CHAPTER XI.
Majesty, whose nature demands that people should look up to it, shunsthe downward glance of compassion. Yet during this walk the EmperorCharles, even at the risk of presenting a pitiable spectacle, wouldgladly have availed himself of the litter.
He, who had cherished the proud feeling of uniting in himself, his ownimperial power, the temporal and ecclesiastical sovereignty over allChristendom, would now willingly have changed places with the bronzed,sinewy halberdiers who were presenting arms to him along the sides ofthe staircase. Yet he waved back Luis Quijada with an angry glance andthe sharp query, "Who summoned you?" when, in an attitude of humbleentreaty, he ventured to offer him the support of his strong arm. Still,pain compelled him to pause at every third step, and ever and anon tolean upon the strong hip of his royal sister.
Queen Mary gladly rendered him the service, and, as she gazed intohis face, wan with anxiety and suffering, and thought of the beautifulsurprise which she had in store, she waved back, unnoticed by her royalbrother, the pages and courtiers who were following close behind. Thenlooking up at him, she murmured:
"How you must suffer, Carlos! But happiness will surely follow themartyrdom. Only a few steps, a few minutes more, and you will again looklife in the face with joyous courage. You will not believe it? Yet it istrue. I would even be inclined to wager my own salvation upon it."
The Emperor shook his head dejectedly, and answered bitterly:
"Such things should not be trifled with; besides, you would lose yourwager. Joyous courage, Querida, was buried long ago, and too many caresinsure its having no resurrection. The good gifts which Heaven formerlypermitted me to enjoy have lost their zest; instead of bread, it nowgives me stones. The best enjoyment it still grants me--I am honestand not ungrateful in saying so--is a well-prepared meal. Laugh, if youchoose! If moralists and philosophers heard me, they would frown. Butthe consumption of good things affords them pleasure too. It's a pitythat satiety so speedily ends it."
While speaking, he again descended a few steps, but the Queen,supporting him with the utmost solicitude, answered cheerily:
"The baser senses, with taste at their head, and the higher ones ofsight and hearing, I know, are all placed by your Majesty in the sameregiment, with equal rank; your obedient servant, on the contrary,bestows the commissions of officers only on the higher ones. That seemsto me the correct way, and I don't relinquish the hope of winning forit the approval of the greatest general and most tasteful connoisseur oflife."
"If the new cook keeps his promise, certainly not," replied Charles,entering into his sister's tone. "De Rye asserts that he is peerless. Weshall see. As to the senses, they all have an equal share in enabling usto receive our impressions and form an opinion from them. Why shouldthe tongue and the palate--But stay! Who the devil can philosophize withsuch twinges in the foot?"
"Besides, that can be done much better," replied the Queen, pattingthe sufferer's arm affectionately, "while the five unequal brothers areperforming the duties of their offices. The saints be praised! Here weare at the bottom. No, Carlos, no! Not through the chapel! The stoneflags there are so hard and cold."
As she spoke she guided him around it into the dining-room, where alarge table stood ready for the monarch's personal suite and a smallerone for his sister and himself.
The tortured sovereign, still under the influence of the suffering whichhe had endured, crossed himself and sat down. Quijada and young CountTassis, the Emperor's favourite page, placed the gouty foot in the mostcomfortable position, and Count Buren, the chamberlain, presented themenu. Charles instantly scanned the list of dishes, and his faceclouded still more as he missed the highly seasoned game pasty which theculinary artist had proposed and he had approved. Queen Mary had orderedthat it should be omitted, because Dr. Mathys had pronounced it poisonfor the gouty patient, and she confessed the offence.
This was done with the frank affection with which she treated herbrother, but Charles, after the first few words, interrupted her,harshly forbidding any interference, even hers, in matters whichconcerned himself alone, and in the same breath commanded Count Buren tosee that the dish should still be made. Then, as if to show his sisterhow little he cared for her opposition, he seized the crystal jug withhis own hand, without waiting for the cup-bearer behind him, filled thegoblet with fiery Xeres wine, and hurriedly drained it, though theleech had forbidden him, while suffering from the gout, to do more thanmoisten his lips with the heating liquor.
