Those were busy days in Paris! So manifold were the intrigues, so
frequent the changes, so rapid the events, of that time, that it would
have required almost more than mortal strength and activity, in those
who played any prominent part amongst the factions of the day, to
accomplish the incessant business of every succeeding hour, had not
that levity, for which the Parisians have been famous in every age of
history, stood them in better stead than philosophy could have done,
and taught them to consider the fierce turmoil of party, the eager
anxiety of intrigue, and even the appalling scenes of strife and
bloodshed in which they lived, rather as playthings and as pageants,
than as fearful realities.
No sooner had the conference terminated, of which we have given an
outline in the last chapter, than Madame de Montpensier, leaving her
brother of Mayenne to break his somewhat bitter jest upon the leader
of the lansquenets, hurried from the room; but, ere the conversation
which succeeded was over, though it lasted but a very brief space, she
reappeared, covered with what was then called a penitent's cloak, and
holding her mask in her hand, as if prepared to go forth.
Beckoning Wolfstrom towards her, she spoke with him for a few moments,
in an under tone; and then, concluding with, "Well, be as quick as
possible, and bring me some certain tidings," she again quitted the
apartment, without making Mayenne, who was conversing upon lighter
matters with the Duchess de Guise and the Chevalier d'Aumale, a sharer
in her plans and purposes.
We shall not follow the progress of her chair through the long,
tortuous, busy streets of Paris; nor record how her attendants cleared
the way through many a crowd, gathered together round the stall of
some great bookseller, or before the stage on which some itinerant
friar, like a mountebank of modern times, sold his treasure of relics,
or chaplets, or authentic pictures of saints and martyrs, or the
still-valued indulgence, which the church of Rome did not fail to
grant to those who had money and folly enough to purchase either the
right of eating flesh, while others were doomed to fish, or the
gratification of any other little carnal inclination, not held amongst
irremissible sins. Suffice it that--amidst stinks, and shouts, and
bawlings, mingled now and then with the "shrill squeaking of the
wry-necked fife," and various savoury odours were wafted from the
kitchens in which cooks, and traiteurs, and aubergistes prepared all
sorts of viands, from the fat quail, and luscious ortolan, to good
stout horse-flesh and delicate cat--the Princess's vehicle bore her
on, till wide at her approach flew open the gates of the Dominican
convent, in the rue St. Jacques, and, entering the first court, the
Duchess set down, under the archway, on the left-hand side.
After whispering a word to the _frere portier_, the errant daughter of
the noble house of Guise was led through the long and narrow passages
of the building, not to the parlour which usually formed the place of
reception by the priors of the convent, but to a small room, which had
but one door for entrance, and but one narrow window to admit the
needful light. The furniture was as simple as it could be, consisting
of five or six long-backed ebony chairs, a table, a crucifix, a
missal, and a human skull, not, as usual, nicely cleaned and polished,
so as to take away all idea of corruption from the round, smooth,
meaningless ball of shining bone, but rough and foul as it came from
the earth, with the black dirt sticking in the hollows where once had
shone the light of life, and the green mould of the grave spreading
faint and sickly over the fleshless chaps.
Standing before the table, with his arms crossed upon his breast, and
his dark gleaming eye fixed upon the memento of the tomb, stood a tall
pale man, habited in the black robe of a prior of the order of St.
Dominick, with the white under-garment of the Dominicans still
apparent. He raised his eyes as the Duchess entered, but fixed them
again immediately upon the skull; and, ere he proceeded to notice in
words the approach of his visitant, he muttered what appeared to be a
brief prayer, and bowed towards the cross.
"Welcome, madam!" he said, at length; "I have been eagerly expecting
you; for it will not be long ere vespers, and we have much to
consider."
"I have been forced to delay," replied the Duchess, "in order to save
some of our very best schemes from going wrong. But is not Armandi
come? He should have been here an hour ago."
"He is here, though he has not been here so long," replied the Prior.
"I made them keep him without till you came; for I love not his
neighbourhood."
