Bussy D'Ambois and The Revenge of Bussy D'Ambois Part 54

_Measure for Measure_, I, iv, 32.

Though 'tis my familiar sin With maids to seem the lapwing and to jest, Tongue far from heart.

For a sarcastic hit at a different trick of the lapwing, cf. _Hamlet_, V, ii, 174.

=289=, 85. =[Enter Renel, the Countess, and] Charlotte above.= The addition of the bracketed words is necessary, as the Q gives no indication of the entrance of these two characters. They appear with Charlotte "above," i. e. in a gallery at the back of the stage. When Charlotte, enraged at Clermont's slowness in dispatching Montsurry, "gets downe" (l. 87), they remain in the gallery un.o.bserved.

=291=, 125-7. =That the Shatillions ghost . . . death.= Gaspar de Chatillon, better known as Admiral de Coligny, the champion of the Huguenot party, was murdered during "the Ma.s.sacre of St. Bartholomew,"

on Aug. 24, 1572, at the instigation of the Duke of Guise.

=293=, 161. =I . . . descend.= Renel and the Countess have overheard from the gallery (cf. note on l. 85) Clermont's speech, and Renel, realising that it foreshadows suicide, descends in the hope of preventing this. But, as he has to lead his blind companion, his progress is slow, and when they "enter" the main stage (l. 203), it is too late.

APPENDIX A

DE LA MORT PITOYABLE DU VALEUREUX LYSIS

Under this t.i.tle, in the 17th of the series of tales founded on fact which he calls _Les Histoires Tragiques de Nostre Temps_, Francois de Rosset relates in 1615 the story of Bussy's death. In the Preface to the volume he declares: "Ce ne sont pas des contes de l'Antiquite fabuleuse . . . Ce sont des histoires autant veritables que tristes et funestes.

Les noms de la pluspart des personnages sont seulement desguisez en ce Theatre, a fin de n'affliger pas tant les familles de ceux qui en ont donne le suject, puis qu'elles en sont a.s.sez affligees." We thus find that the outlines of the story of "Lysis" tally with what we know about Bussy from other sources, and Rosset not improbably preserves details omitted by the historians of the period.

Lysis, Rosset tells us, was sprung from one of the most n.o.ble and renowned Houses of France. At seventeen he had acquired an extraordinary reputation for bravery, which increased till "jamais la France depuis le valeureux Roland, ne porta un tel Palladin." Afterwards "il vint a la cour du Prince qui venoit de quiter une Couronne estrangere, pour recevoir celle qui luy appartenoit par les droits de la loy Salique, [i.

e. Henry III, who gave up the throne of Poland on succeeding to that of France.] . . . Les rares dons dont il estoit accomply luy acquirent tant de part aux bonnes graces du premier Prince du sang Royal, qu'il estoit tousiours aupres de luy. . . . Mais l'envie . . . tous les jours . . .

faisait de mauvais rapports a sa Maieste de Lysis, de sorte qu'elle le voyoit d'aussi mauvais oeil, que l'autre Prince, son proche parent, faisoit conte de sa prouesse."

He had never been the victim of love, but he was instantly captivated by the beautiful eyes of a lady whom he met at an a.s.sembly at the house of a Judge in one of the towns of which he was Governor.

"Ceste beaute, pour le respect que je dois a ceux a qui elle appartenoit, sera nommee Sylvie. . . . Cette dame . . . estoit mariee avec un grand Seigneur, jeune, vaillan, sage, discret et courtois." She would not at first gratify her lover's pa.s.sion, though she granted him "de pet.i.tes privautez," which only fanned the flame. He wrote her a letter in which he declared that if she refused him her favour, it meant his sentence of death. She replied in a temporising manner that when he had given proofs of his fidelity, she would decide as to what she ought to do. Rosset a.s.serts that these two letters are not invented, but that he obtained them from a friend who had made a collection of such epistles, and who "a este curieux de scavoir le nom des personnes qui les ont escrites."

Meanwhile, he continues, "elle donne le vray moyen a Lysis de la voir, sans le souciet qu'on en parle, pourveu que sa conscience la deffende.