The eyes of the royal huntress, though she was by no means undulysoft-hearted, grew dim with tears. This was her brother's gratitude forthe faithful care which she bestowed upon him! Who could tell whetherher surprise, instead of pleasing him, might not rouse his anger? Hewas still frowning as though the greatest injury had been inflicted uponhim, and his sister's tearful eyes led him to exclaim wrathfully, as ifhe wished to palliate his unchivalrous indignation to a lady:
"I am deprived of one pleasure after another, and the little enjoymentremaining is lessened wherever it can be. Who has heavier loads ofanxiety to endure?--yet you spoil my recreation during the brief hourswhen I succeed in casting off the burden."
Here he paused and obstinately grasped the golden handle of the pitcheragain. The Queen remained silent. Contradiction would have made theobdurate sovereign empty another goblet also. Even a look of entreatywould have been out of place on this occasion. So she fixed her eyesmutely and sadly upon her silver plate; but even her silence irritatedthe Emperor, and he was about to give fresh expression to hisill-humour, when the doors of the chapel opposite to him opened, and thesurprise began.
The signal for the commencement of the singing had been the deliveryof the first dish from the steward to one of the great nobles, whopresented it to their Majesties.
The Queen's face brightened, and tears of heartfelt joy, instead ofgrief and disappointment, now moistened her eyes, for if ever a surprisehad accomplished the purpose desired it was this one.
Charles was gazing, as if the gates of Paradise had opened before him,toward the chapel doors, whence Maestro Gombert's Benedictio Mensae, amelody entirely new to him, was pouring like a holy benediction, devoutyet cheering, sometimes solemn, anon full of joy.
The lines of anxiety vanished from his brow as if at the spell of amagician. The dull eyes gained a brilliant, reverent light, the bentfigure straightened itself. He seemed to his sister ten years younger.She saw in his every feature how deeply the music had affected him.
She knew her imperial brother. Had not his heart and soul been fullyabsorbed by the flood of pure and noble tones which so unexpectedlystreamed toward him, his eyes would have been at least briefly attractedby the dish which Count Krockow more than once presented, for itcontained an oyster ragout which a mounted messenger had brought thatnoon from the Baltic Sea to the city on the Danube.
Yet many long minutes elapsed ere he noticed the dish, though it was oneof his favourite viands. Barbara's song stirred the imperial loverof music at the nocturnal banquet just as it had thrilled the greatmusicians a few hours before. He thought that he had never heardanything more exquisite, and when the Benedictio Mensa: died away heclasped his sister's hand, raised it two or three times to his lips,and thanked her with such affectionate warmth that she blessed theaccomplishment of her happy idea, and willingly forgot the unpleasantmoments she had just undergone.
Now, as if completely transformed, he wished to be told who had had thelucky thought of summoning his orchestra and her boy choir, and how theplan had been executed; and when he had heard the story, he ferventlypraised the delicacy of feeling and true sportsmanlike energy of herstrong and loving woman's heart.
The court orchestra gave its best work, and so did the new head cook.The pheasant stuffed with snails and the truffle sauce with it seemeddelicious to the sovereign, who called the dish a triumph of theculinary art of the Netherlands. The burden of anxieties and the pangsinflicted by the gout seemed to be forgotten, and when the orchestraceased he asked to hea
r the boy choir again.
This time it gave the most beautiful portion of Joscluin de Pres's hymnto the Virgin, "Ecce tu pulchra es"; and when Barbara's "Quia amorelangueo" reached his ear and heart with its love-yearning melody, henodded to his sister with wondering delight, and then listened, as ifrapt from the world, until the last notes of the motet died away.
Where had Appenzelder discovered the marvellous boy who sang this "Quiaamore langueo"? He sent Don Luis Quijada to assure the leader and theyoung singer of his warmest approbation, and then permitted the Queenalso to seek the choir and its leader to ask whom the latter hadsucceeded in obtaining in the place of the lad from Cologne, whom he hadoften heard sing the "tu pulchra es," but with incomparably less depthof feeling.
