Works of Honore De Balzac, page 1222
“By the holy Alipantin! Mademoiselle Davila seems to me prettier and prettier every morning,” said Monsieur de Robertet, secretary of State, bowing to the ladies of the queen-mother.
The arrival of the secretary of State made no commotion whatever, though his office was precisely what that of a minister is in these days.
“If you really think so, monsieur,” said the beauty, “lend me the squib which was written against the Messieurs de Guise; I know it was lent to you.”
“It is no longer in my possession,” replied the secretary, turning round to bow to the Duchesse de Guise.
“I have it,” said the Comte de Grammont to Mademoiselle Davila, “but I will give it you on one condition only.”
“Condition! fie!” exclaimed Madame de Fiesque.
“You don’t know what it is,” replied Grammont.
“Oh! it is easy to guess,” remarked la Limueil.
The Italian custom of calling ladies, as peasants call their wives, “la Such-a-one” was then the fashion at the court of France.
“You are mistaken,” said the count, hastily, “the matter is simply to give a letter from my cousin de Jarnac to one of the maids on the other side, Mademoiselle de Matha.”
“You must not compromise my young ladies,” said the Comtesse de Fiesque. “I will deliver the letter myself. — Do you know what is happening in Flanders?” she continued, turning to the Cardinal de Tournon. “It seems that Monsieur d’Egmont is given to surprises.”
“He and the Prince of Orange,” remarked Cypierre, with a significant shrug of his shoulders.
“The Duke of Alba and Cardinal Granvelle are going there, are they not, monsieur?” said Amyot to the Cardinal de Tournon, who remained standing, gloomy and anxious between the opposing groups after his conversation with the chancellor.
“Happily we are at peace; we need only conquer heresy on the stage,” remarked the young Duc d’Orleans, alluding to a part he had played the night before, — that of a knight subduing a hydra which bore upon its foreheads the word “Reformation.”
Catherine de’ Medici, agreeing in this with her daughter-in-law, had allowed a theatre to be made of the great hall (afterwards arranged for the Parliament of Blois), which, as we have already said, connected the chateau of Francois I. with that of Louis XII.
The cardinal made no answer to Amyot’s question, but resumed his walk through the centre of the hall, talking in low tones with Monsieur de Robertet and the chancellor. Many persons are ignorant of the difficulties which secretaries of State (subsequently called ministers) met with at the first establishment of their office, and how much trouble the kings of France had in creating it. At this epoch a secretary of State like Robertet was purely and simply a writer; he counted for almost nothing among the princes and grandees who decided the affairs of State. His functions were little more than those of the superintendent of finances, the chancellor, and the keeper of the seals. The kings granted seats at the council by letters-patent to those of their subjects whose advice seemed to them useful in the management of public affairs. Entrance to the council was given in this way to a president of the Chamber of Parliament, to a bishop, or to an untitled favorite. Once admitted to the council, the subject strengthened his position there by obtaining various crown offices on which devolved such prerogatives as the sword of a Constable, the government of provinces, the grand-mastership of artillery, the baton of a marshal, a leading rank in the army, or the admiralty, or a captaincy of the galleys, often some office at court, like that of grand-master of the household, now held, as we have already said, by the Duc de Guise.
“Do you think that the Duc de Nemours will marry Francoise?” said Madame de Guise to the tutor of the Duc d’Orleans.
“Ah, madame,” he replied, “I know nothing but Latin.”
This answer made all who were within hearing of it smile. The seduction of Francoise de Rohan by the Duc de Nemours was the topic of all conversations; but, as the duke was cousin to Francois II., and doubly allied to the house of Valois through his mother, the Guises regarded him more as the seduced than the seducer. Nevertheless, the power of the house of Rohan was such that the Duc de Nemours was obliged, after the death of Francois II., to leave France on consequence of suits brought against him by the Rohans; which suits the Guises settled. The duke’s marriage with the Duchesse de Guise after Poltrot’s assassination of her husband in 1563, may explain the question which she put to Amyot, by revealing the rivalry which must have existed between Mademoiselle de Rohan and the duchess.
