Obsequies of François I — The remains of the deceased King and those of the Dauphin François and the Duc d'Orléans conveyed to Saint-Denis — Henri II incognito watches the passage of the funeral cortège through Paris — La Châtaigneraie and Jarnac — An innocent remark of the latter is maliciously misconstrued, and he is accused of having misconducted himself with his step-mother, Madeleine de Pontguyon — Fury and despair of Jarnac — Henri II (then Dauphin) suspected of having originated the report, though the real culprit is probably Diane de Poitiers — Embarrassing position of the prince — La Châtaigneraie takes the responsibility upon himself, and he and Jarnac apply to François I for permission to fight a judicial duel — The King forbids them to meet, but, on the accession of Henri II, La Châtaigneraie renews his request — Cartels of the two adversaries — The duel is sanctioned by Henri II — Preparations of Jarnac — Arrogance of La Châtaigneraie, who, in anticipation of an easy victory, invites the Court to a sumptuous supper after the combat — The King makes no secret of his sympathies for La Châtaigneraie — The duel is fought at Saint-Germain in the presence of Henri II and the whole Court — "Le coup de Jarnac" — Extraordinary behaviour of the King — Death of La Châtaigneraie
TOWARDS the middle of May, Henri II visited Paris for the first time since his accession to the throne, to transact some business of importance with the Chancellor and the law officers of the Crown. He came, however, in a very unostentatious manner, since it was customary for a new sovereign to dispense with all public ceremony until his predecessor had been conveyed to his last resting-place at Saint-Denis.
The obsequies of François were, of course, preceded by the lying in state. A wax effigy representing the deceased King was laid upon a state bed at Saint-Cloud, in a room magnificently decorated with his arms and colours, where it remained for forty days, all who desired to pay a last tribute of respect being admitted to see it. The people, we are told, made no distinction between the real and the imaginary, and wept copiously as they filed past the counterfeit presentment of their late sovereign.
As the Dauphin François and the Duc d'Orléans had not been interred in state, Henri II decided to have their bodies conveyed to Saint-Denis at the same time as that of his father. No effort was spared to give all possible pomp and magnificence to the ceremony, which cost the King more than 500,000 livres, and perhaps as much to the Parisians.
On May 21, the three coffins, each surmounted by the recumbent effigy of its occupant, were conveyed to the Church of Notre-Dame-des-Champs, which was then outside the city walls. Here they lay until the following morning, when they were brought to the Porte Saint-Jacques, where they were received by the Provost of the Merchants and the other municipal officials, who, in accordance with their ancient privilege, acted as pall-bearers. The funeral car of the Duc d'Orléans headed the procession, then came that of the Dauphin François, and lastly that of the King. "Before and behind walked an infinitude of persons of all conditions, for the most part with lighted torches in their hands," while dense masses of spectators lined the streets. All were in deep mourning, with the exception of the Presidents and Counsellors of the Parlement, who appeared in their scarlet robes, "they being exempted from wearing mourning, because, under the authority of the King, they are the first and sovereign administrators of justice, and the Crown and Justice never die."01
Thus, the procession proceeded to Notre-Dame, where the funeral service was celebrated, the sermon being preached by Pierre Chastel, Bishop of Maçon. Then the mourners dispersed to dine, to reassemble again at mid-day and escort the coffins to Saint-Denis.
Although it was not customary for the new King to appear at the obsequies of his predecessor, Henri II desired to witness the procession to Notre-Dame, in order to see that everything was carried out in accordance with his wishes. He accordingly gave orders for a room to be engaged for him in a house in the Rue Saint-Jacques, to which he repaired, accompanied only by Saint-André and Vieilleville. As he, of course, did not wish to be recognised, he had exchanged the violet costume which was the usual mourning of the Kings of France for one of black, and gave strict injunctions to his companions to avoid making any gesture of respect and to address him as though he were their equal.
When the King perceived the funeral cars approaching, "he wished to withdraw from the window, for his heart was beating violently, and he began to be very troubled and grieved, even to the point of tears." Perceiving this, Vieilleville approached and told him that he ought to be more grateful to the Divine Providence, which had called him to the throne before his time, and contrary to the course of Nature, by the death of his elder brother in youth, and of his father when still in his prime, and that, instead of mourning for the late King, he should rather seek to imitate his virtues. "As for M. d'Orléans, Sire," he continued, "you ought not to permit a single regret on his account to enter your heart, for there has not been for the last three hundred years a prince more pernicious for France; and you may be very sure that God has taken him away for the common tranquillity of the State, since if he had lived to marry the daughter or niece of the Emperor and to receive, on his marriage, the Netherlands or the duchy of Milan, you would have had in him a mortal enemy and greater than even the Dukes of Burgundy were in former times. For I call God to witness, and I swear to your Majesty, that he never loved or esteemed you."
