A KING'S DEATH-BED
The queen-mother during that night had not thrown away her time. In the
first place, she had sent her creature, Cardinal de Tournon, to the King
of Navarre, and had settled terms with the Bourbons in writing. Then
before daybreak she had received the Chancellor l'Hôpital, and had
learned from him of the expected arrival at Orléans of her ally, the
constable; L'Hôpital, by her instructions, promised to be in the great
hall, which was next to the king's apartments, at nine o'clock, and to
have with him as many of her partisans as he could find. Last of all,
she had made an appointment for half after eight with Chapelain and two
or three others of the royal physicians, whose mediocre talent was the
natural-born enemy of the genius of Ambroise Paré.
Having thus taken her precautions, she was the first, as we have seen,
to enter the king's chamber just as he awoke. She went at once to her
son's bedside, gazed at him for a few moments with bent head, like a
grief-stricken mother, pressed a kiss upon his hand, which was hanging
listlessly down, and wiping away a tear or two, took her seat in such a
position as to have him always in sight.
She, as well as Mary Stuart, was determined from that time on to watch
over that bed of suffering, for her own purposes.
The Duc de Guise entered almost immediately. After exchanging a few
words with Mary, he walked toward his brother.
"Have you done nothing?" he asked.
"Alas! I have not been able to do anything," was the reply.
"Fortune is turning against us, then," said the duke. "There is a great
crowd in Antoine de Navarre's antechamber this morning."
"Have you any news of De Montmorency?"
"None at all. I have tried in vain to learn something thus far. He could
not have taken the most direct road, and he may be even now at the gates
of the city. If Ambroise Paré is not successful in his operation,
farewell to our fortune."
At this moment the physicians who had been summoned by Catherine de
Médicis entered.
The queen-mother herself led them to the bedside of the king, whose
suffering and groaning had begun again.
The physicians examined the royal patient, each in turn, and then
retired to a corner to consult. Chapelain proposed a poultice to draw
out the foreign matter; but the others declared in favor of injecting a
certain medicated water into the ear.
They were just agreeing on the last-named method when Ambroise Paré
entered, accompanied by Gabriel. After having examined into the king's
condition, he joined his professional brethren.
Ambroise Paré, surgeon to the Duc de Guise, whose professional renown
was already established, was now an authority to be reckoned with. The
physicians told him what they had resolved to do.
"The remedy proposed is inadequate, I am sure," said Ambroise Paré,
aloud; "but we must make haste, for the brain will be filled sooner than
I thought."
"Oh, hasten, then, in Heaven's name!" cried Mary Stuart, who had
overheard.
The queen-mother and the two Guises thereupon drew near the physicians,
and joined their group.
"Have you any better and more speedy means than ours to suggest, Master
Paré?" asked Chapelain.
"Yes," said Paré.
"What is it?"
"We must trepan the king," said Paré.
"Trepan the king!" cried the three physicians, in tones expressive of
the utmost horror.
"In what does this operation consist?" asked the Duc de Guise.
"It is little known as yet, Monseigneur," replied the surgeon. "It
consists in making upon the top of the head, or rather upon the lateral
part of the brain, with an instrument I have invented, called the
'trepan,' an opening about the size of an angelot."
"God of mercy!" cried Catherine de Médicis, indignantly. "Put the knife
to the king's head! And you would dare to do it?"
"Yes, Madame," replied Ambroise, simply.
"But it would be murder!" exclaimed Catherine.
"Why, Madame," added Ambroise, "I propose scientifically and carefully
to bore a hole in the head, which is only what the blind and heedless do
every day upon the battle-field. Yet see how many such wounds are
cured!"
"Will you be answerable for the king's life, Master Ambroise?" asked the
cardinal; "that is the question."
"God alone has the life and death of mortals in His hand, as you should
know better than I, Monsieur le Cardinal. All that I can promise is that
this is the last and only chance of saving the king. Yes, it is the only
chance; but it is only a chance."
"But you say that your operation may be successful, do you not,
Ambroise?" said Le Balafré. "Tell me, have you ever performed it
successfully?"
"Yes, Monseigneur," replied Paré,--"only a short time since upon
Monsieur de la Bretesche, at the sign of the Red Rose, in Rue de la
Harpe; and to mention a case of which Monseigneur may perhaps have some
knowledge, I performed it at the siege of Calais upon Monsieur de
Pienne, who was wounded while fighting at the breach."
It may have been with intention that Ambroise Paré recalled the memory
of Calais. It is certain that he succeeded, and that the Duc de Guise
seemed moved.
"Yes, I remember," said he, "I have no longer any hesitation; I consent
to the operation."
"And so do I," said Mary Stuart, enlightened, no doubt, by her love.
"But not I!" cried Catherine.
"What, Madame! not when you have been told that it is our only chance?"
said Mary.
