MADAME:--Cardinal Mazarin thought of nothing else now but how to rid
himself of the obligations he lay under to the Prince de Conde, who had
actually saved him from the gallows. And his principal view was an
alliance with the House of Vendome, who had on some occasions opposed the
interest of the family of Conde.
In Paris the people libelled not only the Cardinal, but the Queen. Indeed
it was not our interest to discourage libels and ballads against the
Cardinal, but it concerned us to suppress such as were levelled against
the Queen and Government. It is not to be imagined what uneasiness the
wrath of the people gave us upon that head. Two criminals, one of whom
was a printer, being condemned to be hanged for publishing some things
fit to be burnt and for libelling the Queen, cried out, when they were
upon the scaffold, that they were to be put to death for publishing
verses against Mazarin, upon which the people rescued them from justice.
On the other hand, some gay young gentlemen of the Court, who were in
Mazarin’s interest, had a mind to make his name familiar to the
Parisians, and for that end made a famous display in the public walks of
the Tuileries, where they had grand suppers, with music, and drank the
Cardinal’s health publicly. We took little notice of this, till they
boasted at Saint Germain that the Frondeurs were glad to give them the
wall. And then we thought it high time to correct them, lest the common
people should think they did it by authority. For this end M. de
Beaufort and a hundred other gentlemen went one night to the house where
they supped, overturned the table, and broke the musicians’ violins over
their heads.
Being informed that the Prince de Conde intended to oblige the King to
return to Paris, I was resolved to have all the merit of an action which
would be so acceptable to the citizens. I therefore resolved to go to
the Court at Compiegne, which my friends very much opposed, for fear of
the danger to which I might be exposed, but I told them that what is
absolutely necessary is not dangerous.
I went accordingly, and as I was going up-stairs to the Queen’s
apartments, a man, whom I never saw before or since, put a note into my
hand with these words: “If you enter the King’s domicile, you are a dead
man.” But I was in already, and it was too late to go back. Being past
the guard-chamber, I thought myself secure. I told the Queen that I was
come to assure her Majesty of my most humble obedience, and of the
disposition of the Church of Paris to perform all the services it owed to
their Majesties. The Queen seemed highly pleased, and was very kind to
me; but when we mentioned the Cardinal, though she urged me to it, I
excused myself from going to see him, assuring her Majesty that such a
visit would put it out of my power to do her service. It was impossible
for her to contain herself any longer; she blushed, and it was with much
restraint that she forbore using harsh language, as she herself confessed
afterwards.
Servien said one day that there was a design to assassinate me at his
table by the Abbe Fouquet; and M. de Vendome, who had just come from his
table, pressed me to be gone, saying that there were wicked designs
hatching against me.
I returned to Paris, having accomplished everything I wanted, for I had
removed the suspicion of the Court that the Frondeurs were against the
King’s return. I threw upon the Cardinal all the odium attending his
Majesty’s delay. I braved Mazarin, as it were, upon his throne, and
secured to myself the chief honour of the King’s return.
The Court was received at Paris as kings always were and ever will be,
namely, with acclamations, which only please such as like to be
flattered. A group of old women were posted at the entrance of the
suburbs to cry out, “God save his Eminence!” who sat in the King’s coach
and thought himself Lord of Paris; but at the end of three or four days
he found himself much mistaken. Ballads and libels still flew about. The
Frondeurs appeared bolder than ever. M. de Beaufort and I rode sometimes
alone, with one lackey only behind our coach, and at other times we went
with a retinue of fifty men in livery and a hundred gentlemen. We
diversified the scene as we thought it would be most acceptable to the
spectators. The Court party, who blamed us from morning to night,
nevertheless imitated us in their way. Everybody took an advantage of
the Ministry from our continual pelting of his Eminence. The Prince, who
always made too much or too little of the Cardinal, continued to treat
him with contempt; and, being disgusted at being refused the post of
Superintendent of the Seas, the Cardinal endeavoured to soothe him with
the vain hopes of other advantages.
The Prince, being one day at Court, and seeing the Cardinal give himself
extraordinary airs, said, as he was going out of the Queen’s cabinet,
“Adieu, Mars.” This was told all over the city in a quarter of an hour.
I and Noirmoutier went by appointment to his house at four o’clock in the
morning, when he seemed to be greatly troubled. He said that he could
not determine to begin a civil war, which, though the only means to
separate the Queen from the Cardinal, to whom she was so strongly
attached, yet it was both against his conscience and honour. He added
that he should never forget his obligations to us, and that if he should
come to any terms with the Court, he would, if we thought proper, settle
our affairs also, and that if we had not a mind to be reconciled to the
Court, he would, in case it did attack us, publicly undertake our
protection. We answered that we had no other design in our proposals
than the honour of being his humble servants, and that we should be very
sorry if he had retarded his reconciliation with the Queen upon our
account, praying that we might be permitted to continue in the same
disposition towards the Cardinal as we were then, which we declared
should not hinder us from paying all the respect and duty which we
professed for his Highness.
I must not forget to acquaint you that Madame de Guemenee, who ran away
from Paris in a fright the moment it was besieged, no sooner heard that I
had paid a visit to Mademoiselle de Chevreuse than she returned to town
in a rage. I was in such a passion with her for having cowardly deserted
me that I took her by the throat, and she was so enraged at my
familiarity with Mademoiselle de Chevreuse that she threw a candlestick
at my head, but in a quarter of an hour we were very good friends.
The Prince de Conde was no sooner reconciled with the Court than he was
publicly reproached in the city for breaking his word with the Frondeurs;
but I convinced him that he could not think such treatment strange in a
city so justly exasperated against Mazarin, and that, nevertheless, he
might depend on my best services, for which he assured me of his constant
friendship.
Moissans, now Marechal d’Albret, who was at the head of the King’s
gendarmes, accustomed himself and others to threaten the chief minister,
who augmented the public odium against himself by reestablishing Emeri, a
man detested by all the kingdom. We were not a little alarmed at his
reestablishment, because this man, who knew Paris better than the
Cardinal, distributed money among the people to a very good purpose. This
is a singular science, which is either very beneficial or hurtful in its
consequences, according to the wisdom or folly of the distributor.
These donations, laid out with discretion and secrecy, obliged us to
yield ourselves more and more unto the bulk of the people, and, finding a
fit opportunity for this performance, we took care not to let it slip,
which, if they had been ruled by me, we should not have done so soon, for
we were not yet forced to make use of such expedients. It is not safe in
a faction where you are only upon the defensive to do what you are not
pressed to do, but the uneasiness of the subalterns on such occasions is
troublesome, because they believe that as soon as you seem to be inactive
all is lost. I preached every day that the way was yet rough, and
therefore must be made plain, and that patience in the present case was
productive of greater effects than activity; but nobody comprehended the
truth of what I said.
An unlucky expression, dropped on this occasion by the Princesse de
Guemenee, had an incredible influence upon the people. She called to
mind a ballad formerly made upon the regiment of Brulon, which was said
to consist of only two dragoons and four drummers, and, inasmuch as she
hated the Fronde, she told me very pleasantly that our party, being
reduced to fourteen, might be justly compared to that regiment of Brulon.
Noirmoutier and Laigues were offended at this expression to that degree
that they continually murmured because I neither settled affairs nor
pushed them to the last extremity. Upon which I observed that heads of
factions are no longer their masters when they are unable either to
prevent or allay the murmurs of the people.
