Ariel.--Hark! they roar.
Prospero. Let them be hunted soundly.
THE TEMPEST
There was room made in the assembly, and no small curiosity evinced by
those present to see the herald whom the insurgent Liegeois had ventured
to send to so haughty a Prince as the Duke of Burgundy, while in such
high indignation against them. For it must be remembered that at this
period heralds were only dispatched from sovereign princes to each
other upon solemn occasions; and that the inferior nobility employed
pursuivants, a lower rank of officers at arms. It may be also noticed,
in passing, that Louis XI, an habitual derider of whatever did not
promise real power or substantial advantage, was in especial a professed
contemner of heralds and heraldry, “red, blue, and green, with all their
trumpery,” to which the pride of his rival Charles, which was of a very
different kind, attached no small degree of ceremonious importance.
The herald, who was now introduced into the presence of the monarchs,
was dressed in a tabard, or coat, embroidered with the arms of his
master, in which the Boar's Head made a distinguished appearance,
in blazonry, which in the opinion of the skilful was more showy than
accurate. The rest of his dress--a dress always sufficiently tawdry--was
overcharged with lace, embroidery, and ornament of every kind, and the
plume of feathers which he wore was so high, as if intended to sweep the
roof of the hall. In short, the usual gaudy splendour of the heraldic
attire was caricatured and overdone. The Boar's Head was not only
repeated on every part of his dress, but even his bonnet was formed into
that shape, and it was represented with gory tongue and bloody tusks, or
in proper language, langed and dentated gules, and there was something
in the man's appearance which seemed to imply a mixture of boldness and
apprehension, like one who has undertaken a dangerous commission, and
is sensible that audacity alone can carry him through it with safety.
Something of the same mixture of fear and effrontery was visible in the
manner in which he paid his respects, and he showed also a grotesque
awkwardness, not usual amongst those who were accustomed to be received
in the presence of princes.
“Who art thou, in the devil's name?” was the greeting with which Charles
the Bold received this singular envoy.
“I am Rouge Sanglier,” answered the herald, “the officer at arms of
William de la Marck, by the grace of God, and the election of the
Chapter, Prince Bishop of Liege.”
“Ha!” exclaimed Charles, but, as if subduing his own passion, he made a
sign to him to proceed.
“And, in right of his wife, the Honourable Countess Hameline of Croye,
Count of Croye, and Lord of Bracquemont.”
The utter astonishment of Duke Charles at the extremity of boldness with
which these titles were announced in his presence seemed to strike him
dumb; and the herald conceiving, doubtless, that he had made a suitable
impression by the annunciation of his character, proceeded to state his
errand.
“Annuncio vobis gaudium magnum [I announce to you a great joy],” he
said; “I let you, Charles of Burgundy and Earl of Flanders, to know, in
my master's name, that under favour of a dispensation of our Holy Father
of Rome, presently expected, and appointing a fitting substitute ad
sacra [to the sacred office], he proposes to exercise at once the office
of Prince Bishop, and maintain the rights of Count of Croye.”
The Duke of Burgundy, at this and other pauses in the herald's speech,
only ejaculated, “Ha!” or some similar interjection, without making
any answer; and the tone of exclamation was that of one who, though
surprised and moved, is willing to hear all that is to be said ere he
commits himself by making an answer. To the further astonishment of
all who were present, he forbore from his usual abrupt and violent
gesticulations, remaining with the nail of his thumb pressed against
his teeth, which was his favourite attitude when giving attention,
and keeping his eyes bent on the ground, as if unwilling to betray the
passion which might gleam in them.
The envoy, therefore, proceeded boldly and unabashed in the delivery of
his message. “In the name, therefore, of the Prince Bishop of Liege,
and Count of Croye, I am to require of you, Duke Charles, to desist from
those pretensions and encroachments which you have made on the free and
imperial city of Liege, by connivance with the late Louis of Bourbon,
unworthy Bishop thereof.”
“Ha,” again exclaimed the Duke.
“Also to restore the banners of the community, which you took violently
from the town, to the number of six and thirty--to rebuild the breaches
in their walls, and restore the fortifications which you tyrannically
dismantled--and to acknowledge my master, William de la Marck, as Prince
Bishop, lawfully elected in a free Chapter of Canons, of which behold
the proces verbal.”
“Have you finished?” said the Duke.
