letters, by which he instantly became convinced of the treason meditated against his royal master. Indignant at the discovery which supervened, he suffered his displeasure to reach the ears of the culprit, who forthwith quitted the capital, and hastened to secure himself from arrest in Auvergne, of which province he was the governor, and where he made instant preparations to leave the kingdom should such a step become necessary.
It was consequently in vain that the King, when informed of the circumstance, despatched the Sieur d’Escures[257] to summon the Count to his presence in order that he might justify himself. D’Auvergne resolutely refused to quit his retreat until he had received a formal promise from the sovereign that he should be absolved from all blame of whatever description, and received by his Majesty with his accustomed favour, alleging as a pretext for making this demand, that he was on bad terms with all the Princes of the Blood, with the Grand Equerry, and even with his sister, Madame de Verneuil, and that he could not make head against such a host of enemies except he were supported by the King.
The expostulations of the royal messenger were fruitless, the Count being more fully alive to the danger of his position than M. d’Escures himself; and to every argument and denegation of the anxious envoy he consequently replied by saying that it was useless to urge him to compromise his safety while he felt certain that his ruin had been decided upon, a fact of which he was convinced from the circumstance of his having received no letter from any of the intimate friends of the King since he had withdrawn from the Court, while he was sufficiently acquainted with the bad disposition of Madame de Verneuil to be assured that in the event of her being enabled to effect a reconciliation with the monarch at his expense, she would not scruple to sacrifice his interests to her own.
The embassy of M. d’Escures thus signally failed, and instead of furthering the purpose for which it was intended, it produced a totally opposite effect, as, warned by this attempt to regain possession of his person, it induced M. d’Auvergne to adopt the most extraordinary precautions. He from that moment not only refused to enter any town or village where he might be surprised, but he also declined to hold any intercourse even with his most familiar friends save on a highway, or in some plain or forest where the means of escape were easy; and when hunting, a sport to which he was passionately attached, and which was at that period the only relaxation he could enjoy with safety, he caused videttes to be stationed upon the surrounding heights, who were instructed to apprise him by a concerted signal of the approach of strangers.[258]
All his caution was, however, vain, his capture being an object of too much importance to the King, at the present conjuncture, to be readily relinquished, and accordingly it was at length effected by a stratagem. By the advice of the Duc de Sully, this enterprise was entrusted to M. Murat,[259] who associated with himself M. de Nerestan[260] and the Vicomte de Pont-Chateau, who, by his instructions, paid several visits to the Count at his chateau of Borderon near Clermont, without, however, inducing him to quit its walls.
These gentlemen, nevertheless, made themselves so agreeable to the self-exiled conspirator, and listened so patiently to his complaints, that their society became at last necessary to him, and so thoroughly did they succeed in gaining his confidence that they finally experienced little difficulty in persuading him to be present at a review of the light cavalry of the Duc de Vendome, of which he was the colonel-general, and which was about to take place in a little plain between Clermont and Nonant. He accordingly proceeded to the spot with only two attendants, and he was no sooner seen approaching than M. de Nerestan and the Vicomte de Pont-Chateau advanced from the ranks, apparently to welcome him, but on reaching his side, the latter seized the bridle of his horse, while his companion arrested him in the name of the King.[261] Resistance was of course impossible, and thus the Comte d’Auvergne, despite all his precautions, found himself a prisoner.
L’Etoile,[262] with a _naivete_ well calculated to provoke a smile of pity, calls this a “brave” and subtle stratagem; on its subtlety we may be silent, but we leave alike its courage and its honesty to the judgment of our readers. Sully admits[263] that not only the two captors, but even Murat himself, who had an ancient grudge against D’Auvergne, spared no pains or deceit to insinuate themselves into his confidence, while it is equally certain that it was to his perfect faith in their professions that he owed his capture.
Having secured their prisoner, M. Murat and his coadjutors caused him to deliver up his sword, and to exchange the powerful charger upon which he was mounted for a road-hack that had been prepared for him, upon which he proceeded under a strong guard to Briare, whence he was conducted in a carriage to Montargis, and, finally, conveyed in a boat to Paris. During this enforced journey his gaiety never deserted him, nor did he appear to entertain the slightest apprehension as to the result of his imprisonment; throughout the whole of the way he jested, drank, and laughed, as though his return to the capital had been voluntary; and when he was finally met at the gates of the city by M. de la Chevalerie, the lieutenant-governor of the Bastille, he was in such exuberant spirits that the astounded official deemed it expedient to remind him that they had not come together to dance a ballet, but for a totally different purpose.[264]
It was only when he found himself conducted to the very chamber which had been occupied by the Marechal de Biron previous to his execution, that a shade of anguish passed over the features of the Count. He could not but remember that the traitor-Duke, who had rendered great and good service to his sovereign, had suffered for the same crime of which he was in his turn accused without any such plea for mercy, and it is therefore scarcely surprising that he should have been startled upon finding himself installed as the successor of the condemned marshal.
M. d’Auvergne was not, however, of a temperament long to yield to gloomy ideas, and consequently, while his unhappy wife[265] was lost in tears, and endeavouring by every exertion in her power to save him from a fate which appeared inevitable, he availed himself to the utmost of the leniency of his jailors, and indulged in every luxury and amusement which he was enabled to command. Agonised by her apprehensions, the unhappy Countess at length resolved to throw herself at the feet of the King, where, with a humility which contrasted strangely with the unbending arrogance of her sister-in-law, Madame de Verneuil, she besought in the most touching terms that Henry would spare the life of her husband, and once more pardon his crime. Her earnest supplications evidently affected the King, while Marie de Medicis, who was present, wept with the heart-broken wife, and warmly seconded her petition, but the monarch, who probably feared the result of such an act of mercy, having raised her from her knees with a gentle kindness which made her tears flow afresh, led her to the side of the Queen, upon whose arm he placed his hand as he said firmly: “Deeply, Madame, do I pity you, and sympathize in your suffering, but were I to grant what you ask, I must necessarily admit my wife to be impure, my son a bastard, and my kingdom the prey of my enemies.”
All, therefore, that the Countess could obtain was the royal permission to communicate with her husband, a concession of which she hastened to take advantage; when, in reply to her anxious inquiry as to what he desired of her, she received by her messenger the heartless reply that she might send him a good stock of cheese and mustard, and that she need not trouble herself about anything else.[266]
The intercepted letters of the Comte d’Auvergne having also implicated his stepfather M. d’Entragues, and his sister Madame de Verneuil, both were subsequently arrested; the former by the Provost Defunctis[267] in his castle of Marcoussis, and the latter at her residence in the Faubourg St. Germain; while her children were taken from her, and sent, under a proper escort, to the palace of St. Germain-en-Laye. So important did it, moreover, appear to the French ministers to ascertain the exact extent of the conspiracy, that the Provost was accompanied to Marcoussis by M. de Lomenie, in order that a search might be instituted upon the premises; the result of which tended to prove, beyond all possibility of doubt, that the original engagement delivered by the father of the Marquise to the sovereign had, in fact, not been restored, but had been skilfully copied by some able pen; while the importance which was still attached to the real document by the family of Madame de Verneuil may be gathered from the fact that it was discovered by the Secretary of State in a glass bottle, carefully sealed and enclosed within a second, which was laid upon a heap of cotton and built up in a wall of one of the apartments. Nor was this the only object of importance found in the possession of M. d’Entragues; as, together with the promise of marriage which he had professed to restore to the King, M. de Lomenie likewise discovered, secreted with equal care, sundry letters, the treaty between Philip of Spain and the conspirators, and the cypher which had been employed in their correspondence.[268]
From these documents it was ascertained that the King of Spain had stipulated on oath that, on the condition of Madame de Verneuil confiding her son to his guardianship, he should be immediately recognized as Dauphin of France, and heir to the throne of that kingdom; while five fortresses in the territory of Portugal should be placed at his disposal, and subjected to his authority, as places of refuge should such a precaution become necessary. A similar provision was, moreover, made for the Marquise herself; and an income amounting to twenty thousand pounds English was also promised to the quasi-Prince for the support of his household.
Nor was this domestic arrangement by any means the most important feature of the conspiracy, as appointments, both civil and military, involving considerable pecuniary advantages, were also promised to the Comte d’Auvergne and his stepfather; and a simultaneous invasion was arranged by the Duke of Savoy in Provence, the Conde de Fuentes[269] in Burgundy, and Spinola[270] in Champagne.
On the 11th of December M. d’Entragues was conveyed in a close carriage to the prison of the Conciergerie at Paris, accompanied by his son M. de Marcoussis on horseback, but without a single attendant; and he was in confinement for a considerable time before he was allowed either fire or light; while on the same day, Madame de Verneuil was placed under the charge of M. d’Arques, the Lieutenant of Police, who was informed that he must answer with his life for her safe-keeping, and who accordingly garrisoned her residence with a strong body of his guards and archers.
The Comte d’Entragues was no sooner incarcerated, than his wife,[271] following the example of her daughter-in-law, obtained an audience of Henry, in order to implore the pardon of her husband; but it was remarked that, earnest as she was in his behalf, she never once, during the whole of the interview, made the slightest allusion either to the Comte d’Auvergne or Madame de Verneuil; doubtless feeling that in the one case the well-known respect of the King for the blood of the Valois, and in the other his passion for the Marquise, would plead more powerfully in their behalf than the most emphatic entreaties. Like that of the Comtesse d’Auvergne, her attempt, however, proved abortive, save that Henry accorded to her prayers a mitigation of the rigour with which her husband had hitherto been treated.
Meanwhile Madame de Verneuil, far from imitating the humility of her relatives, openly declared that, whatever might be the result to herself, she should never regret the measures which she had adopted to obtain justice for herself and her children; and when on one occasion she was urged to make the concessions by which alone she could hope for pardon, she answered haughtily: “I have no fear of death; on the contrary, I shall welcome it. If the King takes my life, it will at least be allowed that he sacrificed his own wife, for I was Queen before the Italian woman. I ask but three favours from his Majesty: pardon for my father, a rope for my brother, and justice for myself.” [272]
Her reason for this expression may be found in the fact that during three examinations which he underwent the Comte d’Auvergne finally acknowledged everything, and threw the whole blame upon the Marquise; feeling convinced that, under every circumstance, her life was safe; although he had previously (placing the most entire reliance on the good-faith and secrecy of M. de Chevillard,[273] to whom he had, in conjunction with his sister, confided the original treaty with Spain, and never apprehending the discovery of the documents deposited at Marcoussis), declared his innocence in the most solemn manner; and he even concluded his address to the commissioners by saying: “Gentlemen, show me one line of writing by which I can be convicted of having entered into any treaty, either with the King of Spain or his ambassador, and I will immediately sign beneath it my own sentence of death, and condemn myself to be quartered alive.”
Nor was the confidence placed by M. d’Auvergne in his friend misplaced; for when Chevillard was in his turn taken to the Bastille as his accomplice, he so carefully concealed the treaty in the skirt of his doublet that it escaped the search of the officials; and on seeing himself treated as a prisoner of state, he contrived by degrees to swallow it in his soup, in order that it should not afterwards fall into their hands in the event of his condemnation.[274]
The indignation of the Marquise may consequently be imagined, when, after such a declaration as that which he had originally made, she ascertained that the Count had not only confessed his guilt, but that he had, moreover, revealed the most minute details of the plot; and in order to convince the King that he placed himself entirely at his mercy, had even given up to him the mutual promise made between himself and the Dues de Bouillon and de Biron on the occasion of the previous conspiracy. Her arrogance was also encouraged by the fact that Henry, anxious to find some pretext for pardoning her treachery, sent secretly to inform her that if she would confess her fault and ask his forgiveness, it should be granted in consideration of the past, and from regard for their children; to which message the Marquise vouchsafed no further reply than that those who had committed no crime required no pardon; and in addition to this impertinence, on being informed that some of her friends, anxious to save her in spite of her own obstinacy, had asserted that she had solicited the clemency of the monarch, she bitterly reproached them for their interference, declaring that they were liars and traitors, and that she would die rather than submit to such a humiliation.[275]
During the exile of the Marquise, the King, whose passion for Mademoiselle de Bueil had begun to decrease, and who discovered that mere personal beauty offered no equivalent for the wit and fascinations of his old favourite, resolved to provide for her, as he had previously done for Mademoiselle de la Bourdaisiere, by bestowing her upon a husband; and he accordingly effected her marriage with Henri de Harlay, Comte de Chesy, a young noble whose poverty, as well as his want of Court influence, gave every security for his ready submission to all the exactions of his royal master.[276]
The monarch, whom absence had thus only sufficed to render more devoted than ever to the Marquise, and who had resolved under all circumstances to pardon her, continued to employ every method in his power to induce her to avow her error, although in searching her papers numerous letters had been discovered which revealed an amount of infidelity on her part that should have awakened his pride, and induced him to abandon her to her fate; and at length, despairing that any minor influence would suffice to alter her resolution, and to lower her pride, he instructed M. de Sully to see her, and if possible to convince her of the injury which she was doing to her own cause by the obstinacy with which she rejected the suggestions of the King.
