The Constable De Bourbon - William Ainsworth 2 стр.

Vain and presumptuous, Bonnivet had offended most of the old commanders, but, being supported by the king and the duchess, he was unassailable.

The person who stood next to Bonnivet, and who watched Bourbons approach with as much surprise and as much curiosity as the Admiral, was very different in appearance and manner from the royal favourite, though equally richly attired. Though not handsome, he had a striking countenance, and his deportment was proud and martial. He was no other than the renowned Anne de Montmoreney, one of the haughtiest and wealthiest nobles of France, and one of the bravest of her captains. Though he did not envy Bonnivet the kings favour, nor seek to supplant him, he held him in contempt, and would probably have rejoiced in his downfall. Montmorency belonged to a ruder and hardier school than that represented by the Admiral, and had distinguished himself by many feats of arms and personal courage. On account of his valour and military skill he had just been named a marshal of France by the king.

By Heaven! it is the Constable de Bourbon! cried Bonnivet. What brings him to Fontainebleau?

I know not, replied Montmorency, but I trust he may be restored to the kings favour, and this abominable process abandoned.

That is not likely to be the case, remarked Bonnivet. If Bourbon humbles himself, the king may overlook his faults not otherwise.

I have yet to learn what faults he has committed, said Montmorency. I know he has been unjustly treated, and so I shall not hesitate to tell the king.

You had better not say as much to the duchess, remarked Bonnivet.

Wherefore not? demanded the marshal. If this suit is pressed to an issue, mischievous consequences are sure to follow, and I therefore hope it may be amicably arranged. From Bourbons appearance here, I augur favourably. If I can help to set the matter right, I will.

Take my advice, marshal, and do not meddle in the matter, said Bonnivet. You will only incur the duchesss displeasure.

I care not for that, said Montmorency.

And yet it is to the duchess you owe your bâton. You are ungrateful, monsieur le maréchal.

These words were not uttered by Bonnivet, but by a singular personage, who had approached them unawares, and listened to their discourse. On turning, Montmorency beheld Triboulet, the kings jester. The court buffoon wore the parti-coloured garb proper to his office, and carried a bauble in his hand. Misshapen in person, he had high shoulders, long arms, large feet and hands, and an immense head. His brow was low, his eyes lighted up by a malicious flame, and his countenance altogether had a cunning and mischievous expression, which inspired fear while it excited mirth.

Immediately behind Triboulet stood a tall, thin man, whose appearance offered a striking contrast to that of the jester. This personage wore a black taffeta robe with loose sleeves, and a silken skull-cap of the same hue, which set off his sallow features. His eyes were thoughtful in expression, and a long grey beard, descending to his girdle, added materially to the gravity of his aspect. This individual was the renowned Cornelius Agrippa, who after many years of travel and strange adventure in Germany, Switzerland, the Low Countries, and England, now formed part of the royal household of France, and occupied the post of physician and astrologer to the Duchess dAngoulême, who had great faith in his medical and mystic lore. Though the courtiers affected to deride Agrippas predictions, and sometimes charged him with dealing in the black art, they nevertheless stood in great awe of him.

Why dost charge me with ingratitude, thou ribald knave? said Montmorency to the jester.

Because you turn upon your benefactress, replied Triboulet.

Bah! I have got no more than my due, said Montmorency. Thou shouldst talk of my ingratitude to the duchess à propos of the Constable de Bourbon.

Her highness has no reason to be grateful to the Constable, said Triboulet, with a strange grin.

But the king has, rejoined Montmorency. Without him, Marignan would scarce have been won. I would rather lose my marshals bâton than Bourbon should be deprived of his possessions.

The king shall hear of this, muttered Bonnivet. Did the stars tell you that Bourbon would come here to-day, learned sir? he added to Cornelius Agrippa.

I expected him, replied the philosopher.

Then possibly you know his errand? continued Bonnivet, with an incredulous smile.

I know it, replied Agrippa, gravely. I could tell you why he comes, and what will befal him, but I care not to read the future to those who mock my lore. The star of Bourbon is temporarily obscured. But it will break out with added splendour. This day is the turning-point of his destiny. If he stays here he will be great but if he departs he will be greater.

How are we to interpret that, compère? inquired Triboulet,

As you will, rejoined Agrippa, contemptuously. The words of wisdom are unintelligible to fools. But mark me, messeigneurs, he added to Bonnivet and Montmoreney. The destinies of the king, the duchess, and the Constable, are this day linked together but the influencing power resides in Bourbon.