"I ought to pray your forgiveness, father, for bringing him here at
all," said the Duchess; "but, in truth--"
"Make no excuse, lady, make no excuse!" answered the Prior. "We labour
for the holy church--we labour for the faith; and there is no weapon
put within our reach by God, but we have law and licence to use it
against the rank and corrupted enemies of the church militant upon
earth. Did not the blessed St. Dominick himself say, 'Let the sword do
its work, and let the fire do its work, till the threshing-floor of
the house of God be thoroughly purged and purified of the husks and
the chaff which pollute it?' Did not he himself lead the way in the
extirpation of the heretics of old, till the rivers of Languedoc, from
their source even to the ocean, flowed red with the foul blood of the
enemies of the faith? And shall we, his poor followers, halt like
fastidious girls at any means of pursuing the same great object, of
obtaining the same holy end? As I hope to reach the heaven that has
long received our sainted founder, if this Armandi can find means of
accomplishing our mighty purpose, I will embrace him as a brother, and
pronounce with my own lips his absolution from all the many sins of
his life, on account of that worthy act in defence of the Catholic
faith. Shall I call him in?"
"By all means!" said the Duchess, seating herself near the table: "by
all means! let us hear what he has devised."
The Prior of the Dominican, or rather, as it was called in Paris, the
Jacobine, convent, proceeded to the door, and made a sign to some one,
who, standing at the end of the long passage, seemed to wait his
commands; and, after a momentary pause, an inferior brother of the
order appeared, introducing the perfumer, habited in the same silks
and velvets wherewith we have seen him clothed when visited by
Beatrice of Ferrara, about an hour before. With a courtly sliding
step, inclined head, and rounded shoulders, Armandi advanced towards
the spot where the Duchess was seated; and, after laying his hand upon
his breast, and bowing low and reverently, drew back a step beside her
chair, as if waiting her commands, with a look of deep humility. The
Prior of the Jacobines seated himself at the same time, and looked
towards the Duchess, as if unwilling himself to begin the conversation
with the worthy coadjutor who had just joined them. Madame de
Montpensier, whose acquaintance with Armandi was of no recent date,
had not the same delicacy on the subject, but at once began, in the
familiar and jocular tone which the light dames of Paris were but too
much accustomed to use, towards the smooth minister of evil that stood
before her: "Well, pink of perfumers," she said, "let us hear what
means your ingenious brain has devised for accomplishing the little
object I mentioned to you some days ago."
"Beautiful as excellent, and bright as noble!" replied Armandi, in his
sweetest tone; "adorable princess, whose charms the lowest of her
slaves may reverently worship, sorry I am to say, that the enterprise
which you have been graciously pleased to propose to me, I--luckless
I!--am unable to undertake."
The Duchess heard all his rhodomontade upon her charms--although
the very broadness of Armandi's flattery savoured somewhat of
mockery--with more complaisance than had been evinced towards him by
Beatrice of Ferrara; but the Prior listened with impatience to his
waste of words, and seemed to hear his concluding declaration with
disappointment and indignation.
"How is this?" cried he, "how is this? Surely thou, unscrupulous in
everything, affectest no vain qualms in regard to the tyrant at St.
Cloud! If thou holdest dear the Catholic faith,"--and the keen eyes of
the Prior fixed searching upon the soft smiling countenance of the
poisoner--"if thou art not infidel, or atheist, or Huguenot, thou wilt
clear away thy many sins, by exercising a trade, hellish in other
circumstances, in the only instance where it is not only justifiable
and praiseworthy, but where, by the great deliverance of the church,
it may merit you hereafter a crown of glory. Or is it, perchance," he
added, "that thou fearest because this tyrant is a king, and the son
of thy former patroness? I tell thee, that were he thine own brother,
as a good Catholic, thou shouldest not hesitate."
Armandi listened to the vehement declamation of the monk with his
usual composed air, and half subdued smile, and at the end replied,
with every apparent reverence--"No, holy Father Bourgoin; you mistake
entirely your humble and devoted servant. I am not so presumptuous as
to think, that what such a holy man as you tells me to do can be
against either right or religion; and, besides, I would humbly beseech
you to give me absolution for anything I might do at your command; so
that, being a sincere and devoted Catholic, my conscience would be
quite at ease." There was the slightest possible curl on Armandi's lip
as he spoke, which in the eyes of the Dominican looked not unlike a
sneer; but his manner, as well as his words, was in every other point
respectful, and he went on in the same tone:--"Neither is it, reverend
father, that the royal object of the ministry which you wish me to
practise, has had more than one crown put upon his head, which makes
me halt; for I never yet could discover that the holy oil with which
he is anointed has the least resemblance to that elixir of life which
forbids the approach of death; or that in the golden circlet with
which his brows are bound lies any antidote for certain drugs that I
possess. Nor am I moved by considering that his most Christian Majesty
is the son of my dear and lamented mistress; for, taking into account
the troublous world in which we live, and the many difficulties,
dangers, and disasters which surround Henry at this moment, truly it
would be no uncharitable act to give him a safe and easy passport to
another world."
