THE TUMULT AT AMBOISE
By moving the court to the chateau of Amboise, the two Lorrain princesintended to set a trap for the leader of the party of the Reformation,the Prince de Conde, whom they had made the king summon to hispresence. As vassal of the Crown and prince of the blood, Conde wasbound to obey the summons of his sovereign. Not to come to Amboisewould constitute the crime of treason; but if he came, he put himselfin the power of the Crown. Now, at this moment, as we have seen, theCrown, the council, the court, and all their powers were solely in thehands of the Duc de Guise and the Cardinal de Lorraine. The Prince deConde showed, at this delicate crisis, a presence of mind and adecision and willingness which made him the worthy exponent of Jeanned'Albret and the valorous general of the Reformers. He travelled atthe rear of the conspirators as far as Vendome, intending to supportthem in case of their success. When the first uprising ended by abrief skirmish, in which the flower of the nobility beguiled by Calvinperished, the prince arrived, with fifty noblemen, at the chateau ofAmboise on the very day after that fight, which the politic Guisestermed "the Tumult of Amboise." As soon as the duke and cardinal heardof his coming they sent the Marechal de Saint-Andre with an escort ofa hundred men to meet him. When the prince and his own escort reachedthe gates of the chateau the marechal refused entrance to the latter.
"You must enter alone, monseigneur," said the Chancellor Olivier, theCardinal de Tournon, and Birago, who were stationed outside of theportcullis.
"And why?"
"You are suspected of treason," replied the chancellor.
The prince, who saw that his suite were already surrounded by thetroop of the Duc de Nemours, replied tranquilly: "If that is so, Iwill go alone to my cousin, and prove to him my innocence."
He dismounted, talked with perfect freedom of mind to Birago, theCardinal de Tournon, the chancellor, and the Duc de Nemours, from whomhe asked for particulars of the "tumult."
"Monseigneur," replied the duke, "the rebels had confederates inAmboise. A captain, named Lanoue, had introduced armed men, who openedthe gate to them, through which they entered and made themselvesmasters of the town--"
"That is to say, you opened the mouth of a sack, and they ran intoit," replied the prince, looking at Birago.
"If they had been supported by the attack which Captain Chaudieu,the preacher's brother, was expected to make before the gate of theBon-Hommes, they would have been completely successful," replied theDuc de Nemours. "But in consequence of the position which the Duc deGuise ordered me to take up, Captain Chaudieu was obliged to turn myflank to avoid a fight. So instead of arriving by night, like the rest,this rebel and his men got there at daybreak, by which time the king'stroops had crushed the invaders of the town."
"And you had a reserve force to recover the gate which had been openedto them?" said the prince.
"Monsieur le Marechal de Saint-Andre was there with five hundredmen-at-arms."
The prince gave the highest praise to these military arrangements.
"The lieutenant-general must have been fully aware of the plans of theReformers, to have acted as he did," he said in conclusion. "They wereno doubt betrayed."
The prince was treated with increasing harshness. After separating himfrom his escort at the gates, the cardinal and the chancellor barredhis way when he reached the staircase which led to the apartments ofthe king.
"We are directed by his Majesty, monseigneur, to take you to your ownapartments," they said.
"Am I, then, a prisoner?"
"If that were the king's intention you would not be accompanied by aprince of the Church, nor by me," replied the chancellor.
These two personages escorted the prince to an apartment, where guardsof honor--so-called--were given him. There he remained, without seeingany one, for some hours. From his window he looked down upon the Loireand the meadows of the beautiful valley stretching from Amboise toTours. He was reflecting on the situation, and asking himself whetherthe Guises would really dare anything against his person, when thedoor of his chamber opened and Chicot, the king's fool, formerly adependent of his own, entered the room.
"They told me you were in disgrace," said the prince.
"You'd never believe how virtuous the court has become since the deathof Henri II."
"But the king loves a laugh."
"Which king,--Francois II., or Francois de Lorraine?"
"You are not afraid of the duke, if you talk in that way!"
"He wouldn't punish me for it, monseigneur," replied Chicot, laughing.
"To what do I owe the honor of this visit?"
"Hey! Isn't it due to you on your return? I bring you my cap andbells."
"Can I go out?"
"Try."
"Suppose I do go out, what then?"
"I should say that you had won the game by playing against the rules."
"Chicot, you alarm me. Are you sent here by some one who takes aninterest in me?"
