CHAPTER IX: THE BOAR HUNT
I will converse with unrespective boys And iron witted fools. None are for me that look into me with suspicious eyes.
KING RICHARD
All the experience which the Cardinal had been able to collect of hismaster's disposition, did not, upon the present occasion, prevent hisfalling into a great error of policy. His vanity induced him to thinkthat he had been more successful in prevailing upon the Count ofCrevecoeur to remain at Tours, than any other moderator whom the Kingmight have employed, would, in all probability, have been. And as he waswell aware of the importance which Louis attached to the postponementof a war with the Duke of Burgundy, he could not help showing thathe conceived himself to have rendered the King great and acceptableservice. He pressed nearer to the King's person than he was wont todo, and endeavoured to engage him in conversation on the events of themorning.
This was injudicious in more respects than one, for princes love not tosee their subjects approach them with an air conscious of deserving, andthereby seeming desirous to extort, acknowledgment and recompense fortheir services; and Louis, the most jealous monarch that ever lived,was peculiarly averse and inaccessible to any one who seemed either topresume upon service rendered or to pry into his secrets.
Yet, hurried away, as the most cautious sometimes are, by the selfsatisfied humour of the moment, the Cardinal continued to ride on theKing's right hand, turning the discourse, whenever it was possible, uponCrevecoeur and his embassy which, although it might be the matter atthat moment most in the King's thoughts, was nevertheless preciselythat which he was least willing to converse on. At length Louis, who hadlistened to him with attention, yet without having returned any answerwhich could tend to prolong the conversation, signed to Dunois, who rodeat no great distance, to come up on the other side of his horse.
"We came hither for sport and exercise," said he, "but the reverendFather here would have us hold a council of state."
"I hope your Highness will excuse my assistance," said Dunois; "I amborn to fight the battles of France, and have heart and hand for that,but I have no head for her councils."
"My Lord Cardinal hath a head turned for nothing else, Dunois," answeredLouis; "he hath confessed Crevecoeur at the Castle gate, and he hathcommunicated to us his whole shrift.--Said you not the whole?" hecontinued, with an emphasis on the word, and a glance at the Cardinal,which shot from betwixt his long dark eyelashes as a dagger gleams whenit leaves the scabbard.
The Cardinal trembled, as, endeavouring to reply to the King's jest, hesaid that though his order were obliged to conceal the secrets oftheir penitents in general, there was no sigillum confessionis [seal ofconfession] which could not be melted at his Majesty's breath.
"And as his Eminence," said the King, "is ready to communicate thesecrets of others to us, he naturally expects that we should be equallycommunicative to him; and, in order to get upon this reciprocal footing,he is very reasonably desirous to know if these two ladies of Croyebe actually in our territories. We are sorry we cannot indulge hiscuriosity, not ourselves knowing in what precise place errant damsels,disguised princesses, distressed countesses, may lie leaguer within ourdominions, which are, we thank God and our Lady of Embrun, rathertoo extensive for us to answer easily his Eminence's most reasonableinquiries. But supposing they were with us, what say you, Dunois, to ourcousin's peremptory demand?"
"I will answer you, my Liege, if you will tell me in sincerity, whetheryou want war or peace," replied Dunois, with a frankness which, while itarose out of his own native openness and intrepidity of character, madehim from time to time a considerable favourite with Louis, who, like allastucious persons, was as desirous of looking into the hearts of othersas of concealing his own.
"By my halidome," said he, "I should be as well contented as thyself,Dunois, to tell thee my purpose, did I myself but know it exactly. Butsay I declared for war, what should I do with this beautiful and wealthyyoung heiress, supposing her to be in my dominions?"
"Bestow her in marriage on one of your own gallant followers, who has aheart to love, and an arm to protect her," said Dunois.
"Upon thyself, ha!" said the King. "Pasques dieu! thou art more politicthan I took thee for, with all thy bluntness."
"Nay," answered Dunois, "I am aught except politic. By our Lady ofOrleans, I come to the point at once, as I ride my horse at the ring.Your Majesty owes the house of Orleans at least one happy marriage."
