reconcile the royal couple; while, in addition to all his other
anxieties, he found himself placed in a position at once so difficult
and so dangerous that he was at a loss how to proceed, until a
circumstance fortunately occurred of which he hastened to avail himself.
In exchanging the petty Court of Florence for that of France, Marie had
speedily emancipated herself from the compulsory economy to which she
had been accustomed from her childhood, and had become reckless in her
expenditure to an excess which constantly disturbed the equanimity of
the prudent minister of finance. The current expenses of her household
amounted annually to the sum of three hundred and forty-five thousand
livres, an enormous outlay for that period; while she was so lavish to
her favourites that she was constantly applying for further supplies;
and on one occasion, when these were withheld, had actually pawned the
crown jewels, which it was necessary to redeem by a disbursement from
the public treasury. In addition to these resources, her income was also
considerably increased by gratuities, bribes from contracting
parties,[238] and edicts created in her favour; the last of which were
peculiarly obnoxious to Sully, from the fact of their harassing the
people without any national benefit; and it was accordingly with great
reluctance, and frequently not without expostulation, that he was
induced to countersign these documents.
The circumstance to which we have alluded as affording to Sully an
opening for the delicate negotiation with which he was entrusted by the
King, was an offer made to Marie de Medicis of the sum of eighty
thousand livres in the event of her causing an edict to be issued in
favour of the officials of the salt-works of Languedoc, which she
forthwith despatched to the minister by M. d'Argouges,[239] with a
request that he would use his influence to obtain it.
Having made himself acquainted with the nature and tendency of the
edict, M. de Sully desired the messenger to inform her Majesty that he
was of opinion that the sovereign might safely authorize its operation
without any injury to the public interests; but added that he feared the
moment was an unpropitious one as regarded the Queen herself, the King
being still deeply offended by some of her recent proceedings; nor would
he advise her to venture upon such an application until she had
succeeded in disarming his anger; for which purpose he respectfully
suggested that she should endeavour to conciliate her royal consort by
some concession, which he would exert all his ability to enhance in the
eyes of his master, and in every way endeavour to advance her interests
as he had already done on several previous occasions.
Marie, eager to possess herself of the large sum thus proffered for her
acceptance, consented to follow his advice; and decided upon addressing
a letter to the King, expressive of her regret at the coldness which
existed between them, and of her willingness to meet his wishes should
he condescend to explain them.
This letter having been read and approved by the finance minister was
forthwith forwarded from Fontainebleau, where Marie de Medicis was then
residing, to the King at Paris; but it was not without a struggle that
the Queen had compelled herself to such an act of self-abnegation, and
her courier was no sooner despatched than she complained in bitter terms
to M. de Sully of the humiliations to which she was subjected by the
infatuation of the monarch for Madame de Verneuil; declaring that she
could never submit to look with favour or indulgence upon a woman who
had the presumption to institute comparisons between herself and her
sovereign; who was rearing her children with all the pretensions of
Princes of the Blood Royal, and encouraging them in demonstrations of
disrespect towards her own person; and who was, moreover, fomenting
sedition, by encouraging the discontented nobles to manifestations of
disloyalty to their monarch; while the King, blinded by his passion,
made no effort to rebuke, or even to restrain, her impertinence.
The minister listened calmly and respectfully to these outpourings of
her indignation, but assured her in reply that it only depended upon
herself to annihilate the influence of the favourite, by a system of
consideration for the feelings of her royal consort of which she had not
hitherto condescended to test the efficacy. He, moreover, implored her
to make the trial; and represented so forcibly the benefit which must
accrue to herself by a restoration of domestic peace, that she at length
admitted the justice of his arguments, and pledged herself to
accelerate, by every means in her power, a full and perfect
reconciliation.