Notwithstanding these arguments, his Majesty seemed still unable to master his emotion, whereupon Saint-André begged Vieilleville to inform the King how M. d'Orléans had behaved on a certain occasion, ten years before, at Angouleme. Henri inquired what he had done, when Vieilleville said:
"Do you recollect, Sire, when, owing to the foolhardiness of La Châtaigneraie, Dampierre, and Dandouin, the late Dauphin and yourself fell into the Charente, and the boat turned over upon you? Genlis rushed off to tell the King that you were both drowned; the whole Court was in consternation, and the King, overwhelmed with grief, retired to his chamber. M. d'Angoulême — as the Duc d'Orléans was then called — was seized with such joy that he was quite overcome by it. But, almost at the same moment, I myself arrived in all haste, and knocking, without the customary respect, at the King's door, told him that you were both alive. The King, who nearly devoured me with embraces, ordered me to convey the news at once to M. d'Angoulême. I knocked at his door with the same freedom, and called out to him: 'Good news, Monsieur! Your brothers are alive; you will soon see them, for the Swiss are carrying them home.' If I had come, Sire, to undertake something contrary to his service, nay, against his honour, he could not have received me worse. Having informed me very coldly that he was very glad, and begged me to return and inform the King that he would come and join him in giving thanks to God, he turned to Tavannes,02 and, without giving me time to leave the room, said: 'God's malediction on the news! I renounce God; I shall never be anything but a nonentity!' He was afterwards overtaken by a severe attack of fever, which very experienced doctors attributed to the sudden transition from joy to so profound a sorrow, these two contrary feelings having waged a terrible war in his very entrails. The late King and yourself watched over him, but, if you had known the origin of his illness, perhaps you would not have felt so much grief or shed so many tears."
Upon hearing this, Henri's grief gave way to anger. "Oh! what an evil disposition and what a wicked heart my brother must have had!" he exclaimed. "I assure you that my chief regret was on his account, for the late King, as you know, was so grievously tormented by his malady that I wept over him hundreds and hundreds of times before his death. As for the Dauphin, I should have been too morbidly inclined if I had not forgotten his loss, seeing the long time that has elapsed since his death. But, in regard to him [the Duc d'Orléans], I could not, after not more than sixteen months, banish him from my memory. Besides, he had assured me of his friendship, and had sworn, too, that, when he had been invested with the estates of his appanage and had gained the hearts of the subjects of the dominions which his future bride would bring him, we should share Christendom between us."
"It was all the more treacherous," interrupted Saint-André, "to beguile you with such a promise, because he had formed a league with the Prince of Spain to attack you after your fathers03 were dead, and, if he had lived, he would have had abundant means to do it."
The King inquired who had been the intermediary between his brother and Philip. "Madame d'Étampes and the Comtesse Arenberg,"04 replied Saint-André, "who, under the pretext of the marriage, maintained a correspondence and were, so to speak, the bankers of these two princes." And he promised that that very day he would show the King the cypher which they had employed in this correspondence, and which he had obtained from one of the late duke's secretaries named Clairefontaine. He added that Orléans had promised to make Madame d'Étampes, who had made a will in his favour, Governess of the Netherlands, in the event of his marrying the Infanta. "If," observed he, laughing, "M. d'Orléans were still alive, the Duc d'Étampes would not now be holding his wife a prisoner, and you, Sire, would not have taken from her those diamonds worth 50,000 écus, so celebrated all over France, since the Emperor's daughter would be wearing them."
"By these and similar arguments," writes Carloix, who has probably drawn upon his imagination a little freely in recording the above conversation, though its substance is no doubt true enough, "Saint-André and Vieilleville, who were called two fingers of his hand, consoled their master and dissipated his grief so effectually that he resumed his place and looked without flinching at the three effigies as they passed by. But when that of the Duc d'Orléans, which was the first, passed, he was unable to refrain from observing, as if in disdain, 'See, there is the nonentity who leads the advance-guard of my felicity!' making allusion to the three cars, which represented the advance- and rear-guard of a battle."
Between the obsequies of François I and the coronation of his successor, which had been fixed for July 25, occurred one of the most dramatic episodes of the sixteenth century — the celebrated judicial duel of Jarnac and La Châtaigneraie.
The quarrel which led to this combat dated from the last years of François I and was an echo of the enmities which the rivalry of the Duchesse d'Étampes and Diane de Poitiers had aroused; indeed, the duellists were regarded as the respective champions of the old and new Courts, rather than as persons meeting to decide a private affair of honour. Some account of the principals may not be without interest.
