OF OUR AUDIENCE OF THE MOST CHRISTIAN KING
I THINK the Marquis de Contreville-Lancy--that, as we afterwards
learned, was the name of this gentleman--had some little surprise
when he saw in what fashion we were disposed for our audience of the
King, his master. Yet, if surprised he was, and I think, good reader,
in this instance a little of such an eminently natural feeling is to
be pardoned, he was far too grave and serious a nobleman to display
it unduly. Yet I feel sure he viewed our appearance not without
displeasure, and I believe it gave as high a relief to his feelings
as it did to my own, when Sir Richard Pendragon coming to stand up,
exclaimed, “This French marble is plaguy cold to the feet. Upon my good
soul! it is a kind of distemper to buy a pair of shoes tricked with
silver and then to walk barefoot before the king’s majesty.”
“All the same, good Sir Richard,” said the Count of Nullepart, “it is
well known that the etiquette of the French court is very nice.”
In consequence of Sir Richard Pendragon’s new qualms, the Marquis de
Contreville-Lancy was taken into our counsels. And I feel bound to
state that the reference to this dignified nobleman proved highly
fortunate. He persuaded Sir Richard Pendragon not only to don his
shoes, but also to doff his bonnet. For he declared that any other
proceeding would gravely imperil our embassy.
This piece of whimsicality being thus happily adjusted, we repaired
in a wholly civilized mode to the presence of the first prince of the
age. I cannot tell you, reader, what were my feelings when for the
first time in my life, and at a period when I had barely attained to
the estate of manhood, I found myself within a few paces of so august a
personage.
Upon first coming into the presence of King Louis I could observe very
little, for a most singular haze rose before my eyes. When afterwards I
came to mention this phenomenon to the learned Count of Nullepart, he
said that all who entered the presence of majesty were thus afflicted.
It was a kind of exhalation, he said, which embodied their divinity. At
the time, however, I was not aware of this interesting fact in natural
philosophy. I only knew that there was nothing in the apartment that I
could descry at all clearly, yet, understanding by a kind of instinct
that my two companions were bowing low, I followed their example.
When at last I could see the King more fully he was conversing with
Sir Richard Pendragon. The remarkable man who had come to lead our
embassy had the seemliness to conduct himself with a most polite
civility, of which I had scarcely suspected him to be capable. After
humbly saluting the hand of the monarch, he paid King Louis some highly
flattering addresses, and sinking to one knee--an act of courtly homage
that was so well performed that it must have been the fruit of long
practice--presented to the King the cartel of our mistress.
While one of his ministers read the terms of the reference aloud to the
King, who, of course, was too great a personage to read it himself,
I was able to muster my wits sufficiently to mark the most Christian
prince. And, good reader, you will doubtless call in question the
veracity of my two eyes when I assert that the French King Louis was a
small, wizened, pock-marked man, with a face, as became the embodiment
of his nation, that was not unlike a frog’s. His hair was red in
colour; there was a marked cast in his right eye; the lids were twisted
and puckered in a most curious manner; his insignificant person and
particularly his puny hands were twitching constantly; his voice was
not agreeable; and I could not decide whether the colour of his eyes
was brown or grey or dark green--the Count of Nullepart inclined to the
latter opinion, Sir Richard Pendragon to the former--yet, good reader,
I assure you solemnly that, notwithstanding all these disabilities, the
French sovereign was every inch a prince.
There were three or four of the King’s ministers present in the room,
with ruffs about their necks and short pointed beards. When they had
read madam’s communication, the King seemed puzzled to know who his
correspondent might be. It appeared that he had not the faintest
recollection of his aunt. And, as I conceived, somewhat singularly, the
ruler of France showed a livelier concern for this relationship than
for the demand that we had come to make upon his friendship.
At the command of the King an enormous genealogical chart was brought
into the room. Being laid upon the table, it provoked the greatest
curiosity. One and all scrutinized it with diligence, King Louis with
an even shrewder regard than the rest. And presently he was able to
convince himself that in Spain there dwelt an aunt of his of whom he
had neither seen nor heard.
The King having duly established their kinship, proceeded to ply Sir
Richard Pendragon with some pertinent questions, which the Englishman
answered in the grave manner of a true ambassador.
“A proud and royal lady, good your majesty,” said Sir Richard
Pendragon, “every inch a queen. She hath loyal and shrewd advisers,
good your majesty, among them these famous gentlemen and one who shall
be nameless.”
The King desired that the Count of Nullepart and myself should be
presented to him. Sir Richard Pendragon undertook this office. With an
air of magnificence that nought could surpass he recited our titles
and our merit; and had we discovered anything to be lacking in the
character he gave us we must have been ambitious men. It seemed that
the most noble the Marquis of Fulano was the most accomplished minister
in Spain; while I was a great lord, and, in spite of my tender years,
by no means the least of its captains.
“And may I assure you, sire,” said this extraordinary envoy, “the most
excellent queen’s majesty hath a standing army of not less than forty
thousand men-at-arms.”
This revelation of the puissance of our mistress was not without its
effect upon the King and his ministers. At first they seemed to extend
only a languid interest to our business, but the manner in which Sir
Richard Pendragon conducted it began to stimulate their attention.
Indeed, it must have taken very cold-blooded statesmen not to derive
interest from Sir Richard Pendragon’s presentment of the case. Taking
the genealogical chart as a kind of map of Spain, with one finger he
indicated the stronghold of the King of Castile, at fifty leagues’
distance from Toledo, and with another traced his broad dominion
upon which our mistress was already marching with forty thousand
men-at-arms. He declared that it was the Countess Sylvia’s plan to
draw the King of Castile out of his stronghold by falling upon and
laying waste his unprotected lands; and then, while the Castilian was
fully engaged in defending his own, she proposed that an army of her
royal nephew’s should come up in the rear--quite unexpectedly, for the
nature of this present mission was known to none--enter the unprotected
stronghold of the former enemy of King Louis, and seize it for France.
With such conviction and enthusiasm did Sir Richard Pendragon expound
a plan of war that was entirely of his own invention, that King Louis,
who at first had not listened very closely to a proposal that was
outside the sphere of his politics, began to nod his head in approval.
And finally the King of France was moved to hold animated converse with
his ministers.
After they had spoken together for some while, one of these gentlemen
directed Sir Richard Pendragon’s attention to the fact that although
ten thousand was the number of soldiers that he asked for, according
to the tenor of madam’s petition the number was no more than four
thousand. Thereupon Sir Richard Pendragon produced a large pair of
horn spectacles, adjusted them gravely, and after scrutinizing the
parchment very carefully, although there is reason to believe that
madam’s ambassador was able to read little of the Spanish tongue,
he gave it as his opinion that the four thousand was an undoubted
error of the scrivener’s, inasmuch--and he spoke very truly in this
particular--that the author of the proposal was himself.
This assurance being given, the King and his ministers again conferred;
and presently the audience was terminated by his Majesty saying that
this affair was of such moment that he desired twenty-four hours in
which to sit in council with his advisers. The King then took leave
of us, yet with a courteous request that the envoys of his respected
aunt--who, according to Sir Richard Pendragon, was a learned and devout
lady of mature years--should be lodged in the palace during their stay
at Paris, and further, that they should engage themselves to dine with
him that evening.