Et particulierement ce fut en un jardin qui est a l'un des fauxbourgs de la ville." Some tale-bearers, putting the worst construction on their behaviour, gave information to Lisandre, the husband of Sylvie, but he refused to credit anything to the dishonour of his wife. To stop gossip, however, he took her with him to a house he had not far from the town.

But the lovers communicated with one another by messengers, till Lisandre's departure on a journey removed all obstacle to their intercourse. "Ce Seigneur avait des affaires hors de la province ou il faisoit pour lors sa demeure. Pour les terminer, il s'y achemine au grand contentement de Sylvie, qui neantmoins contrefaisoit la dolente a son depart & le sommoit de revenir le pl.u.s.tot qu'il luy seroit possible, tandis que dans son ame elle prioit a Dieu que son voyage fust aussi long que celuy d'Ulysse." When he was gone, she immediately sent for Lysis, and they spent two or three days in transports of delight, though she continued to safeguard her honour.

On Lisandre's return the King, instigated by the enemies of Lysis, reproached the former for tamely enduring dishonour, and bade him never reappear in the royal presence till he had wiped out the stain. Lisandre therefore offered his wife the choice of three courses. She was to swallow poison, or die beneath his dagger, or write to Lysis, telling him that Lisandre was still absent, and begging him to come to her.

After a struggle Sylvie wrote the fatal missive, and Lysis, though at the castle gate he was overcome by a premonition of evil and almost turned back, was obedient to her summons, and entered her chamber unarmed. The final scene is thus described.

"A l'instant il se void environne d'une douzaine d'hommes armez, qui de pistolets, qui d'espees nues, et qui de hallebardes. Lisandre est parmy eux, qui luy crie: 'C'est maintenant que tu recevras le salaire de la honte que tu as faicte a ma maison. Ce disant, il lasche un pistolet, et luy perce un bras. Les autres le chargent avec leurs halebardes, et avec leurs espees. . . . Le valeureux Lysis . . . avec un escabeau qu'il tient en main donne si rudement sur la teste de l'un de ses adversaires, qu'il en fait sortir la cervelle. Il en a.s.somme encores deux autres: mais que peut-il faire contre tant de gens, & ainsi desarme qu'il est?

Son corps perce comme un crible, verse un grand ruisseau de sang. En fin il se jette sur Lisandre, et bien que par derriere on luy baille cent coups de poignards, il le prend, et le souleve, prest a le jetter du haut en bas d'une fenestre, si tous les autres ensemble, en se jettant sur luy, ne l'en eussent empesche. Il les escarte encores a coups de poings & neantmoins il sesent tousiours percer de part en part. Voyant qu'il ne pouvoit eschapper la mort, il s'approche de la fenestre & puis, tout sanglant qu'il est, il saute legerement en bas. Mais, o malheur, il portoit un accoustrement decouppe, qui est arreste par le fer d'un treillis. Ses adversaires le voyant ainsi empestre comme un autre Absalon, luy donnent tant de coups de halebardes, qu'a la fin, ils privent le monde du plus grand courage, et de la plus grande valeur du siecle. O valeureux Lysis! que je plains l'injustice de ton sort!"

It will be seen that Rosset's account of the final episodes, beginning with the intervention of the King, agrees, in the main details, with the following description by De Thou, which appeared in 1620, in the Genevan edition of the _Historiae Sui Temporis_, lib. LXVIII, p. 330 (vol. III, p. 675, of Buckley's edition, 1733).

"Dum[310:1] adhuc Andinus in aula esset, literas per joc.u.m regi ostenderat a Ludovico Claramontio Ambosiano Bussio ad se scriptas; quibus, pro summa quae ei c.u.m hero suo juvene erat familiaritate, significabat se feram magni venatoris (ita uxorem vocabat Caroli Cambii Monsorelli comitis, quem ea dignitate Andinus paulo ante Bussii commendatione ornaverat) indagine cinxisse, et in plagas conjecisse.

