Quentin Durward

Many, as we have mentioned, had already experienced the bounty of the King; others had either estates or pretensions in France, which placed them a little under his influence; and it is certain that the treasure which had loaded four mules when the King entered Peronne, became much lighter in the course of these negotiations.

In the course of the third day, the Count of Campobasso brought his Italian wit to assist the counsels of Charles; and well was it for Louis that he had not arrived when the Duke was in his first fury. Immediately on his arrival, a regular meeting of the Duke’s counsellors was convened for considering the measures to be adopted in this singular crisis.

On this occasion, Campobasso gave his opinion, couched in the apologue of the Traveller, the Adder, and the Fox; and reminded the Duke of the advice which Reynard gave to the man, that he should crush his mortal enemy, now that chance had placed his fate at his disposal. [The fox advised the man who had found a snake by the roadside to kill it. He, however, placed it in his bosom, and was afterwards bitten.] De Comines, who saw the Duke’s eyes sparkle at a proposal which his own violence of temper had already repeatedly suggested, hastened to state the possibility that Louis might not be, in fact, so directly accessory to the sanguinary action which had been committed at Schonwaldt; that he might be able to clear himself of the imputation laid to his charge, and perhaps to make other atonement for the distractions which his intrigues had occasioned in the Duke’s dominions, and those of his allies; and that an act of violence perpetrated on the King was sure to bring both on France and Burgundy a train of the most unhappy consequences, among which not the least to be feared was that the English might avail themselves of the commotions and civil discord which must needs ensue, to repossess themselves of Normandy and Guyenne, and renew those dreadful wars which had only, and with difficulty, been terminated by the union of both France and Burgundy against the common enemy. Finally, he confessed that he did not mean to urge the absolute and free dismissal of Louis; but only that the Duke should avail himself no farther of his present condition than merely to establish a fair and equitable treaty between the countries, with such security on the King’s part as should make it difficult for him to break his faith, or disturb the internal peace of Burgundy in the future. D’Hymbercourt, Crevecoeur, and others signified their reprobation of the violent measures proposed by Campobasso, and their opinion, that in the way of treaty more permanent advantages could be obtained, and in a manner more honourable for Burgundy, than by an action which would stain her with a breach of faith and hospitality.

The Duke listened to these arguments with his looks fixed on the ground, and his brow so knitted together as to bring his bushy eyebrows into one mass. But when Crevecoeur proceeded to say that he did not believe Louis either knew of, or was accessory to, the atrocious act of violence committed at Schonwaldt, Charles raised his head, and darting a fierce look at his counsellor, exclaimed, “Have you too, Crevecoeur, heard the gold of France clink? – Methinks it rings in my council as merrily as ever the bells of Saint Denis. – Dare any one say that Louis is not the fomenter of these feuds in Flanders?”

“My gracious lord,” said Crevecoeur, “my hand has ever been more conversant with steel than with gold, and so far am I from holding that Louis is free from the charge of having caused the disturbances in Flanders, that it is not long since, in the face of his whole Court, I charged him with that breach of faith, and offered him defiance in your name. But although his intrigues have been doubtless the original cause of these commotions, I am so far from believing that he authorized the death of the Archbishop, that I believe one of his emissaries publicly protested against it; and I could produce the man, were it your Grace’s pleasure to see him.”

“It is our pleasure,” said the Duke. “Saint George, can you doubt that we desire to act justly? Even in the highest flight of our passion, we are known for an upright and a just judge. We will see France ourself – we will ourself charge him with our wrongs, and ourself state to him the reparation which we expect and demand. If he shall be found guiltless of this murder, the atonement for other crimes may be more easy. – If he hath been guilty, who shall say that a life of penitence in some retired monastery were not a most deserved and a most merciful doom? – Who,” he added, kindling as he spoke, “who shall dare to blame a revenge yet more direct and more speedy? – Let your witness attend. – We will to the Castle at the hour before noon. Some articles we will minute down with which he shall comply, or woe on his head! Others shall depend upon the proof. Break up the council, and dismiss yourselves. I will but change my dress, as this is scarce a fitting trim in which to wait on my most gracious Sovereign.”

