The morning after the barricades were removed, the Queen sent for me,

treated me with all the marks of kindness and confidence, said that if

she had hearkened to me she would not have experienced the late

disquietness; that the Cardinal was not to blame for it, but that

Chavigni had been the sole cause of her misfortunes, to whose pernicious

counsels she had paid more deference than to the Cardinal. “But; good

God!” she suddenly exclaimed, “will you not get that rogue Beautru

soundly thrashed, who has paid so little respect to your character? The

poor Cardinal was very near having it done the other night.” I received

all this with more respect than credulity. She commanded me to go to the

poor Cardinal, to comfort him, and to advise him as to the best means of

quieting the populace.

I went without any scruple. He embraced me with a tenderness I am not

able to express, said there was not an honest man in France but myself,

and that all the rest were infamous flatterers, who had misled the Queen

in spite of all his and my good counsels. He protested that he would do

nothing for the future without my advice, showed me the foreign

despatches, and, in short, was so affable, that honest Broussel, who was

likewise present upon his invitation, for all his harmless simplicity,

laughed heartily as we were going out, and said that it was all mere

buffoonery.

There being a report that the King was to be removed by the Court from

Paris, the Queen assured the ‘prevot des marchands’ that it was false,

and yet the very next day carried him to Ruel. From there I doubted not

that she designed to surprise the city, which seemed really astonished at

the King’s departure, and I found the hottest members of the Parliament

in great consternation, and the more so because news arrived at the same

time that General Erlac--[He was Governor of Brisac, and commanded the

forces of the Duke of Weimar after the Duke’s death]--had passed the

Somme with 4,000 Germans. Now, as in general disturbances one piece of

bad news seldom comes singly, five or six stories of this kind were

published at the same time, which made me think I should find it as

difficult a task to raise the spirits of the people as I had before to

restrain them. I was never so nonplussed in all my life. I saw the full

extent of the danger, and everything looked terrible. Yet the greatest

perils have their charms if never so little glory is discovered in the

prospect of ill-success, while the least dangers have nothing but horror

when defeat is attended with loss of reputation.

I used all the arguments I could to dissuade the Parliament from making

the Court desperate, at least till they had thought of some expedients to

defend themselves from its insults, to which they would inevitably have

been exposed if the Court had taken time by the forelock, in which,

perhaps, they were prevented by the unexpected return of the Prince de

Conti. I hereupon formed a resolution which gave me a great deal of

uneasiness, but which was firm, because it was the only resolution I had

to take. Extremities are always disagreeable, but are the wisest means

when absolutely necessary; the best of it is that they admit of no middle

course, and if peradventure they are good, they are always decisive.

Fortune favoured my design. The Queen ordered Chavigni to be sent

prisoner to Havre-de-Grace. I embraced this opportunity to stir up the

natural fears of his dear friend Viole, by telling him that he was a

ruined man for doing what he had done at the instigation of Chavigni;

that it was plain the King left Paris with a view to attack it, and that

he saw as well as I how much the people were dejected; that if their

spirits should be quite sunk they could never be raised; that they must

be supported; that I would influence the people; and that he should do

what he could with the Parliament, who, in my opinion, ought not to be

supine, but to be awakened at a juncture when the King’s departure had

perfectly drowned their senses, adding that a word in season would

infallibly produce this good effect.

Accordingly Viole struck one of the boldest strokes that has perhaps been

heard of. He told the Parliament that it was reported Paris was to be

besieged; that troops were marching for that end, and the most faithful

servants of his late Majesty, who, it was suspected, would oppose designs

so pernicious, would be put in chains; that it was necessary for them to

address the Queen to bring the King back to Paris; and forasmuch as the

author of all these mischiefs was well known, he moved further that the

Duc d’Orleans and the officers of the Crown should be desired to come to

Parliament to deliberate upon the decree issued in 1617, on account of

Marechal d’Ancre, forbidding foreigners to intermeddle in the Government.

We thought ourselves that we had touched too high a key, but a lower note

would not have awakened or kept awake men whom fear had perfectly

stupefied. I have observed that this passion of fear has seldom that

influence upon individuals that it generally has upon the mass.

Viole’s proposition at first startled, then rejoiced, and afterwards

animated those that heard it. Blancmenil, who before seemed to have no

life left in him, had now the courage to point at the Cardinal by name,

who hitherto had been described only by the designation of Minister; and

the Parliament cheerfully agreed to remonstrate with the Queen, according

to Viole’s proposition, not forgetting to pray her Majesty to remove the

troops further from Paris, and not to send for the magistrates to take

orders for the security of the city.

The President Coigneux whispered to me, saying, “I have no hopes but in

you; we shall be undone if you do not work underground.” I sat up

accordingly all night to prepare instructions for Saint-Ibal to treat

with the Count Fuensaldagne, and oblige him to march with the Spanish

army, in case of need, to our assistance, and was just going to send him

away to Brussels when M. de Chatillon, my friend and kinsman, who

mortally hated the Cardinal, came to tell me that the Prince de Conde

would be the next day at Ruel; that the Prince was enraged against the

Cardinal, and was sure he would ruin the State if he were let alone, and

that the Cardinal held a correspondence in cipher with a fellow in the

Prince’s army whom he had corrupted, to be informed of everything done

there to his prejudice. By all this I learnt that the Prince had no

great understanding with the Court, and upon his arrival at Ruel I

ventured to go thither.

Both the Queen and the Cardinal were extremely civil, and the latter took

particular notice of the Prince’s behaviour to me, who embraced me ‘en

passant’ in the garden, and spoke very low to me, saying that he would be

at my house next day. He kept his word, and desired me to give him an

account of the state of affairs, and when I had done so we agreed that I

should continue to push the Cardinal by means of the Parliament; that I

should take his Highness by night incognito to Longueil and Broussel, to

assure them they should not want assistance; that the Prince de Conde

should give the Queen all the marks of his respect for and attachment to

her, and make all possible reparation for the dissatisfaction he had

shown with regard to the Cardinal, that he might thereby insinuate

himself into the Queen’s favour, and gradually dispose her to receive and

fallow his counsels and hear truths against which she had always stopped

her ears, and that by thus letting the Cardinal drop insensibly, rather

than fall suddenly, the Prince would find himself master of the Cabinet

with the Queer’s approbation, and, with the assistance of his humble

servants in Council, arbiter of the national welfare.

The Queen, who went away from Paris to give her troops an opportunity to

starve and attack the city, told the deputies sent by Parliament to

entreat her to restore the King to Paris that she was extremely surprised

and astonished; that the King used every year at that season to take the

air, and that his health was much more to be regarded than the imaginary

fears of the people. The Prince de Conde, coming in at this juncture,

told the President and councillors, who invited him to take his seat in

Parliament, that he would not come, but obey the Queen though it should

prove his ruin. The Duc d’Orleans said that he would not be there

either, because the Parliament had made such proposals as were too bold

to be endured, and the Prince de Conti spoke after the same manner.

The next day the King’s Council carried an order of Council to Parliament

to put a stop to their debates against foreigners being in the Ministry.

This so excited the Parliament that they made a remonstrance in writing,

instructed the ‘prevot des marchands’ to provide for the safety of the

city, ordered all other governors to keep the passages free, and resolved

next day to continue the debate against foreign ministers. I laboured

all night to ward off the fatal blow, which I was afraid would hurry the

Prince, against his will, into the arms of the Court. But when next day

came, the members inflamed one another before they sat, through the

cursed spirit of formality, and the very men who two days ago were all

fear and trembling were suddenly transported, they knew not why, from a

well-grounded fear to a blind rage, so that without reflecting that the

General had arrived whose very name made them tremble, because they

suspected him to be in the interest of the Court, they issued the said

decree, which obliged the Queen to send the Duc d’Anjou,--[Philippe of

France, only brother to King Louis XIV., afterwards Duc d’Orleans, died

suddenly at St. Cloud, in 1701.]--but just recovered from the smallpox,

and the Duchesse d’Orleans, much indisposed, out of town.

This would have begun a civil war next day had not the Prince de Conde

taken the wisest measures imaginable, though he had a very bad opinion of

the Cardinal, both upon the public account and his own, and was as little

pleased with the conduct of the Parliament, with whom there was no

dealing, either as a body or as private persons. The Prince kept an even

pace between the Court and country factions, and he said these words to

me, which I can never forget:

“Mazarin does not know what he is doing, and will ruin the State if care

be not taken; the Parliament really goes on too fast, as you said they

would; if they did but manage according to our scheme, we should be able

to settle our own business and that of the public, too; they act with

precipitation, and were I to do so, it is probable I should gain more by

it than they. But I am Louis de Bourbon, and will not endanger the

State. Are those devils in square caps mad to force me either to begin a

civil war tomorrow or to ruin every man of them, and set over our heads a

Sicilian vagabond who will destroy us all at last?”