The revenues of the Hotel de Ville, which are, as it were, the patrimony
of the bourgeois, and which, if well managed, might be of special service
to the King in securing to his interest an infinite number of those
people who are always the most formidable in revolutions--this sacred
fund, I say, suffered much by the licentiousness of the times, the
ignorance of Mazarin, and the prevarication of the officers of the Hotel
de Ville, who were his dependents, so that the poor annuitants met in
great numbers at the Hotel de Ville; but as such assemblies without the
Prince’s authority are reckoned illegal, the Parliament passed a decree
to suppress them. They were privately countenanced by M. de Beaufort and
me, to whom they sent a solemn deputation, and they made choice of twelve
syndics to be a check upon the ‘prevot des marchands’.
On the 11th of December a pistol, as had been concerted beforehand, was
fired into the coach of Joly, one of the syndics, which President
Charton, another of the syndics, thinking was aimed at himself, the
Marquis de la Boulaie ran as if possessed with a devil, while the
Parliament was sitting, into the middle of the Great Hall, with fifteen
or twenty worthless fellows crying out “To Arms!” He did the like in the
streets, but in vain, and came to Broussel and me; but the former
reprimanded him after his way, and I threatened to throw him out at the
window, for I had reason to believe that he acted in concert with the
Cardinal, though he pretended to be a Frondeur.
This artifice of Servien united the Prince to the Cardinal, because he
found himself obliged to defend himself against the Frondeurs, who, as he
believed, sought to assassinate him. All those that were his own
creatures thought they were not zealous enough for his service if they
did not exaggerate the imminent danger he had escaped, and the Court
parasites confounded the morning adventure with that at night; and upon
this coarse canvas they daubed all that the basest flattery, blackest
imposture, and the most ridiculous credulity was capable of imagining;
and we were informed the next morning that it was the common rumour over
all the city that we had formed a design of seizing the King’s person and
carrying him to the Hotel de Ville, and to assassinate the Prince.
M. de Beaufort and I agreed to go out and show ourselves to the people,
whom we found in such a consternation that I believed the Court might
then have attacked us with success. Madame de Montbazon advised us to
take post-horses and ride off, saying that there was nothing more easy
than to destroy us, because we had put ourselves into the hands of our
sworn enemies. I said that we had better hazard our lives than our
honour. To which she replied, “It is not that, but your nymphs, I
believe, which keep you here” (meaning Mesdames de Chevreuse and
Guemenee). “I expect,” she said, “to be befriended for my own sake, and
don’t I deserve it? I cannot conceive how you can be amused by a wicked
old hag and a girl, if possible, still more foolish. We are continually
disputing about that silly wretch” (pointing to M. de Beaufort, who was
playing chess); “let us take him with us and go to Peronne.”
You are not to wonder that she talked thus contemptibly of M. de
Beaufort, whom she always taxed with impotency, for it is certain that
his love was purely Platonic, as he never asked any favour of her, and
seemed very uneasy with her for eating flesh on Fridays. She was so
sweet upon me, and withal such a charming beauty, that, being naturally
indisposed to let such opportunities slip, I was melted into tenderness
for her, notwithstanding my suspicions of her, considering the then
situation of affairs, and would have had her go with me into the cabinet,
but she was determined first to go to Peronne, which put an end to our
amours.
Beaufort waited on the Prince and was well received, but I could not gain
admittance.
On the 14th the Prince de Conde went to Parliament and demanded that a
committee might be appointed to inquire into the attempt made on his
life.
The Frondeurs were not asleep in the meantime, yet most of our friends
were dispirited, and all very weak.
The cures of Paris were my most hearty friends; they laboured with
incredible zeal among the people. And the cure of Saint Gervais sent me
this message: “Do but rally again and get off the assassination, and in a
week you will be stronger than your enemies.”
I was informed that the Queen had written to my uncle, the Archbishop of
Paris, to be sure to go to the Parliament on the 23d, the day that
Beaufort, Broussel, and I were to be impeached, because I had no right to
sit in the House if he were present. I begged of him not to go, but my
uncle being a man of little sense, and that much out of order, and being,
moreover, fearful and ridiculously jealous of me, had promised the Queen
to go; and all that we could get out of him was that he would defend me
in Parliament better than I could defend myself. It is to be observed
that though he chattered to us like a magpie in private, yet in public he
was as mute as a fish. A surgeon who was in the Archbishop’s service,
going to visit him, commended him for his courage in resisting the
importunities of his nephew, who, said he, had a mind to bury him alive,
and encouraged him to rise with all haste and go to the Parliament House;
but he was no sooner out of his bed than the surgeon asked him in a
fright how he felt. “Very well,” said my Lord. “But that is
impossible,” said the surgeon; “you look like death,” and feeling his
pulse, he told him he was in a high fever; upon which my Lord Archbishop
went to bed again, and all the kings and queens in Christendom could not
get him out for a fortnight.
We went to the Parliament, and found there the Princes with nearly a
thousand gentlemen and, I may say, the whole Court. I had few salutes in
the Hall, because it was generally thought I was an undone man. When I
had entered the Great Chamber I heard a hum like that at the end of a
pleasing period in a sermon. When I had taken my place I said that,
hearing we were taxed with a seditious conspiracy, we were come to offer
our heads to the Parliament if guilty, and if innocent, to demand justice
upon our accusers; and that though I knew not what right the Court had to
call me to account, yet I would renounce all privileges to make my
innocence apparent to a body for whom I always had the greatest
attachment and veneration.
Then the informations were read against what they called “the public
conspiracy from which it had pleased Almighty God to deliver the State
and the royal family,” after which I made a speech, in substance as
follows:
“I do not believe, gentlemen, that in any of the past ages persons of our
quality had ever received any personal summons grounded merely upon
hearsay. Neither can I think that posterity will ever believe that this
hearsay evidence was admitted from the mouths of the most infamous
miscreants that ever got out of a gaol. Canto was condemned to the
gallows at Pau, Pichon to the wheel at Mans, Sociande is a rogue upon
record. Pray, gentlemen, judge of their evidence by their character and
profession. But this is not all. They have the distinguishing character
of being informers by authority. I am sorely grieved that the defence of
our honour, which is enjoined us by the laws of God and man, should
oblige me to expose to light, under the most innocent of Kings, such
abominations as were detested in the most corrupt ages of antiquity and
under the worst of tyrants. But I must tell you that Canto, Sociande,
and Gorgibus are authorised to inform against us by a commission signed
by that august name which should never be employed but for the
preservation of the most sacred laws, and which Cardinal Mazarin, who
knows no law but that of revenge, which he meditates against the
defenders of the public liberty, has forced M. Tellier, Secretary of
State, to countersign.
“We demand justice, gentlemen, but we do not demand it of you till we
have first most humbly implored this House to execute the strictest
justice that the laws have provided against rebels, if it appears that we
have been concerned directly or indirectly in raising this last
disturbance. Is it possible, gentlemen, that a grandchild of Henri the
Great, that a senator of M. Broussel’s age and probity, and that the
Coadjutor of Paris should be so much as suspected of being concerned in a
sedition raised by a hot-brained fool, at the head of fifteen of the
vilest of the mob? I am fully persuaded it would be scandalous for me to
insist longer on this subject. This is all I know, gentlemen, of the
modern conspiracy.”
The applause that came from the Court of Inquiry was deafening; many
voices were heard exclaiming against spies and informers. Honest Doujat,
who was one of the persons appointed by the Attorney-General Talon, his
kinsman, to make the report, and who had acquainted me with the facts,
acknowledged it publicly by pretending to make the thing appear less
odious. He got up, therefore, as if he were in a passion, and spoke very
artfully to this purpose:
“These witnesses, monsieur, are not to accuse you, as you are pleased to
say, but only to discover what passed in the meeting of the annuitants at
the Hotel de Ville. If the King did not promise impunity to such as will
give him information necessary for his service, and which sometimes
cannot be come at without involving evidence in a crime, how should the
King be informed at all? There is a great deal of difference between
patents of this nature and commissions granted on purpose to accuse you.”