"Then why, why," demanded the Duchess, "why do you hesitate to do so?"
"Sweet lady! it is because I cannot," answered Armandi: "the King's
precautions put all my arts at fault. Not a dish is set upon his
table, but a portion of it is tasted two hours before; his gloves
themselves are made within the circle of the court; his own apothecary
prepares the perfumes for his toilet; and the cosmetic mask Which he
wears in bed, to keep his countenance from the chill night air, is
manufactured by his own royal hands."
Madame de Montpensier and the Prior looked at each other with somewhat
sullen and disappointed looks; and Armandi added, "Unless you can get
me admitted to his household, I fear my skill can be of no avail."
"We have no such interest with the effeminate tyrant," replied Madame
de Montpensier, "and so this scheme is hopeless," she added. "But I
fear me, Armandi, that, from some love to this tyrant, or to his
minions, your will is less disposed to find the means than the means
difficult to be found."
"No, as I live, beautiful princess!" answered the poisoner, with more
eagerness than he often displayed. "No, as I live! I had once a
daughter, lady, as beautiful as you are; and it was her father's pride
that she should be wise and chaste: when one mid-day, in the open
streets of Paris, my child was met by the base minion, Saint Maigrin,
hot with pride, and vice, and wine. He treated her as if she had been
an idle courtesan; and how far he would have carried his brutality,
none but the dead can tell, had not a gentleman, whose name I know
not, rescued her from his hands: although so hurt and terrified, that,
ere long, she died. I called loudly for justice, lady--I called with
the voice of a father and a man; but I was heard by this Henry, who
has never been a father, and is but half a man. He mocked me openly:
but the house of Guise, in revenging their own wrongs, revenged mine;
and you may judge whether I would not willingly aid you to remove from
the earth one who has cumbered it too long."
"Then you absolutely cannot do it?" demanded the priest.
"I cannot," answered Armandi; "but, if I may say so, reverend father,
I think you can."
"Ay, and how so?" asked the Prior, eagerly: "if it rests with me, it
is done; for, so help me Heaven! if this right hand could plant a
dagger in his heart, I would not pause between the conception and the
act: no, not the twinkling of an eye!--no, not the breathing of a
prayer! so sure am I that, by so doing, I should better serve the
Catholic faith, than had I the eloquence of St. Paul to preach it to
the world. How can I do it?"
"Very simply, I think," replied the poisoner. "I have often remarked,
standing by the gate of your convent, or kneeling at the shrines at
Notre Dame, a dull, heavy-looking man, pale in the face, strong in the
body, and having but little meaning in his eye, except that when
before some relic, or the image of some favourite saint, a wild and
uncertain fire is seen to beam up but for a moment, and go out again
as soon. He seems about twenty years of age; and I met him now just
going forth as I came hither."
"Oh, yes! I know him well," replied the Prior: "you mean poor Brother
Clement; a simple, dull, enthusiastic youth, whose strong animal
passions now, most happily for himself, all centre in devotion."
A dark and bitter smile curled the lips of René Armandi as he listened
to the Prior's account of the person on whom he himself had fixed as a
fit instrument for the foul and bloody schemes that were agitated so
tranquilly in their strange conclave. "Yes," he said; "yes, stupid he
is; wild, visionary, and enthusiastic, he seems to be; and the same
animal passions, which once plunged him in brutal lusts and foul
debauchery, may now act as a stimulus to drive home the dagger in the
cause of the Catholic faith!"
The gleaming eyes of the Prior fixed sternly upon the countenance of
the poisoner while he spoke; and it seemed that no very Christian
feelings were excited in the bosom of the monk by the bitter and
sneering tone which the Italian employed. The suggestion, however,
which his words had implied, rather than expressed, instantly caught
his attention, and diverted his mind towards more important matter.
"Ha!" he exclaimed; "ha! think you he could be prevailed upon?"