Gratified by this almost unhoped-for success, Sully shortly afterwards
withdrew; and the reply of the King to the letter which she had
addressed to him was delivered to Marie when she was surrounded only by
her own private circle. It was at once courteous and conciliatory; and
it is probable that, had it arrived before the departure of the Duke, it
would have been acknowledged in the same spirit; but, unfortunately, the
Queen had no sooner communicated its contents to her confidential
friends than she was met by the assurance that the monarch had, on the
receipt of her missive, carried it to the Marquise, where her credulity
had excited great amusement, an assertion which was followed by other
commentaries so distasteful to her pride, that, instead of persevering
in the prudent course which she had been induced to adopt, she haughtily
informed the royal courier by whom the letter had been brought that she
should entrust him with no written reply, but should expect his Majesty
on the following day according to his own appointment.
This marked and impolitic demonstration of disrespect excited anew the
resentment of Henry, who openly expressed his indignation in the most
unmeasured terms, and that so publicly, that within a few hours Marie
was informed of every particular; and the breach which Sully had fondly
flattered himself that he was about to heal became wider and more
threatening than ever.[240]
Meanwhile the commerce of the King and the favourite was far from
affording to the former all the gratification which he had anticipated
from its renewal. The coquetry--to designate it by no harsher term--of
Madame de Verneuil irritated the jealousy of the monarch, who could not
forget that she had taunted him with his advancing age, and who saw her
unblushingly encourage the admiration and attention of such of the
courtiers as she could induce to brave his displeasure; while her lavish
expenditure and unceasing demands, alike upon his patience and his
purse, involved him in perpetual difficulties with his finance minister,
which her extravagant attempts to assume the airs and to usurp the
privileges of quasi-royalty did not tend to diminish.
The French King was, in fact, at this period, the victim of his own
vices; the sovereign of a great and powerful nation, without a home or a
hearth, a wifeless husband, and a discontented lover; tenderly attached
to all his children, and yet unable to confer a favour upon the
offspring of one mother without incurring the resentment of the other;
and while feeling himself degraded by the thrall in which he lived,
totally devoid of the moral courage necessary for his escape from so
disgraceful a bondage.
It is in moments such as these that virtue and honour assert their
well-earned privileges without even the effort of enforcing them. Weary
of his perpetual discomfort, harassed by the heartless conduct of his
mistress, and pining for the mental repose which he so greatly needed,
Henry once more turned towards his wife as his only probable and
legitimate haven of rest; but hopeless of success through his own
agency, he again addressed himself to Sully for assistance and support.
Suddenly summoned by the monarch, the minister presented himself at the
Tuileries, where he found Henry in the orangery, in which he had taken
refuge from a shower of rain, pale, agitated, and anxious. The subject
of his reconciliation with the Queen was mooted on the instant, and he
repeatedly called upon Sully for his advice as to the best and surest
method of effecting it. Conscious that his counsels had hitherto been
either disregarded or rendered abortive by the King himself, the Duke
endeavoured to escape this new demand upon his patience, but Henry was
peremptory.
"Since then you command me to speak, Sire," he said at length, "I will
be frank. In order to accomplish the object which you have in view, you
can only pursue one course. Put the sea between yourself and four or
five individuals by whom you are now beset, and cause as many others to
pass the Alps."
"Your first suggestion is practicable," was the reply; "there is nothing
to prevent me from banishing the malcontents who are conspiring in my
very Court, but I am differently situated with regard to the Italians;
for, in addition to the hatred which I should draw down upon myself from
a nation proverbially vindictive, the Queen would never forgive an
affront offered to her favourites. In order to free myself from these
she must be induced herself to propose their return to their own
country, and I know no one more likely than you, Rosny, to effect an
object at once so desirable and so important. Make the attempt,
therefore; and should you succeed, I pledge myself from that moment to
abstain from every intrigue of gallantry. Reflect upon what I have
suggested in my turn, and consider the means by which this may be
accomplished with the least possible delay."
So saying, the King, after ascertaining that the weather had again
cleared, abruptly quitted the orangery, leaving M. de Sully perfectly
aghast at the new duty which had thus been suddenly thrust upon him.