When she returned she informed the Emperor of the misfortune which hadbefallen the two boys, and how successful Appenzelder had been in thechoice of a substitute. Yet she still concealed the fact that a girl wasnow the leader of his choir, for, kindly as her brother nodded to herwhen she took her place at the table again, no one could tell how hewould regard this anomaly.
Besides, the next day would be the 1st of May, the anniversary of thedeath of his wife Isabella, who had passed away from earth seven yearsbefore, and the more she herself had been surprised by the rare andsingular beauty of the fair-haired songstress, the less could sheventure on that day or the morrow to blend with the memories of thedeparted Queen the image of another woman who possessed such unusualcharms. The Emperor had already asked her a few questions about theyoung singers, and learned that the bell-like weaker voice, whichharmonized so exquisitely with that of the invalid Johannes'ssubstitute, belonged to the little Maltese lad Hannibal, whose darlingwish, through Wolf's intercession, had been fulfilled. His inquiries,however, were interrupted by a fresh performance of the boy choir.
This again extorted enthusiastic applause from the sovereign, and when,while he was still shouting "Brava!" the highly seasoned game pastywhich meanwhile, despite the regent's former prohibition, had beenprepared, and now, beautifully browned, rose from a garland of the mosttempting accessories, was offered, he waved it away. As he did so hiseyes sought his sister's, and his expressive features told her that hewas imposing this sacrifice upon himself for her sake.
It was long since he had bestowed a fairer gift. True, in this mood, itseemed impossible for him to refrain from the wine. It enlivened him anddoubled the unexpected pleasure. Unfortunately, he was to atone only toospeedily for this offence against medical advice, for his heated bloodincreased the twinges of the gout to such a degree that he was compelledto relinquish his desire to listen to the exquisite singing longer.
Groaning, he suffered himself--this time in a litter--to be carried backto his chamber, where, in spite of the pangs that tortured him, heasked for the letter in which Granvelle informed his royal master everyevening what he thought of the political affairs to be settled thenext day. Master Adrian, the valet, had just brought it, but this timeCharles glanced over the important expressions of opinion given by theyoung minister swiftly and without deeper examination. The saying thatthe Emperor could not dispense with him, but he might do without theEmperor, had originally applied to his father, whose position he filledto the monarch's satisfaction in every respect.
The confessor had reminded the sovereign of the anniversary which hadalready dawned, and which he was accustomed to celebrate in his own way.
Very early in the morning, after a few hours spent in suffering, heheard mass, and then remained for hours in the sable-draped room wherehe communed with himself alone.
The regent knew that on this memorable day he would not be seen even byher. The success of the surprise afforded a guarantee that music wouldsupply her place to him on the morrow also, and ere she left him sherequested a short leave of absence to enjoy the hunting for which shelonged, and permission to take his major-domo Quijada with her.
An almost unintelligible murmur from the sufferer told her that he hadgranted the petition. It was done reluctantly, but the Queen departedat dawn with Don Luis and a small train of attendants, while the Emperorretired into the black-draped chamber.
The gout would really have prohibited him from kneeling before thealtar, whence the agonized face of the crucified Redeemer, carved inivory by a great Florentine master, gazed at him, but he took thistorture upon himself.
Even in the period of health and happiness when, at the age oftwenty-three, besides the great boon of health, besides fame, power,and woman's love, he had enjoyed in rich abundance all the gifts whichHeaven bestows on mortals, his devout nature had led him to retreat intoa gloomy, solitary apartment.
The feeling that constantly drew him thither again was akin to thedread which the ancients had of the envy of the gods, and, moreover, theadmonition of his pious teacher who afterward became Pope Adrian, thatthe less man spares himself the more confidently he can rely upon theforbearance of God.
And, in truth, this mighty sovereign, racked by almost unendurable pain,dealt cruelly enough with himself when he compelled his aching knee tobend until consciousness threatened to fail under the excess of agony.