The minister had no alternative save obedience; and he consequently presented himself at the residence of Madame de Verneuil, whom he found as self-possessed and as self-confident as in the palmiest days of her prosperity. Instead of concessions she made conditions, and complained loudly and arrogantly of the proceedings of the sovereign; by whom she declared that she had been outraged in her honour, and from whom she sought redress rather than indulgence. This tirade was seasoned by professions of piety and repentance which were appreciated at their real value by her listener; who, having suffered her to exhaust herself by her own vehemence, instead of temporizing with her vanity as her friends had previously done, took up the subject in his turn, and told her that she would do well to remember that she was at that moment a prisoner under suspicion of treason, and that she might consider herself very fortunate if she were permitted to expiate her crime by self-exile to any country except Spain; bidding her remark, moreover, that this lenity could not now be exhibited towards her until she had undergone a criminal examination, and demanded the pardon of the King for her disobedience.
M. de Sully next proceeded to upbraid her with her unbecoming conduct towards the Queen; assuring her that every word or act of disrespect of which any were guilty towards the wife of the sovereign was an offence against his own person, and was likely to entail upon the culprit a very severe penalty. He then reproached her for her indecent expressions; and especially for her having more than once declared that had she not been treated with injustice, she should have been in the place occupied by “the fat banker’s daughter;” [277] and finally, he reprimanded her very severely for the impertinent and absurd affectation with which she had presumed to place herself upon a level with her royal mistress, and her children upon a par with the Dauphin of France; reminding her, moreover, that the perpetual disunion of their Majesties was to be solely attributed to her malignant and malicious insinuations, and advising her to lose no time in requesting permission to throw herself at the feet of the Queen, to entreat her pardon for the past and her indulgence for the future.
To this harangue, so different from the conciliatory and obsequious discourse of her partisans, Madame de Verneuil listened without any display of impatience, but with an ostentatious weariness which was intended to impress upon the minister the utter inutility of his interference; and when he paused to take breath, she assured him with a placid smile that she was obliged by his advice, but that she must have time to reflect before she could decide upon such a measure. M. de Sully, however, was not to be deceived by this well-acted composure; he had not carefully studied the character of the Marquise without perceiving how ill she brooked control or remonstrance; and, accordingly, she had no sooner ceased speaking than he resumed the conversation by expatiating upon the enormity of her conduct in affecting the sudden devotion behind which she had seen fit to entrench herself, while she was daily indulging alike her jealousy and her hatred by endeavouring not only to ruin the domestic happiness of the monarch, but even the interests of his kingdom; and when his offended listener remarked, with chilling haughtiness, that he was in no position to impugn her sincerity, he only answered the intended rebuke by persisting that her assumed piety was a mere grimace, which could not impose upon any man of sense; a fact which he forthwith proved by detailing all her past career, and thus convincing her that no one incident of her licentious life had remained a mystery to him.
“Can you now tell me,” he asked, “that these adventures existed only in the jealous imagination of the King, as you have so often assured his Majesty himself? And will you persist in denying that you have deceived him in the most unblushing manner? Believe me, Madame, if you had indeed become penitent for your past errors, and had, from a sincere return to God, desired to withdraw from the Court, you would at once have obtained permission to do so with honour to yourself; but you have simply acted a part, and that so unskilfully as to have deceived no one.”
At this period of the interview Madame de Verneuil could not wholly suppress her emotion, but she controlled it sufficiently to reply only by a condescending bow, and the exclamation of, “Proceed, M. le Ministre!”
“I will do so, Madame,” said M. de Sully, “by a transition from remonstrance to inquiry. Have you any legitimate subject of complaint which you conceive to warrant your failure of respect towards their Majesties?”
“If this question was dictated to you by the King, Monsieur,” was the proud reply, “he was wrong to put it, as he, better than any other person, could himself have decided; and if it be your own suggestion you are no less so, since whatever may be its nature, it is beyond your power to apply the remedy.”
“Then, Madame, it only remains for me to be informed of what you desire from his Majesty.”
“That which I am aware will prove less acceptable to the King than to myself, M. le Ministre; but which I nevertheless persist in demanding, since I am authorized by your inquiry to repeat my request. I desire immediate permission to leave France with my parents, my brother, and my children, and to take up my permanent residence in some other country, where I shall have excited less jealousy and less malevolence than in this; and I include my brother in this voluntary expatriation because I now have reason to believe that he is suffering entirely for my sake.”
Sully was startled: he could not place faith in her sincerity, and he consequently induced her to repeat her request more than once; until she at length added a condition which convinced him that she was indeed perfectly serious in the desire that she expressed.
“Do not, however, imagine, Monsieur,” she said, with a significant smile, “that I have any intention of leaving the kingdom, and taking up my abode with strangers, with the slightest prospect of dying by hunger. I am by no means inclined to afford such a gratification to the Queen, who would doubtlessly rejoice to learn that this had been the close of my career. I must have an income of a hundred thousand francs, fully and satisfactorily secured to me in land, before I leave France; and this is a mere trifle compared with what I have a legal right to demand from the King.”
“I shall submit your proposition to his Majesty, Madame,” said the minister as he rose to take his leave; “and will shortly acquaint you with the result.”
Greatly to the disappointment of M. de Sully, however, he found Henry decidedly averse to the departure of Madame de Verneuil; nor could all the arguments by which he endeavoured to convince the infatuated monarch that the self-exile of the Marquise was calculated to ensure his own future tranquillity, avail to overcome his distaste to the proposal.[278] He was weary of his purely sensual intercourse with Madame de Moret, whose extreme facility had caused him from the first to attach but little value to her possession; while her total want of intellect and knowledge of the world continually caused him to remember with regret the dazzling although dangerous qualities of her predecessor. Marie de Medicis, moreover, who had originally looked with complacency upon his _liaison_ with Mademoiselle de Bueil, rejoicing in any event which tended to estrange his affections from the Marquise, had, since her melodramatic marriage and her accession of rank, begun to entertain apprehensions that another formidable rival was about to embitter her future life; while the reproaches which she constantly addressed to the monarch, and to which he was compelled to submit, on the subject of a woman who had merely pleased his fancy without touching his heart, were another cause of irritation, and only tended to make him look back upon the past with an ardent longing to repair it. Thus he continued to employ all his most intimate associates in an attempt to urge the Marquise to make such concessions as would enable him to pardon her, with the earnestness of a repentant lover rather than the clemency of an indulgent sovereign; and when the stern minister so signally failed to convince her reason by his representations, the King endeavoured to arouse her vanity and self-interest by the flatteries and inferences of the more courtly Bassompierre, La Varenne,[279] Sigogne, and others in whom he placed confidence; but all this ill-disguised anxiety only served to convince the wily favourite that she should prove victorious in the struggle, for since Henry could not bring himself to consent to her expatriation, there was no probability that he would ever be induced to take her life.
And the astute Marquise judged rightly: for she was not only safe herself, but the palladium of her family. The King was no longer young; he had become satiated with the tame and facile pleasures for which he was indebted to his sovereign rank; and although opposition and haughtiness in a wife angered and disgusted him, there was a piquancy and novelty in the defiance of a mistress by which he was alike amused and interested. He could calculate upon the extent to which the Queen would venture to indulge her displeasure; but he found himself quite unable to adjudge the limits of Madame de Verneuil’s daring; and thus his passion was constantly stimulated by curiosity. In her hours of fascination she delighted his fancy, and in those of irritation she excited his astonishment. Like the ocean, she assumed a new aspect every hour; and to this “infinite variety” she was in all probability indebted for the duration of her empire over the sensual and selfish affections of her royal lover.
Conscious of her power, the Marquise continued inexorable; and finally, Henry found himself compelled to include her in the public accusation brought against the other conspirators, and to issue an order to the Parliament, as the supreme criminal tribunal of the kingdom, to commence without further delay the prosecution of the delinquents.
A new anxiety at this time divided the attention of the King with that which he felt for the vindication of the favourite. His permission had been asked by the Huguenots to hold a meeting at Chatellerault, and this he had at once conceded; but circumstances having arisen which induced the Council to apprehend that the intrigues of the Duc de Bouillon, supported by MM. de la Tremouille, and du Plessis-Mornay,[280] were about to involve the kingdom in new troubles, M. de Sully proceeded to Poitou under pretext of taking possession of his new government, and by his unexpected appearance on the scene of action counteracted the project of the conspirators; while a short time subsequently the Due de la Tremouille fell into a rapid decline which terminated his existence at the early age of thirty-four years, and deprived the reform party of one of their most able and zealous leaders.
Meanwhile, amid all the dissensions, both political and domestic, by which Henri IV had latterly been harassed, his earnest desire to improve and embellish his good city of Paris and its adjacent palaces had continued unabated. Henri III, during whose reign the Pont Neuf had been commenced, had only lived long enough to see two of its arches constructed, and the piles destined to support the remainder raised above the river; this undertaking was now completed, and numerous workmen were also constantly employed on the galleries of the Louvre, and at the chateaux of St. Germain-en-Laye, Fontainebleau, and Monceaux; the latter of which, as we have already stated, the monarch had presented to the Queen on her arrival in Paris; while, emulating the royal example, the great nobles and capitalists of the city were building on all sides, and increasing alike the extent and splendour of the metropolis.[281] It was at this period that Henry joined the Faubourg St. Germain to the city, and caused it to be paved; constructed the Place Royale; repaired the Hotel de St. Louis for the purpose of converting it into a plague-hospital; and commenced building the Temple Square.[282]
Other great works were also undertaken throughout the kingdom; the junction of the Garonne with the Aude, an attempt which presented considerable difficulty and which was only terminated during the reign of Louis XIV, was vigorously commenced; other rivers, hitherto comparatively useless, were rendered navigable; and the canal of Briare, with its two-and-thirty locks, although not more than half completed at the death of Henry, had already cost the enormous sum of three hundred thousand crowns. Numerous means of communication were established by highways which had not previously existed; bridges were built, and roads repaired; taxes which paralyzed the manufactures of the country were remitted; the fabrication of tapestried hangings wrought in worsted, silk, and gold, was earnestly encouraged; mulberry plantations were formed, and the foundation laid for the production of the costly silks and velvets for which Lyons has ever since been so famous. An imitation of the celebrated Venetian glass was also introduced with great success; and, above all, even in the midst of these expensive undertakings, a tax of four annual millions of francs, hitherto raised by the customs upon the different classes of citizens, was altogether abolished. Hope and energy were alike aroused by so vigorous a measure; and thus the people ceased to murmur, and were ready to acknowledge that the King had indeed begun to verify his celebrated declaration that “if he were spared, there should not exist a workman within his realm who was not enabled to cook a fowl upon the Sunday.” [283]
FOOTNOTES:
[210] Gabrielle-Angelique de Bourbon, who was declared legitimate as her brother had previously been, married in 1622 Bernard de la Valette et de Foix, Duc d’Epernon, and died in childbed in April 1627.