You might have seen fire in ‘the face of every member. The First
President called out “Order!” and said, “MM. de Beaufort, le Coadjuteur,
and Broussel, you are accused, and you must withdraw.”
As Beaufort and I were leaving our seats, Broussel stopped us, saying,
“Neither you, gentlemen, nor I are bound to depart till we are ordered to
do so by the Court. The First President, whom all the world knows to be
our adversary, should go out if we must.”
I added, “And M. le Prince,” who thereupon said, with a scornful air:
“What, I? Must I retire?”
“Yes, yes, monsieur,” said I, “justice is no respecter of persons.”
The President de Mesmes said, “No, monseigneur, you must not go out
unless the Court orders you. If the Coadjutor insists that your Highness
retire, he must demand it by a petition. As for himself, he is accused,
and therefore must go out; but, seeing he raises difficulties and
objections to the contrary, we must put it to the vote.” And it was
passed that we should withdraw.
Meanwhile, most of the members passed encomiums upon us, satires upon the
Ministry, and anathemas upon the witnesses for the Crown. Nor were the
cures and the parishioners wanting in their duty on this occasion. The
people came in shoals from all parts of Paris to the Parliament House.
Nevertheless, no disrespect was shown either to the King’s brother or to
M. le Prince; only some in their presence cried out, “God bless M. de
Beaufort! God bless the Coadjutor!”
M. de Beaufort told the First President next day that, the State and
royal family being in danger, every moment was precious, and that the
offenders ought to receive condign punishment, and that therefore the
Chambers ought to be assembled without loss of time. Broussel attacked
the First President with a great deal of warmth. Eight or ten
councillors entered immediately into the Great Chamber to testify their
astonishment at the indolence and indifference of the House after such a
furious conspiracy, and that so little zeal was shown to prosecute the
criminals. MM. de Bignon and Talon, counsel for the Crown, alarmed the
people by declaring that as for themselves they had no hand in the
conclusions, which were ridiculous. The First President returned very
calm answers, knowing well that we should have been glad to have put him
into a passion in order to catch at some expression that might bear an
exception in law.
On Christmas Day I preached such a sermon on Christian charity, without
mentioning the present affairs, that the women even wept for the unjust
persecution of an archbishop who had so great a tenderness for his very
enemies.
On the 29th M. de Beaufort and I went to the Parliament House,
accompanied by a body of three hundred gentlemen, to make it appear that
we were more than tribunes of the people, and to screen ourselves from
the insults of the Court party. We posted ourselves in the Fourth
Chamber of the Inquests, among the courtiers, with whom we conversed very
frankly, yet upon the least noise, when the debates ran high in the Great
Chamber, we were ready to cut one another’s throats eight or ten times
every morning. We were all distrustful of one another, and I may venture
to say there were not twenty persons in the House but were armed with
daggers. As for myself, I had resolved to take none of those weapons
inconsistent with my character, till one day, when it was expected the
House would be more excited than usual, and then M. de Beaufort, seeing
one end of the weapon peeping out of my pocket, exposed it to M. le
Prince’s captain of the guards and others, saying, “See, gentlemen, the
Coadjutor’s prayer-book.” I understood the jest, but really I could not
well digest it. We petitioned the Parliament that the First President,
being our sworn enemy, might be expelled the House, but it was put to the
vote and carried by a majority of thirty-six that he should retain his
station of judge.
Paris narrowly escaped a commotion at the time of the imprisonment of
Belot, one of the syndics of the Hotel de Ville annuitants, who, being
arrested without a decree, President de la Grange made it appear that
there was nothing more contrary to the declaration for which they had
formerly so exerted themselves. The First President maintaining the
legality of his imprisonment, Daurat, a councillor of the Third Chamber,
told him that he was amazed that a gentleman who was so lately near being
expelled could be so resolute in violating the laws so flagrantly.
Whereupon the First President rose in a passion, saying that there was
neither order nor discipline in the House, and that he would resign his
place to another for whom they had more respect. This motion put the
Great Chamber all in a ferment, which was felt in the Fourth, where the
gentlemen of both parties hastened to support their respective sides, and
if the most insignificant lackey had then but drawn a sword, Paris would
have been all in an uproar.
We solicited very earnestly for our trial, which they delayed as much as
it was in their power, because they could not choose but acquit us and
condemn the Crown witnesses. Various were the pretences for putting it
off, and though the informations were not of sufficient weight to hang a
dog, yet they were read over and over at every turn to prolong the time.
The public began to be persuaded of our innocence, as also the Prince de
Conde, and M. de Bouillon told me that he very much suspected it to be a
trick of the Cardinal’s.
On the 1st of January, 1650, Madame de Chevreuse, having a mind to visit
the Queen, with whom she had carried on in all her disgrace an
unaccountable correspondence, went to the King’s Palace. The Cardinal,
taking her aside in the Queen’s little cabinet, said to her:
“You love the Queen. Is it not possible for you to make your friends
love her?”
“How can that be?” said she; “the Queen is no more a Queen, but a humble
servant to M. le Prince.”
“Good God!” replied the Cardinal; “we might do great things if we could
get some men into our interest. But M. de Beaufort is at the service of
Madame de Montbazon, and she is devoted to Vigneul and the Coadjutor;”
at the mention of which he smiled. “I take you, monsieur,” said Madame
de Chevreuse; “I will answer for him and for her.”
Thus the conversation began, and the Cardinal making a sign to the Queen,
Madame de Chevreuse had a long conference that night with her Majesty,
who gave her this billet for me, written and signed with her own hand:
Notwithstanding what has passed and what is now doing, I cannot but
persuade myself that M. le Coadjuteur is in my interest. I desire to see
him, and that nobody may know it but Madame and Mademoiselle de
Chevreuse. This name shall be your security. ANNE.
Being convinced that the Queen was downright angry with the Prince de
Conde on account of a rumour spread abroad that he had some intriguing
gallantries with her Majesty, I weighed all circumstances and returned
the answer to the Queen:
Never was there one moment of my life wherein I was not devoted to your
Majesty. I am so far from consulting my own safety that I would gladly
die for your service . . . I will go to any place your Majesty shall
order me.
My answer, with the Queen’s letter enclosed, was carried back by Madame
de Chevreuse and well received. I went immediately to Court, and was
taken up the back staircase by the Queen’s train-bearer to the petit
oratoire, where her Majesty was shut up all alone. She showed me as much
kindness as she could, considering her hatred against M. le Prince and
her friendship for the Cardinal, though the latter seemed the more to
prevail, because in speaking of the civil wars and of the Cardinal’s
friendship for me she called him “the poor Cardinal” twenty times over.
Half an hour after, the Cardinal came in, who begged the Queen to
dispense with the respect he owed her Majesty while he embraced me in her
presence. He was pleased to say he was very sorry that he could not give
me that very moment his own cardinal’s cap. He talked so much of
favours, gratifications, and rewards that I was obliged to explain
myself, knowing that nothing is more destructive of new reconciliations
than a seeming unwillingness to be obliged to those to whom you are
reconciled. I answered that the greatest recompense I could expect,
though I had saved the Crown, was to have the honour of serving her
Majesty, and I humbly prayed the Queen to give me no other recompense,
that at least I might have the satisfaction to make her Majesty sensible
that this was the only reward I valued.