As it was utterly impossible to propose such a measure to Marie de
Medicis as that of dismissing her most favoured attendants until a
perfect reconciliation had been effected between the royal couple, it
was to that object that the prudent minister first turned his attention;
and so successful did he ultimately prove, that after a brief
correspondence the King and Queen had an interview, during which the
whole of their recent misunderstanding was calmly discussed, and
declared by both parties to have been occasioned by the ill-judged
interference of those by whom they were severally surrounded; nor did
they separate until they had mutually pledged themselves to consign the
past to oblivion, and thenceforward to close their ears against all the
gossiping of the Court.
The effect produced by this matrimonial truce (for it was unfortunately
nothing more, and lasted only for the short space of three weeks) was of
the most happy description. Nothing was seen or heard of save projects
of amusement, which, not content with absorbing the present, extended
also into the future. This calm, like those by which it had been
preceded, was not, however, fated to realize the hopes of either party.
Henry was too much addicted to pleasure to fulfil his part of the
compact, while the Queen had, unhappily for her own peace, so long
accustomed herself to listen to the comments and complaints of her
favourites, that it was not long ere they found her as well disposed as
she had previously been to lend a willing ear to their communications.
In Madame de Verneuil they, of course, possessed a fruitful topic; and
as Marie, despite all her good resolutions, could not restrain her
curiosity with regard to the proceedings of this obnoxious personage,
she ere long betrayed her knowledge of the new affronts to which she had
been subjected by the Marquise.
The result of this unfortunate enlightenment was such as, from her
impulsive character, might justly have been anticipated. She no sooner
found herself in the society of the King than she once more assailed
him with invectives and reproaches which he was of no temper to brook;
and in this new dilemma Sully resolved, as a last and crowning effort to
establish peace, to suggest to Marie that as her happiness had again
been destroyed solely by the evil tongues about her, she should secure
to herself the gratitude and affection of her royal consort by
dismissing all her Italian household, and surrounding herself entirely
by French friends and attendants.
The indignation of the Queen at this proposal was beyond the reach of
all argument. She declared herself to be sufficiently unhappy separated
from her family, and neglected by her husband, without driving from her
presence, almost with ignominy, the few persons who still remained
faithful to her interests, and who sincerely sympathized in her
sufferings; and although the Duke ventured again and again to recur to
the subject, and always with the same earnestness, Marie continued to
reject his counsel as steadily as when it was first offered.[241]
The new attachment felt or feigned by the King for Mademoiselle de la
Bourdaisière had again awakened her jealousy; and she complained with
equal reason that Henry, even while indulging in this new passion, made
no attempt to restrain the arrogance and bitterness of the forsaken
favourite. Nor was Madame de Verneuil less indignant than the Queen;
for even while affecting an extreme devotion, and surrounding herself
with ecclesiastics, who, not content with labouring to effect her
salvation, were also feeding her vanity with the most fulsome
panegyrics, she could ill brook to see herself so easily forgotten; and
once more she indulged in such indecent liberties with the name of Marie
de Medicis that the King, whose patience was the more easily exhausted
from the fact that he believed himself to be at last independent of her
fascinations, was again driven to resort to the assistance of M. de
Sully, in order to compel the restoration of the written promise of
marriage which he had been weak enough to place in her hands.