"I have often remarked, reverend father," replied Armandi, who had
caught the transitory look of wrath as it had passed over the monk's
countenance, and who, being but little disposed to make an enemy of
one both powerful and unscrupulous, now spoke in a milder and more
deferential tone--"I have often remarked, reverend father, that there
are men in whose souls the animal part seems to be so much stronger
than the intellectual, that mere appetite drives them on to coarse
extremes in everything, however opposite and apparently incompatible.
Thus, do we not see," he asked, lowering his tone, as if he suspected
that the case he was about to put might be that of his auditor; "do we
not see that men, who, in their youth, have given themselves up
somewhat too freely to gallantry, and to those fair sins which the
church condemns in vain, in after-years wear the bare stones with
their bended knees, and tire all the saints in the calendar with
penitence and prayer?"
"Thou speakest profanely," said the Prior: "is it not natural and just
that men, who have great sins to atone for, should do the deeper
penance when their conscience is awakened to repentance? But what if
it were even as thou wouldst sneeringly imply? How does this affect
our Brother Clement?"
"If I reason wrongly," replied Armandi, "my reasoning affects him not;
but if my view is right, it matters much. I doubt, good father, that
it is always true repentance which brings the libertine to the altar.
My conviction is, that it is but one appetite gone, and another risen
up in its place; and amongst such men, had I some good and reasonable
cause,--some powerful motive to stir them up to action,--it is amongst
such men, I say, that I should seek for one to undertake fearlessly,
and execute resolutely, such a deed as that which has been proposed to
me: and let me say too," he continued, a natural tendency to sneer at
his companions getting the better of the moderation he had assumed;
"and let me say, too, that I would seek for one whose reasoning
powers, in the nice balance of the brain, would kick the beam when the
opposite scale were loaded with animal passion and vagrant
imagination. Do you understand me?"
The Prior made no reply; but, starting up from his seat, walked up and
down the room with his hands clasped, his head bent, and his lips
muttering. In the meanwhile, Madame de Montpensier beckoned Armandi
towards her, and held with him a brief conversation in an under tone.
His communication with her, however, seemed to be much more free and
unrestrained than it had been with the monk; for jest and laughter
appeared to take the place of shrewd and somewhat bitter discussion;
and, though looks of intelligence and significant gestures made up
fully one half of what passed, the lady and the poisoner seemed to
understand each other perfectly. Their conversation ended by Madame de
Montpensier exclaiming aloud, "Oh, never fear, never fear! To attain
that object I will act the angel myself, and go any lengths in that
capacity."
"Reverend father," continued the Princess, "this scheme is a hopeful
one, easily executed, and involving no great risk."
The Prior paused, and turned to listen to the Duchess, who knew much
better how to treat him than Armandi. "What is the scheme, lady?" he
demanded: "as yet I have heard of none, except vague hints regarding a
brother of the order, mingled with sneers at religion and religious
men, which, in better days, would have had their reward."
"No, no, good father," replied the Duchess; "poor Armandi means no
evil. Answer me one or two questions: think you not that Henry,--the
excommunicated tyrant, the sacrilegious murderer of one of the
prelates of the holy church, the friend of heretics, who is at this
moment doing all that he can to spread heresy and destroy the Catholic
faith in France;--think you not that he is without the pale of law,
and that any means are justifiable to stop him in his damnable course,
and save the holy church and the Catholic population in this country?"
"Not only do I think so," replied the Prior, vehemently, "but I think
that he who does stop him in his course will gain a crown of glory,
and would obtain, should death befall him in the act, the still more
glorious crown of martyrdom."
"That is enough, that is enough!" replied the Duchess; "I will explain
to you the whole scheme when we are alone. You, Armandi, go and
prepare everything that you spoke of,--the rose-coloured fire, and the
dress, and the wings, and come to me to-night, that we may arrange all
the rest."
With profound and repeated bows, the perfumer was in the act of taking
his departure from the apartment where this iniquitous conference had
taken place, when three soft taps on the door arrested his progress,
and the next moment the same monk who had ushered him thither on the
arrival of the Duchess, announced that a noble gentleman without
craved to speak with Madame de Montpensier, according to her own
appointment.
"Give him admittance, father! give him admittance!" cried the
Princess; "it is our faithful friend Wolfstrom, who brings me news of
other feats accomplished in the same good cause that occupies us
here."