Quas literas rex retinuerat, et Bussii jam a longo tempore insolenti arrogantia et petulantia irritatus, occasionem inde sumpsit veteres ab eo acceptas injurias ulciscendi. Is siquidem, et dum in aula esset, nullo non contumeliae genere in proceres et gynaeceum etiam aulic.u.m usus fuerat, fiducia pugnacitatis qua se terribilem cunctis reddiderat; sed etiam postquam se ad comitatum Andini receperat, dum Andegavi arcem toto illo tractu munitissimam et urbi populosae impositam teneret, oppidanis et toti provinciae gravis ob crebras exactiones, quas privata auctoritate, non consulto plerumque Andino ipso, faciebat, summum omnium odium in se concitaverat. Igitur rex Monsorellum, qui tunc forte in aula erat, clam revocat, et literas Bussii ei ostendit; additque se decoris familiae et ejus dignitatis perquam studiosum, noluisse rem adeo injuriosam eum celare; ceterum scire ipsum debere, quid consilii in tali occasione se capere deceat et oporteat. Nec plura elocutus hominem dimitt.i.t, qui, non solum injuriae tantae morsu perculsus, sed monitis regis incitatus, quae ille tanquam ignaviae exprobationem si injuriam ferret accipiebat, protinus domum revolat, summo silentio, ut Bussium lateret: astuque per uxorem ad Bussium literas dari curat, quibus ei horam ad secretum Coustanteriae condicebat; ea erat arx voluptuaria et venationibus opportuna; ad quam c.u.m Bussius c.u.m Colladone conscio sub vesperam XIV Kal. Sept. venisset, ab ipso Monsorello et aliis loricatis oppressus: tamen, qua erat animi praesentia, quamvis unus contra plures, summa vi percussores initio disjecit; tandemque numero victus, spiritu inter certandum deficiente, c.u.m se in fossam per fenestram praecipitare vellet, a tergo interfectus est."

FOOTNOTES:

[310:1] While the Duke of Anjou was still at Court, he had shown in jest to the King, a letter which had been written to him by Louis de Clermont Bussy d'Ambois. In this letter, owing to the very intimate terms on which he stood with his young patron, he told him that he had enclosed and caught in his net the hind of a mighty hunter. Thus he termed the wife of Charles de Chambes, Count of Montsoreau, on whom the Duke had conferred that t.i.tle a short time before, at the recommendation of Bussy. This letter the King had kept, and as he had long been annoyed by Bussy's insolent arrogance and his petulant temper, he availed himself of this opportunity of avenging the old insults he had received from him. Even while he was at Court, he had been guilty of every sort of insult to n.o.bles and Court ladies, trusting to his prowess as a swordsman, by which he made himself a terror to every one. So also after he had betaken himself to the district of Anjou, occupying, as he did, the citadel of Angers, the most powerful stronghold in all that district, and commanding the populous city, he had made himself a burden to the townspeople and the whole province by his frequent exactions, generally made on his own authority, without consulting the Duke of Anjou. He had thus stirred up against himself a deep-seated and universal hatred.

Therefore the King secretly called aside Montsoreau, who was then at Court, and showed him Bussy's letter, and added that, as he was extremely solicitous about his family honour and his dignity, he did not wish to conceal so insulting a matter from him; for the rest he ought to know himself what measures it behoved him to take under such circ.u.mstances. Without further words he dismissed Montsoreau. The Count, stung to the quick by so grave an injury to his honour, and excited by the admonitions of the King, which he interpreted as reproaches for his cowardice, should he tamely bear the insult, at once flew home, in the greatest secrecy, so that Bussy should not know of his return. By a stratagem he arranged that a letter should be sent by his wife to Bussy, making a secret a.s.signation with him at La Coutanciere, which was a pleasure-resort and convenient for hunting purposes. When Bussy came there with his a.s.sociate Cola.s.seau at nightfall on the nineteenth of August, he was fallen upon by Montsoreau and other armed men. Yet, such was his coolness, that though he was one against many, he at first by mighty exertions discomfited his a.s.sailants. At length, overcome by numbers, and breath failing him in the struggle, he tried to throw himself out of the window into the castle-moat, but was stabbed in the back and killed.