[211] Matthieu, _Hist. de Henri IV_, vol. ii. book vi. p. 446.
[212] Raimond de Comminge, Sieur de Sobole, and his brother, noblemen of Gascony.
[213] Antoine, Seigneur d’Arquien, was Governor of Calais, Sancerre, etc.
[214] Jean Henri, Duc de Deux-Ponts, who married Catherine de Rohan, was descended from a branch of the royal house of Bavaria.
[215] Christophe de Harlai, Comte de Beaumont, Governor of Orleans. He died in 1615.
[216] L’Etoile, vol. iii. p. 94.
[217] Capefigue, vol. viii. p. 163.
[218] Sully, _Mem_. vol. iv. pp. 197-199.
[219] L’Etoile, vol. iii. pp. 88, 89.
[220] Sully, _Mem_. vol. v. pp. 45-50.
[221] Sully, _Mem_. vol. v. pp. 49-53. Dreux du Radier, vol. vi. pp. 90-92. Saint-Edme, pp. 222, 223
[222] Capefigue, vol. viii. p. 130.
[223] Richelieu, _La Mere et le Fils_, vol. i. p. 17.
[224] Sully, _Mem_. vol. v. pp. 54, 55.
[225] Bernardin Gigault de Bellefonds.
[226] Hercule de Rohan, Duc de Montbazon.
[227] Francois d’Orleans-Longueville, Comte de St. Pol, Governor of Picardy.
[228] Arnaud de Sorbin, Bishop of Nevers, was justly celebrated both for his piety and his learning. He was originally curate of the parish of Ste. Foy, where he had been placed by Georges, Cardinal d’Armagnac, Bishop of Toulouse, who afterwards removed him from that parish, in order to keep him near his person. The Cardinal d’Este, aware of his great worth and extraordinary talents, conferred upon him the rank of doctor of divinity of the cathedral of Auch, the capital of his archbishopric; but he did not retain it long, having been recalled by his first patron to assume the same position in his church at Toulouse, where he was universally loved and respected. He was successively lecturer to Charles IX, Henri III, and Henri IV, and was consecrated, on his elevation to the see of Nevers, by the Cardinal de Gondy, Bishop of Paris. Monseigneur de Sorbin died in Nevers, on the 1st of May 1606.
[229] L’Etoile, vol. iii. pp. 152-154.
[230] Cayet, _Chron. Septen_., 1604.
[231] Emeric Gobier, Sieur de Barrault, ambassador at the Court of Spain.
[232] Antoine de Silly, Damoiseau de Commercy, Comte de Rochepot, knight of the Order of the Holy Ghost.
[233] Antoine de Brienne de Lomenie, Seigneur de la Ville-aux-Clercs, ambassador-extraordinary to England in 1595, and secretary of state, was the representative of a distinguished family of Berry, whose father, Marechal de Brienne, registrar of the council, fell a victim to the massacre of St. Bartholomew. He himself died in 1628, bequeathing to the royal library three hundred and forty manuscript volumes, known as the _Manuscripts of Brienne_.
[234] The Prevots des Marechaux were magistrates whose duties consisted in trying vagrants and persons who could not prove their identity, culprits previously sentenced to corporal punishment, banishment, or fine, soldiers, highway robbers, and the members of illicit societies. The Prevots des Marechaux took the title of Equerry-Councillors of the King, and their place on the bench of the criminal court was immediately after that of the presiding judge.
[235] L’Etoile, vol. iii. pp. 185-193. Matthieu, _Hist, des Derniers Troubles,_ book ii. pp. 435-437. Sully, _Mem._ vol. v. pp. 109-121. Mezeray, vol. x. pp. 254-257.
[236] Sully, _Mem_. vol. v. p. 137.
[237] Sully, _Mem_. vol. v. pp. 139-142.
[238] The French term which I have ventured thus freely to translate is _pot-de-vin_, and literally signifies a sum of money given to a third party who is able to ensure the success of a bargain or negotiation of whatever nature. Thus, for example, in the granting and acceptance of a lease which has been effected by such means, the contracting parties jointly pay down the stipulated amount, irrespective of the value of the lease, for the benefit of the person through whose agency it has been concluded; while so general is the system throughout the country, even to this day, that domestic servants give a _pot-de-vin_ to the individual, to whom they are indebted for their situation, in which instance, however, the bribe or recompense is also called a _denier a Dieu_.
[239] Florent d’Argouges, Treasurer of the Queen’s Household. His son was first president of the Parliament of Brittany, and subsequently councillor of state and member of the Privy Council.
[240] Sully, _Mem_. vol. v. pp. 144-146.
[241] Sully, _Mem_. vol. v. pp. 147-149.
[242] Sully, _Mem_. vol. v. p. 155.
[243] Saint-Edme, vol. ii. p. 223.
[244] In order to convey some idea of the effect produced by the ostensible devotion of Madame de Verneuil upon those who gave her credit for sincerity, we need only quote a passage in the dedication of D’Hemery d’Amboise to his translation of the works of Gregoire de Tours, in which, addressing himself to the Marquise, he gravely says “that she had deduced from the inspired writings of the fathers their salutary doctrine; and that she practised it so faithfully, that her firmness had triumphed over her adversities, and her merit exceeded her happiness.” “Your life,” he adds, with the same unblushing sycophancy, “serves as a mirror for the most pious, and compels the admiration of all who see so holy and resolute a determination exerted at an age that has scarcely attained its prime; and at which, despising mere personal beauty, and the other precious advantages with which you have been richly endowed by Heaven, you have devoted the course of your best years to the contemplation of the marvels of God, joining spiritual meditation to good works.”–Dreux du Radier, vol. vi. pp. 94, 95.
[245] Richelieu, _Hist. de la Mere et du Fils_, vol. i. pp. 8-11.
[246] MSS. Dupuy, vol. 407.
[247] Andre Hurault, Seigneur de Maisse, had been ambassador to Venice under both Henri III and Henri IV, and in his official capacity had frequent disputes with the nuncios of Sixtus V and Clement VIII, in consequence of which those prelates exerted all their influence to injure his interests at the Court of Rome. Andre Morosin mentions M. de Maisse as an able and far-seeing man, _sagaci admodum ingenio_. In 1595 Henri IV again sent him to Venice to offer his thanks to the Senate for the extraordinary embassy which they had forwarded to him during the previous year; and as M. de Maisse travelled on this occasion with Cardinal Duperron, who was instructed to pass by that city on his way to Rome, great alarm was created in the mind of the Pope that the French ambassador was about to visit the Papal Court in his company, an event which he deprecated from the distrust which he felt of the designs of an individual who had already frustrated the measures of his accredited agents. His Holiness was, however, _quitte pour la peur_, the instructions of M. de Maisse having restricted him to his Venetian mission.
[248] Louis Potier de Gevres, Secretary of State. It is from him that the branch of his family still bearing the name of Gevres is descended, while that of Novion owes its origin to his elder brother, Nicolas Potier de Blancmenil.
[249] Mezeray, vol. x. p. 261.
[250] _Le Laboureur sur Castelnau_.
[251] Jacqueline de Bueil, subsequently Comtesse de Moret, was the daughter of Claude de Bueil, Seigneur de Courcillon and La Machere, and of Catherine de Monteclu, who both died in 1596. The family of Bueil traced their descent from Jean, the first of the name, Sieur de Bueil in Touraine, who was equerry of honour to Charles-le-Bel in 1321.
[252] Dreux du Radier, vol. vi. p. 97.
[253] Wraxall, vol. v. pp. 356, 357.
[254] Abraham-Nicolas Amelot de la Houssaye, was born at Orleans in the year 1634, and passed nearly all his life in composing works of history and in translating the historians by whom he had been preceded. His principal productions are _A History of the Government of Venice; Historical, Political, Critical, and Literary Memoirs_; and translations of the _History of the Council of Trent_, by Fra Paolo; of the _Prince_ by Machiavelli; and of the _Annals of Tacitus_. He died in 1706.
[255] Mezeray, vol. x. pp. 261, 262.
[256] Sully, _Mem_. vol. iv. p. 125.
[257] Pierre Fougeuse, Sieur d’Escures.
[258] Daniel, vol. vii. pp. 453, 454.
[259] Treasurer of the war department, and lieutenant-general at Riom.
[260] Philibert de Nerestan, knight of Malta, and captain of the bodyguard of Henri IV, was as celebrated for his admirable qualities of mind and heart as for the antiquity of his birth. He was grand master of the Orders of St. Lazarus and Notre-Dame du Mont Carmel, the latter of which was instituted by the sovereign at his intercession.
[261] Matthieu, _Hist, des Derniers Troubles_, book ii. p. 438. Perefixe, vol. ii. pp. 406, 407.
[262] L’Etoile, vol. iii. p. 242.
[263] _Memoires,_ vol. v. p. 185.
[264] L’Etoile, vol. iii. p. 243.
[265] Charlotte, eldest daughter of Henri, Duc de Montmorency, High Constable of France.
[266] L’Etoile, vol. iii. pp. 247-249.
[267] Jean Defunctis, Lieutenant criminal of the Provost of Paris.–_Hist. Chron. de la Chancell. de France_, p. 316.
[268] Wraxall, Note quoted from _Le Laboureur sur Castelnau_, vol. v. p. 356.
[269] Pedro Henriques Azevedo, Conde de Fuentes, succeeded to the command of the Spanish army on the demise of the Archduke Ernest.
[270] Ambroise Spinola, Marques de los Balbazez, one of the most distinguished generals of the seventeenth century, was the descendant of an illustrious family of Geneva, whose branches spread alike over Italy and Spain. He was born in 1569, and first bore arms in Flanders. In 1604, being in command of the army, he took Ostend, and in consequence of his important services was appointed General of the Spanish troops in the Low Countries. When opposed to Prince Maurice of Nassau, he counterbalanced alike his renown and his success; and in 1629, when serving in Piedmont, he took the town of Casal, but died in the following year of vexation at having failed to reduce the fortress of that city.
[271] Marie Touchet, Comtesse d’Entragues, was the daughter of an apothecary at Orleans; who, on the occasion of a visit of Charles IX to that city, obtained permission to see his Majesty dine in public, where her extreme beauty so impressed the Monarch that he inquired her name, and at the close of the repast despatched M. de Latour, the master of his wardrobe, to desire her attendance in his closet. The negotiation did not prove a difficult one; as the lady, although at the moment strongly attached to M. de Monluc, the brother of the Bishop of Valence, could not resist the prestige of royalty. Charles, anxious to retain her near him, requested Madame Marguerite, his sister, to receive her into her household as a waiting-woman; but as she shortly afterwards became pregnant, he removed her from the Court and established her in Paris, where she gave birth to Charles, Comte d’Auvergne. Although tenderly beloved by the King, Marie Touchet still retained her attachment to Monluc, with whom she carried on an active correspondence, which was at length discovered by Charles; who, having on one occasion been apprised that she had at the moment a letter from her former lover in her pocket, instantly caused a number of the Court ladies to be invited to supper; and they were no sooner assembled than he sent to desire a man named Chambre, the chief of a band of gipsies, to disperse a dozen of his most expert followers about the apartment, with orders to cut away the pockets of all the guests and to bring them carefully to his closet when he retired for the night. He then caused the faithless favourite to be seated beside himself, in order that she might not have an opportunity of disposing of the letter elsewhere; and the Bohemians having adroitly obeyed his instructions, the King found himself a few hours afterwards in possession of the booty. In the pocket of Marie Touchet he discovered, as he had anticipated, the letter of M. de Monluc; which, on the following morning, he placed, with the most bitter reproaches, in the hands of its owner; who, on finding herself detected, declared that the pocket in which the King had discovered it was not hers, a subterfuge by which, as the letter bore no address, she hoped to escape the anger and indignation of her royal lover. Unfortunately, however, Charles recognized several of the trinkets by which it had been accompanied; and she had, consequently, no alternative save to acknowledge her fault and to entreat for pardon. Charles, who could not resist her tears, was soon induced to promise this, provided she pledged herself to relinquish all intercourse with Monluc; and in order to render her performance of this pledge more sure, he shortly afterwards married her to the Comte d’Entragues, whose complaisance he rewarded by the government of Orleans.–L’Etoile, _Hist, de Henri IV,_ vol. iii. pp. 247-249.
