presence the celebrated judicial duel--which gave rise to a proverb
still current in France--between Guy Chabot de Jarnac, and François
de Vivonne. It took place in lists erected near the chateau of St
Germains. Vivonne's second (or godfather, as it was then called)
was the Count of Aumale, who attracted universal attention by the
grandeur of his air and the lustre of his renown. "Towards half-past
seven in the morning," says M. de Bouillé, "d'Aumale pronounced
it time to bring the arms, and the combatants appeared in the
lists, Vivonne conducted by d'Aumale; and, after the customary
salutations and injunctions, the king-at-arms, Normandy, having
thrice exclaimed--_Laissez aller les bons combattants!_ the combat
commenced with skill and fury. In a few moments, however, by a
blow, since proverbial, dealt and repeated on the left ham, Vivonne
was prostrated by his adversary. The Count d'Aumale sprang to the
assistance of the vanquished man, and to calm the rage which made
him tear open his own wounds. But Vivonne survived only three
days, and, after his death, d'Aumale had the following inscription
engraved upon his tomb: 'A great prince _Lorrain et François_, much
grieved and afflicted by so unexpected an event, has dedicated
this to the manes of a brave knight of Poitou.' In these few words
was revealed a pretension constantly entertained by the house of
Guise, and which then appeared surprising, but which received a sort
of consecration from its silent toleration by the King." It was
doubtless this toleration, combined with the sentiment of growing
power and influence, which raised the arrogance of the Guises to
such a pitch that, on occasion of Henry II.'s solemn entrance into
Chambery, during a visit of inspection to his frontier fortresses,
we find the Count of Aumale placing himself on the same line with
the Duke of Vendôme, first prince of the blood, and afterwards King
of Navarre. The angry dispute to which this gave rise was terminated
by the King, who maintained Guise in the place he had audaciously
assumed. Like his father, Henry was nurturing a pride which was
afterwards to give him umbrage. Already d'Aumale's influence and
popularity were so great as to make him courted by all classes, even
to the highest, not excluding persons of blood-royal; and only a
few months after the dispute at Chambery, we find the same King of
Navarre thanking him, conjointly with the Cardinal of Bourbon, for
services he had rendered to friends of theirs. The first nobles of
the land had recourse to his protection and support, and strove to
propitiate him by presents and flattering letters. From all quarters
he received offerings of "wine, fruit, confections, ortolans,
horses, dogs, hawks, and gerfalcons, the letters accompanying
these very often containing a second paragraph, petitioning for
pensions or grants from the King, or for places, even down to that
of apothecary, or of barber to the Dauphin, &c." The memoirs and
manuscripts of the time furnish many curious particulars of this
kind, especially the MSS. Gaignières, often referred to by M. de
Bouillé. And they further show that d'Aumale, amidst his countless
occupations, found leisure to listen to all petitioners, and means
to content many. There exist the most flattering letters written to
him by the hand of kings; the humblest supplications addressed to
him by great state corporations, such as the parliaments of Paris,
Bordeaux, and other cities; testimony of the profoundest deference
from the nobles of the court--names such as Brézé and Brissac being
affixed to fulsome protestations of service and thanks for favour
shown. Such was the immense position of the Duke d'Aumale, (that
county also had become a duchy,) who now openly affected the state
and quality of prince of the blood. Then, as afterwards, (when he
was duke of Guise,) he always received the title of _monseigneur_,
(except from the princes of the blood, who called him _monsieur_,)
and that of _vostre excellence or vostre seigneurie_. And in 1548
the nuns of Bonneuil addressed him a supplication as _vostre haulte
et puissante majesté et seigneurie_. So great was his reputation for
magnanimity, so popular his rule, that those provinces rejoiced over
which he was appointed governor. And the affection borne him by the
French people became at last so great "that it may be said it was
carried to an excess, even to the point of making them forget their
fidelity to the King." For a time the favour and confidence of the
King kept pace with the love of the nation; and it was augmented by
the ability with which d'Aumale pacified several revolted provinces,
where his presence alone sufficed, for the most part, to calm angry
passions and revive the loyalty of the population. Soon after this
expedition, occurred his marriage with Anne d'Est, daughter of the
Duke of Ferrara, a beautiful, virtuous, and well-dowered princess
who had been sought in marriage by Sigismund, King of Poland,
but whom an innate sympathy for France, combined with the able
management of Cardinal de Guise, induced to give the preference to
the Duke d'Aumale.