The Cardinal desired the Queen to command me to accept of the nomination
to the cardinalate, “which,” said he, “La Riviere has snatched with
insolence and acknowledged with treachery.” I excused myself by saying
that I had taken a resolution never to accept of the cardinalship by any
means which seemed to have relation to the civil wars, to the end that I
might convince the Queen that it was the most rigid necessity which had
separated me from her service. I rejected upon the same account all the
other advantageous propositions he made me, and, he still insisting that
the Queen could do no less than confer upon me something that was very
considerable for the signal service I was likely to do her Majesty, I
answered:
“There is one point wherein the Queen can do me more good than if she
gave me a triple crown. Her Majesty told me just now that she will cause
M. le Prince to be apprehended. A person of his high rank and merit
neither can nor ought to be always shut up in prison, for when he comes
abroad he will be full of resentment against me, though I hope my dignity
will be my protection. There are a great many gentlemen engaged with me
who, in such a juncture, would be ready to serve the Queen. And if it
seemed good to your Majesty to entrust one of them with some important
employment, I should be more pleased than with ten cardinals’ hats.”
The Cardinal told the Queen that nothing was more just, and the affair
should be considered between him and me.
We had several conferences, at which we agreed on gratifications for some
of our friends and to arrest the Prince de Conde, the Prince de Conti,
and the Duc de Longueville.
The Cardinal took occasion to speak of the treachery of La Riviere. “This
man,” said he, “takes me to be the most stupid creature living, and
thinks he shall be to-morrow a cardinal. I diverted myself to-day with
letting him try on some scarlet cloth I lately received from Italy, and I
put it near his face to know whether a scarlet colour or carnation became
him best.”
I heard from Rome that his Eminence was not behindhand with La Riviere
upon the score of treachery. For on the very day he got him nominated by
the King, he wrote a letter to Cardinal Sachelli more fit to recommend
him to a yellow cap than to a red one. This letter, nevertheless, was
full of tenderness for La Riviere, which Mazarin knew was the only way to
ruin him with Pope Innocent, who hated Mazarin and all his adherents.
Madame de Chevreuse undertook to see how the Duc d’Orleans would relish
the design of imprisoning the Princes. She told him that, though the
Queen was not satisfied with M. le Prince, yet she could not form a
resolution of apprehending him without the concurrence of his Royal
Highness. She magnified the advantages of bringing over to the King’s
service the powerful faction of the Fronde, and the daily dangers Paris
was exposed to, both by fire and sword. This last reason touched him as
much or more than all, for he trembled every time he came to the
Parliament; M. le Prince very often could not prevail upon him to go at
all, and a fit of colic was generally assigned as the reason of his
absence. At length he consented, and on the 18th of January the three
Princes were put under arrest by three officers of the Queen’s Guards.
The people having a notion that M. de Beaufort was apprehended, ran to
their arms, which I caused to be laid down immediately, by marching
through the streets with flambeaux before me. M. de Beaufort did the
like, and the night concluded with bonfires.
The Queen sent a letter from the King to the Parliament with the reasons,
which were neither strong nor well set out, why the Prince de Conde was
confined. However, we obtained a decree for our absolution.
The Princesses were ordered to retire to Chantilly. Madame de
Longueville went towards Normandy, but found no sanctuary there, for the
Parliament of Rouen sent her a message to desire her to depart from the
city. The Duc de Richelieu would not receive her into Havre, and from
there she retired to Dieppe.
M. de Bouillon, who after the peace was strongly attached to the Prince
de Conde, went in great haste to Turenne; M. de Turenne got into Stenai;
M. de La Rochefoucault, then Prince de Marsillac, returned home to
Poitou; and Marechal de Breze, father-in-law to the Prince de Conde, went
to Saumur.
There was a declaration published and registered in Parliament against
them, whereby they were ordered to wait on the King within fifteen days,
upon pain of being proceeded against as disturbers of the public peace
and guilty of high treason.
The Court carried all before them. Madame de Longueville, upon the King
going into Normandy, escaped by sea into Holland, whence she went
afterwards to Arras, to try La Tour, one of her husband’s pensioners, who
offered her his person, but refused her the place. She repaired at last
to Stenai, whither M. de Turenne went to meet her, with all the friends
and servants of the confined Princes that he could muster. The King went
from Normandy to Burgundy, and returned to Paris crowned with laurels of
victory.
The Princess-dowager, who had been ordered to retire to Bourges, came
with a petition to Parliament, praying for their protection to stay in
Paris, and that she might have justice done her for the illegal
confinement of the Princes her children. She fell at the feet of the Duc
d’Orleans, begged the protection of the Duc de Beaufort, and said to me
that she had the honour to be my kinswoman. M. de Beaufort was very much
perplexed what to do, and I was nearly ready to die for shame; but we
could do nothing for her, and she was obliged to go to Valery.
Several private annuitants, who had made a noise in the assemblies at the
Hotel de Ville, were afraid of being called to account, and therefore,
after M. le Prince was arrested, they desired me to procure a general
amnesty. I spoke about it to the Cardinal, who seemed very pliable, and,
showing me his hatband, which was ‘a la mode de la Fronde’, said he hoped
himself to be comprised in that amnesty; but he shuffled it off so long
that it was not published and registered in Parliament till the 12th of
May, and it would not have been obtained then had not I threatened
vigorously to prosecute the Crown witnesses, of which they were mightily
apprehensive, being so conscious of the heinousness of their crime that
two of them had already made their escape.
The present calm hardly deserved that name, for the storm of war began to
rise again in several places at once.
Madame de Longueville and M. de Turenne made a treaty with the Spaniards,
and the latter joined their army, which entered Picardy and besieged
Guise, after having taken Catelet; but for want of provisions the
Archduke was obliged to raise the siege. M. de Turenne levied troops
with Spanish money, and was joined by the greater part of the officers
commanding the soldiers that went under the name of the Prince’s troops.
The wretched conduct of M. d’Epernon had so confounded the affairs of
Guienne that nothing but his removal could retrieve them.
One of the greatest mischiefs which the despotic authority of ministers
has occasioned in the world in these later times is a practice,
occasioned by their own private mistaken interests, of always supporting
superiors against their inferiors. It is a maxim borrowed from
Machiavelli, whom few understand, and whom too many cry up for an able
man because he was always wicked. He was very far from being a complete
statesman, and was frequently out in his politics, but I think never more
grossly mistaken than in this maxim, which I observed as a great weakness
in Mazarin, who was therefore the less qualified to settle the affairs of
Guienne, which were in so much confusion that I believe if the good sense
of Jeannin and Villeroi had been infused into the brains of Cardinal de
Richelieu, it would not have been sufficient to set them right.
Senneterre, perceiving that Cardinal Mazarin and I were not cordial
friends, undertook to reconcile us, and for that end took me to the
Cardinal, who embraced me very tenderly, said he laid his heart upon the
table, that was one of his usual phrases,--and protested he would talk as
freely to me as if I were his own son. I did not believe a word of what
he said, but I assured his Eminence that I would speak to him as if he
were my father, and I was as good as my word. I told him I had no
personal interest in view but to disengage myself from the public
disturbances without any private advantage, and that for the same reason
I thought myself obliged to come off with reputation and honour. I
desired him to consider that my age and want of skill in public affairs
could not give him any jealousy that I aimed to be the First Minister. I
conjured him to consider also that the influence I had over the people of
Paris, supported by mere necessity, did rather reflect disgrace than
honour upon my dignity, and that he ought to believe that this one reason
was enough to make me impatient to be rid of all these public broils,
besides a thousand other inconveniences arising every moment, which
disgusted me with faction. And as for the dignity of cardinal, which
might peradventure give him some umbrage, I could tell him very sincerely
what had been and what was still my notion of this dignity, which I once
foolishly imagined would be more honourable for me to despise than to
enjoy. I mentioned this circumstance to let him see that in my tender
years I was no admirer of the purple, and not very fond of it now,
because I was persuaded that an Archbishop of Paris could hardly miss
obtaining that dignity some time or other, according to form, by actions
purely ecclesiastical; and that he should be loth to use any other means
to procure it.
