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
prevot 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 Marechal 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 Marechal 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.
D'Aumont turned somewhat pale as he listened; his brows knit, and a
certain degree of wildness came into his eyes; but he answered, the
moment the King had done, "I have not rightly understood your Majesty.
But it seems to me, that the only way a sovereign can deal with
rebellious subjects and traitors, is to cause them to be arrested, and
deliver them over to their natural judges, to be tried according to
law."
Henry waved his hand with a look of contemptuous disappointment, and
then added, looking fixedly in D'Aumont's face, "You will be silent!"
"On my honour, Sire," replied D'Aumont; and bowing low, but with a
face still pale, he quitted the chamber.
Without noticing the other gentlemen who were standing at the farther
corner of the room, Henry called to a page, and descended by the
staircase into the gardens. He looked up for a moment at the bright
and cheerful sunshine, and then upon the clear wintry scene around;
but the sight seemed only to plunge him in deeper gloom than ever; and
turning to the boy he said, "Run back to the hall, and bid Monsieur
Crillon come here alone."
He then stood with his arms crossed upon his chest, gazing upon the
ground beneath his feet, and when Crillon approached he took him by
the arm, and walked slowly on with him to the other side of the
gardens. He was silent for some moments; but then turning to Crillon
he said, "You are colonel of my French guards, Crillon, and there is a
service which I want you and them to perform."
"Speak, Sire," replied Crillon with his bluff manner. "If there be any
thing that a soldier and a man of honour can do for you, I am ready to
do it."
"Are not kings the highest magistrates in their realm, Crillon?" said
the King, gazing in his face; "and have they not a right to judge
their own subjects, and pass sentence upon them?"
"I wish to Heaven I were a lawyer, Sire," replied the old soldier,
"and then I would give your Majesty an answer. But on my honour, at
present, I have not considered the subject."
"Well then, Crillon," continued the King, "to put it in another shape:
I have a subject who is more king than myself; who stands between me
and the sun; who grasps at all the power in the realm; and who, day by
day, is increasing in ambition and insolence."
"Your Majesty means the Duke of Guise," said Crillon; "I know him in a
minute by the description."
"You are right," said Henry. "But this must not continue long,
Crillon. Methinks a small body of my guards, with a brave and
determined commander, might rid me of this enemy, of this viper. The
most learned lawyers of my realm have assured me that law and justice
and right authorise me to cause this deed to be done. Will you
undertake it, Crillon?"
"Sire," replied Crillon, "I beg your Majesty's pardon for reminding
you, that there is a public executioner appointed by law, and I must
not interfere with any other man's office. As to my becoming an
assassin, that your Majesty does not conceive possible for a moment."
Henry looked bitterly down upon the ground, and then said, in a tone
between wrath and anguish, "My friends desert me!"
"No, Sire, they don't," replied Crillon. "There is a way of settling
the matter, which your Majesty has forgotten, but which suits my
feelings and habits better than any other way. I will now humbly take
leave of your Majesty, and going up to the cabinet of his Highness of
Guise, I will insult him before his people, tell him that he has
wronged his King and his country, and bid him accompany me to the
field with equal arms. The Duke, bad as he is, is not a man to refuse
such an invitation; and I think I can insure your Majesty, that you
shall not be troubled with the Duke of Guise for a long time to come."
The King smiled; "Alas! Crillon," he said, "you deceive yourself. You
forget what you undertake. Remember, you purpose to strive with, hand
to hand, the most powerful man in Europe--the most dexterous and
skilful in the use of every weapon upon the face of the earth,--the
most fearless, the most active, the most prompt, whose hand never
trembles, whose eye never winks, whose foot never slips. He would slay
thee, Crillon; he would slay thee in a moment."
"I know it, Sire," replied Crillon calmly; "but not before I have slain
him. If I choose to make my body a sheath for his sword, I will make
his body a sheath for mine, while my hand holds tight against my
breast the hilt of his weapon, to keep in my own spirit till I see his
fled. This can be done, Sire, and it shall be done within these two
hours. I give your Majesty good day, for there is no time to spare."
"Stay, Crillon, stay!" said the King, "I command you not to think of
it. If you attempt it, you will ruin all my plans. I thank you for
your willingness. I owe you no ill-will for your refusal. You will
find the page at the door: tell him to send Monsieur de Laugnac to
me--Montpizat Laugnac, you know."
"Oh, I know him, Sire," replied Crillon. "He is a man of small
scruples. I will tell the page as your Majesty bids me." And he
retired from the presence of the King with a quick step.
The manner in which the King dealt with Laugnac formed a strange
contrast with his manner towards Crillon. The moment that the former,
who was first gentleman of his chamber, and captain of the famous band
of Quarante-cinq, joined him in the garden, the King seized him by the
hand, saying, "Laugnac, the Duke of Guise must die!"
"Certainly, Sire," replied Languac, as if it were a thing perfectly
natural. "I have thought so some time."
