MONSIEUR THE CARDINAL.
Poor Gringoire! the of all the great of the Saint-Jean, the of twenty on supports, the of that famous of the Tower of Billy, which, the of Paris, on Sunday, the twenty-sixth of September, 1465, killed seven Burgundians at one blow, the of all the at the gate of the Temple, would have rent his ears less at that and moment, than these words, which from the of the usher, “His eminence, Monseigneur the Cardinal de Bourbon.”
It is not that Pierre Gringoire either or the cardinal. He had neither the the for that. A true eclectic, as it would be nowadays, Gringoire was one of those and lofty, and spirits, which always know how to themselves all (stare in rerum), and who are full of and of philosophy, while still setting store by cardinals. A rare, precious, and of to wisdom, like another Ariadne, to have a of which they have been walking along since the of the world, through the of affairs. One them in all ages, the same; that is to say, always according to all times. And, without our Pierre Gringoire, who may them in the century if we succeed in upon him the which he deserves, it was their which Father du Breul, when he wrote, in the sixteenth, these words, of all centuries: “I am a Parisian by nation, and a Parrhisian in language, for in Greek of speech; of which I have use the cardinals, uncle and to Monsieur the Prince de Conty, always with respect to their greatness, and without any one of their suite, which is much to say.”
There was then neither for the cardinal, for his presence, in the produced upon Pierre Gringoire. Quite the contrary; our had too much good and too a coat, not to particular to having the in his prologue, and, in particular, the of the dauphin, son of the Lion of France, upon the most ear. But it is not which in the nature of poets. I that the of the may be by the number ten; it is that a on and it, as Rabelais says, would it of one part to nine parts of self-esteem.
Now, at the moment when the door had opened to admit the cardinal, the nine parts of self-esteem in Gringoire, and by the of popular admiration, were in a of augmentation, which disappeared, as though stifled, that of which we have just upon in the of poets; a ingredient, by the way, a of and humanity, without which they would not touch the earth. Gringoire seeing, feeling, fingering, so to speak an entire (of knaves, it is true, but what that?) stupefied, petrified, and as though in the presence of the which up every from all parts of his song. I that he the beatitude, and that, the of La Fontaine, who, at the presentation of his of the “Florentine,” asked, “Who is the ill-bred who that rhapsody?” Gringoire would have of his neighbor, “Whose is this?”
The reader can now judge of the produced upon him by the and of the cardinal.
That which he had to was only too realized. The entrance of his the audience. All the gallery. It was no longer possible to one’s self. “The cardinal! The cardinal!” all mouths. The stopped for the second time.
The for a moment on the of the estrade. While he was sending a around the audience, the redoubled. Each person to a view of him. Each man with the other in his over his neighbor’s shoulder.
He was, in fact, an personage, the of was well any other comedy. Charles, Cardinal de Bourbon, Archbishop and Comte of Lyon, Primate of the Gauls, was to Louis XI., through his brother, Pierre, Seigneur de Beaujeu, who had married the king’s daughter, and to Charles the Bold through his mother, Agnes of Burgundy. Now, the trait, the and of the of the Primate of the Gauls, was the of the courtier, and to the powers that be. The reader can an idea of the which this relationship had him, and of all the among which his had been to tack, in order not to on either Louis or Charles, that Scylla and that Charybdis which had the Duc de Nemours and the Constable de Saint-Pol. Thanks to Heaven’s mercy, he had the successfully, and had home without hindrance. But although he was in port, and he was in port, he without the of his political career, so long and laborious. Thus, he was in the of saying that the year 1476 had been “white and black” for him—meaning thereby, that in the of that year he had his mother, the Duchesse de la Bourbonnais, and his cousin, the Duke of Burgundy, and that one had him for the other.
Nevertheless, he was a man; he a cardinal’s life, liked to himself with the of Challuau, did not Richarde la Garmoise and Thomasse la Saillarde, on girls than on old women,—and for all these was very to the of Paris. He about otherwise than by a small of and abbés of high lineage, gallant, jovial, and to on occasion; and more than once the good and of Saint Germain d’ Auxerre, when at night the of Bourbon, had been to the same voices which had for them the day carolling, to the of glasses, the proverb of Benedict XII., that who had added a third to the Tiara—Bibamus papaliter.
It was this popularity, no doubt, which him on his entrance from any at the hands of the mob, which had been so but a moment before, and very little to respect a on the very day when it was to elect a pope. But the Parisians little rancor; and then, having the of the play by their authority, the good had got the upper hand of the cardinal, and this was for them. Moreover, the Cardinal de Bourbon was a man,—he a robe, which he off very well,—that is to say, he had all the on his side, and, consequently, the best of the audience. Assuredly, it would be and taste to a for having come late to the spectacle, when he is a man, and when he his well.
