers, went to the door and looked out there also, shook thedust from his trophies of arms, patted a large greyhound which followedhim wherever he went, stopping when he stopped and moving when hemoved,--then returning to his nurse:
"Very well, nurse, let him come in," said he.
The worthy woman disappeared by the same passage by which she hadentered, while the king went and leaned against a table on which werescattered arms of every kind.
Scarcely had he done so when the portiere was again lifted, and theperson whom he expected entered.
He was a man of about forty, his eyes gray and false, his nose curvedlike the beak of a screech-owl, his cheek-bones prominent. His facetried to look respectful, but all that he could do was to wear ahypocritical smile on his lips blanched with fear.
Charles gently put his hand behind him, and grasped the butt of apistol of a new construction, that was discharged, not by a match, asformerly, but by a flint brought in contact with a wheel of steel. Hefixed his dull eyes steadily on the newcomer; meantime he whistled, withperfect precision and with remarkable sweetness, one of his favoritehunting-airs.
After a pause of some minutes, during which the expression of thestranger's face grew more and more discomposed,
"You are the person," sai
d the King, "called Francois de LouviersMaurevel?"
"Yes, sire."
"Captain of petardeers?"
"Yes, sire."
"I wanted to see you."
Maurevel made a low bow.
"You know," continued Charles, laying a stress on each word, "that Ilove all my subjects equally?"
"I know," stammered Maurevel, "that your Majesty is the father of yourpeople."
"And that the Huguenots and Catholics are equally my children?"
Maurevel remained silent, but his agitation was manifest to the King'spiercing eyes, although the person whom he was addressing was almostconcealed in the darkness.
"Does this displease you," said the King, "you who have waged such abitter war on the Huguenots?"
Maurevel fell on his knees.
"Sire," stammered he, "believe that"--
"I believe," continued Charles, looking more and more keenly atMaurevel, while his eyes, which at first had seemed like glass, nowbecame almost fiery, "I believe that you had a great desire atMoncontour to kill the admiral, who has just left me; I believe youmissed your aim, and that then you entered the army of my brother, theDuc d'Anjou; I believe that then you went for a second time over to theprince's and there took service in the company of M. de Mouy de SaintPhale"--
"Oh, sire!"
"A brave gentleman from Picardy"--
"Sire, sire!" cried Maurevel, "do not overwhelm me."
"He was a brave officer," continued Charles, whose features assumed anaspect of almost ferocious cruelty, "who received you as if you had beenhis son; fed you, lodged you, and clothed you."
Maurevel uttered a despairing sigh.
"You called him your father, I believe," continued the King, pitilessly,"and a tender friendship existed between you and the young De Mouy, hisson."
Maurevel, still on his knees, bowed low, more and more crushed under theindignation of the King, who stood immovable, like a statue whose lipsonly are endowed with vitality.
"By the way," continued the King, "M. de Guise was to give you tenthousand crowns if you killed the admiral--was he not?"
The assassin in consternation struck his forehead against the floor.
"As regards your worthy father, the Sieur de Mouy, you were one dayacting as his escort in a reconnaissance toward Chevreux. He dropped hiswhip and dismounted to pick it up. You were alone with him; you took apistol from your holster, and while he was bending over, you shot him inthe back; then seeing he was dead--for you killed him on the spot--youescaped on the horse he had given you. This is your history, I believe?"
And as Maurevel remained mute under this accusation, every circumstanceof which was true, Charles IX. began to whistle again, with the sameprecision and melody, the same hunting-air.
"Now, then, murderer!" said he after a little, "do you know I have agreat mind to have you hanged?"
"Oh, your Majesty!" cried Maurevel.
"Young De Mouy entreated me to do so only yesterday, and I scarcely knewwhat answer to make him, for his demand was perfectly just."
Maurevel clasped his hands.
"All the more just, because I am, as you say, the father of my people;and because, as I answered you, now that I am reconciled to theHuguenots, they are as much my children as the Catholics."