François de Vivonne, Seigneur de la Châtaigneraie, was the second son of André de Vivonne, Grand Sénéchal of Poitou, and was at this time about twenty-six years of age. The Vivonnes were a branch of the House of Brittany and bore the ermine on their coat-of-arms. At the age of ten, La Châtaigneraie had been appointed page of honour to François I and had quickly succeeded in gaining the favour of that monarch, who called him "mon filleul," or "mon nourrisson." The Dauphin was even more attached to him than the King, for, with an eye to the future, La Châtaigneraie paid assiduous court to both the prince and Diane; and in the campaign of 1543 he had the honour of bearing Henri's banner, which, when there was any fighting to be done, "he detached from its shaft and wrapped round his body like a scarf, in order that he might be at liberty to use his hands."
From his childhood, La Châtaigneraie had shown a remarkable aptitude for martial exercises. He had studied at Rome under the celebrated maître-d'armes, Patenostrier, and at Milan under Tappe, and had become one of the best swordsmen of his time. He also excelled in wrestling and "could throw the best Breton wrestler"; and in the several duels in which he had taken part he always endeavoured to close with his adversary, when he would seize him round the body, so as to render it impossible for him to use his sword, and then bear him to the ground and poniard him through the joints of his armour. He was an excellent soldier and had served with distinction in Italy and the Netherlands, and he appears to have been a good-natured, open-handed man, always ready to do a friend a service; but he was a terrible braggart, perpetually boasting about his achievements and ever ready to pick a quarrel with those who refused to accept him at his own valuation, so that he was as much feared as he was loved.
"My uncle," writes Brantôme,05 "was very much feared, for he had a very good and very ready sword. He was extremely strong, neither too tall nor too short, and of a very fine figure, vigorous and a little fleshy. Although he was rather dark, he had a very fine complexion, delicate and very agreeable, and for this in his time was he beloved by two very great ladies. In order that he might be able to succeed in life, his father, who loved him tenderly, was accustomed in his infancy to make him to take with everything that he eat powdered gold, steel, and iron. This diet had been recommended to the Sénéchal by a famous doctor of Naples, when he was there with King Charles VIII."
Guy de Chabot, eldest son of Charles de Chabot, Seigneur de Jarnac, de Monlieu, and de Sainte-Aulaye, and brother-in-law of Madame d'Étampes, one of whose sisters, Louise de Pisseleu, he had married, was a very different kind of man. Like La Châtaigneraie, whose senior he was by some ten years, he had been brought up in the King's Household, had gained the favour of François I, who called him familiarly Guichot, and had served with distinction in the wars. But, although his courage was undoubted, he had nothing like the reputation in the use of arms and in bodily exercises which the other had acquired, and was of a quiet and reserved disposition, fond of study, and very punctilious in the discharge of his religious duties. In person, he was tall and slight, with pleasant, regular features, and enjoyed considerable popularity with the ladies — a fact of which he did not fail to take advantage, insomuch that "love-affairs formed his almost exclusive occupation." He bore at this time the title of Seigneur de Monlieu, and did not assume that of Jarnac until after the death of his father, some years later; but as historians almost without exception refer to him by the latter title, we shall follow their example.
GUY CHABOT, SIEUR DE JARNAC
FROM THE DRAWING BY FRANÇOIS CLOUET IN THE BIBLIOTHÈQUE NATIONALE
The branch of the Chabot family to which Jarnac belonged was not overburdened with wealth, but his father had married en secondes noces Madeleine de Pontguyon, a considerable heiress; and, as Jarnac was very attentive to his step-mother, and the latter was an extremely generous woman, the young man was enabled to maintain an excellent appearance at Court and was noted for the elegance and richness of his dress.
One day, at Compiegne, the Dauphin happened to remark, rather brusquely, to Jarnac, "How comes it, Guichot, that you are able to make so brave a show with the revenues which you have, for I know they are not extensive?" Jarnac, somewhat embarrassed by the question, replied that his step-mother "kept" him and gave him everything he required. The remark was a perfectly innocent one, but it was deliberately misconstrued in the most cruel manner, and a day or two later Jarnac learned that it was reported all over the Court that he had boasted of having received the favours of his stepmother.
The young man's horror and indignation at so atrocious an accusation can be imagined. After publicly declaring that whoever had asserted or wished to maintain anything of the kind was "a malicious villain and had wickedly lied," he rushed off to his father's Château and, throwing himself on his knees before the old nobleman, protested in the most passionate terms against the criminal interpretation which had been put upon his words. Then, having succeeded in convincing his father of his innocence, he returned to the Court, burning to avenge the injury which had been done him.
The Dauphin found himself in an exceedingly embarrassing position. Though he is generally accused of being the author of the calumny, it seems more probable that the culprit was Diane de Poitiers, to whom Jarnac's words had doubtless been repeated, and who had seen in them an excellent opportunity of humiliating Madame d'Étampes through her brother-in-law, and that the prince felt unable to disclaim the responsibility. However that may be, now that Jarnac had publicly denied the accusation, it was impossible for him to ignore the matter, and, unless some one came forward to take the quarrel upon himself, he would play a most humiliating role, since his rank, of course, prevented him from maintaining his cause with his sword.