He entered, then, to those present with the of the great for the people, and his slowly his arm-chair, with the air of of something different. His cortege—what we should call his staff—of and abbés the in his train, not without and among the audience. Each man with his neighbor in pointing them out and them, in who should at least one of them: this one, the Bishop of Marseilles (Alaudet, if my memory me right);—this one, the of Saint-Denis;—this one, Robert de Lespinasse, Abbé of Saint-Germain Prés, that of a of Louis XI .; all with many errors and absurdities. As for the scholars, they swore. This was their day, their of fools, their saturnalia, the of the of law and of the school. There was no which was not on that day. And then there were in the crowd—Simone Quatrelivres, Agnès la Gadine, and Rabine Piédebou. Was it not the least that one do to at one’s and the name of God a little, on so a day, in such good company as of the church and women? So they did not abstain; and, in the of the uproar, there was a of and of all the tongues, the of and students the of the year, by the of the iron of Saint Louis. Poor Saint Louis! how they set him at in his own of law! Each one of them from the new-comers on the platform, a black, gray, white, or as his target. Joannes Frollo de Molendin, in his quality of to an archdeacon, the scarlet; he sang in tones, with his on the cardinal, “Cappa mero!”
All these which we here for the of the reader, were so by the uproar, that they were in it the platforms; moreover, they would have moved the but little, so much a part of the were the of that day. Moreover, he had another for solicitude, and his as with it, which entered the the same time as himself; this was the from Flanders.
Not that he was a politician, was he trouble about the possible of the marriage of his Marguerite de Bourgoyne to his Charles, Dauphin de Vienne; as to how long the good which had been up the Duke of Austria and the King of France would last; how the King of England would take this of his daughter. All that him but little; and he gave a warm every to the of the of Chaillot, without a that of that same (somewhat and corrected, it is true, by Doctor Coictier), offered to Edward IV. by Louis XI., would, some morning, Louis XI. of Edward IV. “The much of Monsieur the Duke of Austria,” the none of these cares, but it him in another direction. It was, in fact, hard, and we have already at it on the second page of this book,—for him, Charles de Bourbon, to be to and no one what bourgeois;—for him, a cardinal, to aldermen;—for him, a Frenchman, and a companion, to Flemish beer-drinkers,—and that in public! This was, certainly, one of the most that he had for the good of the king.
So he toward the door, and with the best in the world (so well had he himself to it), when the announced, in a voice, “Messieurs the Envoys of Monsieur the Duke of Austria.” It is to add that the whole did the same.
Then arrived, two by two, with a which a in the of the of Charles de Bourbon, the eight and of Maximilian of Austria, having at their the Father in God, Jehan, Abbot of Saint-Bertin, Chancellor of the Golden Fleece, and Jacques de Goy, Sieur Dauby, Grand Bailiff of Ghent. A settled over the assembly, by at the names and all the which each of these with to the usher, who then names and titles pell-mell and to the below. There were Master Loys Roelof, of the city of Louvain; Messire Clays d’Etuelde, of Brussels; Messire Paul de Baeust, Sieur de Voirmizelle, President of Flanders; Master Jehan Coleghens, of the city of Antwerp; Master George de la Moere, of the of the city of Ghent; Master Gheldolf Hage, of the of the said town; and the Sieur de Bierbecque, and Jehan Pinnock, and Jehan Dymaerzelle, etc., etc., etc .; bailiffs, aldermen, burgomasters; burgomasters, aldermen, bailiffs—all stiff, grave, formal, out in and damask, with of black velvet, with great of Cyprus gold thread; good Flemish heads, after all, and faces, of the family which Rembrandt makes to out so and from the black of his “Night Patrol”; all of bore, on their brows, that Maximilian of Austria had done well in “trusting implicitly,” as the ran, “in their sense, valor, experience, loyalty, and good wisdom.”
There was one exception, however. It was a subtle, intelligent, crafty-looking face, a of monkey and phiz, the three steps and a bow, and name, nevertheless, was only, “Guillaume Rym, and pensioner of the City of Ghent.”
Few were then aware who Guillaume Rym was. A who in a time of would have a on the surface of events, but who in the century was to intrigues, and to “living in mines,” as the Duc de Saint-Simon it. Nevertheless, he was by the “miner” of Europe; he plotted with Louis XI., and often a hand to the king’s jobs. All which were unknown to that throng, who were at the cardinal’s to that of a Flemish bailiff.