It was, indeed, impossible for the sovereign of a great nation longer to
temporize with an insolence which at this period had exceeded all
endurable limits; for not only did the Marquise assert, as she had
previously done, the illegality of the King's union with his wife, but
so thoroughly had her affected devotion wrought upon the minds of the
priests about her that several among them were induced to support her
pretended claim, and even publicly to declare the bans of marriage
between herself and the monarch.[242] Among these, two Capuchins, Father
Hilaire of Grenoble and Father Archange, her confessors, the last in
France, and the first in Rome, attached themselves recklessly to her
interests,[243] while at the same time numerous letters and pamphlets
were distributed in the capital, advocating her cause;[244] and so
dangerously active had the cabal become in the Eternal City that the
Cardinal d'Ossat considered it expedient to address a letter to the
French Government upon the subject, which implicated in this wild
conspiracy both the King of Spain and the Duke of Savoy, who, through
the agency of Father Hilaire, were represented as upholding the
pretensions of Madame de Verneuil. These circumstances, and especially
the notoriety of a fact which involved alike the dignity of her husband
and her own honour, so greatly exasperated the temper of the Queen that
she no longer attempted to control her irritation; and on one occasion
when, as was constantly the case, the pretended claim of the Marquise
became the subject of discord between the royal couple, Marie so
thoroughly forgot the respect which she owed to the King that she raised
her hand to strike him. Fortunately, however, for both parties, the Duc
de Sully, who was present during the altercation, and who instantly
detected her intention, sprang forward and seized her arm; but in his
haste he was compelled to do this so roughly that she afterwards
declared he had given her a blow, adding, however, that she was grateful
to him for having thus preserved her from a worse evil.
So great, indeed, was her sense of the obligation thus conferred, that
thenceforward Marie regarded the finance minister with more favour than
she had hitherto done; and occasionally requested his advice during her
misunderstandings with the King. She could not have chosen a safer
counsellor, for although Sully does not, in any instance, attempt to
disguise his dislike to the Tuscan princess, he was incapable of
betraying so sacred a trust; and if, as generally occurs in such cases,
his advice was frequently neglected, she never once had cause to
question its propriety.
A short time subsequent to the scene we have just described the Queen
sent to request the presence of the minister in her closet, where he
found her conversing with Concini, and evidently much excited. On his
entrance she informed him that she was weary of the infidelities of the
monarch; that the jealousy which he constantly kept alive alike
undermined her health and destroyed her happiness; and that she had
determined to follow the advice of her faithful servant, there present,
and to communicate to his Majesty certain advances which had been made
to her by some of the Court nobles, who were less insensible to her
attractions than the King himself.
This communication startled M. de Sully; and while he was endeavouring
to frame a reply by which he might remain uncompromised, Concini with
his usual presumption followed up the declaration of the Queen by
asserting his own conviction that it was the wisest measure which she
could adopt; as it would at once convince her royal consort that she
desired to keep nothing secret from him in which he was personally
interested.
This interruption afforded time for the Duke to collect his thoughts,
and heedless of the interference of the Italian, he remarked in his turn
that her Majesty must pardon him if he declined to offer any opinion on
so delicate a question, as it was one entirely beyond his province;
after which, resolutely changing the tone of the discourse, he continued
to converse with the Queen upon indifferent topics until Concini had
retired. Then, however, he voluntarily reverted to the subject which she
had herself mooted, and implored her to abandon her design; assuring her
that he had her interest too sincerely at heart to see her without
anxiety about to place herself in a position at once false and
dangerous, as such an assurance from her own lips could not fail to
excite in the breast of the King the greatest and most legitimate
suspicions; for every man of sense must at once feel that no individual,
be his rank what it might, would have dared to declare his passion to a
person of her exalted condition without having previously ascertained
that its expression would be agreeable to her, and having been tacitly
encouraged to do so; while, on the other hand, so far from discovering
any merit in such an avowal, or regarding it as a proof of confidence,
his Majesty would immediately decide that the motive by which she had
been actuated in making it must have been either the fear of discovery,
or a desire to rid herself of persons of whom she had become weary, in
order that she might be left at liberty to encourage new suitors; or
finally, that she had been urged to this unheard-of measure by
individuals who had obtained sufficient influence over her mind to
induce her to sacrifice her peace and her honour to their own
views.[245]
Happily for herself, Marie de Medicis admitted the validity of these
arguments, and abandoned her ill-advised intention; and she was the more
readily induced to do this from the assurance which she received from M.