"And I will pay it, Count. Pasques dieu, I will pay it!--See you notyonder fair couple?"
The King pointed to the unhappy Duke of Orleans and the Princess, who,neither daring to remain at a greater distance from the King, nor inhis sight appear separate from each other, were riding side by side,yet with an interval of two or three yards betwixt them, a space whichtimidity on the one side, and aversion on the other, prevented them fromdiminishing, while neither dared to increase it.
Dunois looked in the direction of the King's signal, and as thesituation of his unfortunate relative and the destined bride remindedhim of nothing so much as of two dogs, which, forcibly linked together,remain nevertheless as widely separated as the length of their collarswill permit, he could not help shaking his head, though he ventured noton any other reply to the hypocritical tyrant. Louis seemed to guess histhoughts.
"It will be a peaceful and quiet household they will keep--not muchdisturbed with children, I should augur. But these are not always ablessing."
[Here the King touches on the very purpose for which he pressed on thematch with such tyrannic severity, which was that as the Princess'spersonal deformity admitted little chance of its being fruitful, thebranch of Orleans, which was next in succession to the crown, might be,by the want of heirs, weakened or extinguished]
It was, perhaps, the recollection of his own filial ingratitude thatmade the King pause as he uttered the last reflection, and whichconverted the sneer that trembled on his lip into something resemblingan expression of contrition. But he instantly proceeded in another tone.
"Frankly, my Dunois, much as I revere the holy sacrament of matrimony"(here he crossed himself), "I would rather the house of Orleans raisedfor me such gallant soldiers as thy father and thyself, who share theblood royal of France without claiming its rights, than that the countryshould be torn to pieces, like to England, by wars arising from therivalry of legitimate candidates for the crown. The lion should neverhave more than one cub."
Dunois sighed and was silent, conscious that contradicting his arbitrarySovereign might well hurt his kinsman's interests but could do him noservice; yet he could not forbear adding, in the next moment,
"Since your Majesty has alluded to the birth of my father, I must needsown that, setting the frailty of his parents on one side, he might betermed happier, and more fortunate, as the son of lawless love than ofconjugal hatred."
"Thou art a scandalous fellow, Dunois, to speak thus of holy wedlock,"answered Louis jestingly. "But to the devil with the discourse, for theboar is unharboured.--Lay on the dogs, in the name of the holy SaintHubert!--Ha! ha! tra-la-la-lira-la"--And the King's horn rang merrilythrough the woods as he pushed forward on the chase, followed by two orthree of his guards, amongst whom was our friend Quentin Durward.And here it was remarkable that, even in the keen prosecution of hisfavourite sport, the King in indulgence of his caustic disposition,found leisure to amuse himself by tormenting Cardinal Balue.
It was one of that able statesman's weaknesses, as we have elsewherehinted, to suppose himself, though of low rank and limited education,qualified to play the courtier and the man of gallantry. He did not,indeed, actually enter the lists of chivalrous combat, like Becket,or levy soldiers, like Wolsey. But gallantry, in which they also wereproficients, was his professed pursuit; and he likewise affected greatfondness for the martial amusement of the chase. Yet, however well hemight succeed with certain ladies, to whom his power, his wealth, andhis influence as a statesman might atone for deficiencies in appearanceand manners, t
he gallant horses, which he purchased at almost any price,were totally insensible to the dignity of carrying a Cardinal, and paidno more respect to him than they would have done to his father, thecarter, miller, or tailor, whom he rivalled in horsemanship. The Kingknew this, and, by alternately exciting and checking his own horse, hebrought that of the Cardinal, whom he kept close by his side, into sucha state of mutiny against his rider, that it became apparent they mustsoon part company; and then, in the midst of its starting, bolting,rearing, and lashing out, alternately, the royal tormentor rendered therider miserable, by questioning him upon many affairs of importance,and hinting his purpose to take that opportunity of communicating to himsome of those secrets of state which the Cardinal had but a little whilebefore seemed so anxious to learn.
[In imputing to the Cardinal a want of skill in horsemanship, Irecollected his adventure in Paris when attacked by assassins, on whichoccasion his mule, being scared by the crowd, ran away with the rider,and taking its course to a monastery, to the abbot of which he formerlybelonged; was the means of saving his master's life.... S.]