In his castle of Joinville, on the 12th April 1550, Claude, first
duke of Guise, piously and resignedly terminated his illustrious and
honourable career. His duchess, Antoinette de Bourbon, one of the
most virtuous and amiable princesses of her time, his eldest son
and the Marquis of Elbeuf, were beside his dying bed; and during
his illness the King sent frequent expresses to inquire his state.
His premature death, at the age of fifty-three, after a short but
violent illness,--combined with some solemn and generous expressions
he used a few minutes before breathing his last, to the effect
that he heartily forgave the person, whosoever it might be, who
had given him "_le morceau pour mourir_,"--gave rise to a belief,
further accredited by his funeral oration and by the inscription on
his tomb, that he had perished by poison. History has difficulty
in confirming this popular notion, in support of which no evidence
was ever produced, nor anything beyond a vague supposition that the
author of the Duke's death was a Genoese, an agent of the Emperor,
then in France to watch the measures taken by that republic to
obtain from Henry II. means of resistance to the party of Ferdinand,
in opposition to whom there was little doubt that Guise would
advise the King to give his support to Genoa. Considering, however,
that Claude of Lorraine lived away from court, where his son had
succeeded to his influence, this is rather a far-fetched story;
and the probability is that the Duke died of some unusual malady,
misunderstood by, perhaps wholly unknown to, the imperfect medical
science of those days. But natural deaths were rare in the house of
Guise; and in the sixteenth century poison had no unimportant share
in the bills of mortality. Some indeed have hinted its possible
agency in the death of John, Cardinal of Lorraine, which occurred
within forty days of that of his brother Claude. This prelate was on
his way back from Rome, where he had been an unsuccessful aspirant
to the papal tiara, when he was suddenly informed, on his passage
through Lyons, of the Duke's decease. It was possibly the shock of
this intelligence that brought on an attack of apoplexy under which
he sank and shortly expired. "Providence," says M. de Bouillé, "had
perhaps resolved to consecrate, by an almost simultaneous death, the
union which had so constantly and advantageously existed between him
and his brother, and which the cotemporary writers characterise, in
their mythological style, by comparing the two princes to Castor
and Pollux. Their place was not to remain vacant, but was about to
be even more than filled by two brothers, also 'the happiest pair
of brothers that ever were seen;' one an accomplished warrior and
magnanimous hero, the other a skilful and enterprising prelate,
who, by renewing the example of a constant agreement of views, by
putting in practice that useful and remarkable combination of the
churchman and the man of the sword, peculiar to their family, and
efficaciously applied by them to politics and ambition, realised an
immense amount of favour and authority. The first generation of this
dynasty--if not sovereign, at least so brilliantly episodical--had
passed away, already almost surpassed in grandeur by its successor,
destined to elevate itself in the inverse ratio of the wearer of
that crown which gradually became almost illusory."
Certain it is that the figure of Francis, second Duke of Guise,
surnamed the Great, occupies, upon the canvass of French history,
a far more remarkable and important place than that of any one of
the three kings whose reigns were cotemporary with his power. Early
distinguished in arms, his generosity, urbanity, and irresistible
valour made him the idol of the army, whilst the prudence and
precocious wisdom he inherited from his father, rendered him
invaluable at the council board, and secured him the favour of his
sovereign; to such a point that Henry II. had no secrets from him,
but caused all important despatches to be communicated to him as
punctually as they were to himself. Nor was his brother Charles
inferior to him in talent, although their difference of profession
rendered its display less striking in the cardinal. Both possessed
of admirable tact and judgement in the conduct of public affairs,
the one was not more terrible in the battle-field than the other
was skilful and seductive in diplomatic negotiations, and in the
graceful intercourse of private life. The cardinal's learning
and eloquence, his fine countenance, his dignified bearing, his
richly-stored memory, combined to exercise a powerful fascination
upon all he met. "Had I the elegance of Monsieur le Cardinal de
Lorraine," said Theodore de Beze one day, when mounting his horse to
leave Rheims, where he had had a conference with the accomplished
prelate, "I should expect to convert half the persons in France to
the religion I profess."