"Yes," said Chicot, nodding. He came nearer to the prince, and madehim understand that they were being watched and overheard.
"What have you to say to me?" asked the Prince de Conde, in a lowvoice.
"Boldness alone can pull you out of this scrape; the message comesfrom the queen-mother," replied the fool, slipping his words into theear of the prince.
"Tell those who sent you," replied Conde, "that I should not haveentered this chateau if I had anything to reproach myself with, or tofear."
"I rush to report that lofty answer!" cried the fool.
Two hours later, that is, about one o'clock in the afternoon, beforethe king's dinner, the chancellor and Cardinal de Tournon came tofetch the prince and present him to Francois II. in the great galleryof the chateau of Amboise, where the councils were held. There, beforethe whole court, Conde pretended surprise at the coldness with whichthe little king received him, and asked the reason of it.
"You are accused, cousin," said the queen-mother, sternly, "of takingpart in the conspiracy of the Reformers; and you must prove yourself afaithful subject and a good Catholic, if you do not desire to drawdown upon your house the anger of the king."
Hearing these words said, in the midst of the most profound silence,by Catherine de' Medici, on whose right arm the king was leaning, theDuc d'Orleans being on her left side, the Prince de Conde recoiledthree steps, laid his hand on his sword with a proud motion, andlooked at all the persons who surrounded him.
"Those who said that, madame," he cried in an angry voice, "lied intheir throats!"
Then he flung his glove at the king's feet, saying: "Let him whobelieves that calumny come forward!"
The whole court trembled as the Duc de Guise was seen to leave hisplace; but instead of picking up the glove, he advanced to theintrepid hunchback.
"If you desire a second in that duel, monseigneur, do me the honor toaccept my services," he said. "I will answer for you; I know that youwill show the Reformers how mistaken they are if they think to haveyou for their leader."
The prince was forced to take the hand of the lieutenant-general ofthe kingdom. Chicot picked up the glove and returned it to Monsieur deConde.
"Cousin," said the little king, "you must draw your sword only for thedefence of the kingdom. Come and dine."
The Cardinal de Lorraine, surprised at his brother's action, drew himaway to his own apartments. The Prince de Conde, having escaped hisapparent danger, offered his hand to Mary Stuart to lead her to thedining hall; but all the while that he made her flattering speeches hepondered in his mind what trap the astute Balafre was setting for him.In vain he worked his brains, for it was not until Queen Mary herselfbetrayed it that he guessed the intention of the Guises.
"'Twould have been a great pity," she said laughing, "if so clever ahead had fallen; you must admit that my uncle has been generous."
"Yes, madame; for my head is only useful on my shoulders, though oneof them is notoriously higher than the other. But is this really youruncle's generosity? Is he not getting the credit of it rather cheaply?Do you think it would be so easy to take off the head of a prince ofthe blood?"
"All is not over yet," she said. "We shall see what your conduct willbe at the execution of the noblemen, your friends, at which theCouncil has decided to make a great public display of severity."
"I shall do," said the prince, "whatever the king does."
"The king, the queen-mother, and myself will be present at theexecution, together with the whole court and the ambassadors--"
"A fete!" said the prince, sarcastically.
"Better than that," said the young queen, "an act of faith, an actof the highest policy. 'Tis a question of forcing the noblemen ofFrance to submit themselves to the Crown, and compelling them to giveup their tastes for plots and factions--"
"You will not break their belligerent tempers by the show of danger,madame; you will risk the Crown itself in the attempt," replied theprince.
At the end of the dinner, which was gloomy enough, Queen Mary had thecruel boldness to turn the conversation openly upon the trial of thenoblemen on the charge of being seized with arms in their hands, andto speak of the necessity of making a great public show of theirexecution.
"Madame," said Francois II., "is it not enough for the king of Franceto know that so much brave blood is to flow? Must he make a triumph ofit?"
"No, sire; but an example," replied Catherine.
"It was the custom of your father and your grandfather to be presentat the burning of heretics," said Mary Stuart.
"The kings who reigned before me did as they thought best, and Ichoose to do as I please," said the little king.
"Philip the Second," remarked Catherine, "who is certainly a greatking, lately postponed an auto da fe until he could return from theLow Countries to Valladolid."
"What do you think, cousin?" said the king to Prince de Conde.