With a deep and bitter emphasis on the last expression, the Duke arose and strode out of the room.

“Louis’s safety, and, what is worse, the honour of Burgundy, depend on a cast of the dice,” said D’Hymbercourt to Crevecoeur and to De Comines. “Haste thee to the Castle, De Comines, thou hast a better filed tongue than either Crevecoeur or I. Explain to Louis what storm is approaching – he will best know how to pilot himself. I trust this Life Guardsman will say nothing which can aggravate; for who knows what may have been the secret commission with which he was charged?”

“The young man,” said Crevecoeur, “seems bold, yet prudent and wary far beyond his years. In all which he said to me he was tender of the King’s character, as of that of the Prince whom he serves. I trust he will be equally so in the Duke’s presence. I must go seek him, and also the young Countess of Croye.”

“The Countess – you told us you had left her at Saint Bridget’s”

“Ay, but I was obliged,” said the Count, “to send for her express, by the Duke’s orders; and she has been brought hither on a litter, as being unable to travel otherwise. She was in a state of the deepest distress, both on account of the uncertainty of the fate of her kinswoman, the Lady Hameline, and the gloom which overhangs her own, guilty as she has been of a feudal delinquency, in withdrawing herself from the protection of her liege lord, Duke Charles, who is not the person in the world most likely to view with indifference what trenches on his seignorial rights.”

The information that the young Countess was in the hands of Charles, added fresh and more pointed thorns to Louis’s reflections. He was conscious that, by explaining the intrigues by which he had induced the Lady Hameline and her to resort to Peronne, she might supply that evidence which he had removed by the execution of Zamet Maugrabin, and he knew well how much such proof of his having interfered with the rights of the Duke of Burgundy would furnish both motive and pretext for Charles’s availing himself to the uttermost of his present predicament.

Louis discoursed on these matters with great anxiety to the Sieur de Comines, whose acute and political talents better suited the King’s temper than the blunt martial character of Crevecoeur, or the feudal haughtiness of D’Hymbercourt.

“These iron handed soldiers, my good friend Comines,” he said to his future historian, “should never enter a King’s cabinet, but be left with the halberds and partisans in the antechamber. Their hands are indeed made for our use, but the monarch who puts their heads to any better occupation than that of anvils for his enemies’ swords and maces, ranks with the fool who presented his mistress with a dog leash for a carcanet. It is with such as thou, Philip, whose eyes are gifted with the quick and keen sense that sees beyond the exterior surface of affairs, that Princes should share their council table, their cabinet – what do I say? – the most secret recesses of their soul.”

De Comines, himself so keen a spirit, was naturally gratified with the approbation of the most sagacious Prince in Europe, and he could not so far disguise his internal satisfaction, but that Louis was aware he had made some impression on him.

“I would,” continued he, “that I had such a servant, or rather that I were worthy to have such a one! I had not then been in this unfortunate situation, which, nevertheless, I should hardly regret, could I but discover any means of securing the services of so experienced a statist.”

De Comines said that all his faculties, such as they were, were at the service of his Most Christian Majesty, saving always his allegiance to his rightful lord, Duke Charles of Burgundy.

“And am I one who would seduce you from that allegiance?” said Louis pathetically. “Alas! am I not now endangered by having reposed too much confidence in my vassal? and can the cause of feudal good faith be more sacred with any than with me, whose safety depends on an appeal to it? – No, Philip de Comines – continue to serve Charles of Burgundy, and you will best serve him, by bringing round a fair accommodation with Louis of France. In doing thus you will serve us both, and one, at least, will be grateful. I am told your appointments in this Court hardly match those of the Grand Falconer and thus the services of the wisest counsellor in Europe are put on a level, or rather ranked below, those of a fellow who feeds and physics kites! France has wide lands – her King has much gold. Allow me, my friend, to rectify this scandalous inequality. The means are not distant. – Permit me to use them.”

The King produced a weighty bag of money; but De Comines, more delicate in his sentiments than most courtiers of that time, declined the proffer, declaring himself perfectly satisfied with the liberality of his native Prince, and assuring Louis that his desire to serve him could not be increased by the acceptance of any such gratuity as he had proposed.