I said that I should be extremely sorry if my purple were stained with
the least drop of blood spilt in the civil wars; that I was resolved to
clear my hands of everything that savoured of intrigue before I would
make or suffer any step which had any tendency that way; that he knew
that for the same reason I would neither accept money nor abbeys, and
that, consequently, I was engaged by the public declarations I had made
upon all those heads to serve the Queen without any interest; that the
only end I had in view, and in which I never wavered, was to come off
with honour, so that I might resume the spiritual functions belonging to
my profession with safety; that I desired nothing from him but the
accomplishment of an affair which would be more for the King’s service
than for my particular interest; that he knew that the day after the
arrest of the Prince he sent me with his promise to the annuitants of the
Hotel de Ville, and that for want of performance those men were persuaded
that I was in concert with the Court to deceive them. Lastly, I told him
that the access I had to the Duc d’Orleans might perhaps give him
umbrage, but I desired him to consider that I never sought that honour,
and that I was very sensible of the inconveniences attending it. I
enlarged upon this head, which is the most difficult point to be
understood by Prime Ministers, who are so fond of being freely admitted
into a Prince’s presence that, notwithstanding all the experience in the
world, they cannot help thinking that therein consists the essence of
happiness.
When truth has come to a certain point, it darts such powerful rays of
light as are irresistible, but I never knew a man who had so little
regard for truth as Mazarin. He seemed, however, more regardful of it
than usual, and I laid hold of the occasion to tell him of the dangerous
consequences of the disturbances of Guienne, and that if he continued to
support M. d’Epernon, the Prince’s faction would not let this opportunity
slip; that if the Parliament of Bordeaux should engage in their party, it
would not be long before that of Paris would do the same; that, after the
late conflagration in this metropolis, he could not suppose but that
there was still some fire hidden under the ashes; and that the factious
party had reason to fear the heavy punishment to which the whole body of
them was liable, as we ourselves were two or three months ago. The
Cardinal began to yield, especially when he was told that M. de Bouillon
began to make a disturbance in the Limousin, where M. de La Rochefoucault
had joined him with some troops.
To confirm our reconciliation, a marriage was proposed between my niece
and his nephew, to which he, gave his consent; but I was much averse to
it, being not yet resolved to bury my family in that of Mazarin, nor did
I set so great a value on grandeur as to purchase it with the public
odium. However, it produced no animosity on either side, and his friends
knew that I should be very glad to be employed in making a general peace;
they acted their parts so well that the Cardinal, whose love-fit for me
lasted about a fortnight, promised me, as it were of his own accord, that
I should be gratified.
News came about this time from Guienne that the Ducs de Bouillon and de
La Rochefoucault had taken Madame la Princesse into Bordeaux, together
with M. le Duc, her son. The Parliament was not displeased with the
people for receiving into their city M. le Duc, yet they observed more
decorum than could be expected from the inhabitants of Gascogne, so
irritated as they were against M. d’Epernon. They ordered that Madame la
Princesse, M. le Duc, MM. de Bouillon and de La Rochefoucault should have
liberty to stay in Bordeaux, provided they would promise to undertake
nothing against the King’s service, and that the petition of Madame la
Princesse should be sent to the King with a most humble remonstrance from
the Parliament against the confinement of the Princes.
At the same time, one of the Presidents sent word to Senneterre that the
Parliament was not so far enraged but that they would still remember
their loyalty to the King, provided he did but remove M. d’Epernon. But
in case of any further delay he would not answer for the Parliament, and
much less for the people, who, being now managed and supported by the
Prince’s party, would in a little time make themselves masters of the
Parliament. Senneterre did what he could to induce the Cardinal to make
good use of this advice, and M. de Chateauneuf, who was now Chancellor,
talked wonderfully well upon the point, but seeing the Cardinal gave no
return to his reasons but by exclaiming against the Parliament of
Bordeaux for sheltering men condemned by the King’s declaration, he said
to him very plainly, “Set out to-morrow, monsieur, if you do not arrange
matters to-day; you should have been by this time upon the Garonne.”
The event proved that Chateauneuf was in the right, for though the
Parliament was very excited, they stood out a long time against the
madness of the people, spurred on by M. de Bouillon, and issued a decree
ordering an envoy of Spain, who was sent thither to commence a treaty
with the Duc de Bouillon, to depart the city, and forbade any of their
body to visit such as had correspondence with Spain, the Princess herself
not excepted. Moreover, the mob having undertaken to force the
Parliament to unite with the Princes, the Parliament armed the
magistracy, who fired upon the people and made them retire.
A little time before the King departed for Guienne, which was in the
beginning of July, word came that the Parliament of Bordeaux had
consented to a union with the Princes, and had sent a deputy to the
Parliament of Paris, who had orders to see neither the King nor the
ministers, and that the whole province was disposed for a revolt. The
Cardinal was in extreme consternation, and commended himself to the
favour of the meanest man of the Fronde with the greatest suppleness
imaginable.
As soon as the King came to the neighbourhood of Bordeaux the deputies of
Parliament, who went to meet the Court at Lebourne, were peremptorily
commanded to open the gates of the city to the King and to all his
troops. They answered that one of their privileges was to guard the King
themselves while he was in any of their towns. Upon this, Marechal de La
Meilleraye seized the castle of Vaire, in the command of Pichon, whom the
Cardinal ordered to be hanged; and M. de Bouillon hanged an officer in
Meilleraye’s army by way of reprisal.
After that the Marshal besieged the city in form, which, despairing of
succour from Spain, was forced to capitulate upon the following terms:
That a general pardon should be granted to all who had taken up arms and
treated with Spain, that all the soldiers should be disbanded except
those whom the King had a mind to keep in his pay, that Madame la
Princesse and the Duke should be at liberty to reside either in Anjou or
at Mouzon, with no more than two hundred foot and sixty horse, and that
M. d’Epernon should be recalled from the government of Guienne.
The Princess had an interview with both the King and Queen, at which
there were great conferences between the Cardinal and the Ducs de
Bouillon and de La Rochefoucault.
The deputy from Bordeaux, arriving at Paris soon after the King’s
departure, went immediately, to Parliament, and, after an eloquent
harangue, presented a letter from the Parliament of Bordeaux, together
with their decrees, and demanded a union between the two Parliaments.
After some debates it was resolved that the deputy should deliver his
credentials in writing, which should be presented to his Majesty by the
deputies of the Parliament of Paris, who would, at the same time, most
humbly beseech the Queen to restore peace to Guienne.