de Sully that the restoration of the promise given to Madame de Verneuil
by the King was about to be enforced, and that she would consequently be
speedily relieved from the anxiety by which she had been so long
tormented. Nor was the pledge an idle one, as immediate measures were
adopted to effect this act of justice towards the Queen. The negotiation
was renewed by two autograph letters from the King himself, addressed
respectively to the Comte d'Entragues and the Marquise de Verneuil,
which were long preserved in the library of Joly de Fleury, but are now
supposed to be lost. Copies of both had been, however, fortunately taken
by the Abbé de l'Ecluse,[246] and as they are highly characteristic of
the monarch, and cannot fail to prove interesting to the reader, we
shall insert them at length.
To M. d'Entragues the King wrote as follows:
"M. d'Entragues, je vous envoye ce porteur pour me rapporter la promesse
que je vous baillay a Malesherbes je vous prys ne faillir de me la
renvoyer et si vous voulez me la rapporter vous mesme je vous diray les
raisons qui m'y poussent qui sont domestiques et non d'estat par
lesquelles vous direz que jay raison et reconnaitrez que vous avez été
trompé, et que jay un naturel plutost trop bon que autrement, massurant
que vous obeyrez à mon commandement, je finirai vous assurant que je
suis votre bon mestre."
The letter addressed to Madame de Verneuil bears the same date, and runs
thus:
"Mademoiselle, lamour, Ihonneur et les bienfaits que vous avez reçus de
moi, eussent arrêté la plus legere ame du monde si elle n'eut point été
accompagnée d'un mauvais naturel comme le vostre. Je ne vous picqueray
davantage bien que je le peusse et dusse fair, vous le savez: je vous
prie de me renvoyer la promesse que savez et ne me donnez point la peine
de la revoir par autre voye: renvoyez moi aussi la bague que je vous
rendis l'autre jour: voilà le sujet de cette lettre, de laquelle je
veux avoir réponse à minuit."
These specimens of royal eloquence were unavailing; evasive answers were
returned by the King's messenger, and entreaties having proved
ineffectual, threats were subsequently substituted, upon which the
arrogant Marquise was ultimately induced to relinquish her claim to
ascend the throne of France, on condition that she should, at the moment
of delivering up the document, receive in exchange the sum of twenty
thousand silver crowns and the promise of a marshal's _bâton_ for her
father the Comte d'Entragues, who had never been upon a field of battle.
This condition, onerous as it appears, was accepted; and the father of
the lady finally, but with evident reluctance, restored the pernicious
document to the King in the presence of the Comte de Soissons and the
Duc de Montpensier, MM. de Bellièvre, de Sillery, de Maisse,[247] de
Jeannin, de Gêvres,[248] and de Villeroy, by whom it was verified, and
who signed a declaration to this effect,[249] although it was afterwards
proved[250] that D'Entragues had only delivered into the hands of Henry
a well-executed copy of the paper, while he himself retained
the original.
This ceremony over, the Marquise was commanded to leave the Court, and
for a short time peace was perfectly restored. The King had already
become weary of his new conquest, and the hand of Mademoiselle de la
Bourdaisière was bestowed upon a needy and complaisant courtier; but
still the absence of the brilliant favourite, despite all her insolence,
left a void in the existence of Henry which no legitimate affection
sufficed to fill, and it was consequently not long ere he became
enamoured of Mademoiselle de Bueil,[251] a young beauty who had recently
appeared at Court in the suite of the Princesse de Condé. The
extraordinary loveliness of the youthful orphan at once riveted the
attention of the King, and her own inexperience made her, in so
licentious a Court as that of Henri IV, an easy victim, so easy, indeed,
that the libertine monarch did not even affect towards her the same
consideration which he had shown to his former favourites, although her
extraordinary personal perfections sufficed to render her society at
this period indispensable to him.