"Sire, you cannot avoid it, and the papal nuncio and all theambassadors should be present. I shall go willingly, as these ladiestake part in the fete."
Thus the Prince de Conde, at a glance from Catherine de' Medici,bravely chose his course.
* * * * * * *
At the moment when the Prince de Conde was entering the chateaud'Amboise, Lecamus, the furrier of the two queens, was also arrivingfrom Paris, brought to Amboise by the anxiety into which the news ofthe tumult had thrown both his family and that of Lallier. When theold man presented himself at the gate of the chateau, the captain ofthe guard, on hearing that he was the queens' furrier, said:--
"My good man, if you want to be hanged you have only to set foot inthis courtyard."
Hearing these words, the father, in despair, sat down on a stone at alittle distance and waited until some retainer of the two queens orsome servant-woman might pass who would give him news of his son. Buthe sat there all day without seeing any one whom he knew, and wasforced at last to go down into the town, where he found, not withoutsome difficulty, a lodging in a hostelry on the public square wherethe executions took place. He was obliged to pay a pound a day toobtain a room with a window looking on the square. The next day he hadthe courage to watch, from his window, the execution of all theabettors of the rebellion who were condemned to be broken on the wheelor hanged, as persons of little importance. He was happy indeed not tosee his own son among the victims.
When the execution was over he went into the square and put himself inthe way of the clerk of the court. After giving his name, and slippinga purse full of crowns into the man's hand, he begged him to look onthe records and see if the name of Christophe Lecamus appeared ineither of the three preceding executions. The clerk, touched by themanner and the tones of the despairing father, took him to his ownhouse. After a careful search he was able to give the old man anabsolute assurance that Christophe was not among the persons thus farexecuted, nor among those who were to be put to death within a fewdays.
"My dear man," said the clerk, "Parliament has taken charge of thetrial of the great lords implicated in the affair, and also that ofthe principal leaders. Perhaps your son is detained in the prisons ofthe chateau, and he may be brought forth for the magnificent executionwhich their Excellencies the Duc de Guise and the Cardinal de Lorraineare now preparing. The heads of twenty-seven barons, eleven counts,and seven marquises,--in all, fifty noblemen or leaders of theReformers,--are to be cut off. As the justiciary of the county ofTourine is quite distinct from that of the parliament of Paris, if youare determined to know about your son, I advise you to go and see theChancelier Olivier, who has the management of this great trial underorders from the lieutenant-general of the kingdom."
The poor old man, acting on this advice, went three times to see thechancellor, standing in a long queue of persons waiting to ask mercyfor their friends. But as the titled men were made to pass before theburghers, he was obliged to give up the hope of speaking to thechancellor, though he saw him several times leave the house to goeither to the chateau or to the committee appointed by the Parliament,--passing each time between a double hedge of petitioners who werekept back by the guards to allow him free passage. It was a horriblescene of anguish and desolation; for among these petitioners were manywomen, wives, mothers, daughters, whole families in distress. OldLecamus gave much gold to the footmen of the chateau, entreating themto put certain letters which he wrote into the hand either of Dayelle,Queen Mary's woman, or into that of the queen-mother; but the footmentook the poor man's money and carried the letters, according to thegeneral order of the cardinal, to the provost-marshal. By displayingsuch unheard-of cruelty the Guises knew that they incurred greatdangers from revenge, and never did they take such precautions fortheir safety as they did while the court was at Amboise; consequently,neither the greatest of all corrupters, gold, nor the incessant andactive search which the old furrier instituted gave him the slightestgleam of light on the fate of his son. He went about the little townwith a mournful air, watching the great preparations made by order ofthe cardinal for the dreadful show at which the Prince de Conde hadagreed to be present.
Public curiosity was stimulated from Paris to Nantes by the meansadopted on this occasion. The execution was announced from all pulpitsby the rectors of the churches, while at the same time they gavethanks for the victory of the king over the heretics. Three handsomebalconies, the middle one more sumptuous than the other two, werebuilt against the terrace of the chateau of Amboise, at the foot ofwhich the executions were appointed to take place. Around the opensquare, stagings were erected, and these were filled with an immensecrowd of people attracted by the wide-spread notoriety given to this"act of faith." Ten thousand persons camped in the adjoining fieldsthe night before the day on which the horrible spectacle was appointedto take place. The roofs on the houses were crowded with spectators,and windows were let at ten pounds apiece,--an enormous sum in thosedays. The poor old father had engaged, as we may well believe, one ofthe best places from which the eye could take in the whole of theterrible scene, where so many men of noble blood were to perish on avast scaffold covered with black cloth, erected in the middle of theopen square. Thither, on the morning of the fatal day, they broughtthe chouquet,--a name given to the block on which the condemned manlaid his head as he knelt before it. After this they brought anarm-chair draped with black, for the clerk of the Parliament, whosebusiness it was to call up the condemned noblemen to their death andread their sentences. The whole square was guarded from early morningby the Scottish guard and the gendarmes of the king's household, inorder to keep back the crowd which threatened to fill it before thehour of the execution.