[272] Dreux du Radier, vol. vi. p. 98. Saint-Edme, vol. ii. p. 227. L’Etoile, vol. iii. p. 247.
[273] Antoine Eugene Chevillard, general treasurer of the gendarmerie of France.
[274] Sully, _Mem_. vol. v. p. 161, quoted from Amelot de la Houssaye.
[275] Dreux du Radier, vol. vi. p. 99.
[276] Mademoiselle de Bueil became Comtesse de Chesy on the 5th of October 1604, and two months later she obtained a divorce. M. de Chesy died in 1652.
[277] Perefixe, vol. ii. p. 401.
[278] Sully, _Mem_. vol. v. pp. 193-197.
[279] Guillaume Fouquet, Sieur de la Varenne, was one of those singularly-gifted individuals who by the unaided power of intellect are raised from obscurity to fortune. On his first introduction to the Court of France, his position was merely that of cloak-bearer to the King; but his excessive acuteness and his genius for intrigue soon drew upon him the attention of the Cabinet. The event that originally procured for him the favour by which he so largely profited in the sequel was a voyage to Spain, voluntarily undertaken under unusual difficulties. The courier who was conveying to Philip the despatches of the Duc de Mayenne and the other chiefs of the League, having been taken by the emissaries of Henri IV, and the despatches opened by his ministers, it was decided that copies should be made, and the originals resealed and forwarded to their destination by some confidential person who might bring back the replies, in order that a more perfect judgment might be formed by the Council of their probable result. For such an undertaking as this, however, it was obvious that a messenger must be found at once faithful, expert, and courageous; and such an one offered himself in the person of La Varenne, who without a moment’s hesitation offered his services to the King, and acquitted himself so dexterously of his self-imposed task that he succeeded, not only in procuring two interviews with the Spanish Council, but even an audience of Philip, without once exciting suspicion; and his arrival at Madrid had been so well timed that although a second courier was despatched in all haste by the League, to announce the capture of his predecessor, he was enabled to effect his return to France with the reply of the Spanish monarch, by which Henry and his ministers were apprised of the plans and pretensions of that potentate (Amelot de la Houssaye, _Lettres du Cardinal d’Ossat_, vol. ii. p. 17 _note_.) La Varenne was subsequently Master-General of the Post Office.
[280] Philippe de Mornay, Seigneur de Plessis-Marly, Governor of Saumur, was born in the year 1549, at Bussy, in the department of the Oise, of a Catholic father and a Protestant mother (Francoise du Bec), the latter of whom educated him in the reformed faith. Having escaped the massacre of St. Bartholomew, he visited Germany, Italy, and England, and finally entered the service of Henri IV, while he was still King of Navarre, who sent him on a mission to Queen Elizabeth. His science, his valour, and his high sense of honour, rendered him after the abjuration of the monarch the chief of the Protestant party, and caused him to be called _the Huguenot Pope_. He sustained against Duperron, Bishop of Evreux, the famous conference of Fontainebleau, at whose close each of the two parties claimed the victory. Louis XIII deprived him of his government of Saumur; and he died in 1623. He had issue by his wife, Charlotte de l’Arbalete, widow of the Marquis de Feuquieres, one son (Plessis-Mornay, Sieur de Bauves), who was killed in 1605 while serving under Prince Maurice in the Low Countries, and three daughters, the younger of whom married the Duc de la Force.
[281] Mezeray, vol. x. pp. 254, 255.
[282] Bonnechose, _Hist. de France_, vol. i. p. 438, seventh edition.
[283] Bonnechose, vol. i. p. 438.
CHAPTER V
1605
Trial of the conspirators–Pusillanimity of the Comte d’Auvergne–Arrogant attitude assumed by Madame de Verneuil–She refuses to offer any defence–Defence of the Comte d’Entragues–The two nobles are condemned to death–Madame de Verneuil is sentenced to imprisonment for life in a convent–A mother’s intercession–The King commutes the sentence of death passed on the two nobles to exile from the Court and imprisonment for life–Expostulations of the Privy Council–Madame de Verneuil is permitted to retire to her estate–Disappointment of the Queen–Marriage of the Due de Rohan–Singular ceremony–A tilt at the Louvre–Bassompierre is dangerously wounded–His convalescence–Death of Clement VIII–Election of Leo XI–His sudden death–Election of Paul V–The Comte d’Entragues is authorised to return to Marcoussis–Madame de Verneuil is pardoned and recalled–Marriage of the Prince de Conti–Mademoiselle de Guise–Marriage of the Prince of Orange–The ex-Queen Marguerite–She arrives in Paris–Gratitude of the King–Her reception–Murder at the Hotel de Sens–Execution of the criminal–Marguerite removes to the Faubourg St. Germain–The King condoles with her on the loss of her favourite–Her dissolute career–Her able policy–Death of M. de la Riviere–Execution of M. de Merargues–Attempt to assassinate Henri IV–Magnanimity of the monarch–Henry seeks to initiate the Queen into the mysteries of government–_Madame la Regente_–A timely warning.
The year 1605 commenced, as had been the case each year since the peace, with a succession of Court-festivals; tilts and tournaments, balls and masquerades, occupied the attention of the privileged; presents of value were exchanged by the sovereigns and princes; and during all this incessant dissipation the Parliament was diligently employed upon the trial of the conspirators.
On Saturday, the 29th of January, the Comte d’Auvergne was placed out the sellette,[284] where L’Etoile[285] asserts that he communicated much more than was required of him; while the Queen, anxious to secure the condemnation of Madame de Verneuil, and at the same time to intimidate the favourites by whom she might be succeeded, appeared in person as one of the accusing witnesses. Nor did Henry, who had already decided upon the pardon of the Marquise, attempt to dissuade her from this extraordinary measure; and it is even probable that as the design of the King was merely to humble the pride of the haughty Marquise, in order to render her more submissive to his authority, he was by no means disinclined to suffer Marie to give free vent to her indignation and contempt.
The Parliament had nominated as its commissaries Achille de Harlay, the first president,[286] and MM. Etienne Dufour and Philibert Turin, councillors, to whose interrogatories, however, the Comte d’Auvergne at first refused to reply, alleging as his reason the pardon which had been accorded to him by Henry during the past year. In this emergency M. Louis Servin,[287] the King’s Advocate, was deputed to offer to his Majesty the remonstrance of the commissaries, and to represent that as the accused had already been convicted of conspiring, first with Maturin Carterie, and subsequently with the Duc de Biron, he was unworthy of pardon on this third occasion; while the most imperious necessity existed that an example should be made, in order to secure the safety of their Majesties and the Dauphin, which, moreover, as a natural consequence, involved the tranquillity and welfare of the state.
To this appeal the King replied that the abolition accorded to the accused on the two former occasions had been granted with a view of inducing him to return to his allegiance, but that since it had failed to produce the desired result it could form no pretext for his escape from the penalties of this new crime, and that should he persist in refusing to reply to the questions put to him by his judges his silence must be construed into an acknowledgment of treason; upon which M. d’Auvergne immediately endeavoured to redeem his error by revealing all the details of the past plots, as well as those of the one in which he was now implicated.
Madame de Verneuil, who had been summoned to appear at the same time, excused herself upon the plea of indisposition; and it was asserted that she had caused herself to be bled in order that the temporary delay in her examination thus secured might enable her, ere she appeared before the commissaries, to ascertain to what extent she had been implicated by the revelations of her step-brother. She no sooner learnt, however, that the Count had thrown all the odium of the conspiracy upon herself than she hastened to obey a second summons, and presented herself with her arm in a sling to undergo in her turn the necessary interrogatories. Her manner was firm, and her delivery at once haughty and energetic. She insisted upon the innocence of her father, declared that the whole cabal had been organized by D’Auvergne, and admitted that feeling herself wronged she had willingly entered into his views; but at the same time she coupled with this admission the assurance that having nothing with which to reproach herself she asked for no indulgence, and was quite prepared to abide by the consequences of her attempt to do justice alike to herself and to her children.
When the Comte d’Entragues was in his turn examined, he did not seek to deny his participation in the plot, but placed in the hands of his judges a written document, setting forth the services which he had rendered to the King since his accession, and which had merely been recompensed by the government of Orleans, a dignity of which he was moreover shortly afterwards deprived in order that it might be conferred upon another, although in his zeal for the monarch he had not only exhausted his own resources but had even raised considerable loans which still remained unliquidated. Yet, as he stated, he had uttered no complaint, although he was reduced to poverty and deprived of the means of suitably establishing his children, for he still had faith in the justice and generosity of his sovereign; and with this assurance he had retired to his paternal home, old, sick, and poor, to await as best he might the happy moment in which his claims should be remembered. And then it was, as he emphatically declared, that the last and crowning misfortune of a long life had overtaken him. Then it was that the King conceived that unfortunate attachment for his younger daughter, which deprived him of the greatest solace of his old age and exposed him to the raillery and contempt of his fellow-nobles, coupled with sarcastic congratulations upon the advantages which he was supposed to have derived from the dishonour of his child; an event which had clouded his remnant of existence with shame and despair. He had, as he asserted, several times requested of his Majesty that he might be permitted to withdraw entirely from the Court and finish his days in retirement and in the bosom of his family, but this favour had constantly been denied. As a last effort he had then represented the deplorable state of his health, and entreated that he might be permitted to travel in order to regain his strength, leaving his wife and children at Marcoussis; a favour which also was not only refused, but the refusal rendered doubly bitter by a prohibition either to see or correspond with his daughter, whose safety was at that moment endangered by the menaces of the Queen. He then entered briefly into the circumstances of the conspiracy, and concluded by declaring that no attempt upon the life either of the sovereign or the Dauphin had ever been contemplated by himself or by any of his accomplices.[288]
Such was the defence of the dishonoured old man who had placed himself beyond the pale of sympathy by his own degrading marriage. Yet he was still a father; and who shall decide that the shame which in his own case had been silenced by the voice of passion, did not crush him with double violence when it involved the reputation of his child? Who shall say that he had not, in the throbbing recesses of his wrung heart, mourned with an undying remorse the fault of which he had himself been guilty, and felt that it was visited in vengeance upon the dearest object of his paternal love? Contemporary historians waste not a word upon the ruined noble, the disappointed partisan, and the disgraced father; yet the scene must have been a pitiable one in the midst of which he stood an attainted criminal, blighted in every affection and in every hope, the creditor of his King, and the victim of his paternal ambition.
The sentence of the Parliament was pronounced on the 2nd of February. The Comtes d’Auvergne and d’Entragues were condemned to death for the crime of _lese-majeste_, and Madame de Verneuil to imprisonment in the convent of Beaumont, near Tours, until more ample information could be obtained of the exact extent of her participation; and meanwhile she was to be prohibited from holding any communication save with the sisterhood.
On the same day, the sentence having been instantly communicated to Madame d’Entragues, with the information that the King was about to repair to the chapel of the palace to attend mass, she hastened, accompanied by her daughter Marie de Balzac,[289] to the Tuileries, where the two unfortunate women threw themselves on their knees before Henry as he entered the grand gallery, and with tears and sobs entreated mercy, the one for her husband, and the other for her father. The monarch burst into tears as he saw them at his feet. He could not forget that the mourners thus prostrate before him were the mother and the sister of the woman whom he still loved, and as he raised them from the ground he said soothingly: “You shall see that I am indulgent–I will convene a council this very day. Go, and pray to God to inspire me with right resolutions, while I proceed in my turn to mass with the same intention.” [290]
The King kept his word. In the afternoon the Council again met, when he charged them upon their consciences to deliberate seriously before they condemned two of their fellow-creatures to an ignominious death; but they remained firm in their decision, declaring that by extending pardon to crimes of so serious a nature as those upon which judgment had just been passed, nothing but danger and disorder could ensue; and that after the execution of the Duc de Biron, individuals convicted of the same offence could not be suffered to escape with impunity without endangering by such misplaced clemency the safety of the kingdom, while a revocation of the sentence now pronounced would moreover tend to bring contempt upon the judicial authority.
