François de Vendôme, Duke de Beaufort--His Portrait--His Conduct
during the War of the Fronde--Unimportance of this Individual--Motives
cited by Lagrange-Chancel in support of his Theory--Their
Improbability--Reasons which determined the Search for Proofs that
leave no doubt of Beaufort’s Death at Candia.
Like Monmouth, a royal prince and the issue of an illegitimate
connection, François de Vendôme had, like Monmouth, the rare privilege
of being sufficiently beloved by the people for them, during a long
time, to have doubted of his death. Ten years after the expedition
to Candia, where he disappeared, the market-women were still in the
habit of having masses said, not for the repose of his soul, but for
the prompt return of his person;[173] and these persistent doubts
have caused Beaufort to be included, like Monmouth, among those
in whom people have beheld the mysterious prisoner of the Isles
Sainte-Marguerite.
But these are the only points of resemblance between Charles II.’s
natural son and Henri IV.’s grandson. Their characters, their
adventures, and their persons afford the most complete contrast, and
these two idols of the English and French peoples have owed their equal
popularity to entirely opposite qualities.
Brought up in the country, in the most absolute ignorance, and having
devoted his early years exclusively to the rude exercises of the
chase, Beaufort, during the whole of his life, retained from this
education of nature a coarse impress which made him the most really
original personage of the courts of Anne of Austria and of Louis XIV.
When, at the close of Louis XIII.’s reign, he appeared at the Louvre,
in that court which was as yet far from being the most polished of
Europe, he was not long in shocking even the least squeamish, and in
opposing himself to the most legitimate requirements. His athletic
strength, of which he willingly made a display, his characteristic and
expressive features, the intemperate animation of his gestures, his
affected habit of always keeping his hand on his hip, the tone of his
voice, everything to his moustaches even, curled up out of bravado,
contributed to give him the most provoking appearance. The rusticity
of his manners was equalled only by the coarseness of his speech. He
had not even received the usual education of the middle classes; and
wanting sufficient discernment to compensate by observation for his
complete ignorance, he would, when speaking, mix up in the strangest
manner possible hunting terms, which were very familiar to him,
with court expressions, which he used without hardly understanding
them.[174] Cynical by habit, affected through a desire of imitating
others, he had formed for himself a language “which,” the Cardinal de
Retz says, “would have spoilt even Cato’s good sense.”[175] This jargon
ended by rendering ridiculous one whose appearance alone was already
displeasing. But he took his revenge in the army, where these defects
were less apparent, and where he had opportunities for displaying his
manly qualities. Careless of every danger, and even of a reckless
courage, capable of enduring the most excessive fatigue, familiar with
all the exercises of the body, he ceased to make people laugh at him,
excited their admiration at the sieges of Corbie, Hesdin, and Arras,
and when he returned to the court, was preceded by a reputation for
bravery which rallied around him a portion of his detractors. People
shut their eyes to his eccentricities, and were better disposed to
appreciate his manly frankness and probity. Accordingly, when, on the
eve of Louis XIII.’s death, Anne of Austria was afraid lest the Duke
d’Orléans or the Prince de Condé should have the Dauphin and the Duke
d’Anjou carried off, it was to the custody of Beaufort, as “the most
honest man in France,”[176] that she confided her two sons.
Although at first proud of this flattering mark of distinction, he was
not long in forgetting it, and in throwing himself very thoughtlessly
into the enterprises of the Fronde, in which he made a sad enough
figure. Enticed by the Duchess de Montbazon to join the cabal of the
_Importants_,[177] brutal in his behaviour towards Mazarin, next
imprisoned at Vincennes,[178] allied with the Prince de Condé after
having been the enemy of his sister, the Duchess de Longueville, a
furious opponent of the court after having shown himself the guardian
of the throne and the protector of the Regent, by turns at the service
of the narrow passions and beggarly interests of the Dukes d’Elbœuf and
de Bouillon, of the Marshal de la Motte, and of the Cardinal de Retz,
without exactly knowing either for what cause he was fighting or what
aim he was pursuing, Beaufort withdrew from the Fronde as carelessly
as he had joined it, and became reconciled to the court with as little
gain to himself as he had obtained from the Frondeurs by his alliance
with them. To an incapacity for discerning what path he ought to
pursue in the midst of contending parties, Beaufort joined a dangerous
ignorance of his political nonentity, and like many persons who are
wanting in judgment, he endeavoured to rule by the force of qualities
in which he was most deficient. As vain as he was thoughtless,
believing himself called upon to play a great part,[179] he imagined
that he had an aptitude for public business, because he could talk its
cant; he delighted in giving advice to those who were leading him as
they chose; and, wronging his real qualities by those which he wished
to affect, he ended by exercising influence only over the multitude;
but with them he succeeded perfectly. If, in order to please one’s
subjects, it is necessary to speak their language, share their tastes,
adopt their manners, to be by turns abrupt and familiar, uncouth and
haughty, nobody has deserved more than Beaufort to be the “King of the
_halles_.” This title, which history has confirmed, his contemporaries
decreed to him unanimously, and the people accepted with enthusiasm. In
the streets they followed with love this good prince who had consented
to come and live near them in the most populous quarter, whose light
hair and martial bearing the women admired, and who did not disdain
occasionally to descant to the populace from a post, and sometimes to
display his strength in street quarrels.