In fine, the Prince proposed to set out immediately for Ruel to divert

the Court from their project of attacking Paris, and to propose to the

Queen that the Duc d’Orleans and himself should write to the Parliament

to send deputies to confer about means to relieve the necessities of the

State. The Prince saw that I was so overcome at this proposal that he

said to me with tenderness, “How different you are from the man you are

represented to be at Court! Would to God that all those rogues in the

Ministry were but as well inclined as you!”

I told the Prince that, considering how the minds of the Parliament were

embittered, I doubted whether they would care to confer with the

Cardinal; that his Highness would gain a considerable point if he could

prevail with the Court not to insist upon the necessity of the Cardinal’s

presence, because then all the honour of the arrangement, in which the

Duc d’Orleans, as usual, would only be as a cipher, would redound to him,

and that such exclusion of the Cardinal would disgrace his Ministry to

the last degree, and be a very proper preface to the blow which the

Prince designed to give him in the Cabinet.

The Prince profited by the hint, so that the Parliament returned answer

that they would send deputies to confer with the Princes only, which last

words the Prince artfully laid hold of and advised Mazarin not to expose

himself by coming to the conference against the Parliament’s consent, but

rather, like a wise man, to make a virtue of the present necessity. This

was a cruel blow to the Cardinal, who ever since the decease of the late

King had been recognised as Prime Minister of France; and the

consequences were equally disastrous.

The deputies being accordingly admitted to a conference with the Duc

d’Orleans, the Princes de Conde and Conti and M. de Longueville, the

First President, Viole, who had moved in Parliament that the decree might

be renewed for excluding foreigners from the Ministry, inveighed against

the imprisonment of M. de Chavigni; who was no member, yet the President

insisted upon his being set at liberty, because, according to the laws of

the realm, no person ought to be detained in custody above twenty-four

hours without examination. This occasioned a considerable debate, and

the Duc d’Orldans, provoked at this expression, said that the President’s

aim was to cramp the royal authority. Nevertheless the latter vigorously

maintained his argument, and was unanimously seconded by all the

deputies, for which they were next day applauded in Parliament. In

short, the thing was pushed so far that the Queen was obliged to consent

to a declaration that for the future no man whatever should be detained

in prison above three days without being examined. By this means

Chavigni was set at liberty. Several other conferences were held, in

which the Chancellor treated the First President of the Parliament with a

sort of contempt that was almost brutal. Nevertheless the Parliament

carried all before them.

In October, 1648, the Parliament adjourned, and the Queen soon after

returned to Paris with the King.

The Cardinal, who aimed at nothing more than to ruin my credit with the

people, sent me 4,000 crowns as a present from the Queen, for the

services which she said I intended her on the day of the barricade; and

who, think you, should be the messenger to bring it but my friend the

Marechal de La Meilleraye, the man who before warned me of the sinister

intentions of the Court, and who now was so credulous as to believe that

I was their favourite, because the Cardinal was pleased to say how much

he was concerned for the injustice he had done me; which I only mention

to remark that those people over whom the Court has once got an

ascendency cannot help believing whatever they would have them believe,

and the ministers only are to blame if they do not deceive them. But I

would not be persuaded by the Marshal as he had been by the Cardinal, and

therefore I refused the said sum very civilly, and, I am sure, with as

much sincerity as the Court offered it.

But the Cardinal laid another trap for me that I was not aware of,--by

tempting me with the proffer of the Government of Paris; and when I had

shown a willingness to accept it, he found means to break off the treaty

I was making for that purpose with the Prince de Guemende, who had the

reversion of it, and then represented me to the people as one who only

sought my own interest. Instead of profiting by this blunder, which I

might have done to my own advantage, I added another to it, and said all

that rage could prompt me against the Cardinal to one who told it to him

again.

To return now to public affairs. About the feast of Saint Martin the

people were so excited that they seemed as if they had been all

intoxicated with gathering in the vintage; and you are now going to be

entertained with scenes in comparison to which the past are but trifles.

There is no affair but has its critical minute, which a bold

statesmanship knows how to lay hold of, and which, if missed, especially

in the revolution of kingdoms, you run the great risk of losing

altogether.

Every one now found their advantage in the declaration,--that is, if they

understood their own interest. The Parliament had the honour of

reestablishing public order. The Princes, too, had their share in this

honour, and the first-fruits of it, which were respect and security. The

people had a considerable comfort in it, by being eased of a load of

above sixty millions; and if the Cardinal had had but the sense to make a

virtue of necessity, which is one of the most necessary qualifications of

a minister of State, he might, by an advantage always inseparable from

favourites, have appropriated to himself the greatest part of the merit,

even of those things he had most opposed.

But these advantages were all lost through the most trivial

considerations. The people, upon the discontinuation of the

Parliamentary assemblies, resumed their savage temper, and were scared by

the approach of a few troops at which it was ridiculous to take the least

umbrage. The Parliament was too apt to give ear to every groundless tale

of the non-execution of their declarations. The Duc d’Orleans saw all

the good he was capable of doing and part of the evil he had power to

prevent, but neither was strong enough to influence his fearful temper;

he was unconscious of the coming and fatal blow. The Prince de Conde,

who saw the evil to its full extent, was too courageous by nature to fear

the consequences; he was inclined to do good, but would do it only in his

own way. His age, his humour, and his victories hindered him from

associating patience with activity, nor was he acquainted, unfortunately,

with this maxim so necessary for princes,--“always to sacrifice the

little affairs to the greater;” and the Cardinal, being ignorant of our

ways, daily confounded the most weighty with the most trifling.

The Parliament, who met on the 2d of January, 1649, resolved to enforce

the execution of the declaration, which, they pretended, had been

infringed in all its articles; and the Queen was resolved to retire from

Paris with the King and the whole Court. The Queen was guided by the

Cardinal, and the Duc d’Orleans by La Riviere, the most sordid and

self-interested man of the age in which he lived. As for the Prince de

Conde, he began to be disgusted with the unseasonable proceedings of the

Parliament almost as soon as he had concerted measures with Broussel and

Longueil, which distaste, joined to the kindly attentions of the Queen,

the apparent submission of the Cardinal, and an hereditary inclination

received from his parents to keep well with the Court, cramped the

resolutions of his great soul. I bewailed this change in his behaviour

both for my own and the public account, but much more for his sake. I

loved him as much as I honoured him, and clearly saw the precipice.

I had divers conferences with him, in which I found that his disgust was

turned into wrath and indignation. He swore there was no bearing with

the insolence and impertinence of those citizens who struck at the royal

authority; that as long as he thought they aimed only at Mazarin he was

on their side; that I myself had often confessed that no certain measures

could be concerted with men who changed their opinions every quarter of

an hour; that he could never condescend to be General of an army of

fools, with whom no wise man would entrust himself; besides that, he was

a Prince of the blood, and would not be instrumental in giving a shock to

the Throne; and that the Parliament might thank themselves if they were

ruined through not observing the measures agreed on.

This was the substance of my answer: “No men are more bound by interest

than the Parliament to maintain the royal authority, so that they cannot

be thought to have a design to ruin the State, though their proceedings

may have a tendency that way. It must be owned, therefore, that if the

sovereign people do evil, it is only when they are not able to act as

well as they would. A skilful minister, who knows how to manage large

bodies of men as well as individuals, keeps up such a due balance between

the Prince’s authority and the people’s obedience as to make all things

succeed and prosper. But the present Prime Minister has neither judgment

nor strength to adjust the pendulum of this State clock, the springs of

which are out of order. His business is to make it go slower, which, I

own, he attempts to do, but very awkwardly, because he has not the brains

for it. In this lies the fault of our machine. Your Highness is in the

right to set about the mending of it, because nobody else is capable of

doing it; but in order to do this must you join with those that would

knock it in pieces?

“You are convinced of the Cardinal’s extravagances, and that his only

view is to establish in France a form of government known nowhere but in

Italy. If he should succeed, will the State be a gainer by it, according

to its only true maxims? Would it be an advantage to the Princes of the

blood in any sense? But, besides, has he any likelihood of succeeding?

Is he not loaded with the odium and contempt of the public? and is not

the Parliament the idol they revere? I know you despise them because the

Court is so well armed, but let me tell you that they are so confident of

their power that they feel their importance. They are come to that pass

that they do not value your forces, and though the evil is that at

present their strength consists only in their imagination, yet a time may

come when they may be able to do whatever they now think it in their

power to do.

“Your Highness lately told me that this disposition of the people was

only smoke; but be assured that smoke so dark and thick proceeds from a

brisk fire, which the Parliament blows, and, though they mean well, may

blaze up into such a flame as may consume themselves and again hazard the

destruction of the State, which has been the case more than once. Bodies

of men, when once exasperated by a Ministry, always aggravate their

failures, and scarcely ever show them any favour, which, in some cases,

is enough to ruin a kingdom.

