Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 144 — page 5: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Ate : Sd Jak. : uw g i) Echevin of the — Louvain; Messire Clays d’Etu- elde, Echevin of Brussels; Messire Paul de Baeust, Sieur de Vormizelle, President of Flanders; Master Jehaa Coleghens, Burgomaster of the City of Antwerp; Master Georges de la Moore, and Master Gheldolf van der Hage, Eche of the City of Ghent; and the Sieur de nba Jehan Piunock, Jehan Dymaerzelle, etc., etc., echevins, burgomasters; bu asters, echevins, bailiffs; all stiff, starched, formal, ed out in velvets and damasks, and an ee in = = lack velvet, with prodigious tassela of. Cypress go read; fine Fiomish heads after all, with sustere but goodly faces, of the same family as those which Rembrandt has brought out, so grave and soexpressive, trom the dark ground of his night-piece; person who all had it written on their brows that Maximilian of Aus- ¢ria had good reason “ to place full confidence,’ as his manifesto declared, “in their discretion, firmness, ex- perience, loyality, and rare qualities.” There was, however, ons exception. This was a @harp, intelligent, cratty-looking physiognomy compounded of that of the monkey and the diplo- matist, toward thé owner of which the Cardinal ad- vanced three with @ low bow, and whose name, uevertheless, was plain Guillaume Rym, councillor and ponsionary of the city of Ghent. Fow theré knew who this Guillaume Rym oe a wasaman of raro genius, who-in times of revolution would have raised himself to distinction, but waa forced in the fifteenth century to resort to the hollow ways of intrigue, and to live in the saps, as saith the Duke of St. Simon. For the rest, he was duly “p- reciated by the first sapper in Pree ; he wrought familiar concert with Louis XI., and frequently lent s helping hand tothe king.in his secret necessities—cir- oumstances absolutely unknown to the crowd, who marveled at the respect paid by the Cardinal to go in- & person a4 the Flemish bailiff. CHAPTER Iv. MASTER JACQUES COPPENOLE. Waite the pensionary of Ghent and his Eminence ‘were exchanging a low obeisance and a few words ins atill lower tone, 8 man of lofty stature, with jolly face and broad shoulders, step forward for the purpose of entering abreast with Guillaume Rym ; they looked for all the world like a bull-dog beside afox. His felt cap and leathern vest were oe etn amidst the vel- vets and silks which surrounded him. Presuming that he was some m who had mistaken the way, the usher stopped him. “No admittance here, my friend,” said he. The man in the leathern vest pushed him back. “ What means the fellow ?’’ cried he in a voice which drew the attention of the whole hall to this strange colloquy. ‘* Dost not see that I belong to them ?”’ “Your name ?” asked the usher. ‘* Jacques Coppenole.” “ Your quality ?”’ “ Hosier ; at the sign of the Three Chains In Ghent.”’ The usher was staggered. To have to announce bailiffs, and burgomasters, and echevins, was bad enough; but a hosier! No—he could net make up his mind to that. The Carilnal was upon thorns. The whole assembly was all eye and ear. For two days his Eminence had been taking pains to lick these Flemish bears in order to make them a little more producible in public, and his failure was galling. Meanwhile, Guillaume Rym, with his sly smile, stepped up to the usher, and said in a very low whisper: ‘‘ Announce Master Jacques Coppenole, clerk to the echevins of the wity of Ghent.” “ Usher,” said the Cardinal fn aloud tone, “ anncunce Master Jacques Coppenole, clerk to the echevins of the most uoble city of Ghent.” Now it is very certain that Guillaume Rym, had he Deen left to himself, would have shuffled off the diffi- culty, but Coppenole had heard the Cardinal. “No, by the rood!" cried he, with his voice of thun- der, “ Jacques Coppen cls, hosier. Hark ye, usher, meither more nor less. By the rood! hosier—that's uite fine enough! Monsieur the Archduke has more than once sought his gloves among my hose,” A burst of laughter and applause ensueu. A _ witti- cism or 4 pun is instantly comprehended at Paris, and consequently sure to be applauded. Coppenole, be it moreover observed, was one of the. people, and the assembly by which he was surrounded belonged to the game class. The communication between them was in consequence prompt, electric, and hearty. The lofty bravado of the Flemish hosier, at the same time that at