It was not long ere the exiled favourite was apprised of this new
infidelity, yet such was her reliance upon her own power over the
passions of the King that she affected to treat it with contempt; but
although she scorned to admit that she could feel any dread of being
supplanted by a rival, after-events tended to prove that she was by no
means so indifferent to the circumstance as she endeavoured to appear,
and being as vindictive in her hate as she was unmeasured in her
ambition, she could not forgive the double insult which had been offered
to her pride. Forgetting the excesses of which she had been guilty, and
the forbearance of the King, not only towards her faults, but even
towards her vices, she determined on revenge, and unhappily she felt
that the means were within her reach.
The Comte d'Auvergne, although he had been a second time pardoned by
Henry, who was ever too ready to receive him into favour, and was wont
to declare that although he was a _prodigal son_ he could never make up
his mind to see the offspring of his King and brother-in-law perish upon
a scaffold,[252] was devotedly attached to his sister, and of an
intriguing spirit which delighted in every species of cabal and
conspiracy; while François de Balzac d'Entragues, her father,
overlooking the fact that he had himself become the husband of a woman
whose reputation was lost before their marriage, talked loudly of the
dishonour which the King had brought upon his family, and moreover
resented, with great reason, an attempt made by Henry to seduce his
younger daughter, Marie de Balzac.
For this lady, who subsequently became the mistress of Bassompierre, the
King conceived so violent a passion that, although at that period in his
fiftieth year, he did not hesitate to assume the disguise of a peasant
in order to meet her in the forest of Verneuil. The appointment had,
however, become known to M. d'Entragues, who, exasperated by this second
affront, and indignant at the persevering licentiousness of the monarch,
stationed himself with fifteen devoted adherents in different quarters
of the wood in order to take his life. Happily for Henry, he was well
mounted, and on being attacked, defended himself so resolutely that he
escaped almost by a miracle.
The disappointment of M. d'Entragues at this failure was so great that
he compelled his daughter to propose another meeting in a solitary spot
which he indicated, and where he made every preparation to secure the
assassination of the imprudent monarch; but although she despatched the
letter containing the assignation, Marie de Balzac found means to
apprise her royal lover of the reception which awaited him, and he
consequently failed to keep the appointment.[253] That the Comte
d'Entragues, twice foiled in his meditated vengeance, should lend
himself willingly to any conspiracy against the honour and life of his
sovereign, is consequently scarcely surprising, when we remember how
many nobles had in turn caballed against Henri IV with scarcely a
pretext for their disloyalty; and meanwhile Madame de Verneuil, fully
conscious of the hatred of Philip of Spain for the French King, had no
sooner resolved upon revenge than she at once turned her attention
towards that monarch, and by exciting his worst passions succeeded in
securing his support. She found an able and zealous coadjutor in Don
Balthazar de Zuñiga, the Spanish Ambassador at the Court of France;
while her step-brother, the Comte d'Auvergne, was no less successful
with the Duke of Savoy, who, like Philip III, was never more happy than
when he discovered and profited by an opportunity of harassing the
French sovereign.
This conspiracy, as absurd as it was criminal, was, moreover, supported
by many of the discontented nobles who had never pardoned Henry for the
suppression of the League; and, wild as such a project cannot fail to
appear in these days, we have the authority of Amelot de la
Houssaye[254] for the fact that the Comte d'Auvergne had induced Philip
by a secret treaty to promise his assistance in placing Henri de
Bourbon, the son of Henri IV and Madame de Verneuil, on the throne of
France, to the detriment of the legitimate offspring of Marie
de Medicis.
In the act by which Philip bound himself thus to recognise the pretended
claim of the Marquise, he also gave a pledge to furnish her with five
hundred thousand livres in money, and to despatch the Spanish troops
which at that moment occupied Catalonia to support the disaffected
French subjects who might be induced to join the cabal in Guienne and
Languedoc.