Why in him? Explain your meaning, doctor! demanded Bonnivet.

I have said all I care to say, replied Agrippa. But here comes the Constable. Will you stay and bid him welcome?

No, I will in, and inform the king of his arrival, said Bonnivet.

You will find his majesty in the grand gallery, said Agrippa. I left him there, not many minutes since, with the Comtesse de Chateaubriand.

I will go thither, replied Bonnivet, hastening across the vestibule.

Methinks the Constable is like a wild beast about to fall into a trap, remarked Triboulet to the astrologer. Were I the king, if I once caught him, I would not let him go.

Neither would I, replied Agrippa, significantly. But his majesty cannot read the future.

By this time Bourbon had dismounted from his charger, and was received with the ceremony due to his exalted rank by the chamberlain, who descended the stairs to meet him. Pages, esquires and gentlemen bowed as the haughty Constable mounted the steps, and when he readied the summit the Marshal de Montmoreney advanced to meet him, and a very cordial greeting passed between them.

I am right glad to see you here again, prince, said the marshal. I hope we shall soon gather fresh laurels together in the Milanese.

I should rejoice to fight by your side, replied Bourbon. But I know not why I have been sent for by the king.

Have you been sent for? said Montmoreney, surprised. I thought you came of your own accord. So much the better. You will be well received. The king is in a very gracious humour and so is the duchess.

Ah! the duchess! exclaimed Bourbon, with an expression of deep disgust.

You do not speak of her highness as she speaks of you, prince, observed Triboulet. I have heard her sigh and seen her change colour at the mention of your name.

Bourbon made no reply to this remark, but graciously returned the salutation addressed to him by Cornelius Agrippa. A slight sign from the astrologer, who was standing within the vestibule, drew him towards him.

I would fain have a word with your highness, said Agrippa, as the Constable approached him. I have been consulting your horoscope.

Ha! what have you found therein, good doctor? asked Bourbon, who was by no means free from superstition.

Ah! the duchess! exclaimed Bourbon, with an expression of deep disgust.

You do not speak of her highness as she speaks of you, prince, observed Triboulet. I have heard her sigh and seen her change colour at the mention of your name.

Bourbon made no reply to this remark, but graciously returned the salutation addressed to him by Cornelius Agrippa. A slight sign from the astrologer, who was standing within the vestibule, drew him towards him.

I would fain have a word with your highness, said Agrippa, as the Constable approached him. I have been consulting your horoscope.

Ha! what have you found therein, good doctor? asked Bourbon, who was by no means free from superstition.

Much, replied Agrippa, gravely. This is a critical hour with you, prince the most critical hour of your existence, since it forms the turning-point of your career. According as you now act, so will your future destiny be influenced. Comply with certain propositions which will be made you, and which will in no respect affect your honour, and your position will be assured, and you will be elevated to almost supreme power. Decline them

What then? demanded Bourbon, fixing his dark eyes searchingly upon the astrologer.

Decline them, I repeat, pursued Agrippa, and you will incur great perils very great perils but you will baffle the schemes of your enemies, and obtain brilliant successes.

You promise this, doctor? cried Bourbon, eagerly.

The stars promise it you, prince, not I, returned Agrippa. But I have more to tell, if you have courage to hear it, he added, gravely.

Say on!  let me know all, cried Bourbon.

You will not long enjoy your triumph. You will meet a warriors death before the walls of a great city.

The very death I covet, said the Constable. Take this, doctor, he added, detaching a gem from his doublet, and giving it him. Your prognostication decides me.

A word more and I have done, said Agrippa, lowering his tone. You will gain friends as powerful as those you will lose. There are other monarchs who can better appreciate your noble qualities than the King of France.

Bourbon looked at the astrologer, as if he would fain question him further, but the latter signified by a glance that he had nothing more to impart, and the Constable left him and followed the chamberlain, who led him across the vestibule towards the doors of the grand gallery, before which ushers and a guard of halberdiers were stationed.

