Read Ebook: One in a Thousand; or The Days of Henri Quatre by James G P R George Payne Rainsford Magnus Laurie Author Of Introduction Etc

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Ebook has 855 lines and 109685 words, and 18 pages

"Good God, sir!" exclaimed one, interposing between St. Real and the king, as if he feared that the young noble were about to assassinate the monarch; "good God, sir! is it possible that any one should present himself before his Majesty in such a plight? Retire, for Heaven's sake! you had better retire!"

St. Real laid his hand upon the attendant's breast to push him back out of his way; but the minion shrank back from the touch of the same stout doe-skin glove with which the young Marquis had parted the contending soldiers in the street, as if a dagger had been at his bosom.

"Whatever you have to communicate, sir," interrupted the king, frowning, "must be told when you have changed your dress: I will hear nothing at the risk of being suffocated. The blood has nothing to do with the matter! I have seen more blood, and shed more blood, than you ever have, or ever will, perhaps; but you bring in with you a whirlwind of dust, enough to choke up the lungs of any Christian king upon the face of the earth. Make no reply, sir," he continued, waving his hand; "make no reply, but leave the room; and when you have changed your dress, and appear in habiliments more befitting this place, I will hear what you have to communicate, but not before."

"Of nothing!" exclaimed the king. "Why, the very percussion of your breath shakes the dust from your cloak, till the whole air is dim. Away with him! away with him! Nevers, Joyeuse, Epernon, rid me of the sight of him! But gently, gently! Do not shake the dust off him: 'tis bad enough to be obliged to ride along the high roads, once every day, without having the high roads brought into our own audience-chamber."

There was a determination in the look and demeanour of the young Marquis of St. Real which augured something in his nature not pleasant to lay hands upon; and, consequently, the courtiers of the contemptible monarch took care not to enforce his commands with any rudeness. Nor was it necessary; for St. Real, finding that any farther attempt, at that moment, to communicate to the king the apprehensions he entertained from what he had seen in Paris, would be vain, retreated from the royal presence without farther question, resolving immediately to inform his cousin D'Aubin, and beg him to convey the bare intelligence of danger to the monarch, while he himself changed his dress, and prepared to give more full and minute information.

Rejoining his attendants in the court, and looking eagerly round, as he quitted the royal residence, in order to ascertain whether the monk were still in sight, St. Real turned his steps back towards the house where he had found D'Aubin on his arrival at St. Cloud. It was not, indeed, that he could feel particularly interested in the fate of the monarch whom he had just seen, or that he thought the death of such a degraded being would be, at any other period, much to be regretted in France; but the young lord, acting upon general principles which accidental circumstances never greatly modified, felt it his bounden duty to prevent, if possible, a meditated crime; and, even had it not been so, would have been extremely desirous of preserving the life of the reigning sovereign, at a moment when political and religious factions, personal enmities, and contending interests, convulsed the realm, and required no new brand of discord to bring down sorrows, desolation, and ruin, upon the people, the country, and the state.

Whichever way St. Real turned his eyes, however, various groups of persons loitering about, without any apparent object, interrupted his view ere it could penetrate many yards. Amongst them the figure of the Jacobin was not to be seen; and, mounting his horse, which had been led after him, he proceeded as fast as possible to the dwelling in which his cousin had taken up his quarters.

He found D'Aubin surrounded by a large party of the gay nobility of Paris; and levity and merriment had so completely taken possession of every one present, that St. Real could obtain no attention for the serious matter he had to communicate. Even his cousin himself, whom he knew to be full of strong and fiery passions, and whom he had seen that very morning moved by no light emotions, appeared now to have given himself up entirely to the idlest spirit of gaiety; so that the only effect produced by the tale which the young nobleman had to tell was loud laughter at the repulse he had met with from the monarch's presence, and advice to suffer Henry to deal with his friend the friar as best he might.