Nowhere did he find more complete calmness than here, in no spot couldhe pray more fervently, and the boon which he most ardently besoughtfrom Heaven was that it would spare him the fate of his insane mother,hold aloof the fiend which in many a gloomy hour he saw stretching ahand toward him.
Here, too, he sought to penetrate the nature of death. In this room,clothed with the sable hue of mourning, he felt that alreadv, while onearth, he had fallen into its all-levelling power. Here his mind, likethat of a dying man's, grasped for brief intervals what life hadoffered and what awaited him beyond the confines of this short earthlyexistence, in eternity.
While thus occupied, the sovereign, accustomed to speculation,encountered many a dangerous doubt, but he only needed to gaze at thecrucified Saviour to find the way again to the promises of his Church.
The last years had deprived him of so large a portion of the mostvaluable possessions and the best ornaments of his life, and inflicted,both in wardly and outwardly, such keen suffering, that it was easy forhim to perceive what a gain death would bring.
What it could take from him was easily lost; the relief it promisedto afford no power, science, or art here on earth could procure forhim--release from cruel suffering and oppressive cares.
While he was learning the German language the name "Friend Hein,"which he heard applied to death, perplexed him; now he thought that heunderstood it, for the man with the scythe wore to him also the face ofa friend, who when the time had come would not keep him waiting long. Ashe thought of his wife, of whose death this day was the anniversary, hefelt inclined to envy her. What he had lost by her decease seemed verylittle to others who were aware of the long periods of time duringwhich, separated from each other, they had gone their own ways; but heknew that it was more than they supposed, for with Isabella he had lostthe certainty that the sincere, nay, perhaps affectionate interest of abeing united to him by the sacrament of marriage accompanied his everystep.
His pleasure in life had withered with the growth of the harshconviction that he was no longer loved by any one for his own sake.
In this chamber, draped with sable hangings, his own heart seemed dead,like dry wood from which only a miracle could lure green leafage again.With the only real pity which was at his command, compassion on himself,he rose from the kneeling posture which had become unbearable.
With difficulty he sank into the arm-chair which stood ready for him,and, panting for breath, asked himself whether every joy had indeedvanished. No!
Music still stirred his benumbed heart to swifter throbbing. He thoughtof the pleasure which the previous evening had afforded, and suddenlyit seemed as if he again heard the "Quia amore langueo"--"Because I longfor love"--that had touched his soul the day before.
Yes, he, too, still longed for love, for a different, a warmer feelingthan the lukewarm blood of his royal mother had bestowed upon
herchildren, or the devotion of the sister to whom the chase was dearerthan aught else, certainly than his society.
But such thoughts did not befit this room, which was consecrated toserious reflections. The anniversary summoned him to far differentfeelings. Yet, powerfully as he resisted them, his awakened sensescontinued to demand their rights, and, while he closed his eyes andpressed his brow against the base of the altar covered with black cloth,changeful images of happier days rose before him. He, too, had rejoicedin a vigorous, strong, and pliant body. In the jousts he had beensure of victory over even dreaded opponents; as a bull-fighter he hadexcelled the matador; as a skilful participant in riding at the ring, aswell as a tireless hunter, he had scarcely found his equal. In the primeof his youth the hearts of many fair women had throbbed warmly for him,but he had been fastidious. Yet where he had aimed at victory, he hadrarely failed.
The sensuous, fair-haired Duchess of Aerschot, the dark-eyed CorneliaAnnoni of Milan, the devout Dolores Gonzaga, with her large, calm,enthusiastic eyes, and again and again, crowding all the others into thebackground, the timid Johanna van der Gheynst, who under her delicateframe concealed a volcano of ardent passion. She had given him adaughter whose head was now adorned by a crown. In spite of the briefduration of their love bond, she had been clearer to him than all therest--clearer even than the woman to whom the sacrament of marriageafterward united him. And she of whom seven years ago death had berefthim?