Henry listened, but he would not yield; and before the close of the meeting, contrary to the advice of all his Council, he announced that he commuted the pain of death in both instances to perpetual imprisonment, and revoked the sentence that condemned the Marquise to the cloister, which he superseded by an order of exile to her own estate of Verneuil.
To express the disappointment and mortification of the Queen when this decision was announced to her would be impossible, as she instantly felt that any further attempt to destroy the influence of the favourite must prove ineffectual. She no longer exhibited any violence, but became a prey to the deepest melancholy, weeping where she had formerly reproached, and seeking her only consolation in prayer and in the society of her chosen friends. Upon Henry, however, the effect of his extraordinary and ill-judged leniency was far different. Although mercy, and even indulgence, had been extended towards the Marquise without eliciting one word either of entreaty or of acknowledgment, he felt convinced that so marked an exhibition of his favour must be recompensed by a return of affection on her part; and thus he continued to participate in the gaieties of the Court with a zest which was strangely contrasted by the gloom and sadness of his royal consort, and even derived amusement from the epigrams and satires which were circulated at his expense among the people.
On the 13th of the month M. de Rohan[291] was married at Ablon[292] to Marguerite de Bethune, the daughter of the Duc de Sully, whom Henry had previously determined to bestow upon the Comte de Laval,[293] and not only did he confer the honour of his presence upon the well-dowered bride, but he also signed her marriage contract and presented to her ten thousand crowns for the purchase of her _trousseau_, with a similar sum to her bridegroom to defray the expenses of the wedding-feast. A singular ceremony followed upon the nuptial blessing, for M. de Rohan had no sooner led his newly-made wife from the altar than his ducal coronet was placed upon his brow, his ducal mantle flung upon his shoulders, and in this pompous costume he was, at the close of the banquet, escorted to Paris by the princes and nobles who had been the guests of M. de Sully.
Seldom had the King evinced more gaiety of heart than at this particular period, or appeared to derive greater amusement from the gossipry of the Court and the gallantries of the courtiers; and he no sooner ascertained that Mademoiselle d’Entragues had become the mistress of Bassompierre than he said laughingly to the Duc de Guise: “D’Entragues despises us all in her idolatry of Bassompierre. I have good grounds for what I state.”
“Well, Sire,” was the reply, “you can be at no loss to revenge the affront; while for myself I know of no means so fitting as those of knight-errantry, and I am consequently ready to break three lances with him this afternoon at any hour and place which your Majesty may be pleased to ordain.”
The preparations for this combat are so graphically described by Bassompierre himself, and so characteristic of the manners of the time, that we shall offer no apology for giving them in his own words.
“The King acceded to our wishes, as such encounters were by no means unusual, and told us that the tilting should take place in the great court of the Louvre, which he would cause to be covered with sand. M. de Guise selected as his seconds his brother the Prince de Joinville and M. de Thermes;[294] while I chose M. de Saint-Luc[295] and the Comte de Sault.[296] We all six dressed and armed ourselves at the house of Saint-Luc, and as we had armour and liveries ready for every occasion, my party wore silver-mail, with plumes of red and white, as were our silk stockings; while M. de Guise and his troop, on account of the imprisonment of Madame de Verneuil, of whom he was secretly the lover, were dressed and armed in black and gold. In this equipage we arrived at the Louvre, myself and my friends being the first upon the ground.” [297]
Henry, with his whole Court, both male and female, was present on the occasion, and the lists were placed immediately beneath the windows of the Queen’s apartments; but the diversion was not fated to be of long duration, for at the first encounter the lance of M. de Guise entered the body of his antagonist and inflicted so formidable a wound that he was carried from the spot and laid upon the bed of the Duc de Vendome, apparently in a dying state. After his hurt had been dressed, the Queen sent her sedan chair to convey him to his residence.
Although Bassompierre, in the preceding column, assures his readers that “such encounters were by no means unusual,” he goes on to state that directly he fell the King not only forbade the continuance of the tourney, but would never permit another to take place, and that this was the only one which had been held in France for the preceding century.[298]
“No one can imagine,” says the wounded hero in continuation, “the multitude of visits that I received, especially from the ladies. All the Princesses came to see me, and the Queen on three occasions sent her maids of honour, who were brought to me by Mademoiselle de Guise, and stayed during the whole afternoon.”
These courtly diversions were abruptly terminated by the intelligence which reached Paris of the death, on the 3rd of March, of Pope Clement VIII.[299] The piety of this distinguished Pontiff, and the eminent services which he had rendered to the French King, caused his loss to be deeply felt by Henry; but when, on the 1st day of April, Alessandro de Medicis, the cousin of the Queen, was unanimously elected as his successor under the title of Leo XI, nothing could exceed the joy which was manifested throughout the country. Paris was illuminated, bonfires were lighted on the surrounding heights, and salvos of artillery rang from the dark walls of the Bastille. This demonstration proved, however, to be premature, as the next courier who arrived in the French capital from Rome brought the fatal tidings of his death. On the day succeeding his elevation he had made his solemn entry into St. Peter’s; on Easter Sunday the triple tiara was placed upon his brow, and the public procession to St. John de Lateran took place on the 17th; but on returning from this ceremony the new Pontiff complained of indisposition, and on the 27th he breathed his last; and was in his turn succeeded, on the Day of Pentecost (29th of May), by Paul V.[300]
About this time the King, wearied of the perpetual coldness of Madame de Verneuil, which not even his excessive clemency had sufficed to overcome, made a last attempt to compel her gratitude by forwarding letters under the great seal, authorizing the Comte d’Entragues to retire to his estate of Marcoussis, and re-establishing both himself and his son-in-law in all their wealth and honours, save the posts which they had held under the crown, and their respective governments. D’Auvergne, however, was still a prisoner in the Bastille, where, after lashing himself into fury for a few months, he adopted the more prudent and manly alternative of study, and thus contrived to educe enjoyment even from his privations.
Yet still the haughty spirit of the Marquise scorned to yield. She was indeed living in her own house, the gift of the monarch against whom she exhibited this firm and calm defiance, and surrounded by luxuries, the whole of which she owed to his uncalculating generosity; but she could not, and would not, forget that she was, nevertheless, an exile from the Court, and a prisoner within the boundary of her estate, while the Queen, whom she had affected to despise, was triumphing in her disgrace. Nor was it until the month of September, when Henry, who was pining for her return, finally declared that no proof of culpability having been brought against her, she must be forthwith duly and fully acquitted of the crime with which she had been charged, that the icy barrier was at last broken down, and the haughty Marquise condescended to acknowledge herself indebted to her sovereign. The King did not satisfy himself with this mere declaration, though he had caused it to be legally registered by the Parliament; but, fearful lest some further revelations might be made, by which she might become once more involved, he moreover strictly forbade his Attorney-general to take any new steps whatever relating to the conspiracy, or tending further to incriminate any of its presumed members.[301]
The jealousy which existed between the two houses of Bourbon and Lorraine, and which Henry was anxious if possible to terminate, coupled perhaps with no small feeling of wounded vanity, determined him to bestow the hand of Louise Marguerite de Lorraine, Demoiselle de Guise (who, since she had been in the household of the Queen, had lent a less willing ear than formerly to his renewed gallantries), upon Francois, Prince de Conti; and accordingly the marriage was celebrated with great pomp in the month of July, in the presence of their Majesties and the whole Court. Madame de Conti herself asserts that the Queen first suggested this union, and did everything in her power to effect it;[302] for which it is highly probable that Marie had a double motive, as the antecedents of Mademoiselle de Guise might well excuse her jealousy.
While besieging Paris, and before his public _liaison_ with Gabrielle d’Estrees, Henry had sent to demand the portrait of Mademoiselle de Guise, giving her reason to believe that so soon as the war should be terminated he was desirous of making her his wife; a prospect which, as she very naively acknowledges, led her to despise the addresses of the Comte de Giury,[303] who was her declared suitor, as well as those of the other nobles who sought her favour. One day, however, during a brief truce of six hours, the Duchesse de Guise and herself, accompanied by several other ladies, having ascended the rampart to converse with such of their friends as were in the besieging army, all the young gallants crowded to the foot of the walls to pay their respects to the fair being whose presence offered so graceful a contrast to the objects by which they were more immediately surrounded; and among the rest came Roger, Duc de Bellegarde, at that period the handsomest man in France.
It was the first occasion upon which Mademoiselle de Guise and the Duke had met; and we have the authority of the lady for stating that the attraction was mutual. M. de Bellegarde had long been the avowed lover of _la belle Gabrielle_; but, inconstant as the fair D’Estrees herself, he at once surrendered his previously-occupied heart to this new goddess. His prior attachment was not, however, the only reason which should have deterred Mademoiselle de Guise from thus suffering her fancy to overcome her better feelings, as M. de Bellegarde was accused of having been accessory to the assassination of her father; but neither of these considerations appears to have had any weight with the young Princess. According to her own version of the circumstance, Gabrielle conceived so violent a jealousy that the Duke was compelled to condescend to every imaginable subterfuge in order to conceal the truth; while the King, who soon became aware of the secret intelligence which subsisted between the lovers, ceased to feel any inclination to raise Mademoiselle de Guise to the throne of France; although, as we have seen, he was by no means insensible either to the charm of her wit or the attraction of her beauty.
In order to follow up his great design of pacification, Henry, after having re-established Philip of Nassau in his principality of Orange, also effected his marriage with Eleonore de Bourbon,[304] by which union he secured another desirable ally.[305]
During the development of the late conspiracy the monarch had been indebted for much of the information which he had received relative to the intrigues of the Comte d’Auvergne to the intelligence afforded by the ex-Queen Marguerite, who, having come into possession of many facts which could not otherwise have been known to the King, had assiduously imparted to him every circumstance that she conceived to be of importance; a service for which he had not failed to express his gratitude. That Marguerite had, however, been in no small degree actuated in this matter by feelings of self-interest, there can be no doubt, D’Auvergne having long enjoyed the proprietorship of the county from whence he derived his title, and which had been bestowed on him by Henri III, as well as several other estates which that monarch had inherited from his mother, Catherine de Medicis, the said territories having formed a portion of her dowry on her union with Henri II. Marguerite’s memories of her brother, as the reader will readily comprehend, were not sufficiently attaching to induce her to submit patiently to such a substitution, as she was aware that, by the marriage contract, the property in question was settled upon the female offspring of Catherine in default of male issue; and her lavish expenditure and errant adventures having exhausted her means, she resolved to exert every effort to establish her claim. She had already upon several occasions solicited permission to return to the French capital; and, although it had never been distinctly refused, it was so coldly conceded that her pride had hitherto prevented her from availing herself of an indulgence thus reluctantly accorded; but aware at the present moment that she could so materially serve the King as to ensure a more gracious reception than she might previously have anticipated, she resolved to seize the opportunity; and accordingly, greatly to the surprise, not only of the whole Court, but of the monarch himself, she arrived in Paris without having intimated her intention, lest the permission should be revoked.
For five-and-twenty years the last survivor of the illustrious house of Valois had existed in obscurity and poverty among the mountains and precipices of the inhospitable province of Auvergne, apparently forgetting for a time that world by which she had been so readily forgotten; but Marguerite began at length to yearn for a restoration of her privileges as a member of the great human family. She could not have chosen a more judicious moment in which to hazard so extreme a step; as in addition to the respect which, despite all her vices, she could still command as the descendant of a long line of sovereigns, she had latterly established many claims upon the gratitude of the King. It was impossible for him not to feel, and that deeply, the generous self-abnegation with which she had lent herself to the dissolution of their ill-omened marriage, when not only his own happiness, but that of the whole nation, required the sacrifice; nor could he fail to remember that while those upon whom he lavished alike his affection and his treasure, had constantly laboured to embitter his domestic life, and to undermine the dignity of his Queen, the repudiated wife had never once evinced the slightest disposition to withhold from her the deference and respect to which she was entitled.