APPENDIX B

HISTORICAL SOURCES OF THE REVENGE OF BUSSY D'AMBOIS

I

PIERRE MATTHIEU'S NARRATIVE OF THE ARREST OF THE COUNT D'AUVERGNE, INCORPORATED BY EDWARD GRIMESTON IN HIS TRANSLATION OF JEAN DE SERRES'S INVENTAIRE GeNeRAL DE L'HISTOIRE DE FRANCE

(1046.)[313:1] "The King offended with the practises of the Count of Auvergne, commanded him to come unto him, and to trust unto his clemency, the which was not unknowne unto him. Descures made some jorneys unto him, from whome he brought nothing but delaies and excuses.

(1047.) "The King, therefore, seeing that he would not come but with conditions that did not agree with a perfect obedience, resolved to have him by one means or other. . . . The King's intention was imparted to the Vicont of Pont du Chasteau, to D'Eurre, Lieutenant of the Duke of Vandosmes company, to the Baron of Camilac, to La Boulaye, Lieutenant to the company of the Marquis of Verneuil, to Nerestan, Colonell of a Regiment of foote, and to so many others as it is a wonder it was not divulged being in so many heads. In this action all shewed the duties and affections of good men which respected their honours. Many means were attempted but they were incountred with great difficulties and crosses. . . . The surest meanes (& that wherein there was least trouble and scandall) was the mustring of the Duke of Vandosmes company. . . .

D'Eurre who prest Murat (Treasorer extraordinary of the warres) to paie his company a muster, intreated the count of Auvergne to see it, to the ende hee might a.s.sure the King that hee had gallant men and good horses, and that all his companions should be wonderfully honored with the presence of their coronell. 'I will part to morrowe' sayd the Count of Auvergne 'to hunt at Alezou, and will returne againe on Monday at night; I pray you bee heere at super, and lodge your company at Normain, to the ende that the next day, after that wee have dronke, runne at the ring, and dined, we may see it.'

(1048.) "This was done as he had appointed. . . . D'Eurre came to Clermont on Monday at night, and goes unto him where he supped in one of their houses that managed this businesse. . . . The next day, the ninth of November, the morning was spent in running at the ring. . . . They went to dinner, and it was well observed that the Count of Auvergne had some distrust. He hath since confest that hee was ready to call the two brothers of Murat into his cabinet, and to cause them to be searcht, for that he was well advertised that they alwayes carryed the Kings letters and his commandments. But a great resolution, thinking that there is no more harme in fearing then in the thing that causeth feare, feares extremely to make shewe that hee hath any feare. After dinner D'Eurre asked, 'If it pleased him to go to horse to see the musters.' He answered him; 'That it should be presently, and that he should use speed.' He retyred himselfe soone after into his cabinet and went downe . . . mounted upon a Scottish horse (which Vitry had given him) the which would have outrunne all the horses of France. He would not attend the other n.o.blemen for that he distrusted them, having an intent to pa.s.se on, if he found them not ready. But beeing come to the place, he found the company in battell. This great diligence made him somewhat jealous, and they might perceive him, that, pulling up his cloake, he drewe his sword foure fingers out, yet without any amazement. D'Eurre, seeing him make even the reynes of his horse, came to him trotting, with his hat in his hand, and hearing him sweare with a great oath that he had been very dilligent, 'You may see, my lord' (answered he) 'I have caused my companions to advance, for that I would not trouble you with attendance.' 'Monsieur D'Eurre' (replyed the Earle) 'you are one of my friends, I cannot make any long stay here.' To whome D'Eurre said: 'All my companions are not yet here, but, if it please you, you shall see this troupe, and judge of the whole by a part.' Hereupon he sees some hors.e.m.e.n come and demands what they were. D'Eurre told him: 'That it was Nerestan, who had beene at Rion about a sute of his daughters.' He beleeved it, for he knewe that Nerestan had stayd some dayes at Rion and yet his heart began to suspect more. But it was too late, hee was environed on every side, and hardly can one resist many. Nerestan lighted to salute him, and having entertayned him with some discourse uppon the occasion of his staye at Rion, or of his returne to Court, he went presently to horse-back, and thrust on one of the lackquaies with his foote, for a signe and token of the beginning of the execution.