Led through the same rooms, St. Real entered the audience-chamber, which was still tenanted by the same personages, with the exception of the king himself, whose voice was heard in a cabinet beyond. The page, however, instantly proceeded to the door, and throwing it open, announced St. Real's return.

"Of course, of course!" replied St. Real, "but the King is in danger. See, see!" And at the same moment the Dominican, as he knelt, lifted his arm and struck the monarch, what appeared to be merely a blow of his clenched hand.

The King staggered back, however, exclaiming, "He has killed me!" And drawing from his side the long sharp knife which the Jacobin had left in the wound, he struck the assassin on the head as he was endeavouring to rise. Almost at the same time, La Guesle, drawing; his sword, passed it through the monk's body; and the nobleman, who had so ill-timedly stopped the advance of St. Real, sprang forward, crying, "The Monk has killed his Majesty;" and while the murderer was already falling under the blows of the King and La Guesle, drove his dagger into his throat and put a period to his existence. The other officers in attendance rushed into the cabinet in tumult and fury, and with an indecent excess of rage, cast the dead body of the Jacobin out of the window into the court.

There is no describing the terror, confusion, and despair, into which the large body of courtiers, interested deeply in the life of their master, were thrown by the event that had just occurred; but Henry himself, at that awful moment, recalled all the courage and self-possession for which he had been distinguished in his early years, and showed himself far more tranquil and undisturbed than any of the party.

"Send for a surgeon," he said, sitting down and pressing one hand upon the wound, while with the other he waved back those who were crowding round him. "La Guesle, you have done wrong to kill the wretch. We might have learned who were his instigators; but let the room be cleared. Monsieur de St. Real, I thought to have spoken with you, but it is impossible now. You said you had something to communicate; but if I recover, it must be told hereafter; if I die, it must be told to my successor."

"God forbid your Majesty should die at this moment," replied St. Real, whose intended communication was now rendered useless. "I trust that your wound will not prove serious."

"I trust not," replied the King; "but no one can say what, or how soon, may be the termination. Although I am inclined to think that the wound is not dangerous, yet in this body there may be but half an hour of life. Therefore remember, lords and gentlemen of France here present, that, should death be the result of this morning's bad work, Henry of Navarre is your lawful king! From the moment that my lips cease to breathe he is your king according to every principle of right and justice: the fundamental laws of the French monarchy make him so, and no power on earth can absolve you of your duty towards him. I only raise my voice to point out to my subjects what will be their duty when I am dead. Remember that this is my last injunction: but here come the surgeons; and now, once more, I say, let the room be cleared."

The monarch's orders were instantly obeyed, and the cabinet, in which he had received his wound, was accordingly abandoned by all but the surgeons and his immediate personal attendants. The whole party, however, lingered in the audience chamber, and in the ante-room adjoining, breaking into separate groups, and each speaking low, but eagerly, on the event that had occurred, and the consequences likely to ensue. As St. Real was not personally known to any one present, he was, of course, thrown out of all these small circles, and was proceeding through the rooms, in order to join his attendants and make his escape from the bustle, confusion, and tumult which were beginning to spread rapidly through the royal household, when a stout, plainly-dressed, middle-aged man, whom he had not particularly noticed in the crowd, laid his hand upon his arm, saying, "I think I heard your name mentioned as Monsieur de St. Real."

"The same," replied St. Real, bowing. "What are your commands?"

"The king will die," he said. "I see it in his countenance; and France will be thrown into a state of greater turbulence than ever. There is but one way to save her, Monsieur de St. Real; and, if you inherit your father's heart and principles, you will not hesitate to join me in following it."

"May I ask you," demanded St. Real, "what is the way to which you allude?"

"I mean," replied De Sancy, "boldness, decision, preparation, on the part of the friends of good order. You will see, Monsieur de St. Real, that as soon as the king is dead, the bonds which keep all these forces together will be suddenly dissolved. The greater part of the leaders will think all ties of honesty, loyalty, and patriotism at an end; and almost all will set themselves up for sale to the highest bidder, while many will join that party for which they have already a hankering. I heard, some time ago, that you were expected here, and I learned that you have a considerable body of troops lying near Senlis. Now tell me, supposing that the king were dead, in what light would you look upon Henry, King of Navarre?"