Thus then, when her near approach to the capital was suddenly announced to him, Henry lost not a moment in hastening, with his royal consort and a brilliant retinue, to receive her before she could reach the gates; and gave orders that the palace of Madrid in the Bois de Boulogne should immediately be prepared in a befitting manner for her residence. Nor was Marie de Medicis less willing than himself to welcome the truant Princess, to whom she was aware that she owed many obligations; and the meeting was consequently a cordial one on both sides. After the usual ceremonies had been observed, Marguerite, abandoning the litter in which she had hitherto travelled, took her place in the state coach beside their Majesties, by whom she was conducted to her appointed abode; nor was it until repeated expressions of regard had been exchanged between the ex-Queen and her successor, that the royal party returned to the Tuileries.
After a sojourn of six weeks in the palace of Madrid, during which time Marguerite not only revealed to the monarch all the details of the Verneuil conspiracy, but also the particulars of another still more serious, as it involved the cession of Marseilles, Toulon, and other cities to the Spaniards, she became wearied of the forest villa, and established herself in the archiepiscopal Hotel de Sens[306]; an arrangement to which the King consented on condition that she should make him two promises, one of which was that she would be more careful of her health, “and not turn night into day, and day into night,” as she was accustomed to do; and the other, that she would restrain her liberality, and endeavour to economize. To these requests the Princess cheerfully answered that she would make an effort to obey his Majesty upon the first point, although it would be a privation almost beyond endurance, from the habit in which she had so long indulged of enjoying the sunrise before she retired to rest; but with regard to the other she must decline to give a pledge which she was certain to falsify, no Valois having ever succeeded in such an attempt. It is probable that Henry, from a consciousness of his own peculiar prodigalities, did not feel himself authorized to insist upon a rigid observance of his expressed wish, as although Marguerite had so frankly refused to regulate her expenditure with more prudence, she was nevertheless permitted to remain in the asylum which she had chosen; and this she continued to do until the 5th of April 1606, when she was driven from it by a tragedy that rendered it hateful to her.
Slender as was her retinue, it unfortunately included a young favourite named Saint-Julien,[307] who, from some private pique, had induced her to discharge from her service two attendants who had from their earliest youth been members of her household, the one as page, and the other as maid of honour; and who had ultimately married with her consent and approbation, but upon being thus cast off, had found themselves ruined, no noble house being willing to receive the dismissed attendants of the dishonoured Queen. Of this union a son had been born, possessed, however, of less patience and self-control than his unhappy parents, who, after having clung to Marguerite through good and evil fortune, now found themselves abandoned to all the miseries of poverty and neglect. This youth, called by L’Etoile Vermond, and by Bassompierre Charmond, made his way to Paris as best he might, and arrived in the capital after Marguerite had taken up her residence as already stated in the Faubourg St. Antoine. There can be no doubt that the utter destitution of his parents had made him desperate, for he could not rationally indulge the slightest hope of impunity; suffice it, that as the Princess was alighting from her coach on her return from attending mass at the abbey of the Celestines, between mid-day and one o’clock on the 5th of April, while her favourite stood beside the steps to assist her to descend, the unhappy Vermond shot him through the head, and then, turning his horse towards the gate of St. Denis, endeavoured to make his escape. He was, however, too ill-mounted to succeed in this attempt, the carriage of the ex-Queen having been followed by many of the nobles who were anxious to propitiate the favour of the King by so easy a display of respect to the dethroned Marguerite; and ere he reached the barrier the wretched young man found himself a prisoner.
The body of his victim had, meanwhile, been conveyed to an apartment on the ground floor of the hotel, where on his arrival he was immediately confronted with it; but no sign of remorse or regret was visible as he gazed upon the corpse. “Turn it over,” he said huskily, after he had gazed for awhile upon the glazed eyes and the parted lips. “Let me see if he be really dead.” His request was complied with; and as he became convinced that life had indeed departed from the already stiffening form, he exclaimed joyfully: “It is well–I have not failed–my task is accomplished. Had it been otherwise I could yet have repaired the error.”
When this scene was reported to Marguerite, who, absorbed in the most passionate grief, had retired to her appartment, she vowed that she would not touch food until she had vengeance on the murderer; and she kept her word, as she persisted in her resolution till, on the third day after he had committed the crime, the unhappy young man was decapitated in front of the house, and almost upon the very spot still reeking with the blood of his victim. But the nerves of the ex-Queen could endure no further tension; and on the morrow she removed to a new residence in the Faubourg St. Germain, where she was shortly afterwards visited by Bassompierre, who was charged with the condolences of the King on her late loss.[308]
This fact alone tends more fully to develop the manners and morals (?) of the age than a thousand comments; and thus we have considered it our duty to place it upon record.
Meanwhile M. de Saint-Julien was far from having been the only favourite of the profligate Marguerite, who divided her time between devotional exercises and the indulgence of those guilty pleasures to which she was so unhappily addicted; but while the citizens were not slow to remark her excesses, she gained the love of the poor by a profuse alms-giving, and enjoyed a perfect impunity of action from the real or feigned ignorance of the King relative to the private arrangements of her household. She was, moreover, the avowed patroness of men of letters, by whom her table was constantly surrounded; and in whose society she took so much delight that she acquired, by this constant intercourse with the most learned individuals of the capital, a facility not only of expression, but also of composition, very remarkable in one of her sex at that period.[309] Carefully avoiding all political intrigue, she made no distinction of persons beyond that due to their rank; and thus, while her intercourse with the Queen was marked by an affectionate respect peculiarly gratifying to its object, she was no less urbane and condescending to the Marquise de Verneuil; who had, as may have been anticipated, already regained all her former influence over the mind of the monarch, his passion even appearing to have derived new strength from their temporary estrangement.
The peculiar situation of the Queen, however, who was about once more to become a mother, and whose tranquillity of mind he feared to disturb at such a moment, rendered the monarch unusually anxious to conceal this fact; and it was consequently not until some weeks afterwards that Marie de Medicis was apprised of the new triumph of her rival.
The month of December accordingly passed away without the domestic discord which must have arisen had the Queen been less happily ignorant of her real position; but it was nevertheless fated to be an eventful one. The death of M. de la Riviere, the King’s body-surgeon, a loss which was severely felt by Henry, was succeeded by the execution of M. de Merargues[310], whose conspiracy to deliver up Marseilles to the Spaniards was revealed to the monarch by Marguerite; and who, tried and convicted of _lese-majeste_, was decapitated in the Place de Greve, his body quartered and exposed at the four gates of the capital, and his head carried to Marseilles, and stuck upon a pike over the principal entrance to the city; while, on the very day of his execution, as the King was returning from a hunt and riding slowly across the Pont Neuf, at about five in the afternoon, a man suddenly sprang up behind him and threw him backwards upon his horse, attempting at the same time to plunge a dagger which he held into the body of his Majesty. Fortunately, however, Henry was so closely muffled in a thick cloak that before the assassin could effect his purpose the attendants were enabled to seize him and liberate their royal master, who was perfectly uninjured. The consternation was nevertheless universal; nor was it lessened by the calmness with which, when interrogated, the assassin declared that his intention had been to take the life of the sovereign. It was soon discovered, however, by the incoherency of his language that he was a maniac; and although many of the nobles urged that he should be put to death as an example to others, the King resolutely resisted their advice, declaring that the man’s family, who had long been aware of his infirmity, were more to blame than himself; and commanding that he should be placed in security, and thus rendered unable to repeat any act of violence. He was accordingly conveyed to prison, where he shortly afterwards died.
At this period, whether it were that the King hoped, by occupying her attention with subjects of more moment, to be enabled to pursue his _liaison_ with Madame de Verneuil with less difficulty, or that his advancing age rendered him in reality anxious to initiate her into the mysteries of government, it is certain that he endeavoured to induce the Queen to take more interest than she had hitherto done in questions of national importance; and revealed to her many state secrets, not one of which, as he afterwards declared to Sully, did she ever communicate, even to her most confidential friends. But Marie de Medicis was far from evincing the delight which he had anticipated at his avowed wish that she should share with him in the hopes and disappointments of royalty; her ambition had not then been thoroughly awakened; she still felt as a wife and as a woman rather than as a Queen; and an insolence from Madame de Verneuil occupied her feelings more nearly than a threatened conspiracy. So great, indeed, was her distaste to the new character in which she was summoned to appear, that when the King occasionally addressed her with a gay smile as _Madame la Regente_, a cloud invariably gathered upon her brow. Upon one occasion, when the royal couple were walking in the park at Fontainebleau, attended by all the Court, and that the monarch, who led the Dauphin by the hand, vainly endeavoured to induce him to jump across a little stream which ran beside their path, Henry became so enraged by his cowardice and obstinacy that he raised him in his arms to dip him into the pigmy current, a punishment which was, however, averted by the entreaties of his mother; and the King reluctantly consented that he should suffer nothing more than the mortification of being compelled to exchange her care for that of his governess, Madame de Montglat. As the child was led away the King sighed audibly, but in a few seconds he resumed the conversation which had been thus unpleasantly interrupted, and once more he addressed the Queen as _Madame la Regente_.
“I entreat of you, Sire, not to call me by that name,” said Marie; “it is full of associations which cannot fail to be painful to me.”
[Illustration: MARIE DE MEDICIS. Paris: Richard Bentley and Son 1890.]
The King looked earnestly and even sadly upon her for a moment ere he replied, and then it was in a tone as grave as that in which she uttered her expostulation. “You are right,” he said, “quite right not to wish to survive me, for the close of my life will be the commencement of your own troubles. You have occasionally shed tears when I have flogged your son, but one day you will weep still more bitterly either over him or yourself. My favourites have often excited your displeasure, but you will find yourself some time hence more ill-used by those who obtain an influence over the actions of Louis. Of one thing I can assure you, and that is, knowing your temper so well as I do, and foreseeing that which his will prove in after years–you, Madame, self-opinionated, not to say headstrong, and he obstinate–you will assuredly break more than one lance together.” [311]
Poor Marie! She was little aware at that moment how soon so mournful a prophecy was to become a still more mournful reality.
FOOTNOTES:
[284] A very low wooden stool upon which accused persons were formerly seated during their trial; an arrangement deemed so great a degradation by persons of condition that many attainted nobles indignantly appealed against it.
[285] L’Etoile, vol. iii. p. 256.
[286] Achille de Harlay was the representative of a distinguished family, many of whose members were celebrated during four centuries both as magistrates and ecclesiastics. He was born on the 7th of May 1536, and was the son of Christophe de Harlay, President _de Mortier_ of the Parliament of Paris, one of the most learned and upright magistrates of his time. Achille was a parliamentary councillor at the age of twenty-two years, president of the Parliament of Paris at thirty-six, and succeeded his father-in-law, Christophe de Thou, as first president in 1582. During the time of the League under Henri III he made to the Duc de Guise the celebrated answer which covered him with glory and paralyzed the strength of the malcontents: “My soul belongs to my God and my heart to my King, although my body is in the power of rebels.” He was imprisoned for a time by the chiefs of the League, after which he returned to the service of the King. He resigned his office in favour of Nicolas de Verdun, and died on the 23rd of October 1616 at the age of eighty years.
[287] Louis Servin distinguished himself from an early age by his extraordinary learning and his extreme attachment to his sovereign. He was indebted for the rank of King’s Advocate to the Cardinal de Vendome, and acquitted himself so admirably of the duties of his office as to justify the confidence of his patron.
[288] L’Etoile, vol. iii. pp. 255-257. Mezeray, vol. x. pp. 277-279. Daniel, vol. vii. p. 456.