The order for his admission was immediately given by the Prior; and as
Armandi passed out, the leader of the lansquenets entered, exchanging
glances of recognition with the poisoner, the circle of whose
acquaintances had extended itself, by one means or another, to almost
every one possessing any degree of rank, wealth, or influence in
Paris.
"Well, lady!" said the soldier of fortune, after a formal bow to the
Prior, "the stag is safely housed, and we wait but your commands to
follow up the sport."
"But have you learned any particulars of his mind and character?"
demanded the Duchess, eagerly; "have you discovered which way we best
may lead or drive him to the point? Remember, our time is but short,
and much remains to be done in those brief three days."
"Good faith! there seems but little to be learned, lady," replied the
soldier. "As I promised, I took care that he should have companionship
with none but those who would take up every light word, to let us see
into the dark nooks of his heart, and report all truly that they
learned; but, by the Lord! it seems that there are no dark nooks to be
found out! All is open and clear--he seems simple as the day,
religious in the true Catholic faith, sir Prior, bold and calm, but
having little to take hold of, if it be not his devotion."
"Of whom speak you?" demanded the Prior, while Madame de Montpensier
fixed her fine dark eyes thoughtfully on the ground; "is it of the
young St. Real, of whom our noble lady here spoke some days since?"
Albert of Wolfstrom nodded; and the Prior also fell into a fit of
meditation, seeming to revolve, like the Duchess, the means of dealing
with one of those characters, whose right simplicity of nature renders
them much more difficult to manage than even the wily, the worldly,
and the shrewd.
"We must think of this matter, Sir Albert," said the priest, "we must
think of this matter. Is he in safety at your house, do you think?"
"Why, by my honour, that is doubtful," answered the German. "My
lansquenets have active duty to perform; people are coming in
and out at all hours; and I never know when his Highness the
lieutenant-general himself may not make his appearance there."
"That will never do!" said the Duchess; "that will never do--we must
send him to the Bastile. Mayenne will never venture there; for he
knows very well that within those walls he would meet many a sight
which his fine notions of honour and justice would compel him to
inquire into, to the mortification of his policy, and the destruction
of his prospects. We must have him to the Bastille."
"Your pardon there, madame," said the soldier, somewhat uncourteously;
"my prisoner goes not to the Bastille, wherever he goes! That foul
burgher demagogue Bussy le Clerc shall hold at his good pleasure no
prisoner of mine."
Madame de Montpensier's dark eye flashed, and her cheek reddened as
she listened to the bold tone of the mercenary leader; but all the
tangled and complicated political intrigues in which his services were
necessary, and perhaps some more private considerations also, rendered
her unwilling to break with one whose faith and integrity were
somewhat more than doubtful. She smothered her anger, therefore, and,
after a few moments' thought, replied, "I have it, I have it! He shall
be brought here. You say, Sir Albert of Wolfstrom, that,
notwithstanding the intimacy of his father with the Huguenots, he
seems to hold fast by the Catholic faith. You, reverend father, shall
try your oratory upon him; and, if possible, we must make him benefit
by all that we do to lead on Brother Clement to the point we desire.
You object not to this plan; do you, Sir Albert?"
"It is more hopeful than the Bastile," replied the soldier; "and I
will bring him here with all my heart: but yet," he continued, with a
doubtful shake of the head: "but yet--though I cannot tell why--but
yet I have some fears that you will not find this young roebuck so
easy to manage as you imagine. There is something about him, I don't
know what, that makes me doubt the result."
"Oh! but we have means that you know not of," replied the Duchess,
"which, if he be in faith and truth a son of the holy church, must
bring him over to the Union for her defence."
"Well, well, I will bring him here," said the mercenary leader; "and
you, fair lady and reverend father, must do the rest."
"Away, then, quick! and you will find me here at your return," replied
the Duchess; "but take care that you meet not with Mayenne by the way,
for he will set him free to a certainty; and then all that we have
done will only tend to drive him over to the other party, instead of
gaining a powerful adherent for the League."
"No fear, no fear!" replied Wolfstrom. "The distance is but a hundred
yards; and I will post scouts at the end of the street before we set
out." So saying, the leader of the lansquenets took his departure,
leaving Madame de Montpensier with the Prior of the Jacobine convent,
with whom an eager and interesting conversation instantly took place,
the consequences of which we may have to detail hereafter.