At the date of the death of Claude of Lorraine, Charles V. was
the sole survivor of the three remarkable sovereigns who had
simultaneously filled the three most important European thrones.
With him the Duke and Cardinal now impelled Henry II. into a
war, which had for its real object the realisation of a bold and
extensive scheme greatly to increase the authority of France in
Europe, and at the same time to establish the omnipotence of the
Guises in France. One of the most remarkable events of this war was
the siege of Metz, in which large ill-fortified place the Duke,
with a small number of men, was exposed to the assaults of an army
consisting of one hundred thousand infantry, twenty-three thousand
horse, and one hundred and twenty pieces of artillery. Guise
displayed extraordinary skill and energy, leading sorties himself,
and even issuing forth at the head of a mere handful of men to
skirmish with the enemy. Fortunately he had had time to lay in good
store of provisions; but his cannon were few in number and for the
most part unserviceable, and he was fain to defend with falconets
and other small guns, the breaches which the Imperialists soon made
in his walls. In an action that occurred during the siege, in the
neighbourhood of Nancy, Claude de Guise--that brother of the Duke
who, when a mere youth, had powerfully and valiantly contributed
to deliver him, in front of Boulogne, from an overwhelming number
of assailants--was taken prisoner. Thrice wounded, and with his
horse killed under him, he had no choice but to yield or die. This
disaster deprived Metz of a gallant defender, and plunged Guise and
the whole army into deep affliction; the Duke, however, consoling
himself by the resolution to make the Emperor dearly pay for his
brother's ransom, and by the reflection that d'Aumale had not
yielded until he was knocked down and had a cocked pistol at his
throat. The sorties continued with great vigour, but at the expense
of many wounded men, of whom so large a proportion died, for want
of efficient medical assistance, that a rumour gained credit that
the drugs were poisoned. Guise begged the King to send him Ambrose
Paré with a stock of fresh medicaments, and, by the connivance of
an Italian officer in the Imperialist camp, that skilful leech was
introduced at midnight into the town, with the apothecary Daigue
and a horse-load of medical stores. Paré was bearer of a letter
from the King, thanking Guise and the other princes and nobles for
all they had done and were doing to preserve his town of Metz, and
assuring them he would remember and reward their services. Thus
encouraged, and confident in his troops, Guise wrote to the King,
with whom he found means constantly to correspond in cypher, that
Metz could hold out six months without succour. On the other hand
the Imperialists redoubled their efforts for success. The Emperor,
who lay at Thionville, sick of the gout and expectant of triumph,
at last judged his presence indispensable for the fortunate
conclusion of the siege, and made his appearance in the camp,
mounted on an Arab horse, "his face very pale and wasted, his eyes
sunken, his head and beard white." His coming was the signal for
so great a salvo of artillery and small arms, that the besieged
flew to arms, expecting a general attack. Until the neighbouring
castle of La Horgne could be prepared for his reception, he took
up his quarters in a small wooden house, hastily constructed with
the ruins of an abbey. "A fine palace," he said, "when I shall
receive in it the keys of Metz." But the keys were long in coming,
although the fierceness of the attack was redoubled--fourteen
thousand cannon-shots being fired against the ramparts in one day,
the noise of which was said to have been heard beyond the Rhine, at
forty leagues from Metz. The constancy of the besieged was a match
for the fury of the assailants. Breaches were diligently repaired,
and sorties continued--the French actually seeking the Imperialists
under their tents. Suddenly the latter changed the point of attack,
and directed their cannonade against one of the very strongest parts
of the rampart, behind which the besieged hastened to construct a
second wall, also of great strength. The sudden change of plan is
attributed by Ambrose Paré in his _Voyage à Metz_, to a stratagem
employed by Guise. The Duke, according to the learned physician and
chronicler, wrote a letter to Henry II. with the intention of its
being intercepted by the enemy, in which he said, that if Charles V.