“Do see that group of the discontented over there?” said the Comte de Grammont, motioning toward the Messieurs de Coligny, the Cardinal de Chatillon, Danville, Thore, Moret, and several other seigneurs suspected of tampering with the Reformation, who were standing between two windows on the other side of the fireplace.
“The Huguenots are bestirring themselves,” said Cypierre. “We know that Theodore de Beze has gone to Nerac to induce the Queen of Navarre to declare for the Reformers — by abjuring publicly,” he added, looking at the bailli of Orleans, who held the office of chancellor to the Queen of Navarre, and was watching the court attentively.
“She will do it!” said the bailli, dryly.
This personage, the Orleans Jacques Coeur, one of the richest burghers of the day, was named Groslot, and had charge of Jeanne d’Albret’s business with the court of France.
“Do you really think so?” said the chancellor of France, appreciating the full importance of Groslot’s declaration.
“Are you not aware,” said the burgher, “that the Queen of Navarre has nothing of the woman in her except sex? She is wholly for things virile; her powerful mind turns to the great affairs of State; her heart is invincible under adversity.”
“Monsieur le cardinal,” whispered the Chancellor Olivier to Monsieur de Tournon, who had overheard Groslot, “what do you think of that audacity?”
“The Queen of Navarre did well in choosing for her chancellor a man from whom the house of Lorraine borrows money, and who offers his house to the king, if his Majesty visits Orleans,” replied the cardinal.
The chancellor and the cardinal looked at each other, without venturing to further communicate their thoughts; but Robertet expressed them, for he thought it necessary to show more devotion to the Guises than these great personages, inasmuch as he was smaller than they.
“It is a great misfortune that the house of Navarre, instead of abjuring the religion of its fathers, does not abjure the spirit of vengeance and rebellion which the Connetable de Bourbon breathed into it,” he said aloud. “We shall see the quarrels of the Armagnacs and the Bourguignons revive in our day.”
“No,” said Groslot, “there’s another Louis XI. in the Cardinal de Lorraine.”
“And also in Queen Catherine,” replied Robertet.
At this moment Madame Dayelle, the favorite bedchamber woman of Queen Mary Stuart, crossed the hall, and went toward the royal chamber. Her passage caused a general commotion.
“We shall soon enter,” said Madame de Fisque.
“I don’t think so,” replied the Duchesse de Guise. “Their Majesties will come out; a grand council is to be held.”
VI. THE LITTLE LEVER OF FRANCOIS II.
Madame Dayelle glided into the royal chamber after scratching on the door, — a respectful custom, invented by Catherine de’ Medici and adopted by the court of France.
“How is the weather, my dear Dayelle?” said Queen Mary, showing her fresh young face out of the bed, and shaking the curtains.
“Ah! madame — ”
“What’s the matter, my Dayelle? You look as if the archers of the guard were after you.”
“Oh! madame, is the king still asleep?”
“Yes.”
“We are to leave the chateau; Monsieur le cardinal requests me to tell you so, and to ask you to make the king agree to it.
“Do you know why, my good Dayelle?”
“The Reformers want to seize you and carry you off.”
“Ah! that new religion does not leave me a minute’s peace! I dreamed last night that I was in prison, — I, who will some day unite the crowns of the three noblest kingdoms in the world!”
“Therefore it could only be a dream, madame.”
“Carry me off! well, ‘twould be rather pleasant; but on account of religion, and by heretics — oh, that would be horrid.”
The queen sprang from the bed and placed herself in a large arm-chair of red velvet before the fireplace, after Dayelle had given her a dressing-gown of black velvet, which she fastened loosely round her waist by a silken cord. Dayelle lit the fire, for the mornings are cool on the banks of the Loire in the month of May.
“My uncles must have received some news during the night?” said the queen, inquiringly to Dayelle, whom she treated with great familiarity.