“Not yet,” replied the envoy. “I am farther to require your Grace,
on the part of the said right noble and venerable Prince, Bishop, and
Count, that you do presently withdraw the garrison from the Castle of
Bracquemont, and other places of strength, belonging to the Earldom of
Croye, which have been placed there, whether in your own most gracious
name, or in that of Isabelle, calling herself Countess of Croye, or any
other, until it shall be decided by the Imperial Diet whether the fiefs
in question shall not pertain to the sister of the late Count, my most
gracious Lady Hameline, rather than to his daughter, in respect of
the jus emphyteusis [a permanent tenure of land upon condition of
cultivating it properly, and paying a stipulated rent; a sort of fee
farm or copyhold].”
“Your master is most learned,” replied the Duke.
“Yet,” continued the herald, “the noble and venerable Prince and Count
will be disposed, all other disputes betwixt Burgundy and Liege being
settled, to fix upon the Lady Isabelle such an appanage as may become
her quality.”
“He is generous and considerate,” said the Duke, in the same tone.
“Now, by a poor fool's conscience,” said Le Glorieux apart to the Count
of Crevecoeur, “I would rather be in the worst cow's hide that ever died
of the murrain than in that fellow's painted coat! The poor man goes
on like drunkards, who only look to the ether pot, and not to the score
which mine host chalks up behind the lattice.”
“Have you yet done?” said the Duke to the herald.
“One word more,” answered Rouge Sanglier, “from my noble and venerable
lord aforesaid, respecting his worthy and trusty ally, the most
Christian King.”
“Ha!” exclaimed the Duke, starting, and in a fiercer tone than he had
yet used; but checking himself, he instantly composed himself again to
attention.
“Which most Christian King's royal person it is rumoured that you,
Charles of Burgundy, have placed under restraint contrary to your duty
as a vassal of the Crown of France, and to the faith observed among
Christian Sovereigns. For which reason, my said noble and venerable
master, by my mouth, charges you to put his royal and most Christian
ally forthwith at freedom, or to receive the defiance which I am
authorized to pronounce to you.”
“Have you yet done?” said the Duke.
“I have,” answered the herald, “and await your Grace's answer, trusting
it may be such as will save the effusion of Christian blood.”
“Now, by Saint George of Burgundy!” said the Duke, but ere he could
proceed farther, Louis arose, and struck in with a tone of so much
dignity and authority that Charles could not interrupt him.
“Under your favour, fair cousin of Burgundy,” said the King, “we
ourselves crave priority of voice in replying to this insolent
fellow.--Sirrah herald, or whatever thou art, carry back notice to the
perjured outlaw and murderer, William de la Marck, that the King of
France will be presently before Liege, for the purpose of punishing the
sacrilegious murderer of his late beloved kinsman, Louis of Bourbon;
and that he proposes to gibbet De la Marck alive, for the insolence of
terming himself his ally, and putting his royal name into the mouth of
one of his own base messengers.”
“Add whatever else on my part,” said Charles, “which it may not
misbecome a prince to send to a common thief and murderer.--And
begone!--Yet stay.--Never herald went from the Court of Burgundy without
having cause to cry, Largesse!--Let him be scourged till the bones are
laid bare.”
“Nay, but if it please your Grace,” said Crevecoeur and D'Hymbercourt
together, “he is a herald, and so far privileged.”
“It is you, Messires,” replied the Duke, “who are such owls as to think
that the tabard makes the herald. I see by that fellow's blazoning he is
a mere impostor. Let Toison d'Or step forward, and question him in your
presence.”
In spite of his natural effrontery, the envoy of the Wild Boar of
Ardennes now became pale; and that notwithstanding some touches of
paint with which he had adorned his countenance. Toison d'Or, the chief
herald, as we have elsewhere said, of the Duke, and King at arms within
his dominions, stepped forward with the solemnity of one who knew what
was due to his office, and asked his supposed brother in what college he
had studied the science which he professed.
“I was bred a pursuivant at the Heraldic College of Ratisbon,” answered
Rouge Sanglier, “and received the diploma of Ehrenhold [a herald] from
that same learned fraternity.”
“You could not derive it from a source more worthy,” answered Toison
d'Or, bowing still lower than he had done before; “and if I presume to
confer with you on the mysteries of our sublime science, in obedience to
the orders of the most gracious Duke, it is not in hopes of giving, but
of receiving knowledge.”
“Go to,” said the Duke impatiently. “Leave off ceremony, and ask him
some question that may try his skill.”