"Will you undertake it, Laugnac," demanded the King. "You and your
Quarante-cinq?"
"I must have more help than that, Sire," said Laugnac, "if it is to be
done out in the streets, in the open day, which I suppose must be the
case, as he is seldom out at night."
"Oh no, no, no! that will never do!" exclaimed the King. "We must have
no rashness, Laugnac. He never rides but with a train, which would set
you at defiance; and, besides, the town is filled with Guisards. You
would have men enough upon you to slay you all in five minutes. We
must put him off his guard; we must lull him into tranquillity, and
then draw him to some private place, where you and your good fellows,
posted behind the arras, can strike him to the heart before he is
aware."
"It is an excellent good plan, Sire," exclaimed Laugnac
enthusiastically. "I will speak with my good friend, Larchant, who is
a bold man and strong, a mortal enemy of the Guise, and a most devoted
servant of your Majesty. We will soon arrange a plan together which
cannot fail."
"Swear him to secrecy," cried the King; "and remember to-morrow must
not pass without its being done. If you can find Villequier too, who
ought to be returned by this time, for we have much to do together
to-morrow, consult with him, for in a matter of poisoning or of the
knife you know, Laugnac, he has not his equal in France."
The King smiled, and Laugnac smiled too, at the imputation which they
cast on another of the dark deeds exactly similar to those they were
both plotting themselves.
"Do you not think, your Majesty," said the latter, "that it could be
done just about the time of the Duke's coming to the Council
tomorrow?"
"Excellent, good," said the King, "for that will cut him off, just ere
this marriage that is talked of. But go quick, Laugnac, and make all
the arrangements, and let me know the plan to-night; for look where
the very man comes:" and he pointed down the alley that led to the
chateau, where the Duke of Guise was seen approaching alone.
"He is alone," said Laugnac. "Could it not be done now? I and another
could make sure of it, if your Majesty would detain him here till I
seek aid."
"On no account," said the King, grasping his wrist tight. "On no
account, Laugnac. You forget all the windows of the chateau see us.
The rest of his creatures would escape, and I must have not a few of
them in prison. No! we will be tender with him. He shall be our sweet
cousin of Guise, our well-beloved counsellor and friend. Greet him
gracefully as you pass by him, and tell the page to seek, high and
low, for Villequier, and bring him to me."
Laugnac bowed low, and walked away, and as he went he left the Duke of
Guise the whole of the path, pulling off his hat till the plumes
almost swept the ground, but without speaking. Guise bowed to him
graciously; but, evidently in haste, passed on towards the King, whom
he saluted with every demonstration of respect, and on whom in return
Henry smiled with the most gracious expression that he could assume.
"What seeks our fair cousin of Guise?" said the King. "I know this is
a busy hour with him in general, and therefore judge that it must be
matter of some importance brings him now."
"Not exactly so, Sire," replied the Duke. "There is but little
business of importance stirring now, when so many of the multitude,
lately collected in Blois, have returned to their own homes for the
approaching festival. I came, however, to beseech your Majesty to
grant me permission to absent myself for a few days on the same joyful
occasion. All business for the time ceasing, my presence will not be
necessary."
"Assuredly, assuredly!" replied Henry, turning pale at the very idea
of the Duke escaping from his hands. "But do you go soon, fair cousin.
I thought that you proposed the marriage of your fair ward for
to-morrow; indeed, I heard that every thing was prepared, and I myself
intended to be one of the guests."
"We have not forgotten your Majesty's gracious promise," replied the
Duke. "Every thing is prepared, and half an hour before high mass we
shall all be waiting for your Majesty in the revestry of the chapel.
Never yet have I seen two young beings so happy in their mutual love;
and as we have broken through some cold forms, in consideration of the
many services which the lover has rendered to his future bride, they
are always together, and clinging to each other, as if they fancied
that something would yet separate them."
Henry smiled, but there was a certain mixture in it, which rendered it
difficult to say whether the expression was gracious or ironical.
"Well then, good cousin," he said, "as you have such mighty business
toward, we had better hold our council as early as possible to-morrow,
and not wait till the usual hour. Let it be as near day-break as
possible. The god of day does not open his eyes too soon at this
season of the year. And yet I fear that the business of various kinds,
that we have before us, will occupy more time than one council can
afford. Thus we may be obliged to detain you at Blois, fair cousin,
longer than you expect, I fear."
"I did not intend to go, Sire," replied the Duke, "till somewhere
about twelve on Christmas-day, which would give me the opportunity of
being present at two councils; and I shall be also absent so short a
space of time--certainly not longer than three whole days--that the
interruption will not be great."
"Well, be it so; be it so," replied the King. "We know that your
activity makes rapidly up for time lost. As to the marriage, I will
sign the contract in the revestry, where I meet you; and I think that,
notwithstanding the poverty of my treasury, I have a jewel yet of some
price to give the bride."