“If, when the proposition was formerly made to the Parliament by the

Cardinal to declare whether they intended to set bounds to the royal

authority, if, I say, they had not wisely eluded the ridiculous and

dangerous question, France would have run a great risk, in my opinion, of

being entirely ruined; for had they answered in the affirmative, as they

were on the point of doing, they would have rent the veil that covers the

mysteries of State. Every monarchy has its peculiar veil; that of France

consists in a kind of religious and sacred silence, which, by the

subjects generally paying a blind obedience to their Kings, muffles up

that right which they think they have to dispense with their obedience in

cases where a complaisance to their Kings would be a prejudice to

themselves. It is a wonder that the Parliament did not strip off this

veil by a formal decree. This has had much worse consequences since the

people have taken the liberty to look through it.

“Your Highness cannot by the force of arms prevent these dangerous

consequences, which, perhaps, are already too near at hand. You see that

even the Parliament can hardly restrain the people whom they have roused;

that the contagion is spread into the provinces, and you know that

Guienne and Provence are entirely governed by the example of Paris. Every

thing shakes and totters, and it is your Highness only that can set us

right, because of the splendour of your birth and reputation, and the

generally received opinion that none but you can do it.

“The Queen shares with the Cardinal in the common hatred, and the Duc

d’Orleans with La Riviere in the universal contempt of the people. If,

out of mere complaisance, you abet their measures, you will share in the

hatred of the public. It is true that you are above their contempt; but

then their dread of you will be so great that it will grievously embitter

the hatred they will then bear to you, and the contempt they have already

for the others, so that what is at present only a serious wound in the

State will perhaps become incurable and mortal. I am sensible you have

grounds to be diffident of the behaviour of a body consisting of above

two hundred persons, who are neither capable of governing nor being

governed. I own the thought is perplexing; but such favourable

circumstances seem to offer themselves at this juncture that matters are

much simplified.

“Supposing that manifestoes were published, and your Highness declared

General of the Parliamentary Army, would you, monseigneur, meet with

greater difficulties than your grandfather and great-grandfather did, in

accommodating themselves to the caprice of the ministers of Rochelle and

the mayors of Nimes and Montauban? And would your Highness find it a

greater task to manage the Parliament of Paris than M. de Mayenne did in

the time of the League, when there was a factious opposition made to all

the measures of the Parliament? Your birth and merit raise you as far

above M. de Mayenne as the cause in hand is above that of the League; and

the circumstances of both are no less different. The head of the League

declared war by an open and public alliance with Spain against the Crown,

and against one of the best and bravest kings that France ever had. And

this head of the League, though descended from a foreign and suspected

family, kept, notwithstanding, that same Parliament in his interest for a

considerable time.

“You have consulted but two members of the whole Parliament, and them

only upon their promise to disclose your intentions to no man living. How

then can your Highness think it possible that your sentiments, locked up

so closely in the breasts of two members, can have any influence upon the

whole body of the Parliament? I dare answer for it, monseigneur, that if

you will but declare yourself openly the protector of the public and of

the sovereign companies, you might govern them--at least, for a

considerable time--with an absolute and almost sovereign authority. But

this, it seems, is not what you have in view; you are not willing to

embroil yourself with the Court. You had rather be of the Cabinet than

of a party. Do not take it ill, then, that men who consider you only in

this light do not conduct themselves as you would like. You ought to

conform your measures to theirs, because theirs are moderate; and you may

safely do it, for the Cardinal can hardly stand under the heavy weight of

the public hatred, and is too weak to oblige you against your will to any

sudden and precipitate rupture. La Riviere, who governs the Duc

d’Orleans, is a most dangerous man. Continue, then, to introduce

moderate measures, and let them take their course, according to your

first plan. Is a little more or less heat in Parliamentary proceedings

sufficient reason to make you alter it? For whatever be the consequence,

the worst that can happen is that the Queen may believe you not zealous

enough for her interest; but are there not remedies enough for that? Are

there not excuses and appearances ready at hand, and such as cannot fail?

“And now, I pray your Highness to give me leave to add that there never

was so excellent, so innocent, so sacred, and so necessary a project as

this formed by your Highness, and, in my humble opinion, there never were

such weak reasons as those you have now urged to hinder its execution;

for I take this to be the weakest of all, which, perhaps, you think a

very strong one, namely, that if Mazarin miscarries in his designs you

may be ruined along with him; and if he does succeed he will destroy you

by the very means which you took to raise him.”

It had not the intended effect on the Prince, who was already

prepossessed, and who only answered me in general terms. But heroes have

their faults as well as other men, and so had his Highness, who had one

of the finest geniuses in the world, but little or no forethought. He

did not seek to aggravate matters in order to render himself necessary at

Court, or with a view to do what he afterwards did for the Cardinal, nor

was he biassed by the mean interests of pension, government, and

establishment. He had most certainly great hopes of being arbiter of the

Cabinet. The glory of being restorer of the public peace was his first

end in view, and being the conservator of the royal authority the second.

Those who labour under such an imperfection, though they see clearly the

advantages and disadvantages of both parties, know not which to choose,

because they do not weigh them in the same balance, so that the same

thing appears lightest today which they will think heaviest to-morrow.

This was the case of the Prince, who, it must be owned, if he had carried

on his good design with prudence, certainly would have reestablished the

Government upon a lasting foundation.

He told me more than once, in an angry mood, that if the Parliament went

on at the old rate he would teach them that it would be no great task to

reduce them to reason. I perceived by his talk that the Court had

resumed the design of besieging Paris; and to be the more satisfied of it

I told him that the Cardinal might easily be disappointed in his

measures, and that he would find Paris to be a very tough morsel.

“It shall not be taken,” he said, “like Dunkirk, by mines and storming;

but suppose its bread from Gonesse should be cut off for eight days

only?”

I took this statement then for granted, and replied that the stopping of

that passage would be attended with difficulties.

“What difficulties?” asked the Prince, very briskly. “The citizens? Will

they come out to give battle?”

“If it were only citizens, monseigneur,” I said, “the battle would not be

very sharp.”

“Who will be with them?” he replied; “will you be there yourself?”

“That would be a very bad omen,” I said; “it would look too much like the

proceedings of the League.”

After a little pause, he said, “But now, to be serious, would you be so

foolish as to embark with those men?”

“You know, monseigneur,” I said, “that I am engaged already; and that,

moreover, as Coadjutor of Paris, I am concerned both by honour and

interest in its preservation. I shall be your Highness’s humble servant

as long as I live, except in this one point.”

I saw he was touched to the quick, but he kept his temper, and said these

very words: “When you engage in a bad cause I will pity you, but shall

have no reason to complain of you. Nor do you complain of me; but do me

that justice you owe me, namely, to own that all I promised to Longueil

and Broussel is since annulled by the conduct of the Parliament.”

He afterwards showed me many personal favours, and offered to make my

peace with the Court. I assured him of my obedience and zeal for his

service in everything that did not interfere with the engagements I had

entered into, which, as he himself owned, I could not possibly avoid.

After we parted I paid a visit to Madame de Longueville, who seemed

enraged both against the Court and the Prince de Conde. I was pleased to

think, moreover, that she could do what she would with the Prince de

Conti, who was little better than a child; but then I considered that

this child was a Prince of the blood, and it was only a name we wanted to

give life to that which, without one, was a mere embryo. I could answer

for M. de Longueville, who loved to be the first man in any public

revolution, and I was as well assured of Marechal de La Mothe,--[Philippe

de La Mothe-Houdancourt, deceased 1657.]--who was madly opposed to the

Court, and had been inviolably attached to M. de Longueville for twenty

years together. I saw that the Duc de Bouillon, through the injustice

done him by the Court and the unfortunate state of his domestic affairs,

was very much annoyed and almost desperate. I had an eye upon all these

gentlemen at a distance, but thought neither of them fit to open the

drama. M. de Longueville was only fit for the second act; the Marechal

de La Mothe was a good soldier, but had no headpiece, and was therefore

not qualified for the first act. M. de Bouillon was my man, had not his

honesty been more problematic than his talents. You will not wonder that

I was so wavering in my choice, and that I fixed at last upon the Prince

de Conti, of the blood of France.

As soon as I gave Madame de Longueville a hint of what part she was to

act in the intended revolution, she was perfectly transported, and I took

care to make M. de Longueville as great a malcontent as herself. She had

wit and beauty, though smallpox had taken away the bloom of her pretty

face, in which there sat charms so powerful that they rendered her one of

the most amiable persons in France. I could have placed her in my heart

between Mesdames de Gudmenee and Pommereux, and it was not the despair of

succeeding that palled my passion, but the consideration that the

benefice was not yet vacant, though not well served,--M. de La

Rochefoucault was in possession, yet absent in Poitou. I sent her three

or four billets-doux every day, and received as many. I went very often

to her levee to be more at liberty to talk of affairs, got extraordinary

advantages by it, and I knew that it was the only way to be sure of the

Prince de Conti.