“It were injustice to ask a disciple of the worthy College of Arms at
Ratisbon if he comprehendeth the common terms of blazonry,” said Toison
d'Or, “but I may, without offence, crave of Rouge Sanglier to say if he
is instructed in the more mysterious and secret terms of the science, by
which the more learned do emblematically, and as it were parabolically,
express to each other what is conveyed to others in the ordinary
language, taught in the very accidence as it were of Heraldry.”
“I understand one sort of blazonry as well as another,” answered Rouge
Sanglier boldly, “but it may be we have not the same terms in Germany
which you have here in Flanders.”
“Alas, that you will say so!” replied Toison d'Or. “our noble science,
which is indeed the very banner of nobleness and glory of generosity,
being the same in all Christian countries, nay, known and acknowledged
even by the Saracens and Moors. I would, therefore, pray of you to
describe what coat you will after the celestial fashion, that is, by the
planets.”
“Blazon it yourself as you will,” said Rouge Sanglier; “I will do no
such apish tricks upon commandment, as an ape is made to come aloft.”
“Show him a coat and let him blazon it his own way,” said the Duke;
“and if he fails, I promise him that his back shall be gules, azure, and
sable.”
“Here,” said the herald of Burgundy, taking from his pouch a piece of
parchment, “is a scroll in which certain considerations led me to
prick down, after my own poor fashion, an ancient coat. I will pray
my brother, if indeed he belong to the honourable College of Arms at
Ratisbon, to decipher it in fitting language.”
Le Glorieux, who seemed to take great pleasure in this discussion, had
by this time bustled himself close up to the two heralds. “I will help
thee, good fellow,” said he to Rouge Sanglier, as he looked hopelessly
upon the scroll. “This, my lords and masters, represents the cat looking
out at the dairy window.”
This sally occasioned a laugh, which was something to the advantage of
Rouge Sanglier, as it led Toison d'Or, indignant at the misconstruction
of his drawing, to explain it as the coat of arms assumed by Childebert,
King of France, after he had taken prisoner Gandemar, King of Burgundy;
representing an ounce, or tiger cat, the emblem of the captive prince,
behind a grating, or, as Toison d'Or technically defined it, “Sable, a
musion [a tiger cat; a term of heraldry] passant Or, oppressed with a
trellis gules, cloue of the second.”
“By my bauble,” said Le Glorieux, “if the cat resemble Burgundy, she has
the right side of the grating nowadays.”
“True, good fellow,” said Louis, laughing, while the rest of the
presence, and even Charles himself, seemed disconcerted at so broad a
jest.
“I owe thee a piece of gold for turning some thing that looked like sad
earnest into the merry game, which I trust it will end in.”
“Silence, Le Glorieux,” said the Duke; “and you, Toison d'Or, who
are too learned to be intelligible, stand back--and bring that rascal
forward, some of you.--Hark ye, villain,” he said in his harshest tone,
“do you know the difference between argent and or, except in the shape
of coined money?”
“For pity's sake, your Grace, be good unto me!--Noble King Louis, speak
for me!”
“Speak for thyself,” said the Duke. “In a word, art thou herald or not?”
“Only for this occasion!” acknowledged the detected official.
“Now, by Saint George!” said the Duke, eyeing Louis askance, “we know
no king--no gentleman--save one, who would have so prostituted the noble
science on which royalty and gentry rest, save that King who sent to
Edward of England a serving man disguised as a herald.”
[The heralds of the middle ages were regarded almost as sacred
characters. It was treasonable to strike a herald, or to counterfeit
the character of one. Yet Louis “did not hesitate to practise such an
imposition when he wished to enter into communication with Edward IV of
England.... He selected, as an agentfit for his purpose, a simple valet.
This man... he disguised as a herald, with all the insignia of his
office, and sent him in that capacity to open a communication with the
English army. The stratagem, though of so fraudulent a nature, does
not seem to have been necessarily called for, since all that King Louis
could gain by it would be that he did not commit himself by sending a
more responsible messenger. ... Ferne... imputes this intrusion on their
rights in some degree to necessity. 'I have heard some,' he says, '...
allow of the action of Louis XI who had so unknightly a regard both of
his own honour, and also of armes, that he seldom had about his court
any officer at armes. And therefore, at such time as Edward IV, King of
England,... lay before the town of Saint Quentin, the same French
King, for want of a herald to carry his mind to the English King, was
constrained to suborn a vadelict, or common serving man, with a trumpet
banner, having a hole made through the middest for this preposterous
herauld to put his head through, and to cast it over his shoulders
instead of a better coat armour of France. And thus came this hastily
arrayed courier as a counterfeit officer at armes, with instructions
from his sovereign's mouth to offer peace to our King.' Ferne's Blazen
of Gentry, 1586, p. 161.--S.]