“Messieurs de Guise have been walking together from early morning on the terrace, so as not to be overheard by any one; and there they received messengers, who came in hot haste from all the different points of the kingdom where the Reformers are stirring. Madame la reine mere was there too, with her Italians, hoping she would be consulted; but no, she was not admitted to the council.”
“She must have been furious.”
“All the more because she was so angry yesterday,” replied Dayelle. “They say that when she saw your Majesty appear in that beautiful dress of woven gold, with the charming veil of tan-colored crape, she was none too pleased — ”
“Leave us, my good Dayelle, the king is waking up. Let no one, even those who have the little entrees, disturb us; an affair of State is in hand, and my uncles will not disturb us.”
“Why! my dear Mary, already out of bed? Is it daylight?” said the young king, waking up.
“My dear darling, while we were asleep the wicked waked, and now they are forcing us to leave this delightful place.”
“What makes you think of wicked people, my treasure? I am sure we enjoyed the prettiest fete in the world last night — if it were not for the Latin words those gentlemen will put into our French.”
“Ah!” said Mary, “your language is really in very good taste, and Rabelais exhibits it finely.”
“You are such a learned woman! I am so vexed that I can’t sing your praises in verse. If I were not the king, I would take my brother’s tutor, Amyot, and let him make me as accomplished as Charles.”
“You need not envy your brother, who writes verses and shows them to me, asking for mine in return. You are the best of the four, and will make as good a king as you are the dearest of lovers. Perhaps that is why your mother does not like you! But never mind! I, dear heart, will love you for all the world.”
“I have no great merit in loving such a perfect queen,” said the little king. “I don’t know what prevented me from kissing you before the whole court when you danced the branle with the torches last night! I saw plainly that all the other women were mere servants compared to you, my beautiful Mary.”
“It may be only prose you speak, but it is ravishing speech, dear darling, for it is love that says those words. And you — you know well, my beloved, that were you only a poor little page, I should love you as much as I do now. And yet, there is nothing so sweet as to whisper to one’s self: ‘My lover is king!’”
“Oh! the pretty arm! Why must we dress ourselves? I love to pass my fingers through your silky hair and tangle its blond curls. Ah ca! sweet one, don’t let your women kiss that pretty throat and those white shoulders any more; don’t allow it, I say. It is too much that the fogs of Scotland ever touched them!”
“Won’t you come with me to see my dear country? The Scotch love you; there are no rebellions there!”
“Who rebels in this our kingdom?” said Francois, crossing his dressing-gown and taking Mary Stuart on his knee.
“Oh! ‘tis all very charming, I know that,” she said, withdrawing her cheek from the king; “but it is your business to reign, if you please, my sweet sire.”
“Why talk of reigning? This morning I wish — ”
“Why say wish when you have only to will all? That’s not the speech of a king, nor that of a lover. — But no more of love just now; let us drop it! We have business more important to speak of.”
“Oh!” cried the king, “it is long since we have had any business. Is it amusing?”
“No,” said Mary, “not at all; we are to move from Blois.”
“I’ll wager, darling, you have seen your uncles, who manage so well that I, at seventeen years of age, am no better than a roi faineant. In fact, I don’t know why I have attended any of the councils since the first. They could manage matters just as well by putting the crown in my chair; I see only through their eyes, and am forced to consent to things blindly.”
“Oh! monsieur,” said the queen, rising from the king’s knee with a little air of indignation, “you said you would never worry me again on this subject, and that my uncles used the royal power only for the good of your people. Your people! — they are so nice! They would gobble you up like a strawberry if you tried to rule them yourself. You want a warrior, a rough master with mailed hands; whereas you — you are a darling whom I love as you are; whom I should never love otherwise, — do you hear me, monsieur?” she added, kissing the forehead of the lad, who seemed inclined to rebel at her speech, but softened at her kisses.