“Singular man!” exclaimed the King; “let me embrace the only courtier of his time, at once capable and incorruptible. Wisdom is to be desired more than fine gold; and believe me, I trust in thy kindness, Philip, at this pinch, more than I do in the purchased assistance of many who have received my gifts. I know you will not counsel your master to abuse such an opportunity as fortune, and, to speak plain, De Comines, as my own folly, has afforded him.”

“To abuse it, by no means,” answered the historian, “but most certainly to use it.”

“How, and in what degree?” said Louis. “I am not ass enough to expect that I shall escape without some ransom – but let it be a reasonable one – reason I am ever Willing to listen to at Paris or at Plessis, equally as at Peronne.”

“Ah, but if it like your Majesty,” replied De Comines, “Reason at Paris or Plessis was used to speak in so low and soft a tone of voice, that she could not always gain an audience of your Majesty – at Peronne she borrows the speaking trumpet of Necessity, and her voice becomes lordly and imperative.”

“You are figurative,” said Louis, unable to restrain an emotion of peevishness; “I am a dull, blunt man, Sir of Comines. I pray you leave your tropes, and come to plain ground. What does your Duke expect of me?”

“I am the bearer of no propositions, my lord,” said De Comines; “the Duke will soon explain his own pleasure; but some things occur to me as proposals, for which your Majesty ought to hold yourself prepared. As, for example, the final cession of these towns here upon the Somme.”

“I expected so much,” said Louis.

“That you should disown the Liegeois, and William de la Marck.”

“As willingly as I disclaim Hell and Satan,” said Louis.

“Ample security will be required, by hostages, or occupation of fortresses, or otherwise, that France shall in future abstain from stirring up rebellion among the Flemings.”

“It is something new,” answered the King, “that a vassal should demand pledges from his Sovereign; but let that pass too.”

“A suitable and independent appanage for your illustrious brother, the ally and friend of my master – Normandy or Champagne. The Duke loves your father’s house, my Liege.”

“So well,” answered Louis, “that, mort Dieu! he’s about to make them all kings. – Is your budget of hints yet emptied?”

“Not entirely,” answered the counsellor: “it will certainly be required that your Majesty will forbear molesting, as you have done of late, the Duke de Bretagne, and that you will no longer contest the right which he and other grand feudatories have, to strike money, to term themselves dukes and princes by the grace of God – ”

“In a word, to make so many kings of my vassals. Sir Philip, would you make a fratricide of me? – You remember well my brother Charles – he was no sooner Duke of Guyenne, than he died. – And what will be left to the descendant and representative of Charlemagne, after giving away these rich provinces, save to be smeared with oil [a king, priest, or prophet was consecrated by means of oil] at Rheims, and to eat their dinner under a high canopy?”

“We will diminish your Majesty’s concern on that score, by giving you a companion in that solitary exaltation,” said Philip de Comines. “The Duke of Burgundy, though he claims not at present the title of an independent king, desires nevertheless to be freed in future from the abject marks of subjection required of him to the crown of France – it is his purpose to close his ducal coronet with an imperial arch, and surmount it with a globe, in emblem that his dominions are independent.”

“And how dares the Duke of Burgundy, the sworn vassal of France,” exclaimed Louis, starting up, and showing an unwonted degree of emotion, “how dares he propose such terms to his Sovereign, as, by every law of Europe, should infer a forfeiture of his fief?”

“The doom of forfeiture it would in this case be difficult to enforce,” answered De Comines calmly. “Your Majesty is aware that the strict interpretation of the feudal law is becoming obsolete even in the Empire, and that superior and vassal endeavour to mend their situation in regard to each other, as they have power and opportunity.

“Your Majesty’s interferences with the Duke’s vassals in Flanders will prove an exculpation of my master’s conduct, supposing him to insist that, by enlarging his independence, France should in future be debarred from any pretext of doing so.”

“Comines, Comines!” said Louis, arising again, and pacing the room in a pensive manner, “this is a dreadful lesson on the text Vae victis! [woe to the vanquished!] – You cannot mean that the Duke will insist on all these hard conditions?”

“At least I would have your Majesty be in a condition to discuss them all.”