persisted in his plan of attack, he would be compelled to raise the
siege, but that a very different result was to be apprehended, if
unfortunately the enemy directed his attention to a certain point,
cunningly indicated in the despatch. Sewn, with an affectation of
mystery, under the doublet of a clumsy peasant, this letter was
destined for the perusal of the Duke of Alva, one of whose patrols
did not fail to seize and search the unfortunate messenger, who
was forthwith hanged. Misled by the information thus obtained, the
besiegers changed the position of their batteries. In two days a
breach was effected, the old wall crumbling into the ditch, amidst
the acclamations of the assailants. But their joy was exchanged
for rage and disgust when, upon the subsidence of the dust, they
beheld a second wall in rear of the breach. The French began to
scoff and abuse them, but Guise commanded silence, under pain of
death, lest some traitor should take advantage of the tumult to
convey information to the enemy; whereupon his soldiers fastened
live cats to the end of their pikes, whose discordant cries mocked
the enemy. The enthusiasm of the besieged now knew no bounds. Men,
women, and young girls toiled day and night to strengthen the inner
wall. Guise's gay and encouraging words gave confidence to all.
Collecting his soldiers upon the breach, which was ninety feet
wide: "I rejoice," he said, "that the enemy have at last overthrown
this barrier, more useful to them than to you. You have so often
visited them in their camp, that it is only just they should have
an opportunity of reconnoitring the town upon whose capture they
so boastfully reckoned." Charles ordered the assault; but when his
troops saw the French crowning the breach, with Guise at their
head, they recoiled as if already attacked, and neither entreaties
nor threats could move them forward. "How is it," the Emperor had
exclaimed with a great oath, when he saw the gaping breach, "that
they do not enter? It is so large and level with the ditch; _vertu
de Dieu!_ what means this?" He had himself conveyed in a litter to
the foremost ranks, to animate the soldiers by his presence. When he
beheld their retreat, he mournfully desired to be carried back to
his quarters. "Formerly," he said, "I was followed to the fight, but
I see that I have now no men around me; I must bid adieu to empire
and immure myself in a monastery; before three years are over, I
will turn Franciscan." Finally, on the 26th December, provisions
running short, and his army weakened one-third by sickness and
the sword, Charles, with a sad heart, raised the siege, uttering,
in the bitterness of his shame and disappointment, the well-known
words, "I plainly see that Fortune, like a true woman, prefers a
young king to an old emperor." The imperial camp and artillery
crossed the Moselle, and in the night the Duke of Alva evacuated his
position, leaving behind a quantity of stores and tents. Guise, who
had expressed, that very evening, in a letter to his brother the
Cardinal, his conviction that the Emperor would never endure the
shame of abandoning the siege, was greatly astonished in the morning
to find that the enemy had decamped. His skill and constancy had
triumphed, and France was saved from invasion. When he reappeared
at court, the King embraced him with transport, and called him his
brother. "You have vanquished me as well as the Emperor," said
Henry, "by the obligations you have laid me under."