“Oh! how I wish they were not your uncles!” cried Francois II. “I particularly dislike the cardinal; and when he puts on his wheedling air and his submissive manner and says to me, bowing: ‘Sire, the honor of the crown and the faith of your fathers forbid your Majesty to — this and that,’ I am sure he is working only for his cursed house of Lorraine.”
“Oh, how well you mimicked him!” cried the queen. “But why don’t you make the Guises inform you of what is going on, so that when you attain your grand majority you may know how to reign yourself? I am your wife, and your honor is mine. Trust me! we will reign together, my darling; but it won’t be a bed of roses for us until the day comes when we have our own wills. There is nothing so difficult for a king as to reign. Am I a queen, for example? Don’t you know that your mother returns me evil for all the good my uncles do to raise the splendor of your throne? Hey! what difference between them! My uncles are great princes, nephews of Charlemagne, filled with ardor and ready to die for you; whereas this daughter of a doctor or a shopkeeper, queen of France by accident, scolds like a burgher-woman who can’t manage her own household. She is discontented because she can’t set every one by the ears; and then she looks at me with a sour, pale face, and says from her pinched lips: ‘My daughter, you are a queen; I am only the second woman in the kingdom’ (she is really furious, you know, my darling), ‘but if I were in your place I should not wear crimson velvet while all the court is in mourning; neither should I appear in public with my own hair and no jewels, because what is not becoming in a simple lady is still less becoming in a queen. Also I should not dance myself, I should content myself with seeing others dance.’ — that is what she says to me — ”
“Heavens!” cried the king, “I think I hear her coming. If she were to know — ”
“Oh, how you tremble before her. She worries you. Only say so, and we will send her away. Faith, she’s Florentine and we can’t help her tricking you, but when it comes to worrying — ”
“For Heaven’s sake, Mary, hold your tongue!” said Francois, frightened and also pleased; “I don’t want you to lose her good-will.”
“Don’t be afraid that she will ever break with me, who will some day wear the three noblest crowns in the world, my dearest little king,” cried Mary Stuart. “Though she hates me for a thousand reasons she is always caressing me in the hope of turning me against my uncles.”
“Hates you!”
“Yes, my angel; and if I had not proofs of that feeling such as women only understand, for they alone know its malignity, I would forgive her perpetual opposition to our dear love, my darling. Is it my fault that your father could not endure Mademoiselle Medici or that his son loves me? The truth is, she hates me so much that if you had not put yourself into a rage, we should each have had our separate chamber at Saint-Germain, and also here. She pretended it was the custom of the kings and queens of France. Custom, indeed! it was your father’s custom, and that is easily understood. As for your grandfather, Francois, the good man set up the custom for the convenience of his loves. Therefore, I say, take care. And if we have to leave this place, be sure that we are not separated.”
“Leave Blois! Mary, what do you mean? I don’t wish to leave this beautiful chateau, where we can see the Loire and the country all round us, with a town at our feet and all these pretty gardens. If I go away it will be to Italy with you, to see St. Peter’s, and Raffaelle’s pictures.”
“And the orange-trees? Oh! my darling king, if you knew the longing your Mary has to ramble among the orange-groves in fruit and flower!”
“Let us go, then!” cried the king.
“Go!” exclaimed the grand-master as he entered the room. “Yes, sire, you must leave Blois. Pardon my boldness in entering your chamber; but circumstances are stronger than etiquette, and I come to entreat you to hold a council.”
Finding themselves thus surprised, Mary and Francois hastily separated, and on their faces was the same expression of offended royal majesty.
“You are too much of a grand-master, Monsieur de Guise,” said the king, though controlling his anger.
“The devil take lovers,” murmured the cardinal in Catherine’s ear.
“My son,” said the queen-mother, appearing behind the cardinal; “it is a matter concerning your safety and that of your kingdom.”
“Heresy wakes while you have slept, sire,” said the cardinal.
“Withdraw into the hall,” cried the little king, “and then we will hold a council.”