“Yet moderation, De Comines, moderation in success, is – no one knows better than you – necessary to its ultimate advantage.”

“So please your Majesty, the merit of moderation is, I have observed, most apt to be extolled by the losing party. The winner holds in more esteem the prudence which calls on him not to leave an opportunity unimproved.”

“Well, we will consider,” replied the King; “but at least thou hast reached the extremity of your Duke’s unreasonable exaction? there can remain nothing – or if there does, for so thy brow intimates – what is it – what indeed can it be – unless it be my crown? which these previous demands, if granted, will deprive of all its lustre?”

“My lord,” said De Comines, “what remains to be mentioned, is a thing partly – indeed in a great measure within the Duke’s own power, though he means to invite your Majesty’s accession to it, for in truth it touches you nearly.”

“Pasques Dieu!” exclaimed the King impatiently, “what is it? – Speak out, Sir Philip – am I to send him my daughter for a concubine, or what other dishonour is he to put on me?”

“No dishonour, my Liege; but your Majesty’s cousin, the illustrious Duke of Orleans – ”

“Ha!” exclaimed the King; but De Comines proceeded without heeding the interruption.

“ – having conferred his affections on the young Countess Isabelle de Croye, the Duke expects your Majesty will, on your part, as he on his, yield your assent to the marriage, and unite with him in endowing the right noble couple with such an appanage, as, joined to the Countess’s estates, may form a fit establishment for a Child of France.”

“Never, never!” said the King, bursting out into that emotion which he had of late suppressed with much difficulty, and striding about in a disordered haste, which formed the strongest contrast to the self command which he usually exhibited.

“Never, never! – let them bring scissors, and shear my hair like that of the parish fool, whom I have so richly resembled – let them bid the monastery or the grave yawn for me, let them bring red hot basins to sear my eyes – axe or aconite – whatever they will, but Orleans shall not break his plighted faith to my daughter, or marry another while she lives!”

“Your Majesty,” said De Comines, “ere you set your mind so keenly against what is proposed, will consider your own want of power to prevent it. Every wise man, when he sees a rock giving way, withdraws from the bootless attempt of preventing the fall.”

“But a brave man,” said Louis, “will at least find his grave beneath it. De Comines, consider the great loss, the utter destruction, such a marriage will bring upon my kingdom. Recollect, I have but one feeble boy, and this Orleans is the next heir – consider that the Church hath consented to his union with Joan, which unites so happily the interests of both branches of my family, think on all this, and think too that this union has been the favourite scheme of my whole life – that I have schemed for it, fought for it, watched for it, prayed for it – and sinned for it. Philip de Comines, I will not forego it! Think man, think! – pity me in this extremity, thy quick brain can speedily find some substitute for this sacrifice – some ram to be offered up instead of that project which is dear to me as the Patriarch’s only son was to him. [Isaac, whose father Abraham, in obedience to the command of God, was about to sacrifice him upon the altar when a ram appeared, which Abraham offered in his stead.] Philip, pity me! – you at least should know that, to men of judgment and foresight, the destruction of the scheme on which they have long dwelt, and for which they have long toiled, is more inexpressibly bitter than the transient grief of ordinary men, whose pursuits are but the gratification of some temporary passion – you, who know how to sympathize with the deeper, the more genuine distress of baffled prudence and disappointed sagacity – will you not feel for me?”

“My Lord and King,” replied De Comines, “I do sympathize with your distress in so far as duty to my master – ”

“Do not mention him!” said Louis, acting, or at least appearing to act, under an irresistible and headlong impulse, which withdrew the usual guard which he maintained over his language. “Charles of Burgundy is unworthy of your attachment. He who can insult and strike his councillors – he who can distinguish the wisest and most faithful among them by the opprobrious name of Booted Head!”

The wisdom of Philip de Comines did not prevent his having a high sense of personal consequence; and he was so much struck with the words which the King uttered, as it were, in the career of a passion which overleaped ceremony, that he could only reply by repetition of the words “Booted Head! It is impossible that my master the Duke could have so termed the servant who has been at his side since he could mount a palfrey – and that too before a foreign monarch! – it is impossible!”

