still bear me a grudge? Tell me, wouldn't it have been a shame to
refuse admission to him but for whom the house would have no master?
Shouldn't we do our utmost to help cure this youth of a wound received
for us? Look, Dame Ruperta, and see if he doesn't already look better,
and if he hasn't more color than when he came."
"Yes indeed," assented Ruperta, "he never had more color when he was in
the best of health."
"Consider, Colombe," continued Dame Perrine, "it would be downright
murder to interrupt convalescence so happily begun. Come, the end
justifies the means. You will allow me to admit him to-morrow at dusk,
won't you? It will be a pleasant change for you as well, poor child, and
a very innocent one, God knows, when Dame Ruperta and I are both here.
Upon my word, Colombe, you need some sort of a change. And who is there
to tell the provost that we have softened his stern orders a bit? And
remember that, before he gave the order, you told Ascanio that he might
come and show you his jewels; he forgot them to-day, so he must bring
them to-morrow."
Colombe looked at Ascanio; the color had fled from his cheeks, and he
was awaiting her reply in an agony of suspense.
In the eyes of a poor girl, kept a prisoner and tyrannized over, there
was a world of flattery in this humility. There was then some one in the
world whose happiness depended upon her, whom she could make glad or sad
with a word! Every one exults in his own power. The insolent airs of
Comte d'Orbec had humiliated Colombe very recently. The hapless
prisoner--forgive her, pray!--could not resist the longing to see the
joyful light shine in Ascanio's eyes, so she said, with a blush and a
smile,--
"Dame Perrine, what is this you have persuaded me to do?"
Ascanio tried to speak, but could only clasp his hands effusively; his
knees trembled under him.
"Thanks, fair lady!" said Ruperta, with a deep courtesy. "Come, Ascanio,
you are still weak, and it is time to go in. Give me your arm, and let
us go."
The apprentice could hardly muster strength to say "Adieu" and "Thanks!"
but he supplemented his words with a look in which his heart spoke
volumes, and meekly followed the servant, his whole being overflowing
with joy.
Colombe fell back upon the bench, absorbed in thought, and conscious of
a pleasurable excitement, for which she reproached herself, and which
was entirely unfamiliar to her.
"Until to-morrow!" said Dame Perrine, triumphantly, as she took leave
of her guests after escorting them to the door; "if you choose, young
man, you can come in this way every day for three months."
"And why for three months only?" asked Ascanio, who had dreamed of
coming always.
"Dame!" was Dame Perrine's reply, "because in three months Colombe is to
marry Comte d'Orbec."
Ascanio needed all the strength of his will to keep from falling.
"Colombe to marry Comte d'Orbec!" he muttered. "O mon Dieu! mon Dieu! so
I deceived myself! Colombe does not love me!"
As Dame Perrine closed the door behind him at that moment, and Dame
Ruperta was walking in front of him, neither of them overheard.
XII
THE KING'S QUEEN
We have said that Benvenuto left the studio about noon without saying
whither he was going. He went to the Louvre to return the visit
François I. paid him at the Cardinal of Ferrara's hotel.
The king had kept his word. The name of Benvenuto Cellini was given to
all the doorkeepers and ushers, and all the doors flew open before
him,--all the doors save one, that leading to the council chamber.
François was discussing affairs of state with the first men in his
realm, and, although the king's orders were explicit, they dared not
introduce Cellini in the midst of the momentous session then in progress
without further instructions from his Majesty.
In truth, France was at this time in a critical situation. We have thus
far said but little of affairs of state, feeling sure that our readers,
especially those of the gentler sex, would prefer affairs of the heart
to politics; but we have at last reached a point where we can no longer
draw back, and where we must needs cast a glance, which we will make as
brief as possible, at France and Spain, or rather at François I. and
Charles V., for in the sixteenth century kings were nations.
At the period at which we have arrived, by virtue of one of the
periodical movements of the political see-saw, of which both so often
felt the effects, François's situation had recently improved, and
Charles's grown worse in equal degree. In fact, things had changed
materially since the Treaty of Cambrai, which was negotiated by two
women, Margaret of Austria, aunt of Charles V., and the Duchesse
d'Angoulême, mother of François I. This treaty, which was the
complement of the treaty of Madrid, provided that the King of Spain
should cede Burgundy to the King of France, and that the King of France
should renounce his claim to the homage of Flanders and Artois.