"As the legitimate successor to the crown," answered St. Real, "and as my rightful sovereign!"

"Then would you be as well contented to fight against the League under a Huguenot sovereign," demanded De Sancy, "as under the Catholic monarch, who has just met with such a fitting reward for his love of priests and friars?"

"A thousand times better," replied St. Real, "if that sovereign be Henry of Navarre, my father's friend and my own--honest and noble, if ever man was, and loving his country and his people better than himself."

"If such, then, be your opinions, Monsieur de St. Real," replied De Sancy, laying his hand familiarly on his shoulder--"if such be your opinions, without a word more let us mount our horses, and ride over together to Meudon, to bear to the Bearnois, as they call him, the first tidings of all that has happened here, and to promise him our unbought support in case of need. I bring with me nearly three thousand sturdy Swiss; and you, I hear, near a thousand hardy Frenchmen. What say you? shall we go?"

Great emergencies make short oratory. "With all my heart," replied St. Real, who, however brief had been the explanation, understood De Sancy's views and objects as well as if he had spoken a volume; "with all my heart!" he replied, "and we will ride quick."

Their horses were beckoned up; each cavalier sprang into the saddle; and, after a few words of direction and command to some of their attendants on either part, they galloped off towards Meudon as fast as they could go.

Neither St. Real nor his companion spoke much as they advanced towards Meudon. The rapid pace at which they proceeded, and the still more rapid thoughts that were passing in the mind of each, left little room for conversation. Each, however, seemed so instinctively to appreciate the character of the other, that the few words which did occasionally pass between them conveyed far more than much longer communication might have accomplished between persons whose ideas flowed in a less direct and straightforward channel. So rapidly did their horses bear them forward indeed, that but a few minutes elapsed ere they beheld the pleasant little upland supporting the village in which the witty but licentious Rabelais poured forth the biting and sarcastic torrent of satire that, however ill understood by after ages, has rendered his name immortal; and in which also he exercised all those clerical functions that were far less adapted to the character of his mind.

Coming from the side of St. Cloud, and bearing about his person those conventional signs which were understood to indicate an officer of the royalist party, Monsieur de Sancy, accompanied by his young companion, was permitted to go forward, with scarcely any interruption almost to the gates of the old chateau in which Henry of Navarre had fixed his head-quarters. Here, however, they were challenged by the sentinels; but, giving the word, they passed on, and meeting with an inferior officer attached to the prince, inquired if he had yet gone forth.

About a hundred yards in advance of the foot, upon one of the few slight rises which the plain afforded, appeared a group, consisting of about twenty horsemen, principally distinguished by the Huguenot scarf, who took no further part in the skirmishes which were going on than by every now and then detaching a messenger from their body, apparently to bear directions or commands to other parts of the field. At the head of this group, armed at all points except the head, appeared Henry, King of Navarre, with his fine, but strong-marked features, full of animation and excitement from the scene before him. St. Real was the first who remarked his position; and, pointing it out to Monsieur de Sancy, paused only till they had ordered their attendants to remain near the body of infantry, and then spurred on with his companion to the spot where the monarch was watching the progress of the morning's skirmish--an amusement of which he rarely deprived his soldiery. Turning round as they came up, he welcomed St. Real with a look of surprise and satisfaction, and greeted De Sancy with a smile.

"This is unexpected and gladsome, my good young friend," he said, grasping St. Real's hand. "I heard you were in Paris; and, though your cousin declared you would certainly visit us ere you decided, yet, good faith! I thought the cunning of the League would be too much for you."

"It was, I believe, too much for themselves, your Majesty," replied St. Real; "for I am not only here, but purpose to remain. We have, however, something of more importance to tell your Majesty, if you will give us your ear for one moment."