“Such a stratagem,” said Louis, laughing, or affecting to laugh, “could
only be justified at a Court where no herald were at the time, and when
the emergency was urgent. But, though it might have passed on the blunt
and thick witted islander, no one with brains a whit better than those
of a wild boar would have thought of passing such a trick upon the
accomplished Court of Burgundy.”
“Send him who will,” said the Duke fiercely, “he shall return on their
hands in poor case.--Here!--drag him to the market place!--slash him
with bridle reins and dog whips until the tabard hang about him in
tatters!--Upon the Rouge Sanglier!--ca, ca!--Haloo, haloo!”
Four or five large hounds, such as are painted in the hunting pieces
upon which Rubens and Schneiders laboured in conjunction, caught the
well known notes with which the Duke concluded, and began to yell and
bay as if the boar were just roused from his lair.
[Rubens (1577-1640): a great Flemish artist whose works were sought by
kings and princes. He painted the history of Marie de Medicis in the
series of colossal pictures now in the Louvre. He was knighted by Philip
IV of Spain and Charles I of England.]
[Schneiders, or Snyders: a Flemish painter of the seventeenth century.]
“By the rood!” said King Louis, observant to catch the vein of his
dangerous cousin, “since the ass has put on the boar's hide, I would set
the dogs on him to bait him out of it!”
“Right! right!” exclaimed Duke Charles, the fancy exactly chiming
in with his humour at the moment--“it shall be done!--Uncouple the
hounds!--Hyke a Talbot! [a hunter's cry to his dog. See Dame Berner's
Boke of Hawking and Hunting.] hyke a Beaumont!--We will course him from
the door of the Castle to the east gate!”
“I trust your Grace will treat me as a beast of chase,” said the fellow,
putting the best face he could upon the matter, “and allow me fair law?”
“Thou art but vermin,” said the Duke, “and entitled to no law, by the
letter of the book of hunting; nevertheless, thou shalt have sixty
yards in advance, were it but for the sake of thy unparalleled
impudence.--Away, away, sirs!--we will see this sport.”
And the council breaking up tumultuously, all hurried, none faster
than the two Princes, to enjoy the humane pastime which King Louis had
suggested.
The Rouge Sanglier showed excellent sport; for, winged with terror,
and having half a score of fierce boar hounds hard at his haunches,
encouraged by the blowing of horns and the woodland cheer of the
hunters, he flew like the very wind, and had he not been encumbered
with his herald's coat (the worst possible habit for a runner), he might
fairly have escaped dog free; he also doubled once or twice, in a manner
much approved of by the spectators. None of these, nay, not even Charles
himself, was so delighted with the sport as King Louis, who, partly from
political considerations, and partly as being naturally pleased with the
sight of human suffering when ludicrously exhibited, laughed till the
tears ran from his eyes, and in his ecstasies of rapture caught hold of
the Duke's ermine cloak, as if to support himself; whilst the Duke, no
less delighted, flung his arm around the King's shoulder, making thus
an exhibition of confidential sympathy and familiarity, very much at
variance with the terms on which they had so lately stood together. At
length the speed of the pseudo herald could save him no longer from
the fangs of his pursuers; they seized him, pulled him down, and would
probably soon have throttled him, had not the Duke called out, “Stave
and tail!--stave and tail! [to strike the bear with a staff, and pull
off the dogs by the tail, to separate them.]--Take them off him!--He
hath shown so good a course, that, though he has made no sport at bay,
we will not have him dispatched.”
Several officers accordingly busied themselves in taking off the dogs;
and they were soon seen coupling some up, and pursuing others which ran
through the streets, shaking in sport and triumph the tattered fragments
of painted cloth and embroidery rent from the tabard, which the
unfortunate wearer had put on in an unlucky hour.
At this moment, and while the Duke was too much engaged with what passed
before him to mind what was said behind him, Oliver le Dain, gliding
behind King Louis, whispered into his ear, “It is the Bohemian,
Hayraddin Maugrabin.--It were not well he should come to speech of the
Duke.”
“He must die,” answered Louis in the same tone, “dead men tell no
tales.”