Having settled a regular correspondence with Madame de Longueville, she

made me better acquainted with M. de La Rochefoucault, who made the

Prince de Conti believe that he spoke a good word for him to the lady,

his sister, with whom he was in, love. And the two so blinded the Prince

that he did not suspect anything till four years after.

When I saw that the Court would act upon their own initiative, I resolved

to declare war against them and attack Mazarin in person, because

otherwise we could not escape being first attacked by him.

It is certain that he gave his enemies such an advantage over him as no

other Prime Minister ever did. Power commonly keeps above ridicule, but

everybody laughed at the Cardinal because of his silly sayings and

doings, which those in his position are seldom guilty of. It was said

that he had lately asked Bougeval, deputy of the Grand Council, whether

he did not think himself obliged to have no buttons to the collar of his

doublet, if the King should command it,--a grave argument to convince the

deputies of an important company of the obedience due to kings, for which

he was severely lampooned both in prose and verse.

The Court having attempted to legalise excessive usury,--I mean with

respect to the affair of loans,--my dignity would not permit me to

tolerate so public and scandalous an evil. Therefore I held an assembly

of the clergy, where, without so much as mentioning the Cardinal’s name

in the conferences, in which I rather affected to spare him, yet in a

week’s time I made him pass for one of the most obstinate Jews in Europe.

At this very time I was sent for, by a civil letter under the Queen’s own

hand, to repair to Saint Germain, the messenger telling me the King was

just gone thither and that the army was commanded to advance. I made him

believe I would obey the summons, but I did not intend to do so.

I was pestered for five hours with a parcel of idle rumours of ruin and

destruction, which rather diverted than alarmed me, for though the Prince

de Conde, distrusting his brother the Prince de Conti, had surprised him

in bed and carried him off with him to Saint Germain, yet I did not

question but that, as long as Madame de Longueville stayed in Paris, we

should see him again, the rather because his brother neither feared nor

valued him sufficiently to put him under arrest, and I was assured that

M. de Longueville would be in Paris that evening by having received a

letter from himself.

The King was no sooner gone than the Parliament met, frightened out of

their senses, and I know not what they could have done if we had not

found a way to change their fears into a resolution to make a bold stand.

I have observed a thousand times that there are some kinds of fear only

to be removed by higher degrees of terror. I caused it to be signified

to the Parliament that there was in the Hotel de Ville a letter from his

Majesty to the magistrates, containing the reasons that had obliged him

to leave his good city of Paris, which were in effect that some of the

officers of the House held a correspondence with the enemies of the

Government, and had conspired to seize his person.

The Parliament, considering this letter and that the President le Feron,

‘prevot des marchands’, was a creature of the Court, ordered the citizens

to arms, the gates to be secured, and the ‘prevot des marchands’ and the

‘lieutenant de police’ to keep open the necessary passages for

provisions.

Having thought it good policy that the first public step of resistance

should be taken by the Parliament to justify the disobedience of private

persons, I then invented this stratagem to render me the more excusable

to the Queen for not going to Saint Germain. Having taken leave of all

friends and rejected all their entreaties for my stay in Paris, I took

coach as if I were driving to Court, but, by good luck, met with an

eminent timber-merchant, a very good friend of mine, at the end of

Notre-Dame Street, who was very much out of humour, set upon my

postilion, and threatened my coachman. The people came and overturned my

coach, and the women, shrieking, carried me back to my own house.

I wrote to the Queen and Prince, signifying how sorry I was that I had

met with such a stoppage; but the Queen treated the messenger with scorn

and contempt. The Prince, at the same time that he pitied me, could not

help showing his anger. La Riviere attacked me with railleries and

invectives, and the messenger thought they were sure of putting the rope

about all our necks on the morrow.

I was not so much alarmed at their menaces as at the news I heard the

same day that M. de Longueville, returning from Rouen, had turned off to

Saint Germain. Marechal de La Mothe told me twenty times that he would

do everything to the letter that M. de Longueville would have him do for

or against the Court. M. de Bouillon quarrelled with me for confiding in

men who acted so contrary to the repeated assurances I had given him of

their good behaviour. And besides all this, Madame de Longueville

protested to me that she had received no news from M. de La

Rochefoucault, who went soon after the King, with a design to fortify the

Prince de Conti in his resolution and to bring him back to Paris. Upon

this I sent the Marquis de Noirmoutier to Saint Germain to learn what we

had to trust to.

On the 7th of January, 1649, an order was sent from the King to the

Parliament to remove to Montargis, to the Chamber of Accounts to adjourn

to Orleans and to the Grand Council to retire to Mantes. A packet was

also sent to the Parliament, which they would not open, because they

guessed at the contents and were resolved beforehand not to obey.

Therefore they returned it sealed up as it came, and agreed to send

assurances of their obedience to the Queen, and to beg she would give

them leave to clear themselves from the aspersion thrown upon them in the

letter above mentioned sent to the chief magistrate of the city. And to

support the dignity of Parliament it was further resolved that her

Majesty should be petitioned in a most humble manner to name the

calumniators, that they might be proceeded against according to law. At

the same time Broussel, Viole, Amelot, and seven others moved that it

might be demanded in form that Cardinal Mazarin should be removed; but

they were not supported by anybody else, so that they were treated as

enthusiasts. Although this was a juncture in which it was more necessary

than ever to act with vigour, yet I do not remember the time when I have

beheld so much faintheartedness.

The Chamber of Accounts immediately set about making remonstrances; but

the Grand Council would have obeyed the King’s orders, only the city

refused them passports. I think this was one of the most gloomy days I

had as yet seen. I found the Parliament had almost lost all their

spirit, and that I should be obliged to bow my neck under the most

shameful and dangerous yoke of slavery, or be reduced to the dire

necessity of setting up for tribune of the people, which is the most

uncertain and meanest of all posts when it is not vested with sufficient

power.

The weakness of the Prince de Conti, who was led like a child by his

brother, the cowardice of M. de Longueville, who had been to offer his

service to the Queen, and the declaration of MM. de Bouillon and de La

Mothe had mightily disfigured my tribuneship. But the folly of Mazarin

raised its reputation, for he made the Queen refuse audience to the

King’s Council, who returned that night to Paris, fully convinced that

the Court was resolved to push things to extremity.

I was informed from Saint Germain that the Prince had assured the Queen

he would take Paris in a fortnight, and they hoped that the

discontinuance of two markets only would starve the city into a

surrender. I carried this news to my friends, who began to see that

there was no possibility, of accommodation.

The Parliament was no sooner acquainted that the King’s Council had been

denied audience than with one voice--Bernai excepted, who was fitter for

a cook than a councillor--they passed that famous decree of January 8th,

1649, whereby Cardinal Mazarin was declared an enemy to the King and

Government, a disturber of the public peace, and all the King’s subjects

were enjoined to attack him without mercy.

In the afternoon there was a general council of the deputies of

Parliament, of the Chamber of Accounts, of the Court of Aids, the chief

magistrates of Paris, and the six trading companies, wherein it was

resolved that the magistrates should issue commissions for raising 4,000

horse and 10,000 foot. The same day the Chamber of Accounts, the Court

of Aids, and the city sent their deputies to the Queen, to beseech her

Majesty to bring the King back to Paris, but the Court was obdurate. The

Prince de Conde flew out against the Parliament in the Queen’s presence;

and her Majesty told them all that neither the King nor herself would

ever come again within the walls of the city till the Parliament was gone

out of it.

The next day the city received a letter from the King commanding them to

oblige the Parliament to remove to Montargis. The governor, one of the

sheriffs, and four councillors of the city carried the letter to

Parliament, protesting at the same time that they would obey no other

orders than those of the Parliament, who that very morning settled the

necessary funds for raising troops. In the afternoon there was a general

council, wherein all the corporations of the city and all the colonels

and captains of the several quarters entered into an association,

confirmed by an oath, for their mutual defence. In the meantime I was

informed by the Marquis de Noirmoutier that the Prince de Conti and M. de

Longueville were very well disposed, and that they stayed at Court the

longer to have a safer opportunity of coming away. M. de La

Rochefoucault wrote to the same purpose to Madame de Longueville.