humbi-d the courtiers, awakened in all those ple- beian mihds a sense of dignity, still, but vague and indistinct in the fifteenth century. This hosier, who had just beld Monsieur the Cardinal at defiance, was their equal—a soothing reflection to poor devils ac- <ustomed to pay obedience and respect to the servants of the very sergeants of the bailiff of the Abbot of St. Genevieve, the train-bearer of the Cardinal. Coppenole bowed hanughtily to the Cardinal, who re- turned the obeisance of the high and mighty burgher, dreaded by Louis XI. Then, while Guillaume Rym, a ‘‘cunning man and gepiteful,”” as saith Philip de Comines, looked after both with a smile of conscious . superiority, they proceeded to their places—the Cardi- ‘nal mortified and disconcerted; Coppenole, calm and proud, thinking, no doubt, that his title of hosier was as good ag any other, and that Mary of Burgundy, the mother of that Margaret, whose marriage Coppenole had come to negotiate, would have felt Se read of him as a Cardinal than as a hosijer; for it was not a Cardinal whe would have raised the people of Ghent against the favorites of the daughter of Charles the Bold; it was not a Cardinal who would have steeled the multitude, by a word againat her tears and her entreaties, when the princess of Flanders proceeded to the very foot of the scaffold to beg their livea of her @ubjects; whilst the hosier had but to lift his finger er a eee ee . THE HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE-DAME. and off went your heads, ye most illustrious poate: stuffed into the yellow aad white tunics in which men, Guy d’'Hymbercourt, and Chancellor William ror ® poor Cardinal's probation, however, was not yet over; he was doomed to drink to the very drégs the cup of penance for being in such company. The reader has, perhaps, not forgotten the impudent beg- gar, who at the commencement of the prologue perched himself beneath the fringe of the Cardinal’s gallery. The arrival of the illustrious gnests had not slodged. him from his roost and while the prelates and the ambassadors were king themselves, like real Flemish herrings, in the boxes of the gallery, he had placed himself at his ease, and careleasly crossed his legs over the architrave. Nobody, however, had at firatnoticed this extraordinary piece of insolence, the universal attention being directed to another quarter. Neither was he, on his part, aware ot whiat was going forward in the hall; there he sat, rocking to and tro with the utmost unconcern, repeating as from & mechanical habit, the ditty of ‘Charity, if you please |" To a certainty he was the only one in the whole assembly who had not deigned to turn his — at the altercation between Ceppenole and the usher. Ghent, with whom the people already sympathized so strongly, and on whom all eyes were fixed, took his seat in the first row in the gallery, just sbove the mendicant. Great was, nevertheless, their astonishment, at seeing the Flemish ambassador, after taking a survey of the fellow nestled under his nove, slap him familiarly on hia shoulder covered with ‘tat- ters. The mendicant turned sharply round; surprise, recognition, pleasure, were expressed in both faces; and thea, without caring a pinch of snuff for the spectstors, the hosier and the scurvy rogue shook hands and be- gan to talk in a low tone, while the raga of Clopin Trouillefou clapped against the cloth of gold with which the gallery was hung, produced the effect of a caterpillar upon an orange. The nevelty of this singular scene excited such a burst of merriment in the hall that the Cardinal could not help noticing it; he leaned forward, and as, from the place where he gat, he had but a very imperfect view of the aqualid figure of Trouillefou, he maturally supposed that he waa soliciting alms; incensed at his audacity, he cried, “ Mr. Bailiff of the Palace, throwme that variet into the river.” ‘By the mass! Monseigneur the Carilinal !” ex- claimed Coppenole, “ that yvarlet is a friend of mine!” “ Huzza! huzza!” shouted the crowd. From that moment, Master Coppenole had “ great influence over the populace at Paris, as well as at Ghent, for,” adds Phillip de Comines, ‘‘men of that kidney are sure to have it, when at are so beyond measure disorderly.” The Cardinal bit his lips. Turning to his neighbor, the Abbot of St. Genevieve, he said in an undertone, “Right pleasant ambassadors these, sent to ws by Monsieur the Archduke to annouuce Madame Marga- ret.” “Your Eminence,” replied the abbot, “is throwing away your ciyilities upon these Flemish hogs; margar- itas ante porcos.” | “Say rather,” answered the Cardinal, with & smile, “ porcos ante Margantam.”’ The whole petty cakssocked court was in raptures at this sally. The Cardinal felt somewhat relieved: he was now quits with Coppenole ; he, too, had gained ap- plause for his pun. : Now, let such of our readérs as are capable of general- izing un image and an idea, to adopt the phraseology of the present day, permit us to ask if they have formed a clear conception of the spectacle presented, at the moment to which we are calling their attention, by the vast parallelogram of the great hall of Paris. In the middle of the ball, backed against the western wall, a | ®P wide and magnificent gallery hung with gold brocade, into which, through a small doorway with pointed arch, advance in procession 4 number of grave person- ayes, successively anhounced by a bawling usher. On the front seats already many venerable figures, muffled in ermine, velvet and scarlet. On the floor of the lall, in front and on either side of the gallery, which main- tains a dignified silence, a great crowd and a great up- roar. A thousand vulgar eyes fixed on every face in the gallery; a thousand whispers at every name. The scene, forsvoth, is & curious one, and well deserving the attention of the spectators. But what is that kind of scaffold yonder at the further end, on which are seen four party-colored figures ? and ‘who is that pale-faced man in a black frock at the foot of it? Why, courteous rea ler, peas is poor Pierre Gringoire and his prologue. We had all quite and clean forgotten him; and this was ptecisely what he was afraid of. From the moment that the Cardinal entered, Grin- goire had not ceased to bestir himself tor the salva- tion of his prologue. At first he enjoined the actors, who were in a state of suspense, to proceed and to raise their voices; then, pereenne that nobody listened to them, he ordered them to. stop; and for the quarter of an hour that the interruption had lasted he had been incessantly bustling abont calling woon Gisquette and Lienarde to encourage théir neighbors to call for the continuation of the prologue—but all in vain. Not acreature would turn away from the Cardi- ‘nal, the embassy, and the gallery, the sole center of that vast circle of visual rays. There is also reason to believe, and we record it with regret, that the audience was beginning to be somewhat tiredof the prologue, at the moment when his Eminence arrived and made such a terrible diversion. After all, the gallery ex. hibited precisely the same spectacle as the marble bility and Trade. And many people liked much better to see them without disguise, living, breathing, act, ing. elbowing one another, in that Flemish embassy, in that Episcopal court, under the Cardinal's robe, un- New, as luck would have it, the hosier of a Gringoire had inwrapped them. When, however, our poet perceived that some de- gree of tranquility was restored, he divised 8 strata- gem for regaining the public attention. ‘*Sir,”’ said he, turning to a jolly citizen, whose face was the image of patience, “ don't you think they had better go on?” * With what ?”’ asked the other. ‘* Why, with the mystery,” replied Gringoire. ** Just as you please,”’ rejoined his neighbor. This demi-approbation was quite enough for Grin- goire. Mingling as much as possible with the crowd he began to shout with all his might: “ The mystery ! the mystery ! goon with the mystery!” “ The devil! ’’ said Joannes de Molendino : “ What is it they are singing down yonder?” (Gringoire was, in fact making as much nvise ashalf a-dozen persens.) “I say, comrades ; the mystery is over, is it not? They want to beyin it again ; we'll not suffer that.” “No, no,” cried all the scholars... “ Down with the mystery ! down with it! "” This only served to redouble Gringoire’s activity, and he bawled louder than ever, “ Goon! goon!” This clamour drew the attention of the Cardinal. “Mr. Bailiff of the Palace,” said he toa stout man in black, stationed a few pacés from him, “are those knavea in a holy-water font, that they make such an in- fernal racket ?"’ The Bailiff of the Palace was a sort of amphibious magistrate, a kind of bat of the judicial order,a some- ae between a ratand the bird, the judge and the soldier. He stepped up to his Eminence, and solely dreading his anger, he explained to him, with faltering tongue, the popular inconsistency, how that noon had arrived before his Eminence, and that the comedians had been forced to begin without waiting for him. The Cardinal langhed outright. “ By my faith!"’ he exclaimed, “the rector ef the university should have — wr same! What say you, Mas Guillaume ym ? “ Monsigneur,”’ answered Master Guillaume Rym. “ we ought to be glad that we have escaped half of the play. The loss is to be counted as so much gained.” “ May those fellows continue their farce?” asked the siliff. “ Go on, go on,”” said the Cardinal ;” ‘tis the same to me.” The bailiff advanced to the front of the gallery, and enjoined silence by a motion of hishand. “ Burgesses and inhabitants,’’ he cried, ‘ to satisfy those who wish the piéee to proceed, and those who are desirous that it A tee finish, his Eminence orders it to be contin, . n 9 The. characterson the stage resumed their cne, and Gringoire hoped that atany rate the rest of his piece would be heard out. This hope, however, was destined, like his other illusions, to be very soon blasted. S- lence was indéed insome deyree restored among the audience, but Gringoire had not observed that, at the moment when the. Cardinal ordered the mystery to be continued, the gallery was far from full, and. that, after the Flemish envoys hadtaken their seats, other ver- sons, forming part of the train, oe coming in, and the names and qualities of these, proclaimed every nuw and, then by the bawling voice of the usher, broke in upon his dialogne and made great havoc with it. Gringoire was the more incensed at this strange accompaniment, which rendered it difficult to follow the piece, because he felt that the interest increased aa it proceeded, and that his work needed nothing but to,be heard. Indeed, @ more ingenious and more dramatic plot could scarce- . ly beinvented. The four characters of the proloyte were bewailing their mortal embarrassment, when Venus) to them in person, attired in a robe embroid- ered with the arms of the city of Paris. Shecame to refer her claim to. the dolphin, promised to the most utiful female; it wassupported by Jupiter, whose. thunder was heard rnmbling in the dressing-room, and, the goddess had well nigh carried her point, that is to, say, without metaphor, established her right to the hand of Monsieur the Dauphin, when a child, in a dress of white damask, and holding a daisy—diaphanous per- sonification of the Princess of Flanders—entered the lista against Venus, This unexpected Srey Fp an instant change in the state of affairs. ter some | controversy, Venus, Margaret, and the whole party. | agreed to refer the matter tothe decision of the Ho y; Virgin. There was another striking part, that of Don, Pedro, king of Messopotamia; but owing toso many interruptions, it was difficult to discover its connection’ with the plot of the piece. All these beauties were unfortunately neither appre-: ciated nor understood. The moment the Cardinal en- tered, if was as if an invisible and magic thread had, suddenly drawn all eyes from the marble table to the gallery, from the southern extremity to the west side of the hall. Nothing could break the spell thrown over the andience; every eye remained fixed on one point, and the new-comers, un their confounded names, and . their faces, and their dresses, created am endless diver- sion. This was most mortifying. Excepting Gisquette and Lienarde, who turned abont from time to time when Gringoire puiled them by the sleeve, and the pursy patient neighbor, not a creature listened, or even looked at the poor, forsaken morality. With what anguish of spirit did he see his whole edi- fice of glory and poesy tumbling down piecemeal! To think that the same auditory which had been on the point of weg amr bs cape Monsieur the Bailiff from im- patience to hear his work, now that they might witness its performance, cared nothing at all about it! A per- formance, too, which had begun amidst such unanimous applause! On! the incessant flowing and ebbing of popular favor! How near they had been to hanging the seargeants of the bailiff! What would he not have der the vest of Coppenole, than talking in verse, \ given for the return of that delicious moment ! any ae conflict between Labor and Clergy. No- painted, tricked out, resembling effigies of straw The brutal monologue of the usher ceased at last; all (E| oYeVo) <€om . + ahem? «tee. ge oe <€om