Furthermore, the two young princes, who served as hostages for their
father, were to be sent back to him in exchange for the sum of two
millions of golden crowns. Lastly, good Queen Eleanora, Charles V.'s
sister, who was promised at first to the Constable (Bourbon) as a reward
for his treachery, and was afterwards married to François as a pledge
of peace, was to return to the court of France with the two children, to
whom she had been as affectionate and devoted as any mother. These
stipulations were carried out with equal good faith on both sides.
But it will readily be believed that François's renunciation of his
claim to the Duchy of Milan, exacted from him during his captivity, was
only momentary. He was no sooner a free man once more, no sooner
restored to power and health, than he turned his eyes again toward
Italy. It was with the object of procuring countenance of his claims at
the Court of Rome that he had married his son Henri, become Dauphin by
the death of his elder brother François, to Catherine de Medicis, niece
of Pope Clement VII.
Unfortunately, just at the moment when all the preparations for the
king's meditated invasion were completed, Clement VII. died, and was
succeeded by Alexander Farnese, who ascended the throne of St. Peter
under the name of Paul III.
Now Paul III. was determined not to allow himself to be inveigled into
supporting the party of the Emperor, or of the King of France, but to
adhere strictly to the policy of holding an equal balance between them.
With his mind at ease in that direction, the Emperor laid aside all
anxiety on the subject of the preparations of France, and busied himself
fitting out an expedition against Tunis, which had been seized by the
corsair Cher-Eddin, so famous under the name of Barbarossa, who, having
driven out Muley Hassan, had taken possession of the country, and was
laying Sicily waste.
The expedition was entirely successful, and Charles V., after destroying
three or four ships, sailed into the Bay of Naples in triumph.
There he received tidings which tended to encourage him still more.
Charles III., Duke of Savoy, although he was the maternal uncle of
François I., had followed the counsel of his new wife, Beatrice,
daughter of Emmanuel of Portugal, and had abandoned the party of the
King of France; so that when François, by virtue of his former treaties
with Charles III., called upon him to receive his troops, the Duke of
Savoy answered by refusing to do so, and François was reduced to the
unenviable necessity of forcing the passage of the Alps, which he had
hoped to find open to him by favor of his ally and kinsman.
But Charles X. was awakened from his feeling of security by a veritable
thunder-clap. The king marched an army into Savoy so promptly that the
duke found his province actually under occupation by the French troops
before he suspected that it was invaded. Biron, who was in command of
the army, seized Chambéry, appeared upon the Alpine passes, and
threatened Piedmont just as Francesco Sforza, terror-stricken doubtless
by the news of Biron's success, died suddenly, leaving the Duchy of
Milan without an heir, and thereby not only making its conquest an easy
matter for François, but giving him a strong claim to it as well.
Biron marched down into Italy, and seized Turin. There he halted,
pitched his camp on the banks of the Sesia, and awaited developments.
Charles V. meanwhile had left Naples for Rome. The victory he had won
over the long time enemies of Christ procured him the honor of a
triumphal entry into the capital of Christendom. This entry intoxicated
the Emperor to such a point, that, contrary to his custom, he went
beyond all bounds, and in full consistory accused François I. of
heresy, basing the accusation upon the protection he accorded the
Protestants, and upon his alliance with the Turks. Having recapitulated
all their former causes of disagreement, wherein, according to his view,
François was always the first at fault, he swore to wage a war of
extermination against his brother-in-law.
His disasters in the past had made François as prudent as he formerly
was reckless. And so, as soon as he found himself threatened at one time
by the forces of Spain and of the Empire, he left D'Annebaut to guard
Turin, and called Biron back to France, with orders to devote himself
entirely to protecting the frontiers.
Those who were familiar with the chivalrous and enterprising character
of François were at a loss to understand this retrograde movement, and
supposed from his taking one backward step that he considered himself
whipped in advance. This belief still further exalted the pride of
Charles V.; he took command of his army in person, and resolved upon
invading France from the south.