The same day I had a visit from the Duc d’Elbeuf,--[Charles de Lorraine,

the second of that name, who died 1657.]--who, as they said, having

missed a dinner at Court, came to Paris for a supper. He addressed me

with all the cajoling flattery of the House of Guise, and had three

children with him, who were not so eloquent, but seemed to be quite as

cunning as himself. He told me that he was going to offer his service to

the Hotel de Ville; but I advised him to wait upon the Parliament. He

was fixed in his first resolution, yet he came to assure me he would

follow my advice in everything. I was afraid that the Parisians, to whom

the very name of a Prince of Lorraine is dear, would have given him the

command of the troops. Therefore I ordered the clergy over whom I had

influence to insinuate to the people that he was too influential with the

Abbe de La Riviere, and I showed the Parliament what respect he had for

them by addressing himself to the Hotel de Ville in the first place, and

that he had not honour enough to be trusted. I was shown a letter which

he wrote to his friend as he came into town, in which were these words:

“I must go and do homage to the Coadjutor now, but in three days’ time he

shall return it to me.” And I knew from other instances that his

affection for me was of the feeblest.

While I was reflecting what to do, news was brought to me before daylight

that the Prince de Conti and M. de Longueville were at the gate of Saint

Honord and denied entrance by the people, who feared they came to betray

the city. I immediately fetched honest Broussel, and, taking some

torches to light us, we posted to the said gate through a prodigious

crowd of people; it was broad daylight before we could persuade the

people that they might safely let them in.

The great difficulty now was how to manage so as to remove the general

distrust of the Prince de Conti that existed among the people. That

which was practicable the night before was rendered impossible and even

ruinous the next day, and this same Duc d’Elbeuf, whom I thought to have

driven out of Paris on the 9th, was in a fair way to have compelled me to

leave on the 10th if he had played his game well, so suspected was the

name of Conde by the people. As there wanted a little time to reconcile

them, I thought it was our only way to keep fair with M. d’Elbeuf and to

convince him that it would be to his interest to join with the Prince de

Conti and M. de Longueville. I accordingly sent to acquaint him that I

intended him a visit, but when I arrived he was gone to the Parliament,

where the First President, who was against removing to Montargis and at

the same time very averse to a civil war, embraced him, and, without

giving the members time to consider what was urged by Broussel, Viole,

and others to the contrary, caused him to be declared General, with a

design merely to divide and weaken the party.

Upon this I made haste to the Palace of Longueville to persuade the

Prince de Conti and M. de Longueville to go that very instant to the

Parliament House. The latter was never in haste, and the Prince having

gone tired to bed, it was with much ado I prevailed on him to rise. In

short, he was so long in setting out that the Parliament was up and M.

d’Elbeuf was marching to the Hotel de Ville to be sworn and to take care

of the commissions that were to be issued. I thereupon persuaded the

Prince de Conti to go to the Parliament in the afternoon and to offer

them his service, while I stayed without in the hall to observe the

disposition of the people.

He went thither accordingly in my coach and with my grand livery, by

which he made it appear that he reposed his confidence entirely in the

people, whom there is a necessity of managing with a world of precaution

because of their natural diffidence and instability. When we came to the

House we were saluted upon the stairs with “God bless the Coadjutor!”

but, except those posted there on purpose, not a soul cried, “God bless

the Prince de Conti!” from which I concluded that the bulk of the people

were not yet cured of their diffidence, and therefore I was very glad

when I had got the Prince into the Grand Chamber. The moment after, M.

d’Elbeuf came in with the city guards, who attended him as general, and

with all the people crying out, “God bless his Highness M. d’Elbeuf!” But

as they cried at the same time “God save the Coadjutor!” I addressed

myself to him with a smile and said, “This is an echo, monsieur, which

does me a great deal of honour.”--“It is very kind of you,” said he, and,

turning to the guards, bade them stay at the door of the Grand Chamber. I

took the order as given to myself, and stayed there likewise, with a

great number of my friends. As soon as the House was formed, the Prince

de Conti stood up and said that, having been made acquainted at Saint

Germain with the pernicious counsels given to the Queen, he thought

himself obliged, as Prince of the blood, to oppose them. M. d’Elbeuf,

who was proud and insolent, like all weak men, because he thought he had

the strongest party, said he knew the respect due to the Prince de Conti,

but that he could not forbear telling them that it was himself who first

broke the ice and offered his service to the Parliament, who, having

conferred the General’s baton upon him, he would never part with it but

with his life.

The generality of the members, who were as distrustful of the Prince de

Conti as the people, applauded this declaration, and the Parliament

passed a decree forbidding the troops on pain of high treason to advance

within twenty miles of Paris. I saw that all I could do that day was to

reconduct the Prince de Conti in safety to the palace of Longueville, for

the crowd was so great that I was fain to carry him, as it were, in my

arms out of the Grand Chamber.

M. d’Elbeuf, who thought the day was all his own, hearing my name joined

with his in the huzzas of the people, said to me by way of reprisal,

“This, monsieur, is an echo which does me a great deal of honour,” to

which I replied, as he did to me before, “Monsieur, it is very kind of

you.” Meantime he was not wise enough to improve the opportunity, and I

foresaw that things would soon take another turn, for reputation of long

standing among the people never fails to blast the tender blossoms of

public good-will which are forced out of due season.

I had news sent to me from Madame de Lesdiguieres at Saint Germain, that

M. d’Elbeuf, an hour after he heard of the arrival of the Prince de Conti

and M. de Longueville at Paris, wrote a letter to the Abbe de la Riviere

with these words: “Tell the Queen and the Duc d’Orleans that this

diabolical Coadjutor is the ruin of everything here, and that in two days

I shall have no power at all, but that if they will be kind to me I will

make them sensible. I am not come hither with so bad a design as they

imagine.” I made a very good use of this advice, and, knowing that the

people are generally fond of everything that seems mysterious, I imparted

the secret to four or five hundred persons. I had the pleasure to hear

that the confidence which the Prince had reposed in the people by going

about all alone in my coach, without any attendance, had won their

hearts.

At midnight M. de Longueville, Marechal de La Mothe, and myself went to

M. de Bouillon, whom we found as wavering as the state of affairs, but

when we showed him our plan, and how easily it might be executed, he

joined us immediately. We concerted measures, and I gave out orders to

all the colonels and captains of my acquaintance.

The most dangerous blow that I gave to M. d’Elbeuf was by making the

people believe that he held correspondence with the King’s troops, who on

the 9th, at night, surprised Charenton. I met him on the first report of

it, when he said, “Would you think there are people so wicked as to say

that I had a hand in the capture of Charenton?” I said in answer, “Would

you think there are people vile enough to report that the Prince de Conti

is come hither by concert with the Prince de Conde?”

When I saw the people pretty well cured of their diffidence, and not so

zealous as they were for M. d’Elbeuf, I was for mincing the matter no

longer, and thought that ostentation would be as proper to-day as reserve

was yesterday. The Prince de Conti took M. de Longueville to the

Parliament House, where he offered them his services, together with all

Normandy, and desired they would accept of his wife, son, and daughter,

and keep them in the Hotel de Ville as pledges of his sincerity. He was

seconded by M. de Bouillon, who said he was exceedingly glad to serve the

Parliament under the command of so great a Prince as the Prince de Conti.

M. d’Elbeuf was nettled at this expression, and repeated what he had said

before, that he would not part with the General’s staff, and he showed

more warmth than judgment in the whole debate. He spoke nothing to the

purpose. It was too late to dispute, and he was obliged to yield, but I

have observed that fools yield only when they cannot help it. We tried

his patience a third time by the appearance of Marechal de La Mothe, who

passed the same compliment upon the company as De Bouillon had done. We

had concerted beforehand that these personages should make their

appearance upon the theatre one after the other, for we had remarked that

nothing so much affects the people, and even the Parliament, among whom

the people are a majority, as a variety of scenes.

I took Madame de Longueville and Madame de Bouillon in a coach by way of

triumph to the Hotel de Ville. They were both of rare beauty, and

appeared the more charming because of a careless air, the more becoming

to both because it was unaffected. Each held one of her children,

beautiful as the mother, in her arms. The place was so full of people

that the very tops of the houses were crowded; all the men shouted and

the women wept for joy and affection. I threw five hundred pistoles out

of the window of the Hotel de Ville, and went again to the Parliament

House, accompanied by a vast number of people, some with arms and others

without. M. d’Elbeuf’s captain of the guards told his master that he was

ruined to all intents and purposes if he did not accommodate himself to

the present position of affairs, which was the reason that I found him

much perplexed and dejected, especially when M. de Bellievre, who had

amused him hitherto designedly, came in and asked what meant the beating

of the drums. I answered that he would hear more very soon, and that all

honest men were quite out of patience with those that sowed divisions

among the people. I saw then that wisdom in affairs of moment is nothing

without courage. M. d’Elbeuf had little courage at this juncture, made a

ridiculous explanation of what he had said before, and granted more than

he was desired to do, and it was owing to the civility and good sense of

M. de Bouillon that he retained the title of General and the precedence

of M. de Bouillon and M. de La Mothe, who were equally Generals with

himself under the Prince de Conti, who was from that instant declared

Generalissimo of the King’s forces under the direction of the Parliament.