"Who says so?" demanded the queen-mother. "Master Ambroise Paré, a
heretic, forsooth! Besides, it is not the opinion of the physicians."
"No, Madame," said Chapelain; "and these gentlemen and myself protest
against the remedy that Master Paré proposes."
"Ah, do you hear?" cried Catherine, in triumph.
Le Balafré, in great agitation, led the queen-mother into the embrasure
of a window, and said in an undertone, with clinched teeth,--
"Madame, hearken to me! You wish that your son should die, and the
Prince de Condé should live! You are in accord with the Bourbons and
the Montmorencys! The bargain is made, and the spoils divided in
advance! I know everything! Take care! I know everything, I tell you!"
But Catherine de Médicis was not one of those who are easily
intimidated; and the Duc de Guise made a serious mistake. She only
understood the better how essential it was for her to adopt a bold
course, since her enemy thus removed his mask. She cast a withering
glance upon him, and breaking away from his grasp with a sudden
movement, ran to the folding-doors, and herself threw them open to their
fullest extent.
"Monsieur le Chancelier!" she cried.
L'Hôpital, according to the orders he had received, was waiting in the
large hall. He had collected there all of the partisans of the
queen-mother and the princes whom he had been able to find.
At Catherine's call he came quickly forward, and the group of nobles
pressed inquisitively toward the open door.
"Monsieur le Chancelier," continued Catherine, raising her voice that
she might be heard by all, "it is proposed to authorize a violent and
desperate operation upon the person of the king. Master Paré proposes
to pierce his head with an instrument of his own devising. I, his
mother, with these three physicians, protest against this crime.
Monsieur le Chancelier, record my protest."
"Close that door!" cried the Duc de Guise.
Despite the remonstrances of the gentlemen collected in the great hall,
Gabriel did as the duke ordered.
The chancellor alone remained in the king's chamber.
"Now, Monsieur le Chancelier," said Le Balafré, "be pleased to
understand that the operation which has been mentioned is absolutely
necessary; and that the queen and myself, lieutenant-general of the
kingdom, will be answerable, if not for the operation, at all events for
the surgeon."
"And I," cried Ambroise Paré, "at this supreme moment, assume all the
responsibility that you choose to impose upon me; yes, I consent that my
own life may pay the forfeit if I do not succeed in saving the king's.
But, alas! it is full time. Look at the king! look!"
François lay there, livid, without motion, and with dull, lifeless
eyes, and seemed to see and hear nothing,--scarcely to exist, in fact.
He no more responded to Mary's caresses or her beloved voice.
"Oh, hasten, hasten, in the name of God!" she said appealingly to
Ambroise. "Oh, try to save the life of the king, and I will protect
yours!"
"I have no right to forbid these proceedings," said the impassive
chancellor; "but it is my duty to state the protest of Madame the
Queen-mother."
"Monsieur de l'Hôpital, you are no longer chancellor," rejoined the Duc
de Guise, coldly. "Go on, Ambroise," he said to the surgeon.
"We will withdraw," said Chapelain, speaking for the physicians.
"So be it," replied Ambroise. "I must have most perfect quiet around me;
so leave me, if you please, gentlemen. For the sake of being sole master
for the moment, I assume the sole responsibility."
For some moments Catherine neither spoke nor moved. She had withdrawn to
a window, and was looking out into the courtyard, where there was a
great commotion; but in the crisis that was approaching, no one beside
herself paid any heed to the tumult without.
All others, even the chancellor himself, had their eyes riveted upon
Ambroise Paré, who had resumed the cool demeanor of a great surgeon,
and was making ready his instruments.
But just as he was leaning toward François, the uproar came nearer, and
seemed to be in the adjoining hall. A bitter and joyous smile played
about the bloodless lips of Catherine. The door was violently thrown
open; and the Constable de Montmorency, in full armor, appeared
threateningly upon the threshold.
"I arrive most opportunely," cried the constable.
"What means this intrusion?" demanded the Duc de Guise, laying his hand
upon his sword.
Ambroise Paré had no choice but to stay his hand. Twenty gentlemen
accompanied Montmorency, and poured into the chamber after him. At his
side were Antoine de Navarre and the Prince de Condé. Moreover, the
queen-mother and L'Hôpital joined them. There was no longer any hope of
maintaining the mastery even by force.
"In my turn," said Ambroise Paré, hopelessly, "I withdraw."
"Master Paré," cried Mary Stuart, "I, the queen, command you to proceed
with your operation!"
"But, Madame," replied the surgeon, "I told you that most perfect quiet
was necessary! and you see!" he added expressively, pointing to the
constable and his train.
"Monsieur Chapelain," said he to the first physician, "try your
injection."
"That will take but an instant," said Chapelain, quickly. "Everything is
prepared."
With the assistance of his _confrères_, he injected his preparation
into the king's ear.