It was at this moment that La Châtaigneraie intervened. La Châtaigneraie had until now been on very friendly terms with Jarnac, with whom he had served in several campaigns, but he was not the kind of man to allow friendship or honour or such a small thing as a woman's reputation to stand in the way of his interests; and he foresaw that, by rescuing his future sovereign from the cruel predicament in which he was placed, he would establish claims on his gratitude which it would be impossible for him to overlook.
He therefore now came forward and publicly declared that he was prepared to answer Jarnac, "since it was to himself, and to himself alone, that Guichot had cynically boasted of the culpable conduct which he had thought proper to deny later."
The affair might, of course, have been settled by an ordinary duel, but both Jarnac and La Châtaigneraie, for different reasons, desired to invest their encounter with as much publicity as possible, and accordingly applied to the King to permit a judicial combat. During the past half-century duels of this kind, which could not take place without the authorisation of the Sovereign, had been very rarely resorted to, but they still remained part of the feudal tradition and public law of the kingdom. François I submitted their request to the Privy Council, where the affair was debated at some length. Finally, his Majesty, at the instigation of Madame d'Étampes, who represented that to authorise the duel would be to condemn her brother-in-law to almost certain death, since he was no match for so redoubtable a bretteur as La Châtaigneraie, refused his consent, saying that "princes ought not to sanction such a combat, the issue of which could bring no profit to the kingdom." Moreover, he formally forbade the two adversaries to fight at all, and threatened them with the most severe punishment should they disobey his command. And there the matter remained until François's death, some two years later.
No sooner, however, had Henri II ascended the throne than La Châtaigneraie repeated his demand, and addressed to the new King the following letter:
"To the King my Sovereign Lord.
"Having learned that Guichot Chabot, while at Compiegne during the reign of the late King, declared that whoever accused him of boasting of having misconducted himself with his step-mother was a malicious villain, I reply that he has wickedly lied, since he has boasted to me about it on several occasions.
"FRANÇOIS DE VlVONNE"
Some days later, La Châtaigneraie wrote to his Majesty a second letter:
"Sire, — I very humbly entreat you to accord me a field for mortal combat, wherein I propose to prove by arms, upon the person of the said Guichot Chabot, what I have said and what I maintain . . . in order that by my hands may be verified the offence which he has committed against God, his father, and justice.
"FRANÇOIS DE VlVONNE"
On learning of the step which his enemy had taken, Jarnac lost no time in accepting the challenge, and wrote to Henri II as follows:
"To the King my Lord.
"Sire, — I have come from my house expressly to defend myself, and I pray of you to believe in my honour. I say that François de Vivonne has lied in the construction which he has given to what I said to you at Compiegne, and for that, Sire, I entreat you very humbly to be pleased to sanction a combat to the death."
At the same time, he wrote to the Bishop of Béziers, who was high in favour with Henri II, to beg him to support his demand, assuring his lordship that "he intended to attest by his bravery the good sustenance he had received from the late King and his present Sovereign, and to stop La Châtaigneraie's lying mouth with his sword."
Jarnac's two letters were in due course laid before La Châtaigneraie, who thereupon launched another cartel:
"To the King my Sovereign Lord.
"Sire, — You have been pleased to consider the difference between Guichot Chabot and myself, in relation to which I have read a letter bearing his signature, wherein he offers at once to enter the lists and bear arms so bravely that he will testify to the sustenance he has received from the late King and from you, boasting, moreover, that he will stop my mouth with his sword. And since, Sire, he shows a disposition to come to the point which I have always pursued, I beg you very humbly to grant me a field in your kingdom to settle our difference by mortal combat, or permission to meet elsewhere.
"FRANÇOIS DE VlVONNE"
The matter was submitted to the Privy Council, and at the end of May 1547 Jarnac and La Châtaigneraie were informed that, since there was no other way of settling the difference between them, the King had been graciously pleased to accede to their request; and letters patent were issued directing the pursuer and pursued to present themselves at Saint-Germain-en-Laye on the following July 10 "for the verification of their honour."
Jarnac, being the person challenged, had the right to choice of arms. By the laws of the judicial duel, the "assailli" was permitted to decide whether the combat should be on horse-back or on foot and to demand whatever arms, both offensive and defensive, he considered would afford him the best prospect of success; and to these the "assaillant" was bound to agree, unless the judges of the lists upheld his objections. Jarnac at first resolved to fight on horseback, and proceeded to furnish his opponent, according to custom, with a long list of the kind of horses, saddles, lances, and so forth, with which he would be required to provide himself; but afterwards he changed his mind and decided to trust to his sword. On the advice of a celebrated Italian fencing-master, named Caize, with whom he practised assiduously, he demanded the heavy weapons and cumbersome armour used in combats of this kind a century earlier: long, heavy two-edged swords, with cross-hilts and pas d'âne, two daggers — a long one, which was to be attached to the thigh, and a short one, which was to be placed in the boot — coats of mail, a huge shield of polished steel, with a long and very sharp spike at the top, stiff iron gauntlets, and brassards, or arm-pieces, without joints, which kept the arm extended and stiff. The helmets were of modern make, and no mention is made of either cuishes or greves, which were apparently considered too heavy for a combat on foot in the height of summer.