A more awkward situation could hardly be imagined than that of a privycouncillor forced to listen to and reply to his sovereign, while eachfresh gambade of his unmanageable horse placed him in a new and moreprecarious attitude--his violet robe flying loose in every direction,and nothing securing him from an instant and perilous fall save thedepth of the saddle, and its height before and behind. Dunois laughedwithout restraint; while the King, who had a private mode of enjoyinghis jest inwardly, without laughing aloud, mildly rebuked his ministeron his eager passion for the chase, which would not permit him todedicate a few moments to business.
"I will no longer be your hindrance to a course," continued he,addressing the terrified Cardinal, and giving his own horse the rein atthe same time.
Before Balue could utter a word by way of answer or apology, his horse,seizing the bit with his teeth, went forth at an uncontrollablegallop, soon leaving behind the King and Dunois, who followed at a moreregulated pace, enjoying the statesman's distressed predicament. Ifany of our readers has chanced to be run away with in his time (as weourselves have in ours), he will have a full sense at once of thepain, peril, and absurdity of the situation. Those four limbs of thequadruped, which, noway under the rider's control, nor sometimes underthat of the creature they more properly belong to, fly at such a rate asif the hindermost meant to overtake the foremost; those clinging legs ofthe biped which we so often wish safely planted on the greensward, butwhich now only augment our distress by pressing the animal's sides--thehands which have forsaken the bridle for the mane--the body, which,instead of sitting upright on the centre of gravity, as old Angelo [acelebrated riding and fencing master at the beginning of the nineteenthcentury] used to recommend, or stooping forward like a jockey's atNewmarket [the scene of the annual horse races has been at NewmarketHeath since the time of James I], lies, rather than hangs, crouched uponthe back of the animal, with no better chance of saving itself than asack of corn--combine to make a picture more than sufficiently ludicrousto spectators, however uncomfortable to the exhibiter. But add to thissome singularity of dress or appearance on the part of the unhappycavalier--a robe of office, a splendid uniform, or any other peculiarityof costume--and let the scene of action be a race course, a review, aprocession, or any other place of concourse and public display, andif the poor wight would escape being the object of a shout ofinextinguishable laughter, he must contrive to break a limb or two,or, which will be more effectual, to be killed on the spot; for on noslighter condition will his fall excite anything like serious sympathy.On the present occasion, the short violet coloured gown of the Cardinal,which he used as riding dress (having changed his long robes before heleft the Castle), his scarlet stockings, and scarlet hat, with thelong strings hanging down, together with his utter helplessness, gaveinfinite zest to his exhibition of horsemanship.
The horse, having taken matters entirely into his own hand, flew ratherthan galloped up a long green avenue; overtook the pack in hard pursuitof the boar, and then, having overturned one or two yeomen prickers, wholittle expected to be charged in the rear--having ridden down severaldogs, and greatly confused the chase--animated by the clamorousexpostulations and threats of the huntsman, carried the terrifiedCardinal past the formidable animal itself, which was rushing on at aspeedy trot, furious and embossed with the foam which he churned aroundhis tusks. Balue, on beholding himself so near the boar, set up adreadful cry for help, which, or perhaps the sight of the boar, producedsuch an effect on his horse, that the animal interrupted its headlongcareer by suddenly springing to one side; so that the Cardinal, who hadlong kept his seat only because the motion was straight forward, nowfell heavily to the ground. The conclusion of Balue's chase took placeso near the boar that, had not the animal been at that moment too muchengaged about his own affairs, the vicinity might have proved as fatalto the Cardinal, as it is said to have done to Favila, King of theVisigoths of Spain [he was killed by a bear while hunting]. The powerfulchurchman got off, however, for the fright, and, crawling as hastilyas he could out of the way of hounds and huntsmen, saw the whole chasesweep by him without affording him assistance, for hunters in those dayswere as little moved by sympathy for such misfortunes as they are in ourown. The King, as he passed, said to Dunois, "Yonder lies his Eminencelow enough--he is no great huntsman, though for a fisher (when a secretis to be caught) he may match Saint Peter himself. He has, however, foronce, I think, met with his match."