At this question a bitter smile hovered around his full lips. How muchbetter love than hers he had known! And how easy Isabella had renderedit not to weary of her, for during his long journeys and frequentdangerous campaigns, instead of accompanying him, she had led in somecarefully guarded castle a life that suited her quiet tastes.
A sorrowful smile curled his lips as he recalled the agreement whichthey had made just before a separation. At that time both wereyoung, yet how willingly she had accepted his proposal that, when ageapproached, they should separate forever, that she in one cloister andhe in another might prepare for the end of life!
What reply would a woman with true love in her heart have made to such ademand?
No, no, Isabella had felt as little genuine love for him as he for her!Her death had been a sorrow to him, but he had shed no tears over it.
He could not weep. He no longer knew whether he was able to do so whena child. Since his beard had grown, at any rate, his eyes had remaineddry. The words of the Roman satirist, that tears were the best portionof all human life, returned to his memory. Would he himself everexperience the relief which they were said to afford the human heart?
But who among the living would he have deemed worthy of them? Whenhis insane mother died, he could not help considering the poor Queenfortunate because Heaven had at last released her from such a condition.Of the children whom his wife Isabella and Johanna van der Gheynst hadgiven him, he did not even think. An icy atmosphere emanated fromhis son Philip which froze every warm feeling that encountered it. Heremembered his daughter with pleasure, but how rarely he was permittedto enjoy her society! Besides, he had done enough for his posterity,more than enough. To increase the grandeur of his family and render itthe most powerful reigning house in the world, he had become prematurelyold; had undertaken superhuman tasks of toil and care; even now he wouldpermit himself no repose. The consciousness of having fulfilled his dutyto his family and the Church might have comforted him in this hour,but the plus ultra--more, farther--which had so often led him into theconflict for the dream of a world sovereignty, the grandeur of his ownrace, and against the foes of his holy faith, now met the barrier ofa more powerful fate. Instead of advancing, he had seemed, since thedefeat at Algiers, to go backward.
Besides, how often the leech threatened him with a speedy death if heindulged himself at table with the viands which suited his taste! Yetthe other things that remained for him to enjoy scarcely seemed worthmentioning. To restore unity to the Church, to make the crowns which hewore the hereditary possessions of his house, were two aims worthy ofthe hardest struggles, but, unless he deceived himself, he couldnot hope to attain them. Thus life, until its end--perhaps whollyunexpectedly--arrived within a brief season, offered him nothing savesuffering and sacrifice, disappointment, toil, and anxieties.
With little cheer or elevation of soul, he looked up and rang thebell. Two chamberlains and Master Adrian appeared, and while BaronMalfalconnet, who did not venture to jest in this spot, offered him hisarm and the valet the crutch, his confessor, Pedro de Soto, also enteredthe black-draped room.
A single glance showed him that this time the quiet sojourn in thegloomy apartment, instead of exerting an elevating and brighteninginfluence, had had a depressing and saddening effect upon the alreadyclouded spirit of his imperial penitent. In spite of the most zealouseffort, he had not succeeded in finding his way into the soul-life ofthis sovereign, equally great in intellect and energy, but neither franknor truthful, yet, on the other hand, his penetration often succeeded infathoming the causes of the Emperor's moods.
With the quiet firmness which harmonized so perfectly with a personalappearance that inspired confidence, the priest now frankly butrespectfully expressed what he thought he had observed.
True, he attributed the Emperor's deep despondency to totally differentcauses, but he openly deplored the sorrowful agitation which thememories of the beloved dead had awakened in his Majesty.
In natural, simple words, the learned man, skilled in the art oflanguage, represented to the imperial widower how little reason he hadto mourn his devout wife. He was rather justified in regarding her deathhour as the first of a happy birthday. For the sleeper whose dream hereon earth he, Charles, had beautified in so many ways, a happy waking hadlong since followed in the land for which she had never ceased to yearn.For him, the Emperor, Heaven still had great tasks in this world, andmany a victory awaited him. If his prayer was heard, and his Majestyshould decide to battle for the holiest cause, sorrowful anxieties wouldvanish from his pathway as the mists of dawn scatter before the risingsun. He well knew the gravity of the demands which every day imposedupon his Majesty, but he could give him the assurance that nothing couldbe more pleasing to Heaven than that he, who was chosen as its champion,should, by mastering them, enjoy the gifts with which Eternal Love setits board as abundantly for the poorest carter as for the mightiestruler.