The reasons for Jarnac's choice of the arms of a bygone age were as follows:
In the assault on Coni, in the last Italian campaign, La Châtaigneraie had been wounded in the right arm, and had never quite regained the free use of it; therefore, the heavy swords, the iron gauntlets, and particularly the brassards, were all calculated to hamper the movements of the wounded limb; while the brassards would likewise make it very difficult for him to get a firm grip of his adversary, should he close with him and endeavour to throw him. The two daggers were a provision against such an eventuality, since it would be scarcely possible for La Châtaigneraie, after he had thrown Jarnac down, to prevent him drawing one or other of them. As for the huge shield, that would naturally be of advantage to the weaker combatant, who must perforce remain on the defensive, until some mistake on the part of his opponent afforded him an opening; while its polished surface would cause La Châtaigneraie's sword to slip.
The confidence of that personage passed all bounds. "He feared his enemy no more than a lion does a dog,"06 and, intoxicated by the sensation which the affair was causing, strutted about, boasting of his prowess and talking of the encounter as a foregone conclusion. To celebrate his anticipated triumph, he ordered a magnificent banquet, which was to take place in his own tent on the field of battle, and to which he invited the whole Court, as to a marriage-feast. "The extravagance and braggadocio in which he indulged," writes Montluc, "were highly reprehensible. He treated the Church and the Mass very lightly before the combat, and took but little care to pray to God and call Him to his aid."07
Very different was the behaviour of the adversary whom he so much despised. "As for Jarnac, he did nothing but frequent the churches, the monasteries, and the convents, praying himself, getting others to pray for him, and receiving the Sacrament, which he did upon the day of the combat, after having heard Mass very devoutly."08
Although the great majority of the Court was naturally on the side of La Châtaigneraie, for whom Henri II made no secret of his sympathies, Jarnac was not without friends, particularly among the provincial nobility, who regarded him as representing the principle of family honour, while the arrogance of his opponent had disgusted many. The Bourbon princes, out of hostility to the Guises, openly proclaimed themselves his supporters, and when it was announced that François de Guise was to be La Châtaigneraie's second, the Duc de Vendôme asked the King's permission to act in the same capacity for Jarnac. His request was refused, whereupon, indignant at such open partiality, he abruptly withdrew from the royal presence, followed by the other Princes of the Blood. The Constable, who had learned that, in the event of his victory, La Châtaigneraie was to be rewarded with the post of Colonel-General of Infantry, which he intended for his nephew Gaspard de Coligny, also favoured Jarnac, and was only prevented from offering himself as his second by the fact that his official position necessitated him acting as principal judge of the combat. He, however, charged his friend, the Grand Equerry, Boisy, to fill the position.09
Henri II had decided to assist at the duel with his whole Court, and a few days before the date fixed he proceeded to Saint-Germain-en-Laye. The arrangements were carried out under the supervision of the Constable, who selected for the field of battle a meadow situated on the eastern side of the Château. Here a space was marked out, twenty-four yards long and forty broad, and enclosed within a double line of barriers. Parallel with the barriers, stands for the accommodation of the Court and the nobility were erected, the King's tribune being in the centre. Near the King's tribune were those of the Constable and the Marshals of France, who were to officiate as judges of the combat. Beneath the royal tribune was a table covered with a cloth of gold, on which were a missal, a crucifix, and a Te igitur. To the right and left of the King, at the two extremities of the lists, were the tents of the two champions; the towers of the pursuivants-at-arms occupied the four corners of the enclosure.10
The eventful day arrived — a glorious midsummer morning. From early dawn an enormous crowd from the capital and all the country round, attracted by curiosity and the magnificent weather, began to pour into Saint-Germain. All Paris, we are told, seemed to be there, "an endless array of people of all sorts — students, artisans, and vagabonds — all anxious to enjoy the pastime,"11 and the archers of the Guard, to whom fell the task of preserving order, had all their work cut out to prevent the crowd from breaking through the barricades and invading the field of battle. Shortly before six o'clock, the King arrived, accompanied by his sister, Madame Marguerite, afterwards Duchess of Savoy, Diane de Poitiers, the Prince de la Roche-sur-Yon — the only one of the Princes of the Blood who was present — the Constable, the Grand Equerry, the Duc d'Aumale, the Maréchaux de Saint-André and de Sedan [Robert de la Marck], Brissac, Tavannes, Montluc, Vieilleville, and many other nobles and ladies, all most gorgeously attired. The stands and royal tribune were sumptuously upholstered and decorated; the tents of the combatants were gay with flags and streamers, and an onlooker might have imagined himself at some splendid fete or Court ceremony, had it not been for the presence of five sinister-looking individuals, who stood with ropes in their hands beneath the Constable's tribune. They were the executioner and his assistants, to whose charge the corpse of the vanquished would be committed for conveyance to the gibbet, in the event of either of the combatants being slain.