Mary Stuart, the Guises, Gabriel, and Ambroise allowed them to do as
they chose, and said nothing; they were completely crushed, and as if
turned to stone.
The constable chattered away like a madman.
"This is very well!" said he, well pleased with the forced docility of
Master Paré. "When I think that if it had not been for me you would
have opened the king's head in such fashion! Kings of France are only
wounded so upon the battle-field, do you see? The steel of an enemy may
touch them, but a surgeon's knife never!"
And then, exulting over the dejected attitude of the Duc de Guise, he
continued,--
"It was quite time that I should arrive, thank God! Ah, Messieurs, they
tell me that you proposed to cut off the head of my dear brave nephew,
the Prince de Condé! But you aroused the old lion in his lair, and
behold him! I have delivered the prince; I have addressed the
States-General, who are restive under your oppression. I have, as
constable, dismissed the guards you stationed at the gates of Orléans.
Since when has it been customary thus to furnish guards to the king, as
if he were not safe in the midst of his loyal subjects?"
"Of what king are you speaking?" demanded Ambroise Paré; "for soon
there will be no king save Charles IX.,--for you see, Messieurs," said
he to the physicians, "that despite your injection, the brain is already
affected, and is beginning to be filled."
Catherine de Médicis clearly read in the hopeless air of Ambroise that
all hope was at an end.
"Your reign is over, then, Monsieur," she could not forbear remarking to
Le Balafré.
François II. at that moment suddenly raised himself in bed, opened his
great staring eyes, moved his lips as if struggling to pronounce a name,
then fell heavily back upon his pillow.
He was dead.
Ambroise Paré, with a sorrowful gesture, made the fact known to those
present.
"Ah, Madame, Madame! you have killed your son!" cried Mary Stuart to
Catherine, leaping toward her in a frenzy of despair.
The queen-mother bestowed upon her daughter-in-law a venomous, icy
glance, in which shone all the hatred she had concealed for eighteen
months.
"You, my dear," she sneered, "have no longer the right to speak thus,
remember; for you are no longer queen. Ah, I beg your pardon!--queen of
Scotland. And we will send you over as soon as possible to reign in your
land of fogs."
Mary, with the reaction inevitable after her first burst of grief, fell
on her knees, exhausted and sobbing bitterly, at the foot of the bed
where the king was lying.
"Madame de Fiesque," continued Catherine, calmly, "go at once and bring
the Duc d'Orléans."
"Messieurs," she resumed, glancing at the Duc de Guise and the cardinal,
"the States-General, which were devoted to you, it may be, an hour
since, are now at our service, be assured. It is understood between
Monsieur de Bourbon and myself that I shall be queen-regent, and he
lieutenant-general of the kingdom; but you are still grand master,
Monsieur de Guise. Therefore perform the functions of your office, and
announce the demise of King François II."
"The king is dead!" said Le Balafré, in a deep, hollow voice.
The king-at-arms cried aloud on the threshold of the apartment,
according to ancient ceremonial,--
"The king is dead! The king is dead! The king is dead! Pray God for the
salvation of his soul!"
"Long live the king!" replied the first gentleman of the chamber.
At the same moment Madame de Fiesque brought the Duc d'Orléans to the
queen-mother's side, who took him by the hand, and led him out to show
to the courtiers, who were lustily shouting,--
"Long live our good king, Charles IX.!"
"Our fortunes are at an end now!" said the cardinal, gloomily, to his
brother, as they were left standing almost alone.
"Ours, perhaps, but not that of our family," replied the ambitious Duc
de Guise. "We must think now about preparing the way for my son."
"How can we renew our alliance with the queen-mother?"
"Oh, let us leave her to quarrel with her Bourbons and her Huguenots,"
said Le Balafré.
They left the room by a secret door, still busily conversing.
"Alas! alas!" murmured Mary Stuart, kissing the cold hand of poor
François; "there is no one but me to weep for him, my poor darling, who
loved me so dearly."
"And me, Madame," said Gabriel de Montgommery, who had thus far kept in
the background, but now came forward with tears in his eyes.
"Oh, thanks, my friend!" said Mary, with a grateful look in which her
whole soul shone out.
"And I will do more than weep," said Gabriel, beneath his breath,
following from afar, with an angry eye, the Constable de Montmorency,
who was strutting about beside Catherine de Médicis. "Yes, perhaps I
may avenge him, when I begin anew the unfinished work of my own
vengeance. Now that this constable has returned to power, the contest
between us is not at an end!"
Thus, even in the presence of death Gabriel, alas! kept in view his
personal affairs.
Surely Regnier la Planche was right in saying "that it is a bad thing to
be king simply to die."
And he was equally right when he added, "During the reign of François
II. France was the theatre whereon were enacted many horrible tragedies
which posterity will contemplate with wonder and abhorrence."