Les Quarante-cinq. English

by Alexandre Dumas

  CHAPTER LXXXIV.

  LE CARDINAL DE JOYEUSE.

  Youth has its obstinate resolutions, both as regards good and evil inthe world, which are by no means inferior to the inflexibility ofpurpose of maturer years.

  When directed toward good purposes, instances of this dogged obstinacyof character produce what are termed the great actions of life, andimpress on the man who enters life an impulse which bears him onward, bya natural course, toward a heroism of character of some kind or another.

  In this way Bayard and Du Gueselin became great captains, from havingbeen the most ill-tempered and most intractable children that everexisted; in the same way, too, the swineherd, whom nature had made theherdsman of Montalte, and whose genius had converted him intoSexte-Quinte, became a great pope, because he had persisted inperforming his duties as a swineherd in an indifferent manner.

  Again, in the same way were the worst Spartan natures displayed in aheroic sense, after they had commenced life by a persistence indissimulation and cruelty.

  All we have now to sketch is the portrait of a man of an ordinary stamp;and yet, more than one biographer would have found in Henri du Bouchage,at twenty years of age, the materials for a great man.

  Henri obstinately persisted in his affection and in his seclusion fromthe world; as his brother had begged and as the king had required him todo, he remained for some days closeted alone with his one enduringthought; and then, when that thought had become more and more fixed andunchangeable in its nature, he one morning decided to pay a visit to hisbrother the cardinal, an important personage, who, at the age oftwenty-six, had already for two years past been a cardinal, and who,from the archbishopric of Narbonne, had passed to the highest degrees ofecclesiastical dignity, a position to which he was indebted as much tohis noble descent as to his powerful intellect.

  Francois de Joyeuse, whom we have already introduced with the object ofenlightening Henri de Valois respecting the doubt he had entertainedwith regard to Sylla--Francois de Joyeuse, young and worldly-minded,handsome and witty, was one of the most remarkable men of the period.Ambitious by nature, but circumspect by calculation and position,Francois de Joyeuse could assume as his device, "Nothing is too much,"and justify his device.

  The only one, perhaps, of all those who belonged to the court--andFrancois de Joyeuse was attached to the court in a very especialmanner--he had been able to create for himself two means of support outof the religious and lay thrones to which he in some measureapproximated as a French gentleman, and as a prince of the church;Sixtus protected him against Henri III., Henri III. protected himagainst Sixtus. He was an Italian at Paris, a Parisian at Rome,magnificent and able everywhere.

  The sword alone of Joyeuse, the high admiral, gave the latter moreweight in the balance; but it might be noticed from certain smiles ofthe cardinal, that if those temporal arms failed him, which the hand ofhis brother, refined and admired as he was, wielded so successfully, hehimself knew not only how to use, but also how to abuse, the spiritualweapons which had been intrusted to him by the sovereign head of theChurch.

  The Cardinal Francois de Joyeuse had very rapidly become a wealthy man,wealthy in the first place from his own patrimony, and then from hisdifferent benefices. At that period the Church was richly endowed--veryrichly endowed even, and when its treasures were exhausted, it knew thesources, which at the present day are exhausted, where and whence torenew them.

  Francois de Joyeuse, therefore, lived in the most magnificent manner.Leaving to his brother all the pageantry and glitter of a militaryhousehold, he crowded his salons with priests, bishops and archbishops;he gratified his own individual peculiar fancies. On his attaining thedignity of cardinal, as he was a prince of the church, and consequentlysuperior to his brother, he had added to his household pages accordingto the Italian fashion, and guards according to that which prevailed atthe French court. But these guards and pages were used by him as a stillgreater means of enjoying liberty of action. He frequently ranged hisguards and pages round a huge litter, through the curtains of which hissecretary passed his gloved hand, while he himself on horseback, hissword by his side, rode through the town disguised with a wig, anenormous ruff round his neck, and horseman's boots, the sound of whichdelighted him beyond measure.

  The cardinal lived, therefore, in the enjoyment of the greatestconsideration, for, at certain elevated positions in life, humanfortunes are absorbing in their nature, and, as if they were composed ofnothing else but of adhesive particles, oblige all other fortunes toattend on and follow them like satellites; and on that account,therefore, the recent and marvelous successes of his brother Annereflected on him all the brilliancy of those achievements. Moreover, ashe had scrupulously followed the precept of concealing his mode of life,and of dispensing and diffusing his mental wealth, he was only known bythe better sides of his character, and in his own family was accounted avery great man, a happiness which many sovereigns, laden with glory andcrowned with the acclamations of a whole nation, have not enjoyed.

  It was to this prelate that the Comte du Bouchage betook himself afterhis explanation with his brother, and after his conversation with theking of France; but, as we have already observed, he allowed a few daysto elapse in token of obedience to the injunction which had been imposedon him by his elder brother, as well as by the king.