As soon as the King had taken his seat, the Guienne herald advanced, and, at each extremity of the lists in turn, made the following proclamation:
"This day, the tenth of the present month of July, the King, our sovereign lord, has permitted and granted free and fair field for mortal combat to François de Vivonne, Sieur de la Châtaigneraie, pursuer, and to Guy Chabot, Sieur de Monlieu, defendant and pursued, to decide by arms the question of honour which is at issue between them.
"Wherefore, I make known to all, on behalf of the King, that no one shall hinder the course of the present combat, nor aid nor interfere with either of the combatants, on peril of his life."
Immediately after the herald's proclamation, La Châtaigneraie came from his lodging, accompanied by the Duc d'Aumale, his second, and a great company of his friends and supporters, to the number of more than five hundred, all wearing his colours, white and carnation. His sword and shield and a banner bearing the image of St. Francis — the saint by whose name he had been baptized — were borne before him. The cortège, which was preceded by drums and trumpets, made the circuit of the lists, on the outside of the barriers, a ceremony which was called "honouring the exterior of the field." La Châtaigneraie's shield was then attached to a pillar on the right of the royal tribune, and the pursuer himself advanced to the right barrier, at which he was received by the Constable and escorted to his tent, there to await the hour of the combat.
Jarnac appeared immediately afterwards, escorted by the Grand Equerry, his second, and one hundred and twenty gentlemen, wearing his colours — black and white — and preceded by a banner bearing an image of the Holy Virgin. The same ceremonial was observed in his case as in that of his opponent, except that his shield was hung up on the left side of the King's tribune and the Constable received him at the left barrier.
The next ceremony was the concordance des armes. The supporters of the pursued presented the weapons and armour which their principal had selected to the pursuer's second, who tested, weighed, and measured them. In the event of his raising any objections, the question was referred to the judges, by whose decision the parties were bound to abide. On this occasion, François de Guise, on behalf of La Châtaigneraie, accepted without demur the swords and daggers, and it was agreed that two reserve swords should be provided, and that, if either of the champions broke his, another should be handed to him. But, aware that the brassards would place his principal at a serious disadvantage, he protested strongly against them, on the ground that they were a kind of armour no longer in use. A long and heated discussion followed, which was finally ended by the Constable and the marshals over- ruling the objection. Aumale also objected to the shields, as La Châtaigneraie was not provided with one of the peculiar design selected by Jarnac. The latter's friends replied that the pursuer had received due notice of the kind which was to be used, and ought to have procured it. The question was referred to the judges, who decided that La Châtaigneraie must make use of the one which he had brought; but, since this was found to be much smaller than that of Jarnac, the latter, to solve the difficulty, offered his adversary the choice between two other shields.
It was now seven o'clock in the evening, and the huge assembly of spectators had been waiting under a burning summer sun for many hours. But the long delay had only served to intensify their interest in the coming struggle, and they had kept their places with grim determination, oblivious of heat and fatigue.
The question of the arms having been at length settled, a herald appeared at each of the four corners of the lists, and made the following proclamation:
"Oyez, oyez, oyez, nobles, knights, gentlemen, and all manner of people! On behalf of the King, I expressly command all that, so soon as the combatants shall meet in combat, all present are to preserve silence, and not to speak, cough, spit, or make any sign with foot, hand, or eye which may aid, injure, or prejudice either of the said combatants. And, further, I expressly command all on behalf of the King that, during the combat, they are not to enter the lists, or assist either of the combatants, in any circumstances whatever, without permission of the Constable and the Marshals of France, on peril of death."
The seconds then proceeded to the tents of their principals, and the two champions, accompanied by their supporters, again made the circuit of the lists, this time on the inside of the barriers, the weapons which they were to use being borne before them. This was called "honouring the interior of the field."
After this, each cortège in turn advanced to the table which had been placed at the foot of the royal tribune, and, after listening to the exhortations of a priest who was in attendance, the champion knelt upon a velvet cushion embroidered with gold, and, placing his hands between those of the Constable, took a solemn oath that his cause was a just one, and that his person and arms were innocent of any magical aid to victory.