"Instantly," replied the king; and then turning to some of those behind him, he pointed with his leading-staff to one of the groups of skirmishers, exclaiming, "Some one ride in there, and bring out Rosny! The lad is mad with sorrow for the loss of his wife. Ventre Saint Gris! 'Tis a strange thing that what would make one man mad for joy, should make another man mad for grief! He will get himself killed now, in order to go to heaven after his wife; while there are many men who would almost to the other place, to get out of the way of theirs. But ride in, ride in, and bring him out--tell him I want him! Now, St. Real! now, Monsieur de Sancy! I am for you!"

Thus speaking, he rode on twenty or thirty paces in advance of his attendants, and looked first to St. Real, and then to De Sancy, as if requiring them to give him their tidings. The latter then spoke: "We have to communicate to your Majesty," he said, "an event that has occurred at St. Cloud, and which may be productive of great and sorrowful results--which pray God avert!"

"Amen!" cried Henry; "but what is it, what is it?"

"This, my lord," replied de Sancy. "About an hour ago, while Monsieur de St. Real and myself were both in the audience-chamber of his Majesty, the king was wounded severely by a Dominican friar, and I have many fears that the result will be fatal."

Henry made no reply, but gazed upon Monsieur de Sancy's face with a look of anxiety and horror. "This is ruin indeed!" he exclaimed--"to be killed at the very moment that our united arms had so nearly seated him securely on the throne! This is ruin indeed!"

"I trust not, your Majesty," replied St. Real. "First, the king is not yet dead, and may recover; and next, even should he die, you, my lord, have not only a righteous cause to support you, but a more fair renown. You would then be as much king of France as he is now, and many a subject who serves him unwillingly will draw his sword with joy for you."

"At all events, my lord," said De Sancy, "whatever may be the conduct of others, and whatever may be the result of this most lamentable affair, your Majesty will find that two at least of the French nobles, without consulting or considering any other interest but that of their country, will be ready, should fate place the crown of France upon your head, to serve your Majesty with their whole heart and soul. I, for my part, engage at once to bring over the Swiss to your Majesty's service; and, if I have understood him right, Monsieur de St. Real here present will immediately move his troops from Senlis to your support."

"Without a moment's hesitation," added St. Real; "and if I have hitherto even entertained a scruple in regard to joining the royal forces, that scruple would not exist after your Majesty's accession to the throne."

"Thank you, thank you, my friends!" exclaimed Henry, "this is noble! This is generous! But still let us hope that the calamity will be averted, which, by the death of the king, would cast amongst us a fresh ball of discord, when so many already exist. Still it is necessary for me to be prepared; but while I speed to St. Cloud, in order to learn, as far as possible, what is proceeding there, let me beg you, my friends, to converse over the matter with those you can trust, and ascertain upon whom I may rely--who are likely to be doubtful friends, and who will prove open enemies."

St. Real and his companion promised obedience; and the king, after speaking a few moments with some of the gentlemen of his train, turned his horse's head towards St. Cloud, and galloped off. De Sancy and St. Real returned more leisurely, conversing over the event that had occurred, and its probable results.

"You, Monsieur de Sancy, and the King of Navarre also, seem to apprehend much more danger from the death of the king," said St. Real, "than I can conceive likely to accrue. Far be it from me to speak evil of a man who, even now, may be dying; yet who can doubt that in virtues as a man, and in high qualities as a sovereign, the monarch who has just left us is as superior to him who now reigns in France as light is to darkness? As a military leader, too, his renown is justly among the first in Europe; and with the sole command of the army, which is now divided, the affection of all that is noble and good in the land, and the warm co-operation of many of those who have held aloof from the present sovereign, he would surely be able to accomplish far more towards reducing the land to a state of tranquillity and subordination, than a king who is not only hated but despised."

De Sancy shook his head, with a somewhat melancholy smile, at calculations made upon grounds so very different from the motives which actuated the generality of men in the disorganized land wherein they lived.