After a solemn mass said at the chateau and in the churches of thetown, the condemned lords, the last of the conspirators who were leftalive, were led out. These gentlemen, some of whom had been put to thetorture, were grouped at the foot of the scaffold and surrounded bymonks, who endeavored to make them abjure the doctrines of Calvin. Butnot a single man listened to the words of the priests who had beenappointed for this duty by the Cardinal of Lorraine; among whom thegentlemen no doubt feared to find spies of the Guises. In order toavoid the importunity of these antagonists they chanted a psalm, putinto French verse by Clement Marot. Calvin, as we all know, hadordained that prayers to God should be in the language of eachcountry, as much from a principle of common sense as in opposition tothe Roman worship. To those in the crowd who pitied these unfortunategentlemen it was a moving incident to hear them chant the followingverse at the very moment when the king and court arrived and tooktheir places:--
"God be merciful unto us, And bless us! And show us the light of his countenance, And be merciful unto us."
The eyes of all the Reformers turned to their leader, the Prince deConde, who was placed intentionally between Queen Mary and the youngDuc d'Orleans. Catherine de' Medici was beside the king, and the restof the court were on her left. The papal nuncio stood behind QueenMary; the lieutenant-general of the kingdom, the Duc de Guise, was onhorseback below the balcony, with two of the marshals of France andhis staff captains. When the Prince de Conde appeared all thecondemned noblemen who knew him bowed to him, and the brave hunchbackreturned their salutation.
"It would be hard," he remarked to the Duc d'Orleans, "not to be civilto those about to die."
The two other balconies were filled by invited guests, courtiers, andpersons on duty about the court. In short, the whole company of thechateau de Blois had come to Amboise to assist at this festival ofdeath, precisely as it passed, a little later, from the pleasures of acourt to the perils of war, with an easy facility, which will alwaysseem to foreigners one of the main supports of their policy towardFrance.
The poor syndic of the furriers of Paris was filled with the keenestjoy at not seeing his son among the fifty-seven gentlemen who werecondemned to die.
At a sign from the Duc de Guise, the clerk seated on the scaffoldcried in a loud voice:--
"Jean-Louis-Alberic, Baron de Raunay, guilty of heresy, of the crimeof lese-majeste, and assault with armed hand against the person ofthe king."
A tall handsome man mounted the scaffold with a firm step, bowed tothe people and the court, and said:
"That sentence lies. I took arms to deliver the king from his enemies,the Guises."
He placed his head on the block, and it fell. The Reformers chanted:--
"Thou, O God! hast proved us; Thou hast tried us; As silver is tried in the fire, So hast thou purified us."
"Robert-Jean-Rene Briquemart, Comte de Villemongis, guilty of thecrime of lese-majeste, and of attempts against the person of theking!" called the clerk.
The count dipped his hands in the blood of the Baron de Raunay, andsaid:--
"May this blood recoil upon those who are really guilty of thosecrimes."
The Reformers chanted:--
"Thou broughtest us into the snare; Thou laidest afflictions upon our loins; Thou hast suffered our enemies To ride over us."
"You must admit, monseigneur," said the Prince de Conde to the papalnuncio, "that if these French gentlemen know how to conspire, theyalso know how to die."
"What hatreds, brother!" whispered the Duchesse de Guise to theCardinal de Lorraine, "you are drawing down upon the heads of ourchildren!"
"The sight makes me sick," said the young king, turning pale at theflow of blood.
"Pooh! only rebels!" replied Catherine de' Medici.
The chants went on; the axe still fell. The sublime spectacle of mensinging as they died, and, above all, the impression produced upon thecrowd by the progressive diminution of the chanting voices, supersededthe fear inspired by the Guises.