  Francois resided in a beautiful mansion in that part of Paris called LaCite. The immense courtyard was never quite free from cavaliers andlitters; but the prelate, whose garden was immediately contiguous to thebank of the river, allowed his courtyards and his antechambers tobecome crowded with courtiers; and as he had a mode of egress toward theriver-bank, and a boat close thereto, which conveyed him without anydisturbance as far and as quietly as he chose, it not unfrequentlyhappened that the courtiers uselessly waited to see the prelate, whoavailed himself of the pretext of a serious indisposition, or a rigidpenance, to postpone his reception for the day. For him it was arealization of Italy in the bosom of the capital of the king of France,it was Venice embraced by the two arms of the Seine.

  Francois was proud, but by no means vain; he loved his friends asbrothers, and his brothers nearly as much as his friends. Five yearsolder than Du Bouchage, he withheld from him neither good nor evilcounsel, neither his purse nor his smile.

  But as he wore his cardinal's costume with wonderful effect, Du Bouchagethought him handsome, noble, almost formidable, and accordinglyrespected him more, perhaps, than he did the elder of them both. Henri,with his beautiful cuirass, and the glittering accessories of hismilitary costume, tremblingly confided his love affairs to Anne, whilehe would not have dared to confess himself to Francois.

  However, when he proceeded to the cardinal's hotel, his resolution wastaken, and he accosted, frankly enough, the confessor first, and thefriend afterward.

  He entered the courtyard, which several gentlemen were at that momentquitting, wearied at having solicited without having obtained the favorof an audience.

  He passed through the antechambers, salons, and then the more privateapartments. He had been told, as others had, that his brother wasengaged in conference; but the idea of closing any of the doors beforeDu Bouchage never occurred to any of the attendants.

  Du Bouchage, therefore, passed through all the apartments until hereached the garden, a true garden of a Roman prelate, luxurious in itsshade, coolness, and perfume, such as, at the present day, may be foundat the Villa Pamphile or the Palais Borghese.

  Henri paused under a group of trees: at this moment the gate close tothe river side rolled on its hinges, and a man shrouded in a large browncloak passed through, followed by a person in a page's costume. The man,perceiving Henri, who was too absorbed in his reverie to think of him,glided through the trees, avoiding the observation either of Du Bouchageor of any one else.

  Henri paid no attention to this mysterious entry; and it was only as heturned round that he saw the man entering the apartments.

  After he had waited about ten minutes, and as he was abou
t to enter thehouse, for the purpose of interrogating one of the attendants with theview of ascertaining at what hour precisely his brother would bevisible, a servant, who seemed to be in search of him, observed hisapproach, and advancing in his direction, begged him to have thegoodness to pass into the library, where the cardinal awaited him.

  Henri complied with this invitation, but not very readily, as heconjectured that a fresh contest would result from it; he found hisbrother the cardinal engaged, with the assistance of a valet-de-chambre,in trying on a prelate's costume, a little worldly-looking, perhaps, inits shape and fashion, but elegant and becoming in its style.

  "Good-morning, comte," said the cardinal; "what news have you?"

  "Excellent news, as far as our family is concerned," said Henri. "Anne,you know, has covered himself with glory in that retreat from Anvers,and is alive."

  "Heaven be praised! and are you too, Henri, safe and sound?"

  "Yes, my brother."

  "You see," said the cardinal, "that Heaven holds us in its keeping."

  "I am so full of gratitude to Heaven, my brother, that I have formed theproject of dedicating myself to its service. I am come to talk seriouslyto you upon this project, which is now well matured, and about which Ihave already spoken to you."

  "Do you still keep to that idea, Du Bouchage?" said the cardinal,allowing a slight exclamation to escape him, which was indicative thatJoyeuse would have a struggle to encounter.

  "I do."

  "But it is impossible, Henri," returned the cardinal; "have you not beentold so already?"

  "I have not listened to what others have said to me, my brother, becausea voice stronger than mine, which speaks within me, prevents me fromlistening to anything which would turn me aside from my purpose."

  "You cannot be so ignorant of the things of this world, Henri," said thecardinal, in his most serious tone of voice, "to believe that the voiceyou allude to was really that of Heaven; on the contrary--I assert itpositively, too--it is altogether a feeling of a worldly nature whichaddresses you. Heaven has nothing to do in this affair; do not abusethat holy name, therefore, and, above all, do not confound the voice ofHeaven with, that of earth."

  "I do not confound, my brother; I only mean to say that somethingirresistible in its nature hurries me toward retreat and solitude."

  "So far, so good, Henri; we are now making use of proper expressions.Well, my dear brother, I will tell you what is to be done. Taking whatyou say for granted, I am going to render you the happiest of men."

  "Thank you, oh! thank you, my brother."