"If every one were Monsieur de St. Real," he answered, "if every one--I do not mean in France, but even in this camp and army--were actuated by the same pure and patriotic feelings as yourself, your calculations would be undoubtedly right, and the extinction of the line of Valois would be the signal for tranquillity and happiness to resume their place in our distracted land. But the men that we see around us are divided into many classes, and actuated by many motives. The Huguenots have among them one principle of action--I mean religious fanaticism. But, taking all the rest of the united armies, I suppose there are not ten men of rank amongst us who have any general principle whatsover."

"You give a sad picture of our countrymen, Monsieur de Sancy," replied St. Real; "but if your view be correct, how happen such discordant elements to have adhered so long?"

"From causes as numerous," replied De Sancy, "as the men themselves. Some have adhered to the king out of gratitude for favours conferred, and from a knowledge that their fortune, almost their very existence itself, depended upon that monarch. Such are the minions, the favourites, the priests. Others again, of a nobler nature, have remained attached to the same party equally from gratitude for favours conferred, but without entertaining any further hopes from, or being bound by any tie of interest to, the king. Such is the Duke of Epernon, and several more. Others, again, serve the monarch because their own dignity and power are connected by various ties to his. Such are the princes of the blood. An immense number follow him only because, seeing the country split into factions, and knowing that they must attach themselves to some party, they judge that they can obtain most from the court; and, at all events, can sell themselves to the League hereafter, in case they find their first expectations disappointed. Many, too, have some individual object in view, which they may obtain from the king, but could not obtain from the League; and many serve the monarch from personal hatred to some one in the opposite camp. Monsieur de St. Real, I could go on for an hour, and yet leave half the motives unreckoned by which men of different parties are actuated in every civil strife. All these motives are at work amongst us; and patriotism, depend upon it, comes in for but a very small share, when there are so many other greedy passions to divide with her the hearts of the multitude."

St. Real was silent for a few moments, and thoughtful too; for in the picture of the manifold hues and shades of human baseness thus presented to his sight, there was something very painful to a mind accustomed to view the world in a brighter light. After having considered for a short time, however, letting his mind roam to more general thoughts, he returned to the immediate matter of their conversation. "I am sorry to hear," he said, "that such is the composition of an army from which I had hoped better things. But tell me, Monsieur de Sancy, will not the same motives which have hitherto bound them to the present king bind them also to his successor?"

"Ah! my young friend," replied De Sancy, "you may make a good soldier; but you are not yet fit for a politician in this bad world of ours. Call them by some softer name, too, than mercenary villains," he added, with a laugh; "for, till you see the event, you do not know whom you may find amongst them."

St. Real was silent; for his mind was not without some shade of doubt as to what would be the conduct of his own cousin in the event of the king's death breaking asunder all those ties which, for the time, united the incoherent parts of the royalist army together. However much St. Real might love the Count d'Aubin, and however much he might strive to conceal from himself the faults and failings which disfigured his character, he could not help experiencing a vague internal conviction that his actions were more the effect of impulse than of principle, and that there was not sufficient firmness in his character to restrain him from following where his passions or his interests led him, if to the path which he thus chose no very signal disgrace was attached in the eyes of the world.

He was silent then, and a few minutes more brought them back to St. Cloud, which exhibited all the usual marks of a small place in which some great event has happened. The eager faces; the gliding up and down of important-looking persons; the whispering groups at every corner, and at every house-door; the loud-tongued politicians, demonstrating to their little assemblage of hearers the events that were to follow, or the events that were past; and here and there the mercenary soldier, sauntering indifferently through the streets, and caring not who died, or who survived, provided that his pay was sure, and that the blessed trade of war was not brought to an untimely end.

Monsieur de Sancy and St. Real drew up their horses at the first group of respectable persons they met with, and demanded news of the king. The reply was favourable: "the monarch was better," the people said; "the surgeons apprehended no evil; and the consequences of the crime had fallen upon the head of him who perpetrated it."

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