The Duke of Guise's humanity after the siege did him as much honour
as his bravery during it. A large number of sick men remained in
the Imperialist camp; the rearguard of the retreating army were in
a pitiable state, and, unable to proceed, yielded themselves ready
prisoners. The commander of a troop of Spanish cavalry, pursued
by the Prince of _la Roche-sur-Yon_, who would fain have brought
him to battle, suddenly faced about, exclaiming, "How should we
have strength to defend ourselves, when you see we have not enough
left to fly?" In the hospitals of Metz and Thionville, the sick
and wounded Imperialists were carefully tended by order of Guise;
non-combatant prisoners were sent back to the Duke of Alva, with
the offer of covered boats to transport his exhausted soldiers;
the bodies of the dead received suitable burial. The magnanimous
general's courtesy and humanity bore their fruits. In the following
campaign, when the town of Therouenne, in Picardy, was surprised by
the Imperialists, the Germans and Flemings were putting inhabitants
and garrison to the sword, without distinction of age or sex,
when the Spanish officers, with a lively and grateful remembrance
of the good treatment received from Guise and the French, united
their voices and efforts to check the carnage. "_Bonne guerre,
compagnons,_" they cried; "_souvenez-vous de la courtoisie de Metz!_"
It was during the following campaign (1554) that there occurred the
first marked manifestations of discord between the Duke of Guise
and the Admiral de Coligny. In the combat of Renty, near St Omer,
Coligny commanded the infantry, in his quality of colonel-general
of that arm. Victory declared itself for the French; already
many trophies had been taken, and heavy loss inflicted on the
Imperialists, who were on the brink of a general rout, when Guise
"feeling" says M. de Bouillé, "that he was not supported by
the Constable de Montmorency--the retreat also, according to a
report current at the time, having been sounded _by the breath of
envy_--was unable to follow up his advantage, and could but maintain
himself on the field, whilst the Imperialists, although defeated,
succeeded in entering the besieged fort." The chief merit of this
imperfect victory was attributed by the Constable to his nephew
Coligny, who, on his part, was said to have asserted that, during
the heat of the fight, Guise had not been in his right place. This
led, upon the evening of the action, to a violent altercation, which
would have ended with drawn swords but for the intervention of the
King, in whose tent it occurred. He compelled them to embrace; but
the reconciliation was only skin-deep, and from that day forwards a
rancorous dislike was substituted for the close intimacy which had
existed in their youth between these two great soldiers, and which
had been carried to such a point that they "could not live without
each other, wearing the same colours, and dressing in the same
manner." Henceforward they were constant antagonists, the chiefs
of two parties under whose banners nobles, soldiers, and courtiers
ranged themselves, according to the dictates of their sympathies
or interests. And soon their rivalry for fame and influence was
inflamed and envenomed by the ardour of religious passions, and of
combats for their respective creeds.
It is here impossible to trace, even in outline, the events that
crowded the reign of Henry II., and in which the Duke, the Cardinal,
and their brother d'Aumale played a most conspicuous part. It was
a constant succession of battles and intrigues, for the most part
terminating, in spite of formidable foes both in the field and at
court, to the advantage of the Guises. And when, a few weeks after
the battle of St Quintin, so disastrous to the French arms--where
the Constable de Montmorency, who had boasted beforehand of victory,
beheld his entire army slain or taken, and himself a prisoner--the
Duke of Guise returned from Italy, "to save the state," as the
King himself expressed it, he found himself at the utmost pinnacle
of power a subject could possibly attain. On the very day of his
arrival, Henry declared him lieutenant-general of the French armies,
in and out of the kingdom; a temporary dignity, it is true, but
one superior to that of Constable, and which usually was bestowed
only in times of regency and minority. That nothing should be
wanting to the exorbitant authority thus conferred upon the man
to whom sovereign and nation alike were wont to turn in the day
of danger and disaster, the King addressed to all the provincial
authorities particular injunctions to obey the orders of the Duke
of Guise as though they emanated from himself; and truly it was
remarked, says Dauvigny in his _Vies des Hommes Illustres_, that
never had monarch in France been obeyed more punctually and with
greater zeal. The whole business of the country now rested upon
the shoulders of Guise. But even whilst thus exalting him, Henry,
conscious of his own weakness, and haunted, perhaps, by his father's
dying injunction, was actually plotting how to lessen the power
of his great subject, so soon as the period of peril should have
passed, during which his services were indispensable. With strange
infatuation, the feeble monarch expected to be able to clip at
will the wings of that soaring influence, when victory over the
foreigner and the liberation of the country should have confirmed
its domination.