[289] Marie de Balzac d’Entragues, in pursuit of whom the King incurred the risk of assassination.
[290] Richer, _Mercure Francais,_ Paris, 1611, year 1605, pp. 9-11.
[291] Henri, Duc de Rohan, Prince de Leon, was the eldest son of Rene, second Vicomte de Rohan, and was born at Blein, in Brittany, in 1579. He made his first campaign under Henri IV, by whom he had been adopted, and who had declared his intention of making him his successor on the French throne should Marie de Medicis fail to give him a son. Henry created him duke and peer in 1603, and Colonel-general of the Swiss Guards in 1605; but after the death of the King he entered into a struggle with the Court, declared himself the head of the Protestant party, and sustained three campaigns against Louis XIII, the last of which was terminated by his compelling that monarch (in 1629) to sign for the second time a confirmation and re-establishment of the Edict of Nantes. He next entered into a negotiation with the Porte for the purchase of the island of Cyprus, and subsequently became Generalissimo of the Venetians against the Imperialists, then General of the Grisons, and finally, displeased and disgusted with the French Court, he withdrew to the territories of the Duke of Saxe Weimar, in whose service he was killed in 1638. He left an only child, Marguerite, who married Henri de Chabot, and whose descendants took the name of Rohan-Chabot.
[292] Ablon was a small village upon the Seine, distant about three leagues from the capital, where the Protestants celebrated their worship before they built the church at Charenton, which was subsequently destroyed.
[293] Guy, Comte de Laval, was one of the richest and most accomplished noblemen of his time. He not only inherited all the wealth of his father, but also that of his grandfather Francois de Coligny, a fact which, after his death, caused a lawsuit between the family of La Tremouille and the Duc d’Elboeuf. His qualities, both physical and mental, were worthy of his extraordinary fortune, and his devotion to literature and the fine arts was unwearied. M. de Laval had been reared in the Protestant faith, but to the great regret of the reformed party, who had hoped to find in him as zealous a defender as they had found in his ancestors, he embraced the Romish religion. His valour as a soldier was as remarkable as his attainments, and he had scarcely reached his twentieth year when he asked and obtained from the King the royal permission to serve under the Archduke Matthias in Hungary against the Turks. Accompanied by fifteen or sixteen gentlemen, and attended by a retinue befitting his rank and wealth, he eminently distinguished himself by the manner in which he effected the retreat after the siege of Strigonia; but his first triumph was fated to be his last, as during the struggle he received a gunshot wound of which he died a few days subsequently, deeply regretted by the Prince in whose cause he had fallen and by the troops, to whom he had already endeared himself by his noble qualities.
[294] Cesar Auguste de St. Larry, Baron de Thermes, was the son of Jean de St. Larry and of Anne de Villemur, and was the younger brother of Roger de St. Larry, Duc de Bellegarde, Grand Equerry of France. He was first created Knight of Malta and Grand Prior of Auvergne, and subsequently, on the dismissal of the Duc de Bellegarde, Grand Equerry in his stead. Having incurred the displeasure of Marie de Medicis he was compelled to leave the Court, when he proceeded to Holland, where he was warmly welcomed by Prince Maurice, a welcome which was not lessened by the fact of his being accompanied by forty gentlemen. The anger of the Queen having subsided he returned to France, where, as previously stated, he succeeded to the honours of his brother, was made Knight of St. Michael and the Holy Ghost, and died of a wound which he had received at the siege of Clerac in July 1621.
[295] Francois d’Espinay, second of the name, was the son of Francois d’Espinay, Seigneur de Saint-Luc, Knight of St. Michael and of the Holy Ghost, and Grand Master of Artillery, who was killed at the siege of Amiens in 1597. In the preceding year, at the early age of fourteen, the young Saint-Luc had a quarrel with Emmanuel-Monsieur, the son of the Duc de Mayenne, by whom he conceived that he had been insulted, and who, upon his demanding whether the affront were intended as a jest or designed as an insult, replied that he might interpret it as he pleased, inquiring at the same time if he were not aware who he was. “Yes, I know you,” was the reply of the high-spirited boy; “you are the son of the Duc de Mayenne, and you are in your turn aware that I am the son of Saint-Luc, a loyal gentleman who has always served his country with fidelity and never borne arms against his lawful sovereign.” This quarrel between two mere youths having reached the ears of the King, he forbade the disputants to proceed further; but the young Saint-Luc had thus already, alike by his courage and his ready wit, given ample promise of his future loyalty and prowess.
[296] Guillaume de Sault (or Saulx) was the son of the celebrated Gaspard de Saulx, Marechal de Travannes. He married Chretienne d’Aguirre, the daughter of Michel d’Aguirre, a celebrated jurisconsult of the diocese of Pampeluna, was created Lieutenant-Governor of Burgundy, and died in 1633.
[297] Bassompierre, _Mem_. p. 43.
[298] _Idem_.
[299] Ippolito Aldobrandini, subsequently Clement VIII, was a Florentine by birth, who, in the year 1585, was made Grand Penitentiary and Cardinal by Pope Sixtus V. His diplomatic talents caused him to be sent as legate to Poland to arrange the difficulties between Sigismund of Sweden and the Archduke Maximilian, who had both been elected King of Poland by their several partisans. On the death of Innocent IX, Aldobrandini was raised to the pontifical chair (1592), which he occupied during thirteen years.
[300] Camillo Borghese was a native of Rome, whose family were originally from Sienna. Clement VIII called him to a seat in the conclave in 1598. After his elevation to the pontifical chair he quarrelled with the republic of Venice, the result of the difference between the two states being the expulsion of the Jesuits from the Venetian territories. He succeeded in effecting the union of the Nestorians of Chaldea with the Church of Rome, and in appeasing for a time several controversial differences between members of his own communion. Paul V greatly embellished the city of Rome; and also completed the facade of St. Peter’s, and the palace of the Quirinal. He died in 1621, at the age of sixty-nine years.
[301] Mezeray, vol. x. p. 280.
[302] _Amours du Grand Alcandre_, p. 47.
[303] Anne d’Anglure, Seigneur de Giury, who subsequently married Marguerite Hurault, daughter of Philippe Hurault, Comte de Chiverny, Chancellor of France under Henri III and Henri IV.
[304] Eleonore de Bourbon was the daughter of Henri I. de Bourbon, Prince de Conde, who succeeded his father in the command of the Calvinist party, conjointly with the King of Navarre, afterwards Henri IV. This prince raised a body of foreign troops in 1575, and distinguished himself greatly at Coutras in 1587. He died in the following year, having, as was asserted, been poisoned by his wife, Charlotte de la Tremouille, at St-Jean-d’Angely.
[305] Montfaucon, vol. v. p. 418.
[306] This hotel was the property of the Bishop of Bourges, known as M. de Sens, who died in September 1606 at the age of seventy-nine years, and who was interred at Notre-Dame, at his own request, without pomp or ceremony of any description. This prelate had been involved in so many delicate, but withal conspicuous affairs, that he had become the object of very general curiosity and slander. At the commencement of the reign of Henri IV a satire made its appearance, entitled, “Library of Madame de Montpensier, brought to light by the advice of Cornac, and with the consent of the Sieur de Beaulieu, her equerry,” in which mention was made of a supposititious work called, “The Art of not Believing in God,” by M. de Bourges, in which an attempt was made to convict the prelate of atheism. This book was attributed to the reformed party; while the libel was strengthened by the indignation felt by the Court of Rome at the circumstance of M. de Bourges having taken upon himself to absolve Henri IV without the Papal authority, on his conversion to the Roman Catholic faith. The manner of his death, however, gainsayed the calumny; although so slight had been the respect felt for his sacred office, that the ex-Queen Marguerite had no sooner taken possession of his hotel, than the following placard was found affixed to the entrance-gate:
“Comme Reine, tu devais etre
En ta royale maison;
Comme —-, c’est bien raison
Que tu loge an logis d’un pretre.”
[307] Bassompierre calls him Saint-Sulliendat, _Mem_. p. 46.
[308] L’Etoile, vol. iii. pp. 353, 354. Bassompierre, _Mem_. p. 46.
[309] Richelieu, _La Mere et le Fils_, vol. i. p. 326.
[310] Louis de Lagon de Merargues was a nobleman of Provence, who claimed to descend from the Princes of Catalonia or Aragon. His position of procureur-syndic of the province, and the importance of the relatives of his wife, who was closely connected with the Duc de Montpensier, together with the command of two galleys which he held from the King, enabled him at any moment to possess himself of the port; while his office of _Viguier_, or royal provost, gave him great authority over the citizens.
[311] Richelieu, _La Mere et le Fils_, vol. i. pp. 19, 20.
CHAPTER VI
1606
New Year’s Day at Court–The royal tokens–A singular audience–A proposition–Birth of the Princess Christine–Public festivities–A ballet on horseback–The King resolves to humble the Duc de Bouillon–Arguments of the Queen–Policy of Henry–The Court proceeds to Torcy–Surrender of Bouillon–The sovereigns enter Sedan–Rejoicings of the citizens–State entry into Paris–The High Court of Justice assigns to the ex-Queen Marguerite the county of Auvergne–The “Te Deum”–Marguerite makes a donation of her recovered estates to the Dauphin–Inconsistencies of Marguerite–Jealousy of the Queen of Madame de Moret–Increasing coldness of the King towards that lady–The frail rivals–Princely beacons—Indignation of the Queen–Narrow escape of the King and Queen–Gratitude of the Queen to her preserver–Insolent pleasantry of the Marquise de Verneuil–A disappointment compensated–Marriage of the Duc de Bar–The King invites the Duchess of Mantua to become sponsor to the Dauphin, and the Duc de Lorraine to the younger Princess–_The Mantuan suite_–Preparations at Notre-Dame–The plague in Paris–The Court removes to Fontainebleau–The royal christenings–Increase of the plague–Royal disappointments–The Duchesse de Nevers–Discourtesy of the King–Dignity of the Duchess.
The description given by M. de Sully of his interview with their Majesties on the morning of the 1st of January 1606 is so characteristic of the time that we cannot conscientiously pass it over, although the feeling of the present day compels us to exclude many of its details. Early in the forenoon the Duke proceeded to the Louvre to pay his respects to the august couple, and to present the customary offerings; but on reaching the apartment of the King, he was informed by MM. d’Armagnac and l’Oserai, the two valets-de-chambre on duty, that his Majesty was in the chamber of the Queen, who had been seriously indisposed during the night. He consequently proceeded to the ante-room of his royal mistress, and as he found it vacant, advanced to the door of the chamber itself, against which he scratched gently, in order to attract the attention of Caterina Selvaggio or Mademoiselle de la Renouillere, her favourite attendants, and to ascertain the state of her health without awakening her. He had no sooner done so, however, than several voices loudly inquired who was there, and among them the Duke recognized those of Roquelaure, Frontenac, and Beringhen.
Having declared his identity, and been announced to the King, he was immediately summoned in a cheerful voice by Henry himself: “Come in, come in, Sully,” cried the monarch; “you will think us very idle until you learn what has kept us in bed so late. My wife has been ill all night; but I will tell you all about it when there are not so many people present, and meanwhile let us see what you have brought for us as New Year’s gifts, for I observe that your three secretaries are with you laden each with a velvet bag.”
“It is true, Sire,” answered the Duke. “I remembered that the last occasion upon which I had seen your Majesties together you were both in excellent spirits, and trusting to find it the case today, when we are all anticipating the birth of a second Prince, I have brought you some offerings which are sure to please you, as they cannot fail to gratify those to whom they are distributed in your name, a distribution which I trust may take place this evening in your presence and that of the Queen.”
“Although she says nothing to you,” laughed the King, “according to her custom of pretending to be asleep, she is as thoroughly awake as myself, but she is very angry with both of us. However, we will talk of that some other time. And now let us see your presents.”