One instant afterwards, Tristan l'Hermite, to whom Oliver had given the
hint, stepped forward before the King and the Duke, and said, in his
blunt manner, “So please your Majesty and your Grace, this piece of game
is mine, and I claim him--he is marked with my stamp--the fleur de lis
is branded on his shoulder, as all men may see.--He is a known villain,
and hath slain the King's subjects, robbed churches, deflowered virgins,
slain deer in the royal parks--”
“Enough, enough,” said Duke Charles, “he is my royal cousin's property
by many a good title. What will your Majesty do with him?”
“If he is left to my disposal,” said the King, “I will at least give him
one lesson in the science of heraldry, in which he is so ignorant--only
explain to him practically the meaning of a cross potence, with a noose
dangling proper.”
“Not as to be by him borne, but as to bear him.--Let him take the
degrees under your gossip Tristan--he is a deep professor in such
mysteries.”
Thus answered the Duke, with a burst of discordant laughter at his own
wit, which was so cordially chorused by Louis that his rival could not
help looking kindly at him, while he said, “Ah, Louis, Louis! would to
God thou wert as faithful a monarch as thou art a merry companion!--I
cannot but think often on the jovial time we used to spend together.”
“You may bring it back when you will,” said Louis; “I will grant you
as fair terms as for very shame's sake you ought to ask in my present
condition, without making yourself the fable of Christendom; and I will
swear to observe them upon the holy relique which I have ever the grace
to bear about my person, being a fragment of the true cross.”
Here he took a small golden reliquary, which was suspended from his neck
next to his shirt by a chain of the same metal, and having kissed it
devoutly, continued--“Never was false oath sworn on this most sacred
relique, but it was avenged within the year.”
“Yet,” said the Duke, “it was the same on which you swore amity to me
when you left Burgundy, and shortly after sent the Bastard of Rubempre
to murder or kidnap me.”
“Nay, gracious cousin, now you are ripping up ancient grievances,”
said the King. “I promise you, that you were deceived in that
matter.--Moreover, it was not upon this relique which I then swore,
but upon another fragment of the true cross which I got from the Grand
Seignior, weakened in virtue, doubtless, by sojourning with infidels.
Besides, did not the war of the Public Good break out within the year;
and was not a Burgundian army encamped at Saint Denis, backed by all the
great feudatories of France; and was I not obliged to yield up Normandy
to my brother?--O God, shield us from perjury on such a warrant as
this!”
“Well, cousin,” answered the Duke, “I do believe thou hadst a lesson
to keep faith another time.--And now for once, without finesse and
doubling, will you make good your promise, and go with me to punish this
murdering La Marck and the Liegeois?”
“I will march against them,” said Louis, “with the Ban and Arriere
Ban of France [the military force called out by the sovereign in early
feudal times, together with their vassals, equipment, and three months'
provision], and the Oriflamme displayed.”
“Nay, nay,” said the Duke, “that is more than is needful, or may be
advisable. The presence of your Scottish Guard, and two hundred choice
lances, will serve to show that you are a free agent. A large army
might--”
“Make me so in effect, you would say, my fair cousin?” said the King.
“Well, you shall dictate the number of my attendants.”
“And to put this fair cause of mischief out of the way, you will agree
to the Countess Isabelle of Croye's wedding with the Duke of Orleans?”
“Fair cousin,” said the King, “you drive my courtesy to extremity. The
Duke is the betrothed bridegroom of my daughter Joan. Be generous--yield
up this matter, and let us speak rather of the towns on the Somme.”
“My council will talk to your Majesty of these,” said Charles, “I myself
have less at heart the acquisition of territory than the redress of
injuries. You have tampered with my vassals, and your royal pleasure
must needs dispose of the hand of a ward of Burgundy. Your Majesty
must bestow it within the pale of your own royal family, since you have
meddled with it--otherwise our conference breaks off.”
“Were I to say I did this willingly,” said the King, “no one would
believe me, therefore do you, my fair cousin, judge of the extent of
my wish to oblige you, when I say most reluctantly, that the parties
consenting, and a dispensation from the Pope being obtained, my own
objections shall be no bar to this match which you purpose.”
“All besides can be easily settled by our ministers,” said the Duke,
“and we are once more cousins and friends.”
“May Heaven be praised!” said Louis, “who, holding in his hand the
hearts of princes, doth mercifully incline them to peace and clemency,
and prevent the effusion of human blood.
“Oliver,” he added apart to that favourite, who ever waited around him
like the familiar beside a sorcerer, “hark thee--tell Tristan to be
speedy in dealing with yonder runagate Bohemian.”