Then he spoke of the surprise of the night before, and how gratefully hehad heard that music had once more exerted its former magic power. Itseffect would be permanent, even though physical suffering and sorrowfulmemories might interrupt it for a few brief hours.
"That," he concluded, "Nature herself just at this season teaches us tohope. This day of fasting and sadness will be followed by a series ofthe brightest weeks--the time of leafage, blossom, and bird songs, whichis so dear to the merciful mother of God. May the month of May, calledby the Germans the joy month, and which dawns to-day with brightsunshine and a clear, blue sky, be indeed a season of joy to yourMajesty!"
"God grant it!" replied the Emperor dully, and then, with a shrug ofthe shoulders, added: "Besides, I can not imagine whence such joy shouldcome to me. A boy's bell-like voice sang to me yesterday, 'Quia amorelangueo.' This heart, too, longs for love, but it will never find it onearth."
"Why not, if your Majesty sends forth to seek it?" replied the confessoreagerly. "The Gospel itself gives a guarantee of success. 'Seek, andye shall find,' it promises. To the heart which longs for love theall-bountiful Father sends that for which it longs to meet it halfway."
"When it is young," added the Emperor, shrugging his shouldersimpatiently. "But when the soul's power of flight has failed, who willbestow the ability to traverse the half of the way allotted to it?"
"The omnipotence which works greater miracles," replied the priest in atone of the most ardent conviction, pointing upward.
Charles nodded a mournful assent, and, after a sign which indicated tothe confessor that he desired the interview to end, he continued hispainful wa
lk.
He had waved aside the litter which the lord chamberlain, Count Heinrichof Nassau, had placed ready for him, and limped, amid severe suffering,to his room.
There the Bishop of Arras awaited him with arduous work, and the Emperordid not allow himself a moment's rest while his sister was using thebeautiful first of May to ride and hunt. Charles missed her, and stillmore the faithful man who had served him as a page, and whom he had beenaccustomed since to have in close attendance upon him.
To gratify his sister's passion for the chase he had given Quijada leaveof absence, and now he regretted it. True, he told no one that he missedDon Luis, but those who surrounded him were made to feel his ill-humourplainly enough. Only he admitted to the Bishop of Arras that the radiantlight which was shining into his window was disagreeable. It made toostrong a contrast to his gloomy soul, and it even seemed as though thecourse of the sun, in its beaming, unattainably lofty path, mocked thehapless, painful obstruction to his own motion.
At noon he enjoyed very little of the meal, prepared for a fast day,which the new cook had made tempting enough.
In reply to the Count of Nassau's inquiry whether he wished to hear anymusic, he had answered rudely that the musicians and the boy choir couldplay and sing in the chapel for aught he cared. Whether he would listento the performance was doubtful.
Single tones had reached his ears, but he did not feel in the mood todescend the stairs.
He went to rest earlier than usual. The next morning, after mass, hehimself asked for Josquin's "Ecce tu pulchra es." It was to be sungduring the noonday meal. But when, instead of the Queen and Quijada,a little note came from his sister, requesting, in a jesting tone, anextension of the leave of absence because she trusted to the healingpower of the sun and the medicine "music" upon her distinguishedbrother, and the chase bound her by a really magic spell to the greenMay woods, he flung the sheet indignantly away, and, just before thebeginning of the meal, ordered the singing to be omitted.
Either in consequence of the fasting or the warm sunshine, the pangs ofthe gout began to lessen; but, nevertheless, his mood grew still moremelancholy, for he had believed in the sincere affection of two humanbeings, and Queen Mary left him alone in his misery, while his faithfulLuis, to please the female Nimrod, did the same.