“They are not perhaps, Sire,” said the Grand Master, “such as might be expected from the treasurer of a wealthy and powerful monarch; but such as they are, I feel convinced that they will afford more real gratification to those for whom they are intended, and excite more gratitude towards your own person, than all the costly gifts which you lavish upon individuals who, as I well know, only repay your profuse liberality by ingratitude and murmurs.”
“I understand you,” exclaimed the King; “it is useless to explain yourself further; rather show us what you have brought.”
The Duke made a signal to his secretaries to approach the bed. “Here, Sire,” he said, “in my despatch-bag, are three purses filled with gold tokens, with a device expressive of the love borne towards your Majesty by your people. One of these I offer to yourself, another to the Queen, and the third to Monseigneur le Dauphin, or rather I ought to say to Mamanga,[312] if her Majesty does not retain it, as she has always done on similar occasions. In the same bag are eight purses of silver tokens with the same device–two for yourself, two for the Queen, and four for La Renouillere, Caterina Selvaggio, and any other of the ladies who sleep in the chamber of her Majesty. The second bag contains twenty-five purses of tokens in silver, to be distributed among Monseigneur le Dauphin, Madame de Montglat, Madame de Drou,[313] Mademoiselle de Piolant,[314] the nurses and other attendants of Monseigneur and his sister, and the waiting-maids of the Queen. In the third bag there are thirty sacks, each containing a hundred crowns in half-franc pieces, coined expressly for the purpose, and so large that they appear to be of twice the value. These are intended for all the attendants of subordinate rank attached to the household of her Majesty and the royal children, according to your orders. I have left, moreover, in my carriage below, in the charge of my people, two great bags, each containing a hundred crowns in twelve sous pieces, making the sum of twelve thousand sous, for division among the poor and sick upon the quays of the river near the Louvre, which are, as I am told, already crowded; and I have in consequence sent twelve citizens upon whom I can rely to distribute the money conscientiously according to the necessities of each applicant. All these poor people, and even the waiting-women of her Majesty, exhibit more delight on receiving these trifling coins, Sire, than you can well believe. They all say that it is not so much for the value of the gift, as because it proves that you remember and regard them; and, moreover, the attendants of the Queen prize them in consequence of their being free to appropriate them as they think fit, while they are compelled to employ their respective salaries according to the instructions which they receive, as they thus have a hundred crowns to expend in any finery for which they may take a fancy.”
“And do you bestow all this happiness upon them without being rewarded even by a kiss?” asked Henry gaily.
“Truly, Sire,” answered the Duke, “since the day when your Majesty commanded them to recognize their obligation in that manner, I have never found it necessary to remind them of your royal pleasure, for they come voluntarily to tender their acknowledgments according to order; while Madame de Drou, devout as she is, only laughs during the performance of the ceremony.”
“Come now, M. le Grand Maitre,” persisted the King, “tell me the truth; which do you consider to be the handsomest, and consequently the most welcome among them?”
“On my word, Sire,” replied M. de Sully, “that is a question which I am unable to answer, for I have other things to think of besides love and beauty, and I firmly believe that they, each and all, pay as little attention to my handsome nose as I do to theirs. I kiss them as we do relics, when I am making my offering.”
Henry laughed heartily. “How say you, gentlemen,” he exclaimed, addressing the courtiers who thronged the chamber; “have we not here a prodigal treasurer, who makes such presents as these at the expense of his master, and all for a kiss?”
Of course the royal hilarity found a general and an immediate echo, which had no sooner subsided than the King exclaimed: “And now, gentlemen, to your breakfasts, and leave us to discuss affairs of greater importance.”
In a few minutes all had left the room save Sully himself and the two waiting-women of the Queen, and he had no sooner ascertained that such was the case than Henry said affectionately: “And now, sleeper, awake, and do not scold any longer, for I have, on my part, resolved not to think any more of what has passed, particularly at such a time as this. You fancy that Sully blames you whenever we have a difference, but you are quite wrong, as you would be aware could you only know how freely he gives me his opinion on my own faults, and although I am occasionally angry with him, I like him none the less; on the contrary, I believe that if he ceased to love me, he would be more indifferent to all that touches my welfare and honour, as well as the good of my people; for do you see, _ma mie_, the best-intentioned among us require at times to be supported by the wise advice of faithful and prudent friends, and he is constantly reminding me of the expediency of indulgence towards yourself, and of the necessity of keeping your mind at peace, in order that neither you nor the Prince whom you are about to give to France–for the Duke feels satisfied that it will be a Prince–may suffer from contradiction, or annoyance of any kind.”
“I thank M. le Grand Maitre,” said the Queen at length, in a voice of great exhaustion; “but it is impossible for me to feel either calm or happy while you persist in preferring the society of persons who are obnoxious to me, to my own. My very dreams are embittered by this consciousness, and doubly so because I have reason to know that while I am their victim, they are false even to yourself and, moreover, detest you in their hearts. You may doubt this,” she added with greater energy, “but I appeal to the Duke himself, and he will tell you if this is not the case.”
M. de Sully, however, felt no inclination to offer his testimony to the truth of an assertion of this nature–the position involved too great a responsibility to be agreeable even to the experienced statesman himself; and he accordingly, with his accustomed prudence, generalized the subject by declaring that he experienced a heartfelt satisfaction in perceiving that their Majesties had at length yielded to a feeling of mutual confidence, which could not fail to put an end to all their domestic discomfort; adding that if he might presume to offer his advice, he would suggest that should any new subject of difference arise between them, they should immediately refer it to the arbitration of a third person, upon whose probity and attachment they could severally rely, and resolve to leave the whole affair totally in his hands, without aggravating the evil by any personal interference, or even considering themselves aggrieved by the remedy which he might suggest.
He then offered, should they place sufficient confidence in his own judgment and affection, to become himself the arbitrator whom he recommended; and he had no sooner done so than the King eagerly declared himself ready to comply with his advice, and to sign a pledge to that effect, but Marie de Medicis, who was as well aware as her royal consort that the first step adopted by Sully would be the exile of her Italian followers, was less willing to bind herself by such an engagement, and she therefore merely remarked that the proposition had come upon her so suddenly that she must have time to reflect before she thus placed herself entirely in the hands of a third party. She then, as if anxious to terminate the discussion, summoned her women, and the Duke, by no means reluctantly, withdrew.[315]
At this period the King made a journey into Limousin, at the head of a body of troops, in order to overawe the malcontents in that province; and while at Orleans he withdrew the seals from Pomponne de Bellievre, in order to bestow them upon Sillery, the former, however, retaining the empty title of Chief of the Privy Council. The pretext for this substitution was the failing health of the Chancellor, but it was generally attributed to the influence of Madame de Verneuil, in whose fortunes M. de Sillery had always exhibited as lively an interest as he had previously done in those of the Duchesse de Beaufort. Let it, however, have arisen from whatever cause it might, it is certain that the veteran statesman deeply felt the indignity which had been offered to him. Thus Bassompierre asserts that when he shortly afterwards visited M. de Bellievre at Artenay, and that the indignant minister commented with considerable bitterness upon his recent deprivation, he vainly endeavoured to reconcile him to the affront by reminding him that he was still in office, and would preside at all the councils as chancellor, but Bellievre immediately replied with emphasis: “My friend, a chancellor without seals is an apothecary without sugar.” [316]
On the 10th of February the Queen gave birth to a second daughter[317] in the palace of the Louvre, to her extreme mortification, the astrologers whom she had consulted having assured her that she was about to become the mother of a Prince. The citizens of Paris were, however, delighted, as no royal child had been born in the capital for a great length of time;[318] while the princes and nobles, throughout the whole of the following month, vied with each other in their efforts to entertain their Majesties, and to cause them to forget their disappointment. It would appear, indeed, that Marie herself soon became reconciled to the sex of the infant Princess, as Bassompierre has left it upon record that even before she was sufficiently recovered to leave her room she used to send for him to play cards with her, an invitation which was always welcome to the handsome and dissipated courtier.[319] She no sooner appeared in public, however, than other and more brilliant amusements were provided for her, consisting of jousts and banquets, Italian comedies and Court balls; but all these were exceeded in interest by a ballet that was performed on horseback in the great court of the Louvre, which had been thickly strewn with sand and surrounded by barriers, save at one opening opposite the seats prepared for their Majesties, through which the four nobles by whom the entertainment had been devised were to enter with their respective trains from the Hotel de Bourbon.
The balconies and windows of the palace were crowded with splendidly dressed nobles and courtiers of both sexes, while a dense mass of people occupied every available spot of ground beyond the enclosure, where platforms had also been erected for the more respectable of the citizens and their families. The King and Queen were seated in the balcony of the centre window, which was draped with crimson velvet, having on their right and left several of the Princes of the Blood and ladies of the highest rank, while immediately behind them were placed the great officers of the Crown and the captains of the bodyguard. The hour selected for this novel and extraordinary exhibition was ten at night, and hundreds of lamps and double the number of torches were affixed to the _facade_ of the palace, towards which every eye was upturned from the compact crowd below. The ballet was designed to represent the four primary Elements, and the appointed moment had no sooner arrived than a flourish of trumpets announced the approach of the Due de Bellegarde, who with his party were to personate Water. The procession was opened by twenty-four pages habited in cloth of silver, each attended by two torch-bearers; these were followed by twelve Syrens playing on hautboys, who were in their turn succeeded by a pyramid whose summit was crowned by a gigantic figure of Neptune, surrounded by water-gods and marine divinities and insignia of every description. This stupendous machine paused for a moment beneath the window of their Majesties, and the aquatic deities having made their obeisance, it passed on, and gave place to twenty-four other pages, habited and attended like the former ones. These preceded the Duke himself at the head of twelve young and brilliant nobles, all clad in cloth of silver, with plumes of white feathers in their jewelled caps, and their horses richly caparisoned in white and silver. Having made the tour of the court, the whole party drew closely together in one angle of the enclosure, in order to make way for the second troop, but not before they had exhibited their equestrian skill, and elicited not only the approving comments of the courtly groups who contemplated them from above, but also the vociferous acclamations of the admiring thousands by whom they were hemmed in. The Due de Bellegarde and his train had no sooner taken up their station than a second _fanfare_ greeted the approach of the powers of Fire, who were ushered in by twenty-four pages dressed in scarlet, closely followed by four blacksmiths dragging an anvil, upon which, when they reached the centre of the court, they began to strike with great violence, and at every blow discharged such a shower of rockets into the air that many a fair dame crouched behind her neighbour for protection from the falling sparks; while the lamps and torches which lit up the palace walls were momentarily eclipsed. As the last rush of rockets burst, and fell back in a Danaean shower, a train of salamanders, phoenix, and other anti-inflammable creatures appeared in their turn, and were followed by the Duc de Rohan, attired as Vulcan, with his twelve companions in the garb of Parthians, all similarly dressed, and armed with lances, swords, and shields, on which their arms were splendidly emblazoned. Renewed feats of dexterous horsemanship were exhibited by this brilliant band, after which, as their predecessors had previously done, they established themselves in an angle of the lists, and made way for the representatives of Air. First came the pages, forming an escort to the goddess Juno, with her attendant eagle and a multitude of other birds, all skilfully imitated and grouped; and when the feathered pageant had passed on, appeared the Comte de Sommerive[320] and his noble band, all wearing the same costume and bearing the same arms. Lastly came Earth, in which the pages were succeeded by two enormous elephants, artistically constructed, and bearing upon their backs small towers filled with musicians, who, as they advanced, poured out a volume of sweet sound, to which several horses, draped with cloth of gold and led by Moors, moved in cadence like the grooms by whom they were conducted. Then followed more pages, and a band of trumpeters whose occasional flourishes overpowered the softer instruments of those who marched in front; and finally, twelve Moorish knights, led by the Duc de Nevers,[321] all resplendent with gold and jewels, closed the procession, and fell back to the remaining extremity of the enclosure. A combat then commenced between the knights of Earth and those of Water, first single-handed, then in couples, and finally troop against troop, and so soon as this had terminated, the cavaliers of Air and Fire went through the same evolutions; when each