There happened at this time a comical scene in the Hotel de Ville, which

I mention more particularly because of its consequence. De Noirmoutier,

who the night before was made lieutenant-general, returning by the Hotel

de Ville from a sally which he had made into the suburbs to drive away

Mazarin’s skirmishers, as they were called, entered with three officers

in armour into the chamber of Madame de Longueville, which was full of

ladies; the mixture of blue scarfs, ladies, cuirassiers, fiddlers, and

trumpeters in and about the hall was such a sight as is seldom met with

but in romances. De Noirmoutier, who was a great admirer of Astrea, said

he imagined that we were besieged in Marcilli. “Well you may,” said I;

“Madame de Longueville is as fair as Galatea, but Marsillac (son of M. de

La Rochefoucault) is not a man of so much honour as Lindamore.” I fancy

I was overheard by one in a neighbouring window, who might have told M.

de La Rochefoucault, for otherwise I cannot guess at the first cause of

the hatred which he afterwards bore me.

Before I proceed to give you the detail of the civil war, suffer me to

lead you into the gallery where you, who are an admirer of fine painting,

will be entertained with the figures of the chief actors, drawn all at

length in their proper colours, and you will be able to judge by the

history whether they are painted to the life. Let us begin, as it is but

just, with her Majesty.

Character of the Queen.

The Queen excelled in that kind of wit which was becoming her circle, to

the end that she might not appear silly before strangers; she was more

ill-natured than proud, had more pride than real grandeur, and more show

than substance; she loved money too well to be liberal, and her own

interest too well to be impartial; she was more constant than passionate

as a lover, more implacable than cruel, and more mindful of injuries than

of good offices. She had more of the pious intention than of real piety,

more obstinacy than well-grounded resolution, and a greater measure of

incapacity than of all the rest.

Character of the Duc d’ Orleans.

The Duc d’Orleans possessed all the good qualities requisite for a man of

honour except courage, but having not one quality eminent enough to make

him notable, he had nothing in him to supply or support the weakness

which was so predominant in his heart through fear, and in his mind

through irresolution, that it tarnished the whole course of his life. He

engaged in all affairs, because he had not power to resist the

importunities of those who drew him in for their own advantage, and came

off always with shame for want of courage to go on. His suspicious

temper, even from his childhood, deadened those lively, gay colours which

would have shone out naturally with the advantages of a fine, bright

genius, an amiable gracefulness, a very honest disposition, a perfect

disinterestedness, and an incredible easiness of behaviour.

Character of the Prince de Conde.

The Prince de Conde was born a general, an honour none could ever boast

of before but Caesar and Spinola; he was equal to the first, but superior

to the second. Intrepidity was one of the least parts of his character.

Nature gave him a genius as great as his heart. It was his fortune to be

born in an age of war, which gave him an opportunity to display his

courage to its full extent; but his birth, or rather education, in a

family submissively attached to the Cabinet, restrained his noble genius

within too narrow bounds. There was no care taken betimes to inspire him

with those great and general maxims which form and improve a man of

parts. He had not time to acquire them by his own application, because

he was prevented from his youth by the unexpected revolution, and by a

constant series of successes. This one imperfection, though he had as

pure a soul as any in the world, was the reason that he did things which

were not to be justified, that though he had the heart of Alexander so he

had his infirmities, that he was guilty of unaccountable follies, that

having all the talents of Francois de Guise, he did not serve the State

upon some occasions as well as he ought, and that having the parts of

Henri de Conde, his namesake, he did not push the faction as far as he

might have done, nor did he discharge all the duties his extraordinary

merit demanded from him.

Character of the Duc de Longueville.

M. de Longueville, though he had the grand name of Orleans, together with

vivacity, an agreeable appearance, generosity, liberality, justice,

valour, and grandeur, yet never made any extraordinary figure in life,

because his ideas were infinitely above his capacity. If a man has

abilities and great designs, he is sure to be looked upon as a man of

some importance; but if he does not carry them out, he is not much

esteemed, which was the case with De Longueville.

Character of the Duc de Beaufort.

M. de Beaufort knew little of affairs of moment but by hearsay and by

what he had learned in the cabal of “The Importants,” of whose jargon he

had retained some smattering, which, together with some expressions he

had perfectly acquired from Madame de Vendome, formed a language that

would have puzzled a Cato. His speech was short and stupidly dull, and

the more so because he obscured it by affectation. He thought himself

very sufficient, and pretended to a great deal more wit than came to his

share. He was brave enough in his person, and outdid the common Hectors

by being so upon all occasions, but never more ‘mal a propos’ than in

gallantry. And he talked and thought just as the people did whose idol

he was for some time.

Character of the Dice d’Elbeuf.

M. d’Elbeuf could not fail of courage, as he was a Prince of the house of

Lorraine. He had all the wit that a man of abundantly more cunning and

good sense could pretend to. He was a medley of incoherent flourishes.

He was the first Prince debased by poverty; and, perhaps, never man was

more at a loss than he to raise the pity of the people in misery. A

comfortable subsistence did not raise his spirits; and if he had been

master of riches he would have been envied as a leader of a party.

Poverty so well became him that it seemed as if he had been cut out for a

beggar.

Character of the Duc de Bouillon.

The Duc de Bouillon was a man of experienced valour and profound sense. I

am fully persuaded, by what I have seen of his conduct, that those who

cry it down wrong his character; and it may be that others had too

favourable notions of his merit, who thought him capable of all the great

things which he never did.

Character of M. de Turenne.

M. de Turenne had all the good qualities in his very nature, and acquired

all the great ones very early, those only excepted that he never thought

of. Though almost all the virtues were in a manner natural to him, yet

he shone out in none. He was looked upon as more proper to be at the

head of an army than of a faction, for he was not naturally enterprising.

He had in all his conduct, as well as in his way of talking, certain

obscurities which he never explained but on particular occasions, and

then only for his own honour.

Character of Marechal de La Mothe.

The Marechal de La Mothe was a captain of the second rank, full of

mettle, but not a man of much sense. He was affable and courteous in

civil life, and a very useful man in a faction because of his wonderful

complacency.

Character of the Prince de Conti.

The Prince de Conti was a second Zeno as much as he was a Prince of the

blood. That is his character with regard to the public; and as to his

private capacity, wickedness had the same effect on him as weakness had

on M. d’Elbeuf, and drowned his other qualities, which were all mean and

tinctured with folly.

Character of M. de La Rochefoucault.

M. de La Rochefoucault had something so odd in all his conduct that I

know not what name to give it. He loved to be engaged in intrigues from

a child. He was never capable of conducting any affair, for what reasons

I could not conceive; for he had endowments which, in another, would have

made amends for imperfections . . . . He had not a long view of what

was beyond his reach, nor a quick apprehension of what was within it; but

his sound sense, very good in speculation, his good-nature, his engaging

and wonderfully easy behaviour, were enough to have made amends more than

they did for his want of penetration. He was constantly wavering in his

resolution, but what to attribute it to I know not, for it could not come

from his fertile imagination, which was lively. Nor can I say it came

from his barrenness of thought, for though he did not excel as a man of

affairs, yet he had a good fund of sense. The effect of this

irresolution is very visible, though we do not know its cause. He never

was a warrior, though a true soldier. He never was a courtier, though he

had always a good mind to be one. He never was a good party man, though

his whole life was engaged in partisanship. He was very timorous and

bashful in conversation, and thought he always stood in need of

apologies, which, considering that his “Maxims” showed not great regard

for virtue, and that his practice was always to get out of affairs with

the same hurry as he got into them, makes me conclude that he would have

done much better if he had contented himself to have passed, as he might

have done, for the politest courtier and the most cultivated gentlemen of

his age.

Character of Madame de Longueville.

Madame de Longueville had naturally a great fund of wit, and was,

moreover, a woman of parts; but her indolent temper kept her from making

any use of her talents, either in gallantries or in her hatred against

the Prince de Conde. Her languishing air had more charms in it than the

most exquisite beauty. She had few or no faults besides what she

contracted in her gallantry. As her passion of love influenced her

conduct more than politics, she who was the Amazon of a great party

degenerated into the character of a fortune-hunter. But the grace of God

brought her back to her former self, which all the world was not able to

do.

Character of Madame de Chevreuse.