The Duc d’Orleans was against debating about the petition to the Queen
for the liberation of the Priuces and the banishment of Cardinal Mazarin;
nevertheless, many of the members voted for it, upon a motion made by the
President Viole, who was a warm partisan of the Prince de Conde, not
because he had hopes of carrying it, but on purpose to embarrass M. de
Beaufort and myself upon a subject of which we did not care to speak, and
yet did not dare to be altogether silent about, without passing in some
measure for Mazarinists. President Viole did the Prince a great deal of
service on this occasion, for Bourdet a brave soldier, who had been
captain of the Guards and was attached to the interest of the
Prince--performed an action which emboldened the party very much, though
it had no success. He dressed himself and fourscore other officers of
his troops in mason’s clothes, and having assembled many of the dregs of
the people, to whom he had distributed money, came directly to the Duc
d’Orleans as he was going out, and cried, “No Mazarin! God bless the
Princes!” His Royal Highness, at this apparition and the firing of a
brace of pistols at the same time by Bourdet, ran to the Great Chamber;
but M. de Beaufort stood his ground so well with the Duke’s guards and
our men, that Bourdet was repulsed and thrown down the Parliament stairs.
But the confusion in the Great Chamber was still worse. There were daily
assemblies, wherein the Cardinal was severely attacked, and the Prince’s
party had the pleasure of exposing us as his accomplices. What is very
strange is that at the same time the Cardinal and his friends accused us
of corresponding with the Parliament of Bordeaux, because we maintained,
in case the Court did not adjust affairs there, we would infallibly bring
the Parliament of Paris into the interest of the Prince. If I were at
the point of death I should have no need to be confessed on account of my
behaviour on this occasion. I acted with as much sincerity in this
juncture as if I had been the Cardinal’s nephew, though really it was not
out of any love to him, but because I thought myself obliged in prudence
to oppose the progress of the Prince’s faction, owing to the foolish
conduct of his enemies; and to this end I was obliged to oppose the
flattery of the Cardinal’s tools as much as the efforts made by those who
were in the service of the Prince.
On the 3d of September President Bailleul returned with the other
deputies, and made a report in Parliament of his journey to Court; it
was, in brief, that the Queen thanked the Parliament for their good
intentions, and had commanded them to assure the Parliament in her name
that she was ready to restore peace to Guienne, and that it would have
been done before now had not M. de Bouillon, who had treated with the
Spaniards, made himself master of Bordeaux, and thereby cut off the
effects of his Majesty’s goodness.
The Duc d’Orleans informed the House that he had received a letter from
the Archduke, signifying that the King of Spain having sent him full
powers to treat for a general peace, he desired earnestly to negotiate it
with him. But his Royal Highness added that he did not think it proper
to return him any answer till he had the opinion of the Parliament. The
trumpeter who brought the letter gathered a party at Tiroir cross, and
spoke very seditious words to the people. The next day they found libels
posted up and down the city in the name of M. de Turenne, setting forth
that the Archduke was coming with no other disposition than to make
peace, and in one of them were these words: “It is your business,
Parisians, to solicit your false tribunes, who have turned at last
pensioners and protectors of Mazarin, who have for so long a time sported
with your fortunes and repose, and spurred you on, kept you back, and
made you hot or cold, according to the caprices and different progress of
their ambition.”
You see the state and condition the Frondeurs were in at this juncture,
when they could not move one step but to their own disadvantage. The Duc
d’Orleans spoke to me that night with a great deal of bitterness against
the Cardinal, which he had never done before, and said he had been
tricked by him twice, and that he was ruining himself, the State, and all
of us, and would, by so doing, place the Prince de Conde upon the throne.
In short, Monsieur owned that it was not yet time to humble the Cardinal.
“Therefore,” said M. Bellievre, “let us be upon our guard; this man can
give us the slip any moment.”
Next day a letter was sent from the Prince de Conde, by the Baron de
Verderonne, to the Archduke, desiring him to name the time, place and
persons for a treaty. The Baron returned with a letter from the Archduke
to his Royal Highness, desiring that the conferences might be held
between Rheims and Rhetel, and that they might meet there personally,
with such others as they should think fit to bring with them. The Court
was surprised, but, however, did not think fit to delay sending full
powers to his Royal Highness to treat for peace on such terms as he
thought reasonable and advantageous for the King’s service; and there
were joined with him, though in subordination, MM. Mole, the First
President, d’Avaux, and myself, with the title of Ambassadors
Extraordinary and Plenipotentiaries. M. d’Avaux obliged me to assure Don
Gabriel de Toledo, in private, that if the Spaniards would but come to
reasonable terms, we would conclude a peace with them in two days’ time.
And his Royal Highness said that Don Gabriel being a lover of money, I
should promise him for his part 100,000 crowns if the conference that was
proposed ended in a peace, and bid him tell the Archduke that, if the
Spaniards proposed reasonable terms, he would sign and have them
registered in Parliament before Mazarin should know anything of the
matter.
Don Gabriel received the overture with joy; he had some particular
fancies, but Fuensaldagne, who had a particular kindness for him, said
that he was the wisest fool he ever saw in his life. I have remarked
more than once that this sort of man cannot persuade, but can insinuate
perfectly well, and that the talent of insinuation is of more service
than that of persuasion, because one may insinuate to a hundred where one
can hardly persuade five.
The King of England, after having lost the battle of Worcester, arrived
in Paris the day that Don Gabriel set out, the 13th of September, 1651.
My Lord Taff was his great chamberlain, valet de chambre, clerk of the
kitchen, cup-bearer, and all,--an equipage answerable to his Court, for
his Majesty had not changed his shirt all the way from England. Upon his
arrival at Paris, indeed, he had one lent him by my Lord Jermyn; but the
Queen, his mother, had not money to buy him another for the next day. The
Duc d’Orleans went to compliment his Majesty upon his arrival, but it was
not in my power to persuade his Royal Highness to give his nephew one
penny, because, said he, “a little would not be worth his acceptance, and
a great deal would engage me to do as much hereafter.” This leads me to
make the following digression: that there is nothing so wretched as to be
a minister to a Prince, and, at the same time, not his favourite; for it
is his favour only that gives one a power over the more minute concerns
of the family, for which the public does, nevertheless, think a minister
accountable when they, see he has power over affairs of far greater
consequence.
Therefore I was not in a condition to oblige his Royal Highness by
assisting the King of England with a thousand pistoles, for which I was
horridly, ashamed, both upon his account anal my own; but I borrowed
fifteen hundred for him from M. Morangis, and carried them to my Lord
Taff.--[Lord Clarendon extols the civilities of Cardinal de Retz to King
Charles II., and has reported a curious conversation which the Cardinal
had with that Prince.]--It is remarkable that the same night, as I was
going home, I met one Tilney, an Englishman whom I had formerly known at
Rome, who told me that Vere, a great Parliamentarian and a favourite of
Cromwell, had arrived in Paris and had orders to see me. I was a little
puzzled; however, I judged it would be improper to refuse him an
interview. Vere gave me a brief letter from Cromwell in the nature of
credentials, importing that the sentiments I had enunciated in the
“Defence of Public Liberty” added to my reputation, and had induced
Cromwell to desire to enter with me into the strictest friendship. The
letter was in the main wonderfully civil and complaisant. I answered it
with a great deal of respect, but in such a manner as became a true
Catholic and an honest Frenchman. Vere appeared to be a man of
surprising abilities.