The Cardinal did not hear the words, but the scornful look with whichthey were spoken led him to suspect their general import. The devil issaid to seize such opportunities of temptation as were now afforded bythe passions of Balue, bitterly moved as they had been by the scornof the King. The momentary fright was over so soon as he had assuredhimself that his fall was harmless; but mortified vanity, and resentmentagainst his Sovereign, had a much longer influence on his feelings.After all the chase had passed him, a single cavalier, who seemed ratherto be a spectator than a partaker of the sport, rode up with one or twoattendants, and expressed no small surprise to find the Cardinal uponthe ground, without a horse or attendants, and in such a plight asplainly showed the nature of the accident which had placed him there. Todismount, and offer his assistance in this predicament--to cause one ofhis attendants to resign a staid and quiet palfrey for the Cardinal'suse--to express his surprise at the customs of the French Court, whichthus permitted them to abandon to the dangers of the chase, andforsake in his need, their wisest statesman, were the natural modesof assistance and consolation which so strange a rencontre suppliedto Crevecoeur, for it was the Burgundian ambassador who came to theassistance of the fallen Cardinal.
He found the minister in a lucky time and humour for essaying some ofthose practices on his fidelity, to which it is well known that Baluehad the criminal weakness to listen. Already in the morning, as thejealous temper of Louis had suggested, more had passed betwixt themthan the Cardinal durst have reported to his master. But although he hadlistened with gratified ears to the high value, which, he was assured byCrevecoeur, the Duke of Burgundy placed upon his person and talents,and not without a feeling of temptation, when the Count hinted at themunificence of his master's disposition, and the rich benefices ofFlanders, it was not until the accident, as we have related, had highlyirritated him that, stung with wounded vanity, he resolved, in a fatalhour, to show Louis XI that no enemy can be so dangerous as an offendedfriend and confidant. On the present occasions he hastily requestedCrevecoeur to separate from him lest they should be observed, butappointed him a meeting for the evening in the Abbey of Saint Martin'sat Tours, after vesper service; and that in a tone which assured theBurgundian that his master had obtained an advantage hardly to have beenhoped for except in such a moment of exasperation. In the meanwhile,Louis, who, though the most politic Prince of his time, upon this, ason other occasions, had suffered his passions to interfere with hisprudence, followed contentedly the chase of the wild boa
r, which was nowcome to an interesting point. It had so happened that a sounder (i.e.,in the language of the period, a boar of only two years old), hadcrossed the track of the proper object of the chase, and withdrawn inpursuit of him all the dogs (except two or three couples of old stanchhounds) and the greater part of the huntsmen. The King saw, withinternal glee, Dunois, as well as others, follow upon this false scent,and enjoyed in secret the thought of triumphing over that accomplishedknight in the art of venerie, which was then thought almost as gloriousas war. Louis was well mounted, and followed, close on the hounds; sothat, when the original boar turned to bay in a marshy piece of ground,there was no one near him but the King himself. Louis showed all thebravery and expertness of an experienced huntsman; for, unheeding thedanger, he rode up to the tremendous animal, which was defending itselfwith fury against the dogs, and struck him with his boar spear; yet, asthe horse shied from the boar, the blow was not so effectual as eitherto kill or disable him. No effort could prevail on the horse to charge asecond time; so that the King, dismounting, advanced on foot againstthe furious animal, holding naked in his hand one of those short, sharp,straight, and pointed swords, which huntsmen used for such encounters.The boar instantly quitted the dogs to rush on his human enemy, whilethe King, taking his station, and posting himself firmly, presented thesword, with the purpose of aiming it at the boar's throat, or ratherchest, within the collarbone; in which case, the weight of the beast,and the impetuosity of its career, would have served to accelerate itsown destruction. But, owing to the wetness of the ground, the King'sfoot slipped, just as this delicate and perilous manoeuvre ought tohave been accomplished, so that the point of the sword encountering thecuirass of bristles on the outside of the creature's shoulder, glancedoff without making any impression, and Louis fell flat on the ground.This was so far fortunate for the Monarch, because the animal, owing tothe King's fall, missed his blow in his turn, and in passing only rentwith his tusk the King's short hunting cloak, instead of ripping up histhigh. But when, after running a little ahead in the fury of his course,the boar turned to repeat his attack on the King at the moment when hewas rising, the life of Louis was in imminent danger. At this criticalmoment, Quentin Durward, who had been thrown out in the chase by theslowness of his horse, but who, nevertheless, had luckily distinguishedand followed the blast of the King's horn, rode up, and transfixed theanimal with his spear.