But when Louis XIV. attained his majority, this king of the populace
became the most submissive of his subjects. Lagrange-Chancel, in order
to establish the theory which makes the Duke de Beaufort the Man with
the Iron Mask, and explain his pretended detention at Pignerol, speaks
“of his turbulent spirit, of the _rôle_ he had played in all the party
movements of the time of the Fronde.”[180] He adds that “his office of
High Admiral placed him daily in a position to thwart the great designs
of Colbert, charged with the department of the Marine.” Nothing can
be less exact, and in 1663, when Beaufort became High Admiral, the
passions, kindled during the Fronde, were extinguished, the ambitious
satisfied or quelled. The most turbulent chiefs, such as Rochefoucauld,
were plunged in an idleness which was scarcely menacing. Those who had
been the most hostile then made a display of their submission and
servility. Whilst the Cardinal de Retz, in retirement at Commercy, was
making up for his inaction and want of power by writing his immortal
Memoirs, the Prince de Conti was espousing the niece of Mazarin, and
Condé was gratefully receiving the order of the Holy Ghost from the
King.[181] The most indocile and most arrogant of the nobility, who
had disturbed the Regent’s authority, constrained the court to leave
Paris, sent away Mazarin, and agitated the whole kingdom, now crowded
the ante-chambers of Louis XIV. and disputed the signal honour of being
present when he retired to bed, and of holding a candlestick on the
occasion.
Beaufort was not the least assiduous in giving satisfaction to the
absolute monarch. Little formed for command, for which an extreme
impetuosity rendered him unsuited, he received very humbly the
severe reprimands of Louis XIV. and Colbert, and supported the yoke
of the master as docilely as he was harsh and imperious to his own
officers.[182] If he was always menacing the latter with ill-treatment
and with having them thrown into the sea, he submitted, in his naval
expeditions, to the control and almost to the rule of the Intendant
placed at his side by Colbert.[183] Nothing in him, then, was
dangerous to the court: neither his character, for his subordinates
alone experienced its violence; nor his talents, which were almost
nugatory; nor his pretensions, which had become very much reduced;
nor his popularity, which scarcely extended beyond the boundaries of
his kingdom of the _halles_. More than that, he had, in the eyes of
the King, the merit of belonging, through his father,[184] to those
illegitimate princes whom Louis XIV. was constantly to favour--at
first from political interest, with the view of opposing them to the
legitimate heirs of the great families; then from paternal affection,
when his own _amours_ had quickly increased their number--and to whom,
from a pride more and more immoderate, he was to accord successively
precedence over the peers, then the rank of royal princes, and, lastly,
to the shame of the whole kingdom, rights to the throne of France. One
cannot understand, then, for what motive Louis XIV. would have sought
to have got rid of a prince too unimportant to excite his jealousy, too
submissive for a revolt to be feared from him, and who, the son of a
bastard, was preparing for and justifying by his example the early and
more and more scandalous elevation of the illegitimate offspring of the
great King.
Previous to the expedition to Candia, whither, according to
Lagrange-Chancel, and those who share his opinion,[185] Beaufort was
sent in order that he might be carried off and afterwards condemned
to perpetual imprisonment, was there any act in the Admiral’s naval
career, by which he had entered into a state of rebellion against the
court? Was there anything of the kind in the expedition of 1664, when,
in spite of the opinions of his lieutenants, some of whom wished
to attack Bona first, others Boujeiah,[186] Beaufort, adhering too
strictly to Louis XIV.’s detailed instructions, directed an attack on
Gigery, of which he possessed himself prematurely, and compromised
the results of the campaign by a scrupulous obedience to orders given
at a distance, and which he ought to have been bold enough to have
disregarded? Was there anything in 1666, when he was charged to command
the escort of the new Queen of Portugal,[187] and when, in spite of
his ardour and of a noble desire to hasten to an encounter with the
English, he agreed, so as to obey orders, to remain immovable in the
waters of the Tagus?
But let us admit that the cause of this imprisonment, sought for in
vain, can never be known to us, or rather, that the humble deference
displayed by Beaufort towards Louis XIV. had not destroyed in the mind
of the latter the remembrance of the violent passion which made the
Admiral so ungovernable in his behaviour towards his officers. Let
us admit an imaginary crime in order to explain an abduction which
there is nothing positive to justify. Then the precautions taken
after the abduction would be explained to a certain extent, by the
popularity which Beaufort enjoyed at Paris, and Saint-Foix, in refuting
Lagrange-Chancel, has been too positive in affirming the contrary.
“The King’s authority was consolidated,” he says,[188] “and the
imprisonment of the great Condé himself, if it had been considered
necessary to have had him arrested, would not have caused the least
disturbance.” Assuredly, but would things have been the same for the
“King of the _halles_,” whom the people still thoroughly idolized?
This only of Lagrange’s numerous arguments being admitted, and the
necessity of hiding Beaufort from the gaze of all being recognized,
would his abduction have been possible at Candia, in the midst of the
fleet and in the presence of the army? What were the causes of this
expedition, and among them can we detect a desire on the part of the
King to send Beaufort with it, in order to get rid of him afterwards?
Lastly, was this individual, who all the accounts agree in saying
had _disappeared_--was he in reality _killed_, and can we invoke
perfectly conclusive proofs of his death? This is what it is essential
to examine. Contemporary criticism has, up to the present, refuted
the opinion which we are combating, by availing itself only of the
correspondence of Louvois with Saint-Mars,[189] and by showing that
not a line of these despatches permits us to believe that Beaufort was
detained at Pignerol. Let us push the demonstration still further,
and as we have attempted with regard to the hypothesis of a brother
of Louis XIV., and with regard to Vermandois and Monmouth, do not let
us content ourselves with this indirect proof; since, to the silence
preserved by Saint-Mars and Louvois with reference to each of these
individuals, sceptics could bring forward as objections the suppression
of the despatches concerning them or the exclusive employment of
verbal messages. This is why, instead of invoking the usual argument
founded upon an examination of the despatches between the gaoler and
the Minister, we have availed ourselves of it merely in a subsidiary
manner, and only after having previously sought to establish that
a mysterious brother of Louis XIV. never existed, that Vermandois
succumbed before Courtray, and that Monmouth died on the scaffold. This
double demonstration has appeared indispensable to us in a matter where
every one, having held a favourite opinion for a long time, is little
disposed to accept another tending to upset it: so let us try the
method for Beaufort in his turn.
FOOTNOTES:
[173] “Several persons here wish to wager,” wrote Guy-Patin, September
26, 1669, “that M. de Beaufort is not dead. _O utinam!_” And in another
letter, January 14, 1670: “It is said that M. de Vivonne has, by
commission, the office of Vice-Admiral of France for twenty years; but
there are still those who insist that M. de Beaufort is not dead, and
that he is only a prisoner.”
[174] _Mémoires de la Duchesse de Nemours_, vol. xxxiv.; _Mémoires
de Brienne_, and of Conrat, Montglat, and of La Rochefoucauld. “He
formed,” says the Duchess de Nemours, “a kind of jargon of words
so vulgar or so badly arranged, that it rendered him ridiculous to
everybody, although these words, which he arranged so badly, would
perhaps have appeared very good if he had known how to have arranged
them better, being bad only in the places where he put them.”
[175] _Mémoires du Cardinal de Retz_, p. 9.
[176] It was thus that she then designated him.
[177] The Queen’s party.--_Trans._
[178] He was imprisoned there in 1645, and escaped in 1649. It was
referring to this escape that Condé, incarcerated in his turn at
Vincennes, on being recommended the _Imitation of Jesus Christ_
in order to beguile his captivity, answered that he preferred the
_Imitation of the Duke de Beaufort_.
[179] It is known that he one day asked President Bellièvre if he would
not change the face of affairs by giving a box on the ears to the Duke
d’Elbœuf? “I do not think,” answered the magistrate, in a grave tone,
“that would change anything except the face of the Duke d’Elbœuf.”
[180] _Année Littéraire_: Letter of Lagrange-Chancel to M. Fréron on
the subject of the Man with the Iron Mask.
[181] _Art de Vérifier les Dates_, vol. vi. pp. 273 and 277.
[182] _Œuvres de Louis XIV._, vol. v. p. 388 _et seq._
[183] _Relation de Gigéry, faite au Roi par M. de Gadagne,
Lieutenant-Général_:--Imperial Library, Manuscripts.
[184] Cæsar de Vendôme, natural son of Henri IV. and Gabrielle
d’Estrées, and of whom the Duke de Beaufort was the second son, born in
January, 1616:--_Art de Vérifier les Dates_, vol. xii. p. 521.
[185] Such as Lenglet-Dufresnoy, _Plan de l’Histoire Générale et
Particulière de la Monarchie Française_, vol. iii. p. 268 _et seq._
Paris, 1754.
[186] _Mémoire de M. de Gadagne_, already quoted.
[187] Marie de Savoie, Duchess de Nemours, wife of Alphonso VI., King
of Portugal.
[188] _Réponse de Saint-Foix et Recueil de tout ce qui a été écrit sur
le Prisonnier Masqué_, p. 20, 1770.
[189] Amongst others, M. Paul Lacroix (Bibliophile Jacob), _Histoire de
l’Homme au Masque de Fer_, 1840, p. 161.