"One of Nerestans three lackquaies takes holde of his horse by the bridle. D'Eurre, seeing that Nerestan had taken the right side to salute the Count of Auvergne, went unto the left, and laying hold with his hand uppon the hilt of his sword, he sayd unto him that hee had commandement from the King to take him. The other two laquais pulled him so roughly from his horse, as he had like to have fallen to the ground; hee was mooved to see himselfe so intreated by laquais, intreating D'Eurre to cause two of his companions to light, and that hee might not see those rascalls any more. Nerestan sayd unto him that they were soldiars so attyred to serve the King in this action. A peece shott into the ayre by chance made him to doubt worse measure, so as hee intreated D'Eurre that he would not use his pistolet. D'Eurre freed him from these apprehensions, intreating him to resolve upon the Kings will, and not to force them to intreat him otherwise than they desired. 'Well,' said hee, 'I yeeld, what will you have mee to doe?' 'That you mount upon the trompets horse,' sayd D'Eurre. It was feared that he would not have suffered himselfe to bee taken so easily nor so quietly, as wee have seene many great courages choose rather to be cut in peeces then to see themselves reserved for some shamefull end, and others that have willingly dyed, for that they would not die by force. When as he sees himselfe in the toyles invironed on al sides . . . hee sayd, 'Ah! in the Divels name, I doubted all this.' Being mounted upon the trompets nagg, they conduct him presently to Aigueperse. Before hee had gone a hundred paces, he intreated D'Eurre to lend him one of his troupe, to carry some message of his remembrance, and of his miserie, to a ladie that attended him. De Pleche had the charge. Shee who had not prepared her heart to withstand the a.s.saults of a most extreame and sensible griefe, tooke D'Eurre for the object, against whome shee poured forth the furie of her pa.s.sions. 'If I knew' (sayd shee unto this gentleman) 'that I might save him in forcing through your troupe, I would willingly doe it, and if I had but tenne men of my courage and resolution, you should not carrie him where you thinke. But I will never die till I have given D'Eurre a hundred shott with a pistoll, and to Murat a hundred blowes with a sword.' These were the pa.s.sions of her love, transported with a resolution beyond her s.e.xe, and which did partic.i.p.ate of a man, of a troubled mind, and of love. This last makes miracles of marvells and marvells of miracles, in wills that are equally toucht with his inspirations. . . . Shee loved him well, and was well beloved: for the Count of Auvergne hath been heard say, that if the King did set him at libertie, and send him back to his house, uppon condition that hee should not see this ladie, hee would rather desire to die. Shee presently ordered the affaires of her house, the disposition of her furniture, and the retreat of her servants. This pa.s.sion going from the memorie to the thought, from the thought to the heart, from the heart to the eyes, made her to powre forth so many teares, as shee lost the sight of one eye for a tyme. . . .

"All the way hee seemed no more afflicted, then when hee was at libertie. He tould youthfull and idle tales of his love, and the deceiving of ladies. Hee shott in a harquebuse at birds, wherein hee was so perfect and excellent, as hee did kill larkes as they were flying. .

(1050.) "We may observe in this apprehension many things that may breed admiration and amazement, and which shewe that men do in vaine furnish themselves with wisedome against Heaven and with intelligences against the King. The Count of Auvergne had advertis.e.m.e.nts from all places that they should take him, and that the Kings pensioners were in the field to that effect. His most inward and neerest friends and, among others Florac, knewe it, and said nothing unto him, preferring his duty to his Prince before all affection. The Constable was also as well informed thereof as any other and yet he made no shewe thereof. . . . His duty prescribed him a law to all the bounds of nature; so there is not any one but is more bound to the service of the King and his country then to his owne health, or to that of his children. A gentleman, being at his table, speaking of this taking, said, 'Sir, if the King should command mee to take you, I would doe it, although I bee your most humble servant, that you march in the first rankes of greatnesse in the realm, and that all things touching armes, depend upon your commandments.' 'I beleeve it' (answered the Constable) 'else you should do ill, for the King is both your King and mine. I am your friend.' There is no love nor affection to dispence any one from the Kings commandments."

II

GRIMESTON'S TRANSLATION OF J. DE SERRES'S NARRATIVE OF THE MURDER OF THE DUKE OF GUISE IN HIS INVENTAIRE GENERAL

The King determines to get rid of Guise, "this newe starre in the East whom the people wors.h.i.+pped already." (722.) "Hee hath caused bookes to bee printed in favour of the lawfull succession of the House of Lorraine to the Crowne. At the Barricades this voice was heard: 'It is no longer time to dally, let us lead my lord to Reimes.' He hath suffered himselfe to be saluted by the people, with cries and acclamations which belong only to the Soveraigne Prince."