The oath of the pursuer ran thus:
"I, François de Vivonne, swear on the Holy Gospels, upon the true cross of our Lord, and on the faith of baptism, that in a just and good cause I have come to do battle with Guy Chabot, who has a wrongful and unjust cause to defend against me. And, further, that I have not, either in my person or among my arms, any charms or incantations with which I hope to injure my enemy, and of which I do not wish to avail myself against him, my sole confidence being in God, in my right, and in the strength of my body and my weapons."
Jarnac took a similar oath, and he and La Châtaigneraie were conducted to their respective stations, while their swords and daggers were carefully examined by the Constable and the marshals, in the presence of the King. This concluded, the Constable took charge of the two reserve swords and handed the other weapons to Aumale and Boisy, who carried them to their principals, placing the swords in their hands and fixing the daggers in their places. Then they took leave of them and retired, and the Normandy herald, advancing into the lists, cried with all the strength of his lungs: "Laissez aller les bons combatants!"
Amid a deathlike silence, the two champions advanced upon each other; La Châtaigneraie with rapid strides and sword aloft; Jarnac, more slowly, his body protected by his shield, his sword ready to parry the coming blow. The moment they were within striking distance, La Châtaigneraie sprang upon his adversary like a tiger and aimed a terrific cut at his head. Jarnac, instead of parrying with his sword, as the other had doubtless expected him to do, took the blow upon his shield, and, stooping down, replied with a thrust12which wounded his opponent in the hollow of the knee. It is doubtful if this first wound was a serious one, but it had the effect of completely disconcerting La Châtaigneraie; and before he could recover himself, Jarnac aimed a terrible back-handed cut at the same place, and severed the tendons.13 La Châtaigneraie staggered, dropped his sword, and sank to the ground, bleeding profusely.
A cry of astonishment rose from the vast assemblage; few had anticipated the victory of Jarnac; no one could possibly have foreseen that in a few seconds one of the best swordsmen in France would have been placed hors de combat. The friends of La Châtaigneraie were aghast; those of Jarnac raised shouts of triumph. Then, as the latter was seen to approach his fallen foe, a deep silence once more fell on the crowd. By the laws of the judicial duel, three courses were open to the victor. He might kill his adversary and deliver him over to the executioner, to be exposed on a gibbet; spare his life, after exacting from him the restoration of his honour, that is to say, a confession that the conqueror's cause was a just and rightful one, or surrender him to the King, who could pardon or punish him as he thought fit. If the King accepted him, which he invariably did, he, in return, publicly proclaimed that the victor had vindicated the honour. Which of these three courses would Jarnac adopt? That was the question which was now agitating the minds of the spectators.
For a few moments, Jarnac, who was probably as much astonished as any one at his easy victory, contemplated his fallen enemy in silence, apparently at a loss how to act. Then he cried out, in a voice which could be heard by all present: "Vivonne, restore me my honour; and ask mercy of God and the King for the wrong that you have committed!"
La Châtaigneraie's reply was to make a desperate attempt to rise, but the effort was, of course, futile.
Leaving him, Jarnac crossed to the royal tribune, saluted the King with his bloody sword, and then, raising his visor and falling on his knees, exclaimed: "Sire, I entreat you to esteem me a man of honour; I give La Châtaigneraie to you.14 It is our youth alone which is the cause of all this. Let no imputation, Sire, rest either on his family or upon him on account of his offence; for I surrender him to you."
But to this generous speech the King vouchsafed no answer. Apparently, he was unaware that his champion's wound was of so serious a nature, and expected every moment to see him rise and renew the conflict.
Jarnac then struck his breast with his gauntlet, and, raising his eyes to Heaven, cried: "Domine non sum dignus, for it is not to myself, but to Thee, my God, that I owe the victory." He returned to La Châtaigneraie and again entreated him to surrender; but the latter, instead of complying, succeeded, by a supreme effort, in raising himself upon one knee, and, seizing his sword, endeavoured to throw himself upon his adversary. Jarnac slipped back and raised his own sword. "Do not budge, Vivonne," said he, "or I shall kill thee." "Kill me, then!" replied the other, and fell back exhausted, with the blood pouring from his wound.
Again Jarnac approached the royal tribune, and, with a thousand protestations of loyalty and devotion, entreated the King to proclaim that his honour was restored to him and to accept La Châtaigneraie's life. But Henri II, though he saw that his champion's case was hopeless, could not bring himself to pronounce what, in the eyes of all present, would be considered his own condemnation. He still remained silent.
Once more the victor returned to his wounded foe, who now lay full length upon the ground, in an ever-widening pool of blood. "Vivonne, my old comrade," said he, "acknowledge thy Creator, and let us be reconciled." But, by way of thanks, La Châtaigneraie endeavoured to stab him with one of his daggers. Jarnac removed his weapons and handed them to the heralds, after which, perceiving that if La Chaitagneraie's wound were not soon attended to, he would probably bleed to death, he, for the third time, approached the King. "Sire," he cried, "see! He is dying! for the love of God, accept his life at my hands!" Henri, however, continued to preserve an obstinate silence. He was deadly pale, and seemed like a man whom some sudden calamity has momentarily deprived of the power of speech.