The King, who had by this time recovered his feet, came in turn toDurward's assistance, and cut the animal's throat with his sword. Beforespeaking a word to Quentin, he measured the huge creature not only bypaces, but even by feet--then wiped the sweat from his brow, and theblood from his hands--then took off his hunting cap, hung it on a bush,and devoutly made his orisons to the little leaden images which itcontained--and at length, looking upon Durward, said to him, "Is itthou, my young Scot?--Thou hast begun thy woodcraft well, and MaitrePierre owes thee as good entertainment as he gave thee at the Fleur deLys yonder.--Why dost thou not speak? Thou hast lost thy forwardness andfire, methinks, at the Court, where others find both."
Quentin, as shrewd a youth as ever Scottish breeze breathed cautioninto, had imbibed more awe than confidence towards his dangerous master,and was far too wise to embrace the perilous permission of familiaritywhich he seemed thus invited to use. He answered in very few and wellchosen words, that if he ventured to address his Majesty at all, itcould be but to crave pardon for the rustic boldness with which he hadconducted himself when ignorant of his high rank.
"Tush! man," said the King; "I forgive thy sauciness for thy spirit andshrewdness. I admired how near thou didst hit upon my gossip Tristan'soccupation. You have nearly tasted of his handiwork since, as I am givento understand. I bid thee beware of him; he is a merchant who deals inrough bracelets and tight necklaces. Help me to my horse;--I like thee,and will do thee good. Build on no man's favour but mine--not even onthine uncle's or Lord Crawford's--and say nothing of thy timely aid inthis matter of the boar; for if a man makes boast that he has serveda King in such pinch, he must take the braggart humour for its ownrecompense."
The King then winded his horn, which brought up Dunois and severalattendants, whose compliments he received on the slaughter of such anoble animal, without scrupling to appropriate a much greater shareof merit than actually belonged to him; for he mentioned Durward'sassistance as slightly as a sportsman of rank, who, in boasting of thenumber of birds which he has bagged, does not always dilate upon thepresence and assistance of the gamekeeper. He then ordered Dunois to seethat the boar's carcass was sent to the brotherhood of Saint Martin, atTours, to mend their fare on holydays, and that they might remember theKing in their private devotions.
"And," said Louis, "who hath seen his Eminence my Lord Cardinal?Methinks it were but poor courtesy, and cold regard to Holy Church toleave him afoot here in the forest."
"May it please you," said Quentin, when he saw that all were silent,"I saw his Lordship the Cardinal accommodated with a horse, on which heleft the forest."
"Heaven cares for its own," replied the King. "Set forward to theCastle, my lords; we'll hunt no more this morning.--You, Sir Squire,"addressing Quentin, "reach me my wood knife--it has dropt from thesheath beside the quarry there. Ride on, Dunois--I follow instantly."
Louis, whose lightest motions were often conducted like stratagems, thusgained an opportunity to ask Quentin privately, "My bonny Scot, thouhast an eye, I see. Canst thou tell me who helped the Cardinal to apalfrey?--Some stranger, I should suppose; for, as I passed withoutstopping, the courtiers would likely be in no hurry to do him such atimely good turn."
"I saw those who aided his Eminence but an instant, Sire," said Quentin;"it was only a hasty glance, for I had been unluckily thrown out, andwas riding fast to be in my place; but I think it was the Ambassador ofBurgundy and his people."
"Ha," said Louis. "Well, be it so. France will match them yet."
There was nothing more remarkable happened, and the King, with hisretinue, returned to the Castle.