The results of this attempted invasion are well known. Marseilles, which
had held out against the Connétable de Bourbon and the Marquis of
Pescara, the two greatest soldiers of the time, had no difficulty in
holding out against Charles V., a great politician, but of only moderate
capacity as a general. Charles was not discouraged, but left Marseilles
behind, and attempted to march upon Avignon; but Montmorency had
constructed an impregnable camp between the Durance and the Rhone,
against which Charles expended his force to no purpose. So that, after
six weeks of fruitless endeavor, repulsed in front, harassed upon the
flanks, and in great danger of having his retreat cut off, he ordered a
retreat which strongly resembled a rout, and, having narrowly escaped
falling into his enemy's hands, succeeded with great difficulty in
reaching Barcelona, where he arrived without men or money.
Thereupon all those who were awaiting the issue of his expedition to
declare themselves declared against Charles V. Henry VIII. cast off his
wife, Catherine of Aragon, in order to espouse his mistress, Anne
Boleyn. Soliman attacked the kingdom of Naples and Hungary. The
Protestant princes of Germany entered into a secret league against the
Emperor. Lastly, the people of Ghent, weary of the incessant burdens
imposed upon them to defray the expense of the war against France,
suddenly rose in revolt, and sent ambassadors to François to invite him
to place himself at their head.
But amid this universal upheaval, which threatened to destroy the
Emperor's fortunes, new negotiations were entered upon by the King of
France and himself. The two monarchs had an interview at Aigues-Mortes,
and François, bent upon peace, which he felt to be an absolute
necessity for France, was determined thenceforth to rely upon friendly
negotiations to effect his objects, and not upon an armed struggle.
He therefore caused Charles to be informed of the proposition of the men
of Ghent, offering him at the same time liberty to pass through France
on his way to Flanders.
The council had been called together to discuss this subject, when
Benvenuto knocked at the door, and François, true to his promise, as
soon as he was advised of the great artist's presence, ordered that he
be admitted. Benvenuto therefore heard the end of the discussion.
"Yes, messieurs," François was saying, "yes, I agree with Monsieur de
Montmorency, and it is my dream to conclude a lasting alliance with the
Emperor elect, to raise our two thrones above all the rest of
Christendom, and to wipe out all these corporations, communes, and
popular assemblies which assume to set bounds to our royal power by
refusing us to-day the arms, to-morrow the money, of our subjects. My
dream is to force back into the bosom of the true religion all the
heresies which distress our holy Mother Church. My dream is, lastly, to
unite all our forces against the enemies of Christ, to drive the Turkish
Sultan from Constantinople, were it only to prove that he is not, as he
is alleged to be, my ally, and to establish at Constantinople a second
empire rivalling the first in power, in splendor, and in extent. That is
my dream, messieurs, and I have given it that name so that I may not
allow myself to be unduly exalted by hope of success, nor unduly cast
down if the future shall demonstrate, as it may, its impracticability.
But if it should be fulfilled, constable, if it should be fulfilled, if
I were to have France and Turkey, Paris and Constantinople, the Occident
and the Orient, confess, messieurs, that it would be grand,--that it
would be sublime!"
"I understand, then, Sire," said the Duc de Guise, "that it is
definitely decided that you decline the suzerainty proffered you by the
Ghentese, and that you renounce the former domains of the house of
Burgundy?"
"It is so decided: the Emperor shall see that I am an ally as loyal as I
am a loyal foe. But first of all, and in any event, I desire and shall
demand that the Duchy of Milan be restored to me: it belongs to me by
hereditary right and by imperial investiture, and I will have it, on my
honor as a gentleman, but, I trust, without breaking with my brother
Charles."
"And you will offer to allow Charles V. to pass through France on his
way to Ghent to chastise the rebels?" asked Poyet.
"Yes, Monsieur le Chancelier," was the king's reply; "despatch M. de
Fréjus to-day to extend the invitation in my name. Let us show him that
we are disposed to go any length to maintain peace. But if he prefers
war--"
A majestic, awe-inspiring gesture accompanied this phrase, interrupted
for an instant as François caught sight of his artist standing modestly
near the door.
"But if he prefers war," he resumed, "by my Jupiter, of whom Benvenuto
brings me news, I swear that it shall be war bloody, desperate, and
terrible! Well, Benvenuto, where is my Jupiter?"
"Sire," replied Cellini, "I bring you the model of your Jupiter: but do
you know of what I was dreaming as I looked at you and listened to you?