  "Listen to me, Henri. You must take money, a couple of attendants, andtravel through the whole of Europe, in a manner befitting a son of thehouse to which we belong. You will see foreign countries; Tartary,Russia, even the Laplanders, those fabulous nations whom the sun nevervisits; you will become absorbed in your thoughts, until the devouringgerm which is at work in you becomes either extinct or satiated; and,after that, you will return to us again."

  Henri, who had been seated, now rose, more serious than his brother hadbeen.

  "You have not understood me, monseigneur," he said.

  "I beg your pardon, Henri; you made use of the words 'retreat andsolitude.'"

  "Yes, I did so; but by retreat and solitude, I meant a cloister, and nottraveling; to travel is to enjoy life still. I wish almost to sufferdeath, and if I do not suffer it, at least to feel it."

  "That is an absurd thought, allow me to say, Henri; for whoever, inpoint of fact, wishes to isolate himself, is alone everywhere. But thecloister, let it be. Well, then, I understand that you have come to talkto me about this project. I know of some very learned Benedictines, andsome very clever Augustines, whose houses are cheerful, adorned withflowers, attractive, and agreeable in every respect. Amid the works ofscience and art you will pass a delightful year, in excellent society,which is of no slight importance, for one should avoid lowering one'sself in this world; and if at the end of the year you persist in yourproject, well, then, my dear Henri, I will not oppose you any further,and will myself open the door which will peacefully conduct you toeverlasting rest."

  "Most certainly you still misunderstand me, my brother," replied DuBouchage, shaking his head, "or I should rather say your generousintelligence will not comprehend me. I do not wish for a cheerfulresidence or a delightful retreat, but a rigorously strict seclusion, asgloomy as the grave itself. I intend to pronounce my vows, vows whichwill leave me no other thought or occupation than a grave to dig formyself, or constant prayer."

  The cardinal frowned, and rose from his seat.

  "Yes," he said, "I did perfectly understand you; and I endeavored byopposition, without set phrases or discussion, to combat the folly ofyour resolutions, but you oblige me to do so; and now listen to me."

  "Ah!" said Henri, despondently, "do not try to convince me; it isimpossible."

  "Brother, I will speak to you in the name of Heaven, in the first place;of Heaven, which you offend in saying that this wild resolution is ofits inspiration. Heaven does not accept sacrifices hastily made. You areweak, since you allow yourself to be conquered by a firstdisappointment; how can Heaven be pleased to accept a victim as unworthyas that you offer?"

  Henri started at his brother's remark.

  "Oh! I shall no longer spare you. Henri, you, who never consider any ofus," returned the cardinal; "you, who forget the grief which you willcause our elder brother, and will cause me too--"

  "Forgive me," interrupted Henri, whose cheeks were dyed with crimson,"forgive me, monseigneur; but is the service of Heaven then so gloomyand so dishonorable a career that all the members of a family are to bethrown into distress by it? You, for instance, my brother, whoseportrait I observe suspended in this room, with all this gold, anddiamonds, and purple around you, are you not both the delight and honorof our house, although you have chosen the service of Heaven, as myeldest brother has chosen that of the kings of the earth?"

  "Boy, boy!" exclaimed the cardinal impatiently, "you will make mebelieve your brain is turned. What! will you venture to compare myresidence to a cloister? my hundred attendants, my outriders, thegentlemen of my suite, and my guards, to a cell and a broom, which arethe only arms and the sole wealth of a cloister? Are you mad? Did younot just now say that you repudiate these superfluities--these pictures,precious vases, pomp and distinction, which I cannot do without? Haveyou, as I have, the desire and hope of placing on your brow the tiara ofSt. Peter? That, indeed, is a career, Henri; one presses onward towardit, struggles for it, lives in it. But as for you! it is the miner'spick, the trappist's spade, the gravedigger's tomb, that you desire;utter abandonment of life, of pleasure, of hope; and all that--I blushwith shame for you, a man--all that, I say, because you love a woman wholoves you not. You do foul injustice to your race, Henri, most truly."

  "Brother!" exclaimed the young man, pale as death, while his eyes blazedwith kindling fire, "would you sooner have me blow out my brains, orplunge in my heart the sword I have the honor to wear by my side?Pardieu, monseigneur, if you, who are cardinal and prince besides, willgive me absolution for so mortal a sin, the affair will be so quicklydone that you shall have no time to complete your odious and unworthythought that I am capable of dishonoring my race, which, Heaven bepraised, a Joyeuse will never do."

  "Come, come, Henri," said the cardinal, drawing his brother toward him,and pressing him in his arms; "come, forget what has passed, and thinkof those who love you. I have personal motives for entreating you.Listen to me; a rare occurrence in this world of ours, we are all happy,some from feelings of gratified ambition, the others from blessings ofevery kind with which Heaven has bedecked our existence. Do not, Iimplore you, Henri, cast the mortal poison of the retreat you speak ofupon our family happiness; think how our father would be grieved at it;think, too, how all of us would bear on our countenances the darkreflection of the bitter mortification you are about to inflict upon us.I beseech yon, Henri, to allow yourself to be persuaded; the cloisterwill not be
nefit you.