"Mercy!" cried the people with one voice, when they heard the solitarychant of the last and most important of the great lords, who was savedto be the final victim. He alone remained at the foot of the steps bywhich the others had mounted the scaffold, and he chanted:--
"Thou, O God, be merciful unto us, And bless us, And cause thy face to shine upon us. Amen!"
"Come, Duc de Nemours," said the Prince de Conde, weary of the part hewas playing; "you who have the credit of the skirmish, and who helpedto make these men prisoners, do you not feel under an obligation toask mercy for this one? It is Castelnau, who, they say, received yourword of honor that he should be courteously treated if hesurrendered."
"Do you think I waited till he was here before trying to save him?"said the Duc de Nemours, stung by the stern reproach.
The clerk called slowly--no doubt he was intentionally slow:--
"Michel-Jean-Louis, Baron de Castelnau-Chalosse, accused and convictedof the crime of lese-majeste, and of attempts against the person ofthe king."
"No," said Castelnau, proudly, "it cannot be a crime to oppose thetyranny and the projected usurpation of the Guises."
The executioner, sick of his task, saw a movement in the king'sgallery, and fumbled with his axe.
"Monsieur le baron," he said, "I do not want to execute you; amoment's delay may save you."
All the people again cried, "Mercy!"
"Come!" said the king, "mercy for that poor Castelnau, who saved thelife of the Duc d'Orleans."
The cardinal intentionally misunderstood the king's speech.
"Go on," he motioned to the executioner, and the head of Castelnaufell at the very moment when the king had pronounced his pardon.
"That head, cardinal, goes to your account," said Catherine de'Medici.
The day after this dreadful execution the Prince de Conde returned toNavarre.
The affair produced a great sensation in France and at all the foreigncourts. The torrents of noble blood then shed caused such anguish tothe chancellor Olivier that his honorable mind, perceiving at last thereal end and aim of the Guises disguised under a pretext of defendingreligion and the monarchy, felt itself no longer able to make headagainst them. Though he was their creature, he was not willing tosacrifice his duty and the Throne to their ambition; and he withdrewfrom his post, suggesting l'Hopital as his rightful successor.Catherine, hearing of Olivier's suggestion, immediately proposedBirago, and put much warmth into her request. The cardinal, knowingnothing of the letter written by l'Hopital to the queen-mother, andsupposing him faithful to the house of Lorraine, pressed hisappointment in opposition to that of Birago, and Catherine allowedherself to seem vanquished. From the moment that l'Hopital enteredupon his duties he took measures against the Inquisition, which theCardinal de Lorraine was desirous of introducing into France; and hethwarted so successfully all the anti-gallican policy of the Guises,and proved himself so true a Frenchmen, that in order to subdue him hewas exiled, within three months of his appointment, to hiscountry-seat of Vignay, near Etampes.
The worthy old Lecamus waited impatiently till the court left Amboise,being unable to find an opportunity to speak to either of the queens,and hoping to put himself in their way as the court advanced along theriver-bank on its return to Blois. He disguised himself as a pauper,at the risk of being taken for a spy, and by means of this travesty,he mingled with the crowd of beggars which lined the roadway. Afterthe departure of the Prince de Conde, and the execution of theleaders, the duke and cardinal thought they had sufficiently silencedthe Reformers to allow the queen-mother a little more freedom. Lecamusknew that, instead of travelling in a litter, Catherine intended to goon horseback, a la planchette,--such was the name given to a sort ofstirrup invented for or by the queen-mother, who, having hurt her legon some occasion, ordered a velvet-covered saddle with a plank onwhich she could place both feet by sitting sideways on the horse andpassing one leg through a depression in the saddle. As thequeen-mother had very handsome legs, she was accused of inventing thismethod of riding, in order to show them. The old furrier fortunatelyfound a moment when he could present himself to her sight; but theinstant that the queen recognized him she gave signs of displeasure.
"Go away, my good man, and let no one see you speak to me," she saidwith anxiety. "Get yourself elected deputy to the States-general, bythe guild of your trade, and act for me when the Assembly convenes atOrleans; you shall know whom to trust in the matter of your son."
"Is he living?" asked the old man.
"Alas!" said the queen, "I hope so."
Lecamus was obliged to return to Paris with nothing better than thosedoubtful words and the secret of the approaching convocation of theStates-general, thus confided to him by the queen-mother.