I was dreaming of a fountain for your Fontainebleau,--a fountain to be
surmounted by a colossal statue sixty feet high, holding a broken lance
in its right hand, and with the left resting on its sword hilt. This
statue, Sire, should represent Mars,--that is to say, your Majesty; for
your nature is all courage, and you use your courage judiciously, and
for the defence of your glory. Stay, Sire, that is not all: at the four
corners of the base of the statue there should be four seated
figures,--Poetry, Painting, Sculpture, and Generosity. Of that I was
dreaming as I looked at you and listened to you, Sire."
"And you shall cause your dream to live in marble or bronze, Benvenuto:
such is my wish," said the king in a commanding tone, but with a
cordial, kindly smile.
All the members of the council applauded, for all deemed the king worthy
of the statue, and the statue worthy of the king.
"Meanwhile," said the king, "let us see our Jupiter."
Benvenuto drew the model from beneath his cloak, and placed it upon the
table, around which the destiny of the world had so recently been
debated.
François gazed at it for a moment with undisguised admiration.
"At last!" he cried, "at last I have found a man after my own heart. My
friend," he continued, laying his hand upon Benvenuto's shoulder, "I
know not which of the two experiences the greater happiness, the prince
who finds an artist who thoroughly sympathizes with and understands all
his ideas, such an artist as yourself in short, or the artist who meets
a prince capable of appreciating him. I think that my pleasure is the
greater, upon my word."
"Oh no, Sire, permit me!" cried Cellini; "surely mine is much the
greater."
"No, mine, Benvenuto."
"I dare not contradict your Majesty, and yet--"
"Let us say that we experience an equal amount of pleasure, my friend."
"You have called me your friend, Sire," said Benvenuto; "that is a word
which pays me a hundred times over for all that I have done or can ever
do for your Majesty."
"Very well! it is my purpose to prove to you, Benvenuto, that it was no
empty, meaningless word that escaped me, and that I called you my friend
because you are my friend in fact. Bring me my Jupiter completed as soon
as possible, and whatever you may ask of me when you bring it, upon my
honor as a gentleman, you shall have if a king's hand can procure it for
you. Do you hear, messieurs? If I forget my promise, remind me of it."
"Sire," cried Benvenuto, "you are a great and a noble king, and I am
ashamed that I am able to do so little for you, who do so much for me."
Having kissed the hand the king held out to him, Cellini replaced the
statue of Jupiter under his cloak, and left the council chamber with his
heart overflowing with pride and joy.
As he left the Louvre, he met Primaticcio about to go in.
"Whither go you so joyously, my dear Benvenuto?" he said, as Cellini
hastened along without seeing him.
"Ah! Francesco, is it you?" cried Cellini. "Yes, you are quite right. I
am joyous indeed, for I have just seen our great, our sublime, our
divine François I.--"
"And did you see Madame d'Etampes?" queried Primaticcio.
"Who said things to me, Francesco, that I dare not repeat, although they
say that modesty is not my strong point."
"But what did Madame d'Etampes say to you?"
"He called me his friend, Francesco, do you understand? He talked to me
as familiarly as he talks to his marshals. Finally, he said that when my
Jupiter is finished I may ask whatever favor I choose, and it is
accorded in advance."
"But what did Madame d'Etampes promise you?"
"What a strange man you are, Francesco!"
"Why so?"
"You persist in talking about Madame d'Etampes when I speak of the
king."
"Because I know the court better than you do, Benvenuto; because you are
my countryman and my friend: because you have brought me a breath of air
from our dear Italy, and in my gratitude I desire to save you from a
great danger. Mark what I say, Benvenuto: the Duchesse d'Etampes is your
enemy, your mortal enemy. I have told you this before, when I only
feared it; I repeat it to-day, when I am perfectly sure of it. You have
offended her, and if you do not appease her, Benvenuto, she will ruin
you. Benvenuto, mark well what I say: Madame d'Etampes is the king's
queen."
"Mon Dieu, what is all this?" cried Cellini, with a laugh. "I have
offended Madame d'Etampes! how so, in God's name?"
"Oh, I know you, Benvenuto, and I supposed that you knew no more than I
or the woman herself as to the cause of her aversion to you. But what
can we do? Women are so constituted; they hate as they love, without
knowing why, and the Duchesse d'Etampes hates you."