I now return to our own affairs. I was told as a mighty secret that
Tellier had orders from the Cardinal to remove the Princes from the Bois
de Vincennes if the enemy were likely to come near the place, and that he
should endeavour by all means to procure the consent of the Duc d’Orleans
for that end; but that, in case of refusal, these orders should be
executed notwithstanding, and that he should endeavour to gain me to
these measures by the means of Madame de Chevreuse. When Tellier came to
me I assured him that it was all one, both to me and the Duc d’Orleans,
whether the Princes were removed or not, but since my opinion was
desired, I must declare that I think nothing can be more contrary to the
true interest of the King; “for,” said I, “the Spaniards must gain a
battle before they can come to Vincennes, and when there they must have a
flying camp to invest the place before they can deliver the Princes from
confinement, and therefore I am convinced that there is no necessity for
their removal, and I do affirm that all unnecessary changes in matters
which are in themselves disagreeable are pernicious, because odious. I
will maintain, further, that there is less reason to fear the Duc
d’Orleans and the Frondeurs than to dread the Spaniards. Suppose that
his Royal Highness is more disaffected towards the Court than anybody;
suppose further that M. de Beaufort and I have a mind to relieve the
Princes, in what way could we do it? Is not the whole garrison in that
castle in the King’s service? Has his Royal Highness any regular troops
to besiege Vincennes? And, granting the Frondeurs to be the greatest
fools imaginable, will they expose the people of Paris at a siege which
two thousand of the King’s troops might raise in a quarter of an hour
though it consist of a hundred thousand citizens? I therefore conclude
that the removal would be altogether impolitic. Does it not look rather
as if the Cardinal feigns apprehension of the Spaniards only as a
pretence to make himself master of the Princes, and to dispose of their
persons at pleasure? The generality of the people, being Frondeurs, will
conclude you take the Prince de Conde out of their hands,--whom they look
upon to be safe while they see him walking upon the battlements of his
prison,--and that you will give him his liberty when you please, and thus
enable him to besiege Paris a second time. On the other hand, the
Prince’s party will improve this removal very much to their own advantage
by the compassion such a spectacle will raise in the people when they see
three Princes dragged in chains from one prison to another. I was really
mistaken just now when I said the case was all one to me, for I see that
I am nearly concerned, because the people--in which word I include the
Parliament will cry out against it; I must be then obliged, for my own
safety, to say I did not approve of the resolution. Then the Court will
be informed that I find fault with it, and not only that, but that I do
it in order to raise the mob and discredit the Cardinal, which, though
ever so false; yet in consequence the people will firmly believe it, and
thus I shall meet with the same treatment I met with in the beginning of
the late troubles, and what I even now experience in relation to the
affairs of Guienne. I am said to be the cause of these troubles because
I foretold them, and I was said to encourage the revolt at Bordeaux
because I was against the conduct that occasioned it.”
Tellier, in the Queen’s name, thanked me for my unresisting disposition,
and made the same proposal to his Royal Highness; upon which I spoke, not
to second Tellier, who pleaded for the necessity of the removal, to which
I could by no means be reconciled, but to make it evident to his Royal
Highness that he was not in any way concerned in it in his own private
capacity, and that, in case the Queen did command it positively, it was
his duty to obey. M. de Beaufort opposed it so furiously as to offer the
Duc d’Orleans to attack the guards which were to remove him. I had solid
reasons to dissuade him from it, to the last of which he submitted, it
being an argument which I had from the Queen’s own mouth when she set out
for Guienne, that Bar offered to assassinate the Princes if it should
happen that he was not in a condition to hinder their escape. I was
astonished when her Majesty trusted me with this secret, and imagined
that the Cardinal had possessed her with a fear that the Frondeurs had a
design to seize the person of the Prince de Conde. For my part, I never
dreamed of such a thing in my life. The Ducs d’Orleans and de Beaufort
were both shocked at the thought of it, and, in short, it was agreed that
his Royal Highness should give his consent for the removal, and that M.
de Beaufort and myself should not give it out among the people that we
approved of it.
The day that the Princes were removed to Marcoussi, President Bellievre
told the Keeper of the Seals in plain terms, that if he continued to
treat me as he had done hitherto, he should be obliged in honour to give
his testimony to the truth. To which the Keeper of the Seals returned
this blunt answer: “The Princes are no longer in sight of Paris; the
Coadjutor must not therefore talk so loud.”
I return now to the Parliament, which was so moderate at this time that
the Cardinal was hardly mentioned, and they agreed, ‘nemine
contradicente’, that the Parliament should send deputies to Bordeaux to
know once for all if that Parliament was for peace or not.
Soon after this the Parliament of Toulouse wrote to that of Paris
concerning the disturbances in Guienne, part whereof belonged to their
jurisdiction, and expressly demanded a decree of union. But the Duc
d’Orleans warded off the blow very dexterously, which was of great
consequence, and, more by his address than by his authority, brought the
Parliament to dismiss the deputies with civil answers and insignificant
expressions, upon which President Bellievre said to me, “What pleasure
should we not take in acting as we do if it were for persons that had but
the sense to appreciate it!”
The Parliament did not continue long in that calm. They passed a decree
to interrogate the State prisoners in the Bastille, broke out sometimes
like a whirlwind, with thunder and lightning, against Cardinal Mazarin;
at other times they complained of the misapplication of the public funds.
We had much ado to ward off the blows, and should not have been able to
hold out long against the fury of the waves but for the news of the Peace
of Bordeaux, which was registered there on October the 1st, 1650, and put
the Prince de Conde’s party into consternation.
One mean artifice of Cardinal Mazarin’s polity was always to entertain
some men of our own party, with whom, half reconciled, he played fast and
loose before our eyes, and was eternally negotiating with them, deceiving
and being deceived in his turn. The consequence of all this was a great,
thick cloud, wherein the Frondeurs themselves were at last involved; but
which they burst with a thunderclap.
The Cardinal, being puffed up with his success in settling the troubles
of Guienne, thought of nothing else than crowning his triumph by
chastising the Frondeurs, who, he said, had made use of the King’s
absence to alienate the Duc d’Orleans from his service, to encourage the
revolt at Bordeaux, and to make themselves masters of the persons of the
Princes. At the same time, he told the Princess Palatine that he
detested the cruel hatred I bore to the Prince de Conde, and that the
propositions I made daily to him on that score were altogether unworthy
of a Christian. Yet he suggested to the Duc d’Orleans that I made great
overtures to him to be reconciled to the Court, but that he could not
trust me, because I was from morning to night negotiating with the
friends of the Prince de Conde. Thus the Cardinal rewarded me for what I
did with incredible application and, I must say, uncommon sincerity for
the Queen’s service during the Court’s absence. I do not mention the
dangers I was in twice or thrice a day, surpassing even those of soldiers
in battles. For imagine, I beseech you, what pain and anguish I must
have been in at hearing myself called a Mazarinist, and at having to bear
all the odium annexed to that hateful appellation in a city where he made
it his business to destroy me in the opinion of a Prince whose nature it
was to be always in fear and to trust none but such as hoped to rise by
my fall.
The Cardinal gave himself such airs after the peace at Bordeaux that some
said my best way would be to retire before the King’s return.
Cardinal Mazarin had been formerly secretary to Pancirole, the Pope’s
nuncio for the peace of Italy, whom he betrayed, and it was proved that
he had a secret correspondence with the Governor of Milan. Pancirole,
being created cardinal and Secretary of State to the Church, did not
forget the perfidiousness of his secretary, now created cardinal by Pope
Urban, at the request of Cardinal de Richelieu, and did not at all
endeavour to qualify the anger which Pope Innocent had conceived against
Mazarin after the assassination of one of his nephews, in conjunction
with Cardinal Anthony.
[Anthony Barberini, nephew to Urban VIII., created Cardinal 1628, made
Protector of the Crown of France 1633, and Great Almoner of the Kingdom
1653. He was afterwards Bishop of Poitiers, and, lastly, Archbishop of
Rheims in 1657. Died 1671.]
Pancirole, who thought he could not affront Mazarin more than by
contributing to make me cardinal, did me all the kind offices with Pope
Innocent, who gave him leave to treat with me in that affair.
Madame de Chevreuse told the Queen all that she had observed in my
conduct in the King’s absence, and what she had seen was certainly one
continued series of considerable services done to the Queen.
She recounted at last all the injustice done me, the contempt put upon
me, and the just grounds of my diffidence, which, she said, of necessity
ought to be removed, and that the only means of removing it was the hat.
The Queen was in a passion at this. The Cardinal defended himself, not
by an open denial, for he had offered it me several times, but by
recommending patience, intimating that a great monarch should be forced
to nothing. Monsieur, seconding Madame de Chevreuse in her attack,
assailed the Cardinal, who, at least in appearance, gave way, out of
respect for his Royal Highness. Madame de Chevreuse, having brought them
to parley, did not doubt that she should also bring them to capitulate,
especially when she saw the Queen was appeased, and had told his Royal
Highness that she was infinitely obliged to him, and would do what her
Council judged most proper and reasonable. This Council, which was only
a specious name, consisted only of the Cardinal, the Keeper of the Seals,
Tellier, and Servien.
The matter was proposed to the Council by the Cardinal with much
importunity, concluding with a most submissive petition to the Queen to
condescend to the demand of the Duc d’Orleans, and to what the services
and merits of the Coadjutor demanded. The proposition was rejected with
such resolution and contempt as is very unusual in Council in opposition
to a Prime Minister. Tellier and Servien thought it sufficient not to
applaud him; but the Keeper of the Seals quite forgot his respect for the
Cardinal, accused him of prevarication and weakness, and threw himself at
her Majesty’s feet, conjuring her in the name of the King her son, not to
authorise, by an example which he called fatal, the insolence of a
subject who was for wresting favours from his sovereign, sword in hand.
The Queen was moved at this, and the poor Cardinal owned he had been too
easy and pliant.
I had myself given a very natural handle to my adversaries to expose me
so egregiously. I have been guilty of many blunders, but I think this is
the grossest that I ever was guilty of in all my life. I have frequently
made this observation, that when men have, through fear of miscarriage,
hesitated a long time about any undertaking of consequence, the remaining
impressions of their fear commonly push them afterwards with too much
precipitancy upon the execution of their design. And this was my case.
It was with the greatest reluctance that I determined to accept the
dignity of a cardinal, because I thought it too mean to form a pretension
to it without certainty of success; and no sooner was I engaged in the
pursuit of it but the impression of the former fearful ideas hurried me
on, as it were, to the end, that I might get as soon as possible out of
the disagreeable state of uncertainty.
The Cardinal would have paid my debts, given me the place of Grand
Almoner, etc.; but if he had added twelve cardinals’ hats into the
bargain, I should have begged his excuse. I was now engaged with
Monsieur, who had, meanwhile, resolved upon the release of the Princes
from their confinement.
Cardinal Mazarin, after his return to Paris, made it his chief study to
divide the Fronde. He thought to materially weaken my interest with
Monsieur by detaching from me Madame de Chevreuse, for whom he had a
natural tenderness, and to give me a mortal blow by embroiling me with
Mademoiselle her daughter. To do this effectually he found a rival, who,
he hoped, would please her better, namely, M. d’Aumale, handsome as
Apollo, and one who was very likely to suit the temper of Mademoiselle de
Chevreuse. He had entirely devoted himself to the Cardinal’s interest,
looked upon himself as very much honoured by this commission, and haunted
the Palace of Chevreuse so diligently that I did not doubt but that he
was sent thither to act the second part of the comedy which had
miscarried so shamefully in the hands of M. de Candale. I watched all
his movements, and complained to Mademoiselle de Chevreuse, but she gave
me indirect answers. I began to be out of humour, and was soon appeased.
I grew peevish again; and Mademoiselle de Chevreuse saying in his
presence, to please me and to sting him, that she could not imagine how
it was possible to bear a silly fellow, “Pardon me, mademoiselle,”
replied I, “we suffer fops sometimes very patiently for the sake of their
extravagances.” This man was notoriously foppish and extravagant. My
answer pleased, and we soon got rid of him at the Palace of Chevreuse.
But he thought to have despatched me, for he hired one Grandmaison, a
ruffian, to assassinate me, who apprised me of his design. The first
time I met M. d’Aumale, which was at the Duc d’Orleans’s house, I did not
fail to let him know it; but I told it him in a whisper, saying that I
had too much respect for the House of Savoy to publish it to the world.
He denied the fact, but in such a manner as to make it more evident,
because he conjured me to keep it secret. I gave him my word, and I kept
it.
Madame de Guemenee, with whom I had several quarrels, proposed to the
Queen likewise to despatch me, by shutting me up in a greenhouse in her
garden, which she might easily have done, because I often went to her
alone by night; but the Cardinal, fearing that the people would have
suspected him as the author of my sudden disappearance, would not enter
into the project, so it was dropped.
To return to our negotiations for the freedom of the Princes. The Duc
d’Orleans was with much difficulty induced to sign the treaty by which a
marriage was stipulated between Mademoiselle de Chevreuse and the Prince
de Conti, and to promise not to oppose my promotion to the dignity of a
cardinal. The Princes were as active in the whole course of these
negotiations as if they had been at liberty. We wrote to them, and they
to us, and a regular correspondence between Paris and Lyons was never
better established than ours. Bar, their warder, was a very shallow
fellow; besides, men of sense are sometimes outwitted.
[Bar was, according to M. Joly, an unsociable man, who was for raising
his fortune by using the Princes badly, and who, on this account, was
often the dupe of Montreuil, secretary to the Prince de Conti.
--See JOLY’S “Memoirs,” vol. i., p. 88.]
Cardinal Mazarin, upon his return with the King from Guienne, was greatly
pleased with the acclamations of the mob, but he soon grew weary of them,
for the Frondeurs still kept the wall.
The Cardinal being continually provoked at Paris by the Abbe Fouquet, who
sought to make himself necessary, and being so vain as to think himself
qualified to command an army, marched abruptly out of Paris for
Champagne, with a design to retake Rhetel and Chateau-Portien, of which
the enemy were possessed, and where M. de Turenne proposed to winter.
On the feast of Saint Martin, the First President and the
Attorney-General Talon exhorted the Parliament to be peaceable, that the
enemies of the State might have no advantage. A petition was read from
Madame la Princesse, desiring that the Princes should be brought to the
Louvre and remain in the custody, of one of the King’s officers, and that
the Solicitor-General be sent for to say what he had to allege against
their innocence, and that in case he should have nothing solid to offer
they be set at liberty.
The Chambers, being assembled on the 7th of December, to take the affair
into consideration, Talon, the Attorney-General, informed the House that
the Queen had sent for the King’s Council, and ordered them to let the
Parliament know that it was her pleasure that the House should not take
any cognisance of the Princess’s petition, because everything that had
relation to the confinement of the Princes belonged to the royal
authority. Talon made a motion that the Parliament should depute some
members to carry the petition to the Queen, and to beseech her Majesty to
take it into her consideration. At the same time another petition was
presented from Mademoiselle de Longueville, for the liberty of the Duke
her father, and that she might have leave to stay in Paris to solicit it.
No sooner was this petition read than a letter from the three Princes was
presented and read, praying that they might be brought to trial or set at
liberty.
On the 9th day of the month an order was brought to the Parliament from
the King, commanding the House to suspend all deliberations on this
subject till they had first sent their deputies to Court to know his
Majesty’s pleasure.
Deputies were sent immediately, to whom, accordingly, the Queen gave
audience in bed, telling them that she was very much indisposed. The
Keeper of the Seals added that it was the King’s pleasure that the
Parliament should not meet at all until such time as the Queen his mother
had recovered her health.