  "I do not say that you will die there, for, misguided man, your answerwill be a smile, which alas, would be only too intelligible for me. No,believe me that the cloister is more fatal to you than the tomb. Thetomb annihilates but life itself, the cloister annihilates intelligence;the cloister bows the head, instead of raising it to heaven; the cold,humid atmosphere of the vaults passes by degrees into the blood, andpenetrates the very marrow of the bones, changing the cloistered recluseinto another granite statue in the convent. My brother, my dear brother,take heed; our time here below is but brief; youth visits us but once inour lives. The bright years of our earlier days will pass away too, foryou are under the influence of a deep-seated grief; but at thirty yearsof age you will have become a man, the vigor of maturity will have thenarrived; it will hurry away with it all that remains of your wornoutsorrow, and then you will wish to live over again; but it will be toolate. Then, too, you will have grown melancholy in thought, plain inperson, suffering in feeling; passion will have been extinguished inyour heart, the bright light of your eye will have become quenched. Theywhose society you seek will flee you as a whited sepulcher, whosedarksome depths repel every glance. Henri, I speak as a friend,seriously, wisely; listen to me."

  The young man remained unmoved and silent. The cardinal hoped that hehad touched his feelings, and had shaken his resolution.

  "Try some other resource, Henri. Carry this poisoned shaft, whichrankles in your bosom, about with you wherever you may go, in theturmoil of life; cherish its companionship at our fetes and banquets;imitate the wounded deer, which flees through the thickets and brakesand forests, in its efforts to draw out from its body the arrow which isrankling in the wound; sometimes the arrow falls."

  "For pity's sake," said Henri, "do not persist any more; what I solicitis not the caprice of a moment, or the reflection of an hour; it is theresult of a laborious and painful determination. In Heaven's name,therefore, my brother, I adjure you to accord me the favor I solicit."

  "And what is the favor you ask?"

  "A dispensation, monseigneur."

  "For what purpose?"

  "To shorten my noviciate."

  "Ah! I knew it, Du Bouchage. You are worldly-minded even in yourrigorousness, my poor boy. Oh! I know very well what reason you aregoing to give me. Yes, you are, indeed, a man of the world; you resemblethose young men who offer themselves as volunteers, and are eagerlydesirous for fire, balls, and blows, but care not for working in thetrenches, or for sweeping out the tents. There is some resource leftyet, Henri; so much the better, so much the better."

  "Give me the dispensation I ask; I entreat you on my knees."

  "I promise it to you; I will write to Rome for it. It will be a monthbefore the answer arrives; but, in exchange, promise me one thing."

  "Name it."

  "That you will not, during this month's postponement, reject anypleasure or amusement which may be offered to you; and if, in a monthhence, you still entertain the same projects, Henri, I will give youthis dispensation with my own hand. Are you satisfied now, and have younothing further to ask me?"

  "No. I thank you; but a month is a long time, and the delay will killme."

  "In the meantime, and in order to change your thoughts, will you objectto breakfast with me? I have some agreeable companions this morning."

  And the prelate smiled in a manner which the most worldly disposedfavorites of Henri III. would have envied.

  "Brother," said De Bouchage, resisting.

  "I will not accept any excuse; you have no one but myself here, sinceyou have just arrived from Flanders, and your own house cannot be inorder just yet."

  With these words the cardinal rose, and drawing aside a _portiere_,which hung before a large cabinet sumptuously furnished, he said:

  "Come, comtesse, let us persuade Monsieur le Comte du Bouchage to staywith us."

  At the very moment, however, when the count drew aside the _portiere_,Henri had observed, half reclining upon the cushions, the page who hadwith the gentleman entered the gate adjoining the banks of the river,and in this page, before even the prelate had announced her sex, he hadrecognized a woman.

  An indefinable sensation, like a sudden terror, or an overwhelmingfeeling of dread, seized him, and while the worldly cardinal advanced totake the beautiful page by the hand, Henri du Bouchage darted from theapartment, and so quickly, too, that when Francois returned with thelady, smiling with the hope of winning a heart back again to the world,the room was perfectly empty.

  Francois frowned; then, seating himself before a table covered withpapers and letters, he hurriedly wrote a few lines.

  "May I trouble you to ring, dear countess," he said, "since you haveyour hand near the bell."

  And as the page obeyed, a valet-de-chambre in the confidence of thecardinal appeared.

  "Let a courier start on horseback, without a moment's loss of time,"said Francois, "and take this letter to Monsieur le Grand-amiral aChateau-Thierry."