"What would you have me do?"
"What would I have you do! I would have the courtier rescue the
sculptor."
"I, the courtier of a courtesan!"
"You are wrong, Benvenuto," said Primaticcio, smiling: "Madame d'Etampes
is very beautiful, as every artist must admit."
"I admit it," said Benvenuto.
"Very well, go and say so to herself, and not to me. I ask nothing more
than that to make you the best friends in the world. You have wounded
her by some artist's whim, and it is your place to make the first
advances toward her.
"If I wounded her," said Cellini, "I did it unintentionally, or rather
without malice. She said some hitter words to me which I did not
deserve; I put her back where she belonged, and she did deserve it."
"Never mind, never mind! forget what she said, Benvenuto, and make her
forget your reply. I tell you again she is imperious and vindictive, and
she has the king's heart in her hand,--a king who loves art, it is true,
but who loves love more. She will make you repent your audacity,
Benvenuto; she will make enemies for you; she it was who inspired the
provost with courage to resist you. And listen: I am just setting out
for Italy; I am going to Rome by her command; and my journey, Benvenuto,
is aimed at you,--I, your friend, am compelled to become the instrument
of her spleen."
"What are you to do at Rome?"
"What am I to do there? You have promised the king to emulate the
ancients, and I know that you are a man to keep your promise. But the
duchess thinks you a braggart, and with a view of crushing you by the
comparison no doubt, she is sending me, a painter, to Rome to make casts
of the most beautiful of the ancient statues, the Laocoön, the Venus,
the Knife-Grinder, and God knows what!"
"That is, indeed, refinement of hatred," said Benvenuto, who,
notwithstanding his good opinion of himself, was not altogether
confident of the result of a comparison of his work with that of the
great masters; "but to yield to a woman," he added, clenching his fists,
"never! never!"
"Who spoke of yielding? I will show you an excellent way to accomplish
it. She is pleased with Ascanio; she wishes to employ him, and has
instructed me to bid him call upon her. Now, nothing could be simpler
than for you to accompany your pupil to the Hôtel d'Etampes and
introduce him yourself to the fair duchess. Seize the opportunity; take
with you one of those marvellous jewels which you alone can make,
Benvenuto; show it to her first, and when you see her eyes glisten as
she looks at it, offer it to her as an unworthy tribute to her beauty.
She will accept, will thank you gracefully, and will in return make you
some present worthy of you and take you back into favor. If, on the
other hand, you have that woman for an enemy, abandon henceforth all the
great things of which you are dreaming. Alas! I too have been compelled
to stoop for a moment, only to rise to my full stature immediately.
Until then that dauber Rosso was preferred to me; he was put forward
everywhere, and always over my head. They made him Intendant of the
Crown."
"You are unjust to him, Francesco," said Cellini, unable to conceal his
real thought; "he is a great painter."
"Do you think so?"
"I am sure of it."
"And so am I sure of it," said Primaticcio, "and that is just why I hate
him. They were using him to crush me; I flattered their wretched vanity,
and now I am the great Primaticcio, and they are using me to crush you.
Do as I did, therefore, Benvenuto; you will never repent having followed
my advice. I implore you for your own sake and mine, I implore you in
the name of your renown and your future, both of which you will
compromise if you persist in your obstinacy."
"It is hard," said Cellini, who was, however, perceptibly weakening in
his determination.
"If not for yourself, Benvenuto, for the sake of our great king. Do you
wish to tear his heart by compelling him to choose between a mistress he
adores, and an artist he admires?"
"Very well! so be it! For the king's sake I will do it!" cried Cellini,
overjoyed to find a pretext which would spare his self-esteem.
"_À la bonne heure!_" said Primaticcio. "You understand, of course,
that if a single word of this conversation should be repeated to the
duchess, it would cause my ruin."
"Oh! I trust that you have no fears on that score."
"If Benvenuto gives his word, all is said."
"You have it."
"In that case, adieu, brother."
"A pleasant journey to you."
"And good luck to you."
The two friends, having exchanged a cordial grasp of the hand, parted,
each with a gesture which summarized their whole conversation.
XIII
SOUVENT FEMME VARIE
The Hôtel d'Etampes was not far from the Hôtel de Nesle. Our readers
will not be surprised therefore at our rapid flight from one to the
other.