II. FRANÇOIS I

The magnificent gallery which we are now about to enter had only just been completed, and formed the principal ornament of the palace, though it was subsequently eclipsed by another and yet more magnificent gallery reared by Henri II. The gallery of François I., which still exists, though reft of some of its ancient splendour, was of great length, admirably proportioned, and possessed a superb plafond, painted by the best Italian masters, and supported by a grand gilt cornice. The walls were adorned with colossal figures of goddesses and nymphs carved in oak, and between these statues were introduced admirable paintings. On either side were lofty windows with deep embrasures, embellished like the walls with carvings and paintings. The windows on the left looked on an exquisite orange-garden, while those on the right commanded a spacious court, with a fountain, a chef-douvre of art, in the midst of it.

At the upper end of the grand gallery a brilliant party was now assembled. Chief among them, not merely in point of rank, but for his lofty stature, majestic and graceful deportment, and splendid habiliments, was François I. At this period, the king, who was still under thirty, was in the full éclat of his manly beauty. So lofty was his stature, that he towered above the tallest of his courtiers, and his person was strongly but admirably proportioned. With his remarkable physiognomy, rendered familiar by the breathing portrait of Titian, all are acquainted. All can conjure up that countenance, so handsome, intellectual, refined, haughty, sarcastic, of which perhaps the sole fault was that the principal feature was too prominent a peculiarity which caused the monarch to be popularly surnamed François le grand nez. The kings eyes were dark and full of fire, and his clear skin was set off by a pointed beard. His brown locks were cut short, in consequence of a severe wound he had received on the head, and as a matter of course the fashion had been followed by his courtiers. His teeth were magnificent, and were constantly displayed, his countenance being rarely without a smile. His expression was jovial and good humoured, though somewhat proud and sarcastic; his deportment full of majesty, but he was so affable that he set all who approached him at ease. Familiarity, however, was never attempted with François, even by his greatest favourites. In a word, he fully merited the appellation to which he aspired, and which was universally bestowed upon him, of the First Gentleman in Europe.

François I. was not remarkable merely for his personal accomplishments and graces. His mental qualifications were of a very high order. If not erudite or profound, he was well read. He was fond of poetry, and was himself a poet. He delighted in romances of chivalry, Lancelot du Lac, Garin le Lorrain, and took for his model the peerless Amadis de Gaule. In consequence of his predilection for them, the favourite books with the gallants and dames of his court were Gérard de Nevers, Pierre de Provence et la Belle Magueloune, and Petit Jehan de Saintré. Not merely was François I. a lover of literature, and a patron of poets and men of learning, but he warmly encouraged the arts, and his court was frequented by the best painters, sculptors, and architects, whom he brought from Italy.

Endowed with some of the highest and noblest qualities, by nature frank, loyal, and chivalrous, though fiery and impetuous, passionately fond of war, and always thirsting for military renown, François was a perfect type of the nation over which he ruled, and next to Henri IV., who to a certain extent based himself upon him, is the best loved of the French monarchs. His splendid person and noble features, his kingly deportment, his accomplishments, his martial tastes, his courage, his address in the tilt-yard and in the management of arms of all kinds, pike, rapier, two-handed sword, his unequalled skill and grace in horsemanship, his jovial humour, his bonhomie, his devotion to the fair sex, are dwelt upon with satisfaction, and his faults overlooked or forgotten. The following poetical portrait of him is far too brightly coloured:

The faults of François I. were profligacy and prodigality More than once he exhausted his treasury by the immense sums he lavished upon his mistresses and his favourites. So completely did he yield to his love of pleasure, that the greater part of his life which was not occupied in the field was spent in sybaritic enjoyments. Though not tyrannical, he was capricious and vindictive, and not unfrequently strained the royal prerogative to the utmost.

On this occasion the splendid person of the king was displayed to the utmost advantage by his magnificent attire. His habiliments were of white and blue the colours of the Comtesse de Châteaubriand. His doublet, of azure velvet slashed and puffed with white silk, glittered with diamonds, and his girdle was ornamented with rubies and emeralds. Over his doublet he wore a white brocade mantle, trimmed with minever, and so fashioned as to display the puffed sleeves of his jerkin. The handle and sheath of his poniard were studded with gems, as was also the guard of his long rapier. His sky-blue velvet toque was encircled by a white plume, and ornamented by diamonds. The perfect symmetry of his lower limbs was displayed by his white silk hose, and below the knee he wore the Garter, with which he had been invested by Henry VIII. prior to their meeting at the Field of the Cloth of Gold. His buskins, of blue velvet slashed with white satin, like his doublet, were ornamented with pearls. He was vain of his small feet and finely-formed hands, and his fingers were loaded with magnificent rings. Around his neck he wore the collar of the order of Saint Michael.