Madame de Chevreuse had not so much as the remains of beauty when I knew

her; she was the only person I ever saw whose vivacity supplied the want

of judgment; her wit was so brilliant and so full of wisdom that the

greatest men of the age would not have been ashamed of it, while, in

truth, it was owing to some lucky opportunity. If she had been born in

time of peace she would never have imagined there could have been such a

thing as war. If the Prior of the Carthusians had but pleased her, she

would have been a nun all her lifetime. M. de Lorraine was the first

that engaged her in State affairs. The Duke of Buckingham--[George

Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, assassinated when preparing to succour

Rochelle.]--and the Earl of Holland (an English lord, of the family of

Rich, and younger son of the Earl of Warwick, then ambassador in France)

kept her to themselves; M. de Chateauneuf continued the amusement, till

at last she abandoned herself to the pleasing of a person whom she loved,

without any choice, but purely because it was impossible for her to live

without being in love with somebody. It was no hard task to give her one

to serve the turn of the faction, but as soon as she accepted him she

loved him with all her heart and soul, and she confessed that, by the

caprice of fortune, she never loved best where she esteemed most, except

in the case of the poor Duke of Buckingham. Notwithstanding her

attachment in love, which we may, properly call her everlasting passion,

notwithstanding the frequent change of objects, she was peevish and

touchy almost to distraction, but when herself again, her transports were

very agreeable; never was anybody less fearful of real danger, and never

had woman more contempt for scruples and ceremonies.

Character of Mademoiselle de Chevreuse.

Mademoiselle de Chevreuse was more beautiful in her person than charming

in her carriage, and by nature extremely silly; her amorous passion made

her seem witty, serious, and agreeable only to him whom she was in love

with, but she soon treated him as she did her petticoat, which to-day she

took into her bed, and to-morrow cast into the fire out of pure aversion.

Character of the Princess Palatine.

The Princess Palatine’ had just as much gallantry as gravity. I believe

she had as great a talent for State affairs as Elizabeth, Queen of

England. I have seen her in the faction, I have seen her in the Cabinet,

and found her everywhere equally sincere.

Character of Madame de Montbazon.

Madame de Montbazon was a very great beauty, only modesty was visibly

wanting in her air; her grand air and her way of talking sometimes

supplied her want of sense. She loved nothing more than her pleasures,

unless it was her private interest, and I never knew a vicious person

that had so little respect for virtue.

Character of the First President.

If it were not a sort of blasphemy to say that any mortal of our times

had more courage than the great Gustavus Adolphus and the Prince de

Conde, I would venture to affirm it of M. Mole, the First President, but

his wit was far inferior to his courage. It is true that his enunciation

was not agreeable, but his eloquence was such that, though it shocked the

ear, it seized the imagination. He sought the interest of the public

preferably to all things, not excepting the interest of his own family,

which yet he loved too much for a magistrate. He had not a genius to see

at times the good he was capable of doing, presumed too much upon his

authority, and imagined that he could moderate both the Court and

Parliament; but he failed in both, made himself suspected by both, and

thus, with a design to do good, he did evil. Prejudices contributed not

a little to this, for I observed he was prejudiced to such a degree that

he always judged of actions by men, and scarcely ever of men by their

actions.

To return to our history. All the companies having united and settled

the necessary funds, a complete army was raised in Paris in a week’s

time. The Bastille surrendered after five or six cannon shots, and it

was a pretty sight to see the women carry their chairs into the garden,

where the guns were stationed, for the sake of seeing the siege, just as

if about to hear a sermon.

M. de Beaufort, having escaped from his confinement, arrived this very

day in Paris. I found that his imprisonment had not made him one jot the

wiser. Indeed, it had got him a reputation, because he bore it with

constancy and made his escape with courage. It was also his merit not to

have abandoned the banks of the Loire at a time when it absolutely

required abundance of skill and courage to stay there. It is an easy

matter for those who are disgraced at Court to make the best of their own

merit in the beginning of a civil war. He had a mind to form an alliance

with me, and knowing how to employ him advantageously, I prepossessed the

people in his favour, and exaggerated the conspiracy which the Cardinal

had formed against him by means of Du Hamel.

As my friendship was necessary to him, so his was necessary to me; for my

profession on many occasions being a restraint upon me, I wanted a man

sometimes to stand before me. M. de La Mothe was so dependent on M. de

Longueville that I could not rely on him; and M. de Bouillon was not a

man to be governed.

We went together to wait on the Prince de Conti; we stopped the coach in

the streets, where I proclaimed the name of M. de Beaufort, praised him

and showed him to the people; upon which the people were suddenly fired

with enthusiasm, the women kissed him, and the crowd was so great that we

had much ado to get to the Hotel de Ville. The next day he offered a

petition to the Parliament desiring he might have leave to justify

himself against the accusation of his having formed a design against the

life of the Cardinal, which was granted; and he was accordingly cleared

next day, and the Parliament issued that famous decree for seizing all

the cash of the Crown in all the public and private receipt offices of

the kingdom and employing it in the common defence.

The Prince de Conde was enraged at the declaration published by the

Prince de Conti and M. de Longueville, which cast the Court, then at

Saint Germain, into such a despair that the Cardinal was upon the point

of retiring. I was abused there without mercy, as appeared by a letter

sent to Madame de Longueville from the Princess, her mother, in which I

read this sentence: “They rail here plentifully against the Coadjutor,

whom yet I cannot forbear thanking for what he has done for the poor

Queen of England.” This circumstance is very curious. You must know

that a few days before the King left Paris I visited the Queen of

England, whom I found in the apartment of her daughter, since Madame

d’Orleans. “You see, monsieur,” said the Queen, “I come here to keep

Henriette company; the poor child has lain in bed all day for want of a

fire.” The truth is, the Cardinal having stopped the Queen’s pension six

months, tradesmen were unwilling to give her credit, and there was not a

chip of wood in the house. You may be sure I took care that a Princess

of Great Britain should not be confined to her bed next day, for want of

a fagot; and a few days after I exaggerated the scandal of this

desertion, and the Parliament sent the Queen a present of 40,000 livres.

Posterity will hardly believe that the Queen of England, granddaughter of

Henri the Great, wanted a fagot to light a fire in the month of January,

in the Louvre, and at the Court of France.

There are many passages in history less monstrous than this which make us

shudder, and this mean action of the Court made so little impression upon

the minds of the generality of the people at that time that I have

reflected a thousand times since that we are far more moved at the

hearing of old stories than of those of the present time; we are not

shocked at what we see with our own eyes, and I question whether our

surprise would be as great as we imagine at the story of Caligula’s

promoting his horse to the dignity of a consul were he and his horse now

living.

To return to the war. A cornet of my regiment being taken prisoner and

carried to Saint Germain, the Queen immediately ordered his head to be

cut off, but I sent a trumpeter to acquaint the Court that I would make

reprisals upon my prisoners, so that my cornet was exchanged and a cartel

settled.

As soon as Paris declared itself, all the kingdom was in a quandary, for

the Parliament of Paris sent circular letters to all the Parliaments and

cities in the kingdom exhorting them to join against the common enemy;

upon which the Parliaments of Aix and Rouen joined with that of Paris.

The Prince d’Harcourt, now Duc d’Elbeuf, and the cities of Rheims, Tours,

and Potiers, took up arms in its favour. The Duc de La Tremouille raised

men for them publicly. The Duc de Retz offered his service to the

Parliament, together with Belle Isle. Le Mans expelled its bishop and

all the Lavardin family, who were in the interest of the Court.

On the 18th of January, 1649, I was admitted to a seat and vote in

Parliament, and signed an alliance with the chief leaders of the party:

MM. de Beaufort, de Bouillon, de La Mothe, de Noirmoutier, de Vitri, de

Brissac, de Maure, de Matha, de Cugnac, de Barnire, de Sillery, de La

Rochefoucault, de Laigues, de Sevigny, de Bethune, de Luynes, de

Chaumont, de Saint-Germain, d’Action, and de Fiesque.

On the 9th of February the Prince de Conde attacked and took Charenton.

All this time the country people were flocking to Paris with provisions,

not only because there was plenty of money, but to enable the citizens to

hold out against the siege, which was begun on the 9th of January.

On the 12th of February a herald came with two trumpeters from the Court

to one of the city gates, bringing three packets of letters, one for the

Parliament, one for the Prince de Conti, and the third for the Hotel de

Ville. It was but the night before that a person was caught in the halls

dropping libels against the Parliament and me; upon which the Parliament,

Princes, and city supposed that this State visit was nothing but an

amusement of Cardinal Mazarin to cover a worse design, and therefore

resolved not to receive the message nor give the herald audience, but to

send the King’s Council to the Queen to represent to her that their

refusal was out of pure obedience and respect, because heralds are never

sent but to sovereign Princes or public enemies, and that the Parliament,

the Prince de Conti, and the city were neither the one nor the other. At

the same time the Chevalier de Lavalette, who distributed the libels, had

formed a design to kill me and M. de Beaufort upon the Parliament stairs

in the great crowd which they expected would attend the appearance of the

herald. The Court, indeed, always denied his having any other commission

than to drop the libels, but I am certain that the Bishop of Dole told

the Bishop of Aire, but a night or two before, that Beaufort and I should

not be among the living three days hence.