The Duke, scenting danger, thinks of absenting himself from the meetings of the Estates, but is dissuaded.

(723.) "The Archbishop of Lion, attending a Cardinals hatt within a few dayes from Rome, 'Retyring your selfe from the Estates' (said he unto him) 'you shall beare the blame to have abandoned France in so important an occasion, and your enemies, making their profit of your absence, wil sone overthrowe al that which you have with so much paine effected for the a.s.surance of religion.'

"Man doth often loose his judgement upon the point of his fal.

Advertis.e.m.e.nts were come to him from all parts, both within and without the realme, from Rome, Spaine, Lorraine and Savoye, that a bloodie catastrophe would dissolve the a.s.semblie. The almanakes had well observed it: it was generally bruted in the Estates, that the execution should be on Saint Thomas day. The eve before his death, the Duke himselfe sitting downe to dinner, found a scroule under his napkin, advertising him of this secret ambush. But (as ambition blinds those whome shee hath raised up to the pies nest, and the furie of G.o.ds judgements confounds such as trust in their authoritie) he writ underneath, with his owne hand 'They dare not'; and threw it under the table.

"The Duke of Guise, following the councell of the Cardinall Morosin, had the one and twent.i.th of December incensed the King a new by some bold and presumptous speeches. . . . The King had the two and twent.i.th day following prepared seven of his five and fortie (they were gentlemen whome hee had appointed to be neere his person, besides the ordinarie archers of his gard) to execute his will, and by many dispatches had a.s.sured those townes which hee held to bee most mutinous. The three and twent.i.th he a.s.sembles his Councell somewhat more early in the morning then was usuall, having a devotion to go after dinner, and to spend the holidayes at our Ladie of Clery. . . . The Duke of Guise comes, and attending the beginning of the councell sends for a handkercher: (the groome of [724] his chamber had forgotten to put one into his hose.) Pericart, his secretarie, not daring to commit this new advertis.e.m.e.nt to any mans report, ties a note to one of the corners thereof, saying, 'Come forth and save your selfe, else you are but a dead man.' But they stay the page that carried it. Larchant, captaine of the Kings gard, causeth an other to be given unto him with all speed by Saint Prix, the chiefe grome of the Kings chamber. The Castle gates are shutt, and the Councell sits about eight of the clocke.

"The spirit of man doth often prophecie of the mischeefe that doth pursue him. So whilest they dispute of a matter propounded by Petremolle, the Duke feeles strange alterations, and extraordinary distemperatures, and, amidest his distrust, a great fainting of his heart. Saint Prix presents unto him some prunes of Brignolles and raisins of the sunne. Hee eats, and thereupon the King calls him into his Cabinet by Revoll, one of the secretaries of his Estate, as it were to confer with him about some secret of importance. The Duke leaves the Councell to pa.s.se unto the Cabinet: and as he did lift up the tapistrie with one hand to enter, they charge him with their swords, daggers, and pertuisans: yet not with so great violence, but he shewed the murtherers the last endeavours of an invincible valour and courage.

"Thus lived and thus died Henry of Lorraine, Duke of Guise: a Prince worthie to be in the first rankes of Princes, goodly, great, tall of proportion, amiable of countenance, great of courage, readie in the execution of his enterprises, popular, dissembling, but covering the secrets of his minde with his outward behaviour, imbracing all times and occasions, politike in stratagems, making much of his souldiars, and honouring his captaines. But a Prince who hath blemished the greatest beautie of his practises by extreame ambition; factious, a great bragger, vaine in beleeving of soothsayers who a.s.sured him of his greatnes, and of the change of his familie into a royaltie, proud, not able to submit his hopes, even to those from whome hee should hope for his advancement, giving men to understand by his inclination, that he was not borne to obey, but to commaund, and with this dessein, he framed the minds of the French, by his first actions, to beleeve that he had partes fit to make a strange alteration in a realme."