"Sire," said Maurevel, in despair, "my life is in your hands; do with itwhat you will."
"You are quite right, and I would not give a groat for it."
"But, sire," asked the assassin, "is there no means of redeeming mycrime?"
"None that I know of; only if I were in your place--but thank God I amnot"--
"Well, sire, if you were in my place?" murmured Maurevel, his eyes fixedon the King's lips.
"I think I could extricate myself," said the King.
Maurevel raised himself on one knee and one hand, fixing his eyes uponCharles to make certain that he was not jesting.
"I am very fond of young De Mouy," said the King; "but I am equally fondof my cousin De Guise; and if my cousin asked me to spare a man that theother wanted me to hang, I confess I should be embarrassed; but forpolicy as well as religion's sake I should comply with my cousin DeGuise's request, for De Mouy, brave captain though he be, is but a pettypersonage compared with a prince of Lorraine."
During these words, Maurevel slowly rose, like a man whose life issaved.
"In your critical situation it would be a very important thing to gainmy cousin De Guise's favor. So I am going to tell you what he said to melast night."
Maurevel drew nearer.
"'Imagine, sire,' said he to me, 'that every morning, at ten o'clock, mydeadliest enemy passes down the Rue Saint Germain l'Auxerrois, on hisreturn from the Louvre. I see him from a barred window in the room of myold preceptor, the Canon Pierre Piles, and I pray the devil to open theearth and swallow him in its abysses.' Now, Maitre Maurevel," continuedthe King, "perhaps if you were the devil, or if for an instant youshould take his place, that would perhaps please my cousin De Guise."
Maurevel's infernal smile came back to his lips, though they were stillbloodless with terror, and he stammered out these words:
"But, sire, I cannot make the earth open."
"Yet you made it open wide enough for the worthy De Mouy, if I remembercorrectly. After this you will tell me how with a pistol--have you notthat pistol still?"
"Forgive me, sire, I am a still better marksman with an arquebuse than apistol," replied Maurevel, now quite reassured.
"Pistol or arquebuse makes no difference," said the King; "I am sure mycousin De Guise will not cavil over the choice of methods."
"But," said Maurevel, "I must have a weapon I can rely on, as, perhaps,I shall have to fire from a long distance."
"I have ten arquebuses in this room," replied Charles IX., "with which Ican hit a crown-piece at a hundred and fifty paces--will you try one?"
"Most willingly, sire!" cried Maurevel, with the greatest joy, going inthe direction of one which was standing in a corner of the room. It wasthe one which that day had been brought to the King.
"No, not that one," said the King, "not that one; I reserve that formyself. Some day I am going to have a grand hunt and then I hope to useit. Take any other you like."
Maurevel took one down from a trophy.
"And who is this enemy, sire?" asked the assassin.
"How should I know," replied Charles, withering the wretch with hiscontemptuous look.
"I must ask M. de Guise, then," faltered Maurevel.
The King shrugged his shoulders.
"Do not ask," said he; "for M. de Guise will not answer. Do peoplegenerally answer such questions? Those that do not wish to be hangedmust guess them."
"But how shall I know him?"
"I tell you he passes the Canon's house every morning at ten o'clock."
"But many pass that house. Would your Majesty deign to give me anycertain sign?"
"Oh, that is easy enough; to-morrow, for example, he will carry a redmorocco portfolio under his arm."
"That is sufficient, sire."
"You still have the fast horse M. de Mouy gave you?"
"Sire, I have one of the fleetest of horses."
"Oh, I am not in the least anxious about you; only it is as well to letyou know the monastery has a back door."
"Thanks, sire; pray Heaven for me!"
"Oh, a thousand devils! pray to Satan rather; for only by his aid canyou escape a halter."
"Adieu, sire."
"Adieu! By the way, M. de Maurevel, remember that if you are heard ofbefore ten to-morrow, or are _not_ heard of afterward, there is adungeon at the Louvre."
And Charles IX. calmly began to whistle, with more than usual precision,his favorite air.
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