The King’s councillors returned with a report how kindly they had been

received at Saint Germain. They said the Queen highly approved of the

reasons offered by the Parliament for refusing entrance to the herald,

and that she had assured them that, though she could not side with the

Parliament in the present state of affairs, yet she received with joy the

assurances they had given her of their respect and submission, and that

she would distinguish them in general and in particular by special marks

of her good-will. Talon, Attorney-General, who always spoke with dignity

and force, embellished this answer of the Queen with all the ornaments he

could give it, assuring the Parliament in very pathetic terms that, if

they should be pleased to send a deputation to Saint Germain, it would be

very kindly received, and might, perhaps, be a great step towards a

peace.

When I saw that we were besieged, that the Cardinal had sent a person

into Flanders to treat with the Spaniards, and that our party was now so

well formed that there was no danger that I alone should be charged with

courting the alliance of the enemies of the State, I hesitated no longer,

but judged that, as affairs stood, I might with honour hear what

proposals the Spaniards would make to me for the relief of Paris; but I

took care not to have my name mentioned, and that the first overtures

should be made to M. d’Elbeuf, who was the fittest person, because during

the ministry of Cardinal de Richelieu he was twelve or fifteen years in

Flanders a pensioner of Spain. Accordingly Arnolfi, a Bernardin friar,

was sent from the Archduke Leopold, Governor of the Spanish Netherlands

for the King of Spain, to the Duc d’Elbeuf, who, upon sight of his

credentials, thought himself the most considerable man of the party,

invited most of us to dinner, and told us he had a very important matter

to lay before us, but that such was his tenderness for the French name

that he could not open so much as a small letter from a suspected

quarter, which, after some scrupulous and mysterious circumlocutions, he

ventured to name, and we agreed one and all not to refuse the succours

from Spain, but the great difficulty was, which way to get them.

Fuensaldagne, the general, was inclined to join us if he could have been

sure that we would engage with him; but as there was no possibility of

the Parliaments treating with him, nor any dependence to be placed upon

the generals, some of whom were wavering and whimsical, Madame de

Bouillon pressed me not to hesitate any longer, but to join with her

husband, adding that if he and I united, we should so far overmatch the

others that it would not be in their power to injure us.

M. de Bouillon and I agreed to use our interest to oblige the Parliament

to hear what the envoy had to say. I proposed it to the Parliament, but

the first motion of it was hissed, in a manner, by all the company as

much as if it had been heretical. The old President Le Coigneux, a man

of quick apprehension, observing that I sometimes mentioned a letter from

the Archduke of which there had been no talk, declared himself suddenly

to be of my opinion. He had a secret persuasion that I had seen some

writings which they knew nothing of, and therefore, while both sides were

in the heat of debate, he said to me:

“Why do you not disclose yourself to your friends? They would come into

your measures. I see very well you know more of the matter than the

person who thinks himself your informant.” I vow I was terribly ashamed

of my indiscretion. I squeezed him by the hand and winked at MM. de

Beaufort and de La Mothe. At length two other Presidents came over to my

opinion, being thoroughly convinced that succours from Spain at this time

were a remedy absolutely necessary to our disease, but a dangerous and

empirical medicine, and infallibly mortal to particular persons if it did

not pass first through the Parliament’s alembic.

The Bernardin, being tutored by us beforehand what to say when he came

before the Parliament, behaved like a man of good sense.

When he desired audience, or rather when the Prince de Conti desired it

for him, the President de Mesmes, a man of great capacity, but by fear

and ambition most slavishly attached to the Court, made an eloquent and

pathetic harangue, preferable to anything I ever met with of the kind in

all the monuments of antiquity, and, turning about to the Prince de

Conti, “Is it possible, monsieur,” said he, “that a Prince of the blood

of France should propose to let a person deputed from the most bitter

enemy of the fleurs-de-lis have a seat upon those flowers?” Then turning

to me, he said, “What, monsieur, will you refuse entrance to your

sovereign’s herald upon the most trifling pretexts?” I knew what was

coming, and therefore I endeavoured to stop his mouth by this answer:

“Monsieur, you will excuse me from calling those reasons frivolous which

have had the sanction of a decree.” The bulk of the Parliament was

provoked at the President’s unguarded expression, baited him very

fiercely, and then I made some pretence to go out, leaving Quatresous, a

young man of the warmest temper, in the House to skirmish with him in my

stead, as having experienced more than once that the only way to get

anything of moment passed in Parliamentary or other assemblies is to

exasperate the young men against the old ones.

In short, after many debates, it was carried that the envoy should be

admitted to audience. Being accordingly admitted, and bidden to be

covered and sit down, he presented the Archduke’s credentials, and then

made a speech, which was in substance that his master had ordered him to

acquaint the company with a proposal made him by Cardinal Mazarin since

the blockade of Paris, which his Catholic Majesty did not think

consistent with his safety or honour to accept, when he saw that, on the

one hand, it was made with a view to oppress the Parliament, which was

held in veneration by all the kingdoms in the world, and, on the other,

that all treaties made with a condemned minister would be null and void,

forasmuch as they were made without the concurrence of the Parliament, to

whom only it belonged to register and verify treaties of peace in order

to make them authoritative; that the Catholic King, who proposed to take

no advantage from the present state of affairs, had ordered the Archduke

to assure the Parliament, whom he knew to be in the true interest of the

most Christian King, that he heartily acknowledged them to be the

arbiters of peace, that he submitted to their judgment, and that if they

thought proper to be judges, he left it to their choice to send a

deputation out of their own body to what place they pleased. Paris itself

not excepted, and that his Catholic Majesty would also, without delay,

send his deputies thither to meet and treat with them; that, meanwhile,

he had ordered 18,000 men to march towards their frontiers to relieve

them in case of need, with orders nevertheless to commit no hostilities

upon the towns, etc., of the most Christian King, though they were for

the most part abandoned; and it being his resolution at this juncture to

show his sincere inclination for peace, he gave them his word of honour

that his armies should not stir during the treaty; but that in case his

troops might be serviceable to the Parliament, they were at their

disposal, to be commanded by French officers; and that to obviate all the

reasonable jealousies generally, attending the conduct of foreigners,

they, were at liberty to take all other precautions they should think

proper.

Before his admission the Prdsident de Mesmes had loaded me with

invectives, for secretly corresponding with the enemies of the State, for

favouring his admission, and for opposing that of my sovereign’s herald.

I had observed that when the objections against a man are capable of

making greater impression than his answers, it is his best course to say

but little, and that he may talk as much as he pleases when he thinks his

answers of greater force than the objections. I kept strictly to this

rule, for though the said President artfully pointed his satire at me, I

sat unconcerned till I found the Parliament was charmed with what the

envoy had said, and then, in my turn, I was even with the President by

telling him in short that my respect for the Parliament had obliged me to

put up with his sarcasms, which I had hitherto endured; and that I did

not suppose he meant that his sentiments should always be a law to the

Parliament; that nobody there had a greater esteem for him, with which I

hoped that the innocent freedom I had taken to speak my mind was not

inconsistent; that as to the non-admission of the herald, had it not been

for the motion made by M. Broussel, I should have fallen into the snare

through overcredulity, and have given my vote for that which might

perhaps have ended in the destruction of the city, and involved myself in

what has since fully proved to be a crime by the Queen’s late solemn

approbation of the contrary conduct; and that, as to the envoy, I was

silent till I saw most of them were for giving him audience, when I

thought it better to vote the same way than vainly to contest it.

This modest and submissive answer of mine to all the scurrilities heaped

upon me for a fortnight together by the First President and the President

de Mesmes had an excellent effect upon the members, and obliterated for a

long time the suspicion that I aimed to govern them by my cabals. The

President de Mesmes would have replied, but his words were drowned in the

general clamour. The clock struck five; none had dined, and many had not

broken their fast, which the Presidents had, and therefore had the

advantage in disputation.

The decree ordering the admission of the Spanish envoy to audience

directed that a copy of what he said in Parliament, signed with his own

hand, should be demanded of him, to the end that it might be registered,

and that, by a solemn deputation, it should be sent to the Queen, with an

assurance of the fidelity of the Parliament, beseeching her at the same

time to withdraw her troops from the neighbourhood of Paris and restore

peace to her people. It being now very late, and the members very

hungry,--circumstances that have greater influence than can be imagined

in debates, they were upon the point of letting this clause pass for want

of due attention. The President Le Coigneux was the first that

discovered the grand mistake, and, addressing himself to a great many

councillors, who were rising up, said, “Gentlemen, pray take your places

again, for I have something to offer to the House which is of the highest

importance to all Europe.” When they had taken their places he spoke as

follows: