As it is not so much the history of other people that I am writing as
my own, I must now speak for a few minutes of myself, and of all that
had been going on during some years in the little world of my own
bosom. During the last six months, a greater change had taken place in
my mind and my character than I ever remember to have felt at any
other period of my life,--though I suppose that there is no epoch in
man's existence, when his feelings and disposition may be considered
as so irrevocably fixed as to be unsusceptible, during the rest of his
days, of change or modification. The original fabric of the mind, of
course, remains the same; but--as education shares with nature in the
character of each human being, and as life is but a continual
education,--I feel convinced that we go on altering from the cradle to
the grave. The tree grows up and spreads, and certainly remains for
ever the ash, the elm, or the oak that it first sprouted from the
ground; but its form, and appearance, and size, and strength, and
beauty are changed by winds, and storms, and circumstances, and
accidents, and position, and time; and so, I am convinced, it is with
the human heart. We are all change throughout our being; and were it
not for a few remaining traits, a few slight traces, of early
predilections and original character, it would be very difficult for
the old man or the man of middle age to prove, even to himself, from
the state of his own mind, his identity with the young man or the boy.
The alterations which had taken place in my own mind and feelings,
however, within the last six months, had been so great and rapid, that
they were even remarkable to myself, and now form, in memory, an epoch
from which I date a new and distinct course of being. My corporeal
frame, it is true, was also undergoing a change, and rising rapidly,
almost prematurely, towards manhood; but my mind was also affected, in
a manner totally distinct and apart, by the scenes in which I mingled,
by the persons with whom I conversed, and by the deep feelings, strong
passions, and awful events, in all of which I took a part. Scarcely a
year before, scenes of bloodshed and slaughter, energetic attempts and
dangerous enterprises, had passed around me as a sort of pageant in
which I acted my part, without any deep or lasting impression--without
any great thought or excited passion. It had been all a sort of
youthful sport to me, which--although I suffered some inconveniences,
felt some sorrows, and encountered many dangers--was, upon the whole,
more a matter of amusement than of pain. My first deep grief was
occasioned by the death of my father. My first strongly-roused passion
was the thirst for vengeance upon the man that had slain him. After
that came my connexion with Lord Masterton, and certainly the love and
affection that I felt towards him, and the interest I took in his fate
and in that of the Lady Emily, prepared the way for what I was now
feeling: but still it was all very, very different from my intense
participation in the passions and the sorrows of Monsieur and Madame
de Villardin, and equally so from the sensations of gloom and awe,
which the sad events that were passing around me impressed upon my
mind. The effect of my conversations with Father Ferdinand I have
already related; and under the influence of the whole together, I
found my heart losing rapidly its boyish lightness, and becoming, day
by day, susceptible of more deep and powerful sympathies than I ever
dreamed it was possible to feel. If I may use the expression, during
the last six months I had been educated in the school of dark and
vehement passions, and the lessons that I had received had been at
least so far instructive as to teach me, whatever I felt, to feel
deeply. The boldness and decision of my conduct in former times had
proceeded both from the promptness of determination which my father
had inculcated, and from the habit which I had acquired amidst scenes
of turbulence and confusion, of valuing human life and all connected
with it as a mere nothing; but now, although I had learned to estimate
almost everything differently, yet, by having been taught to feel a
deep and personal interest in all with whom I became connected, I had
acquired a new and stronger motive for exercising the same promptitude
in all circumstances, and employing even more vigorously than before
all the best energies of my mind.
Such had become my feelings at the time when Monsieur de Villardin
recovered; and, even in watching by his sick bed, I had experienced
the greatest difference between the sensations which I then felt
towards him, and those which I remembered having undergone in
attending upon Lord Masterton under somewhat similar circumstances.
For Lord Masterton, indeed, I had felt as much affection and more
esteem; but towards Monsieur de Villardin pity and regret, and many
other mingled sensations, rendered my feelings of interest far more
deep and intense. There were memories and ties between us that could
never be broken; there was the confidence of dark and secret acts that
could never be forgotten--there was many a deed of kindness and of
feeling, too, which no conduct towards others could cancel as regarded
myself; and even my very suspicions in respect to the last terrible
catastrophe were in themselves a source of mournful, painful, but
profound interest.
Such, then, as I have said, were my feelings when Monsieur de
Villardin recovered; and if I had sympathised with him even under his
madness and his errors, how much more was my affection increased
towards him by the conduct that he subsequently pursued! The deep
grief, the bitter remorse, the stern self-condemnation which he
evidently felt, increased my esteem without diminishing my interest;
and his conduct to myself, which I have related in the last chapter,
scarcely gratified me so much, I confess, as his contemptuous
dismissal of her who had traduced his injured wife.
The absence of Madame Suzette was most indubitably a relief to the
whole house, with the exception, perhaps, of one person in it. Even
Mademoiselle de Villardin, young as she was, seemed to take a part in
the general satisfaction; for she had already, though why I know not,
acquired a distaste to the soubrette, which had been strongly apparent
even before her mother's death, as well as a partiality for the
Duchess's second woman, Lise, who now became the young lady's
principal attendant.
The departure of Suzette was followed close by that of another person,
who, though not so generally disliked in the household, was but little
more amiable, at least in my eyes, than the soubrette herself. This
was Gaspard de Belleville; but it would seem that Monsieur de
Villardin had various motives for not dismissing him at once from his
family with the same unceremonious decision which he had evinced
towards the woman; and, therefore, waited for an opportunity of
placing him in a situation, where the road to honour and distinction
was open to him, if he chose to follow it.
The first occasion that presented itself also gave rise to a temporary
separation between Monsieur de Villardin and myself, and may require
some further explanation than could be afforded by a mere detail of
the circumstances which took place at the château. When Monsieur de
Villardin had quitted Paris in haste, he had left the Regency
triumphant. The Parliament had become the devoted slave of the Court.
The generals had made their peace. The young King, the Queen-mother,
and the Cardinal had entered Paris, and regained greater power than
ever; and the only shadow of an independent faction that remained
consisted in the union of the lower classes, led and headed by the
Cardinal de Retz and the Duke of Beaufort. Mazarin ruled everything;
but he soon began to find that a friend, to whose services he owed
everything, might be more difficult to manage than even an enemy. The
Prince de Condé had restored him to authority, and brought back the
Court in triumph: but, young, vehement, and hasty, he considered his
claims as inexhaustible, and the slightest opposition he looked upon
as an insult. Supported by his brother-in-law, the Duke de
Longueville, by his brother, the Prince de Conti, and a number of the
first nobles of the land, he soon aimed at governing the state,
opposed the Court in all its proceedings, dictated to the Regent, and
insulted the minister. The crafty Italian, however, now feeling
himself more secure, determined at once to coalesce with his former
enemies, in order to punish one, who, from his protector, had changed
into his tyrant. To the party of the Fronde, led by the Cardinal de
Retz, the great Condé was, for the time, as much an object of hate and
jealousy as he was to Mazarin himself; and, for the purpose of
revenging upon him the former defeats of the Parisians, De Retz
willingly joined with the minister, for whom he entertained the most
thorough contempt. Taken by surprise in the very palace itself, the
Princes of Condé and Conti, and the Duke de Longueville, were arrested
by the captain of the Queen's guards, and were hurried off as fast as
possible to the castle of Vincennes. Terror immediately seized upon
all their partisans, and one half the nobility of France fled from
Paris on the day of their arrest. Mary de Bourbon, Duchess of
Longueville, breathing indignation against the enemy of her brothers
and her husband, made her escape into Normandy, accompanied by about
sixty horsemen, and declared that she would once more raise the
standard of civil war. The Duke de Bouillon fled towards the south
with the same purpose; the Maréchal de Luxembourg took the way to
Burgundy; and the celebrated Turenne himself, proceeding into
Champagne, instantly avowed himself the partisan of the Princes, and
levied troops for their deliverance.
Though such was the general feeling of the principal nobles of the
French Court, very different, indeed, were the sentiments of the
people of Paris upon the arrest of the Princes. Led by De Retz and
Beaufort, and remembering the insults and defeats which Condé had
inflicted upon them, the citizens of the capital could hardly find
means sufficient to express their joy at the indignity offered to the
greatest man of the country. Shouts and songs signalized his downfal.
Bonfires blazed at every corner. Even the obnoxious minister himself
was enthusiastically applauded for his ingratitude to his deliverer
and protector; and every one declared that after this act, the
Cardinal himself was no longer a Mazarin.
Various rumours of these occurrences, which had taken place early in
the year, had reached us in our retirement at Dumont; but I need not
tell the reader that we had quite sufficient matter in the events of
our private life to occupy all our thoughts. Even had it not been so,
it is more than probable that Monsieur de Villardin would have avoided
taking any part in the civil dissensions of the time, as he might have
found some difficulty in choosing the party to which he would give his
support. Bound by ties of intimate regard to the Prince de Condé, he
felt, of course, anxious for his liberation; and although he had
opposed the Prince himself in the cause of the Parliament, he was
naturally of a loyal disposition. It is true that, like all the rest
of the world at that time, he was destined to change his party more
than once, but beyond doubt his own feelings naturally led him towards
the Court. Under these circumstances, in all probability, he would, as
I have said, have remained neuter, notwithstanding that continual
desire for activity which Lord Langleigh had noticed at the time I was
first introduced to him: but about the period of which I speak, an
application was made to him, which--coming as it did at a moment when
any sort of employment offered the prospect of relief from those
bitter and consuming thoughts that preyed upon him,--proved
irresistible.
About three days after the dismissal of Madame Suzette, I was riding
by the side of the Duke in one of the roads leading direct to the
château, when we were suddenly encountered by a horseman coming at
full speed, who paused and drew up his horse as soon as he perceived
our party. Singling out Monsieur de Villardin, he at once rode up to
him, and delivered a sealed packet, which was received with that sort
of listless air which a combination of sickness and despondency had
left behind upon the Duke, who demanded carelessly, "From whom?"
"From the Princess de Condé, and the Dukes of Bouillon and
Rochefoucault," replied the courier.
Three names so friendly to his ears caused Monsieur de Villardin to
show a greater degree of interest than he had done at first; and,
turning his horse, he bade the messenger follow, and rode back to the
château. After dismounting, he retired to read his letters alone; and,
as our proposed ride was thus brought to an end, I proceeded to join
Father Ferdinand, whom I had seen walking in the park as we passed.
I strolled up and down the different alleys with him for nearly an
hour; and though, of course, the deep shadow of the past still
overhung us both, our conversation was lighter than usual; and the
arrival of the messenger from the Princess de Condé furnished us with
a subject, which soon led us to the political events of the day. With
these Father Ferdinand was much better acquainted than myself; and, in
his brief but perspicuous manner, he gave me a clear view of all that
had been lately passing in the capital. The detail was over, and we
were moralising upon the facts, when a servant approached in
breathless haste, telling me that he and several of his fellows had
been seeking me everywhere, as the Duke had demanded to see me some
time before. I followed at once, and found Monsieur de Villardin in
his library with the letters still before him.
"Here are important tidings, and important requests," he said,
pointing to the papers as I entered; "and, among other things to which
they give rise, there is an expedition for you to perform, if you will
undertake it." He looked up as he spoke, for my reply; and I answered,
that anything with which he might think fit to charge me, I should
feel honoured in performing; and he thus went on:--
"No, no; you must follow your own judgment, when you have heard what
it is, John Marston. There may be danger in the case, my boy; and
certainly some fatigue and exertion must be expended on the task. Tell
me first, what you know of the events which have lately occurred in
the capital. Are you aware that the Prince de Condé and his brother,
as well as Monsieur de Longueville, are both in prison at Vincennes?"
I replied, that I was well aware of the facts he mentioned, and added
several others which I had learned both from general rumour, and from
the more correct account of Father Ferdinand.
"Well, then, you know fully sufficient to judge of the risk," replied
Monsieur de Villardin. "You can easily conceive that this notorious
piece of injustice, committed in the case of three such distinguished
persons, has set all France in a flame; and almost every man of
honourable feeling is now putting his foot in the stirrup to compel
the Cardinal to liberate the Princes. Monsieur de Bouillon here
informs me, that the cause in Guienne is in the most hopeful state;
and adjures me, both by my regard for him and by my regard for the
Prince de Condé, to join him immediately with what force I can
collect.
"At the same time, the Princess de Condé, while making a similar
request, does not conceal that, by the influence used in Paris, she
trusts to see her husband at liberty in a few weeks. Now, as the only
motive which could induce me to join the party of the Princes would be
their continued imprisonment, I much desire, without calling attention
upon myself, to ascertain the real state of the negotiations in
Paris."
He then explained to me, that it was his wish I should instantly set
out for the capital, and, conferring with Gourville--an attendant of
the Duke de Rochefoucault, then in Paris, employed in endeavouring to
effect the liberation of the Princes,--that I should make myself fully
acquainted with every particular of their situation. At the same time
he proposed to send Gaspard de Belleville to the Duke de Bouillon and
the Princess de Condé, charged with a message to the purport that he
would join them at the end of three weeks, if he found that the
Princes were not likely to be liberated within a month.
Of course, I willingly undertook the task; and I could plainly see
also that Monsieur de Villardin, although he was unwilling to commit
himself again with the Court, was secretly delighted with the prospect
of once more entering upon an active course of life, which, by
constant employment, would afford the means of withdrawing his
thoughts from all the painful subjects on which they now rested.
Eagerly and rapidly he drew up a letter to Gourville, bidding him
confide entirely in me; and, having given it to me, he made me remark
that he had written on the back. "By the hands of Monsieur de
Juvigny."
"You must, on no account," he added, "appear as a foreigner, which, in
Paris, would instantly call upon you a degree of attention that is to
be avoided by all means. You have now no longer the slightest accent,
except, indeed, it be a touch of the _patois_ of Bretagne; which,
however, will the more confirm the Parisians in the belief that you
are a Frenchman, and you may boldly pass yourself as a Breton even
upon Gourville himself. I must furnish you, however, with plenty of
that golden oil which makes all doors turn easily upon their hinges;
and, remember, spare no expense to reach Paris soon, and to return
quickly; for every hour spent upon the road is lost to better
purposes. Not so, however, with your inquiries: let them be diligent
and minute; do not come away without knowing everything that can be
known; and remember, that should fortune, which has been favourable to
you in many instances, put it in your power to aid or serve the Prince
de Condé, you have my strongest injunction to do so."
Whether he suspected that such would, indeed, prove the case, I do not
know; but he three times spoke of the chance of my serving the Prince
as not impossible, and reiterated his charge to take advantage of it,
if it did occur. He then added a great many cautions and explanations
for the direction of my conduct, and gave me a larger sum of money
than ever I had possessed before. To all this he joined a number of
billets of introduction to different persons of his acquaintance in
Paris, conceived in the following terms:--
"_To Monsieur de_----
"Know and put full confidence in my young friend, Monsieur de Juvigny.
(Signed) "De Villardin."
I found that this sort of _letter of credit_ had been common in the
times of the former war; and as it committed no party to anything,
even if seized, was of course very convenient. Everything else
apparently being arranged, I was taking my leave, intending to set out
instantly, and alone, when Monsieur de Villardin, to my surprise, bade
me take two of the servants, whom he named, to give me assistance in
case of need.
"No, no, my lord," I said, "for heaven's sake do not inflict such
shackles upon me; I shall be much better by myself; and as to
assistance, I shall want none, depend upon it. I have always been able
to make my own eyes find my own way, and my own hand keep my own head
since I was eight years old, and with your permission I will go alone.
Besides, if I took any of the servants from this place, I should have
my English birth and education known to every one they came near in
five minutes--especially if we bade them keep it secret."
"Well, well, do as you please," replied the Duke; "but if you go
alone, you had a great deal better ride post; for, as I know you are
an indefatigable horseman, you will by that means be able to double
the distance in the same space of time."
To this I willingly agreed, and it having been arranged that I was at
least to take a servant with me as far as the next relay, in order to
bring back my own horse, I left Monsieur de Villardin, and proceeded
to make my preparations, which, I need not say, were brief enough.