The Constable, who had descended into the lists and seen for himself the desperate condition of the wounded man, joined his entreaties to those of Jarnac; and no doubt pointed out to the King that, if Châtaigneraie were to expire where he had fallen, without acknowledging his fault, the victor would be obliged to drag the corpse from the lists and deliver it to the executioner — a termination to the affair which it was most desirable to avoid.
Meanwhile, Jarnac had approached the stand reserved for the ladies of the Court, and, addressing Madame Marguerite, exclaimed: "Madame, you told me that it would be so!" meaning, presumably, that the princess had warned him that her royal brother was so prejudiced in favour of La Châtaigneraie that it was hopeless for Jarnac to expect justice at his hands.
These words, and the looks of astonishment and indignation which he observed on the faces of those about him, aroused the King to some sense of the injustice and inhumanity of his conduct, and, turning towards Jarnac, he inquired, "Do you give him to me?" "Yes, Sire," cried the victor eagerly, throwing himself on his knees for the fourth time; "I give him to you for the love of God. Am I not a man of worth?" "You have done your duty, Jarnac," rejoined the King coldly, "and your honour ought to be restored to you."And he ordered the Constable to have La Châtaigneraie removed.
La Châtaigneraie was accordingly carried to his tent by four gentlemen, where his armour was removed and his wound bound up, after which he was conveyed to his lodging. Brantôme, whose account of the affair is certainly not distinguished by impartiality, pretends that his uncle did not surrender, since he called to his adversary to kill him, and that, consequently, he did not lose his honour; but most people will be of opinion that he had already lost it, for having defamed an innocent woman and an old companion-in-arms.
The fallen champion having been carried away, the Constable reminded the King that it was the right of the victor to be escorted from the lists by his followers, to the sound of drums and trumpets, and with the heralds leading the way. But Jarnac had the good sense to forgo a triumph, which would have ruined him for ever, and declined. "No, Sire," said he, "to belong to you is all that I desire." The King, who had had time to compose himself, then summoned him and his second, the Grand Equerry, to mount the royal tribune; and, as Jarnac was about to kneel before him, embraced him, saying that he had "fought like Caesar and spoken like Aristotle."
It was certainly as well that Jarnac showed such becoming modesty in the hour of victory, for the friends of La Châtaigneraie, exasperated by the unexpected defeat of their hero, had assumed a most threatening attitude, brandishing their swords and raising shouts of defiance, and had the triumphal procession taken place, a collision between the two factions could scarcely have been averted.
The affair, however, did not terminate without a serious disturbance, for the motley multitude, which contained some of the worst characters in Paris, suddenly launched itself upon La Châtaigneraie's tent, where, as we have mentioned, a magnificent banquet had been prepared to celebrate the victory so confidently anticipated, and carried it by storm. In a moment, its contents were being mercilessly pillaged; "the soups and entrees were devoured by an infinity of harpies; the silver plate and the handsome sideboards, borrowed from seven or eight households at the Court, were broken or carried off, amid indescribable disorder and confusion; and the dessert consisted of a hundred thousand blows from halberds and staves distributed by the captains and the archers of the Guard and the provosts, who fell unexpectedly upon them."15
Although La Châtaigneraie was much weakened by loss of blood, the surgeons held out every hope of his recovery. But he did not care to survive his lost reputation; and his despair being, it is said, aggravated by the indifference of the King, who did not even trouble to visit his defeated champion, he tore the bandage from his wound and bled to death. His demise does not appear to have caused his Majesty much concern; indeed, he probably regarded it as a fortunate termination to an affair from which the royal honour had certainly not emerged scathless.
Notes
(1) Vieilleville.
(2) Tavannes had been the Duc d'Orléans's Montmorency.
(3) The writer means François I and Philip of Spain's father, Charles V.
(4) Marguerite de la Marche, wife of Jean de Ligne, Comte d'Arenberg, one of the most prominent of the Netherland nobles.
(5) La Châtaigneraie had married an aunt of Brantôme.
(6) Mémoires de Vieilleville.
(7) Commentaires.
(8) Montluc.
(9) Decrue, Anne, duc de Montmorency.
(10) Prince de Moskowa, le Dernier duel judiciaire, Revue de Deux Mondes, April 1854.
(11) Mémoires de Vieilleville.
(12) And not a cut — much less a cut delivered with both hands, as Michelet supposes, which would have necessitated him dropping his shield.
(13) This stroke, which enriched the French language with a new phrase — le coup de Jarnac — was not, as so many writers have asserted, a foul stroke. It was a perfectly legitimate one, as a perusal of any contemporary treatise on fencing will show.
(14) Meaning, "I give you his life."
(15) Mémoires de Vieilleville.