Louis instantly saw the impression he had made, and avoiding alike a tone of condolence, which might have seemed insulting, and one of sympathy, which might have savoured of affectation; he said, with simplicity, and at the same time with dignity, “My misfortunes make me forget my courtesy, else I had not spoken to you of what it must be unpleasant for you to hear. But you have in reply taxed me with having uttered impossibilities – this touches my honour; yet I must submit to the charge, if I tell you not the circumstances which the Duke, laughing until his eyes ran over, assigned for the origin of that opprobrious name, which I will not offend your ears by repeating. Thus, then, it chanced. You, Sir Philip de Comines, were at a hunting match with the Duke of Burgundy, your master; and when he alighted after the chase, he required your services in drawing off his boots. Reading in your looks, perhaps, some natural resentment of this disparaging treatment, he ordered you to sit down in turn, and rendered you the same office he had just received from you. But offended at your understanding him literally, he no sooner plucked one of your boots off than he brutally beat it about your head till the blood flowed, exclaiming against the insolence of a subject who had the presumption to accept of such a service at the hand of his Sovereign; and hence he, or his privileged fool, Le Glorieux, is in the current habit of distinguishing you by the absurd and ridiculous name of Tete botte, which makes one of the Duke’s most ordinary subjects of pleasantry.”

[The story is told more bluntly, and less probably, in the French memoirs of the period, which affirm that Comines, out of a presumption inconsistent with his excellent good sense, had asked of Charles of Burgundy to draw off his boots, without having been treated with any previous familiarity to lead to such a freedom. I have endeavoured to give the anecdote a turn more consistent with the sense and prudence of the great author concerned. S.]

While Louis thus spoke, he had the double pleasure of galling to the quick the person whom he addressed – an exercise which it was in his nature to enjoy, even where he had not, as in the present case, the apology that he did so in pure retaliation – and that of observing that he had at length been able to find a point in De Comines’s character which might lead him gradually from the interests of Burgundy to those of France. But although the deep resentment which the offended courtier entertained against his master induced him at a future period to exchange the service of Charles for that of Louis, yet, at the present moment, he was contented to throw out only some general hints of his friendly inclination towards France, which he well knew the King would understand how to interpret. And indeed it would be unjust to stigmatize the memory of the excellent historian with the desertion of his master on this occasion, although he was certainly now possessed with sentiments much more favourable to Louis than when he entered the apartment.

He constrained himself to laugh at the anecdote which Louis had detailed, and then added, “I did not think so trifling a frolic would have dwelt on the mind of the Duke so long as to make it worth telling again. Some such passage there was of drawing off boots and the like, as your Majesty knows that the Duke is fond of rude play; but it has been much exaggerated in his recollection. Let it pass on.”

“Ay, let it pass on,” said the King; “it is indeed shame it should have detained us a minute. – And now, Sir Philip, I hope you are French so far as to afford me your best counsel in these difficult affairs. You have, I am well aware, the clew to the labyrinth, if you would but impart it.”

“Your Majesty may command my best advice and service,” replied De Comines, “under reservation always of my duty to my own master.”

This was nearly what the courtier had before stated; but he now repeated it in a tone so different that, whereas Louis understood from the former declaration that the reserved duty to Burgundy was the prime thing to be considered, so he now saw clearly that the emphasis was reversed, and that more weight was now given by the speaker to his promise of counsel than to a restriction which seemed interposed for the sake of form and consistency. The King resumed his own seat, and compelled De Comines to sit by him, listening at the same time to that statesman as if the words of an oracle sounded in his ears. De Comines spoke in that low and impressive tone which implies at once great sincerity and some caution, and at the same time so slowly as if he was desirous that the King should weigh and consider each individual word as having its own peculiar and determined meaning.

“The things,” he said, “which I have suggested for your Majesty’s consideration, harsh as they sound in your ear, are but substitutes for still more violent proposals brought forward in the Duke’s counsels, by such as are more hostile to your Majesty. And I need scarce remind your Majesty, that the more direct and more violent suggestions find readiest acceptance with our master, who loves brief and dangerous measures better than those that are safe, but at the same time circuitous.”