Report also said that M. d'Auvergne, not satisfied with this attempt to
undermine the throne of Henri IV, had formed a design against his life,
but the rumour obtained no credit even from his enemies.[255]
Whatever extenuation may be found for Madame de Verneuil in such an
attempt as this; whatever indulgence may be conceded to a woman baffled
in her ambition, misled by her confidence in a supposititious claim, and
urged on by a blind and uncalculating affection for her children, it is
difficult to find any excuse for the persevering ingratitude of her
step-brother. As regards M. d'Entragues, we have already shown that he
had more than sufficient cause for seeking revenge upon a monarch who
sacrificed every important consideration to the passion of the moment;
but the Comte d'Auvergne had experienced nothing save indulgence from
Henry, and it was consequently in cold blood that he organized a
conspiracy, which, had it succeeded, must have plunged the whole nation
into civil war. He was, moreover, the more culpable that he had, in
order to secure a pardon for his previous participation in the crime of
Biron, assured the too-credulous monarch, that in the event of his
restoration to favour, he would, if permitted to continue his
intercourse with Philip of Spain as unrestrictedly as heretofore, profit
by the facility thus afforded to him to reveal to his Majesty all the
secrets of the Spanish Government.
There can be no doubt that such a proposal must have startled and even
disgusted the frank nature of the French King; but it was nevertheless
too tempting to be rejected; and he himself avowed to Sully, when the
new conspiracy of D'Auvergne became known to him, that it was less by
the prayers of the culprit's sister, and by his own consideration for
the children whom she had borne to him, than in the hope that he might,
through the medium of the Count, be enabled to counteract the measures
of his most subtle and dangerous enemy, that he had been induced on that
occasion to pardon his disloyalty.[256]
By this unwise and ill-calculated concession the King had afforded an
opportunity to the restless and disaffected noble of pursuing a
correspondence with Philip as dangerous as it was convenient. Couriers
were permitted to come and go unquestioned; and it was not long ere
every measure of the French Cabinet was as intimately known at Madrid as
it was in the Privy Council of Henry himself. This evil was, moreover,
increased by the unconditional pardon which had enabled M. d'Auvergne,
after his strange and degrading offer, to return to the Court; and he
profited so eagerly by the opportunity which was thus afforded to him
that he had little difficulty in convincing the false and vindictive
Philip that the moment was at length come in which he might overthrow
the power of the sovereign whom he hated.
M. de Loménie, however, who, unaware of the promise made by the Count to
Henry, became uneasy at the constant communication which the former
maintained with the Court of Spain, at length determined to satisfy
himself as to its nature, and for this purpose he intercepted some
letters, by which he instantly became convinced of the treason meditated
against his royal master. Indignant at the discovery which supervened,
he suffered his displeasure to reach the ears of the culprit, who
forthwith quitted the capital, and hastened to secure himself from
arrest in Auvergne, of which province he was the governor, and where he
made instant preparations to leave the kingdom should such a step become
necessary.
It was consequently in vain that the King, when informed of the
circumstance, despatched the Sieur d'Escures[257] to summon the Count
to his presence in order that he might justify himself. D'Auvergne
resolutely refused to quit his retreat until he had received a formal
promise from the sovereign that he should be absolved from all blame of
whatever description, and received by his Majesty with his accustomed
favour, alleging as a pretext for making this demand, that he was on bad
terms with all the Princes of the Blood, with the Grand Equerry, and
even with his sister, Madame de Verneuil, and that he could not make
head against such a host of enemies except he were supported by
the King.
The expostulations of the royal messenger were fruitless, the Count
being more fully alive to the danger of his position than M. d'Escures
himself; and to every argument and denegation of the anxious envoy he
consequently replied by saying that it was useless to urge him to
compromise his safety while he felt certain that his ruin had been
decided upon, a fact of which he was convinced from the circumstance of
his having received no letter from any of the intimate friends of the
King since he had withdrawn from the Court, while he was sufficiently
acquainted with the bad disposition of Madame de Verneuil to be assured
that in the event of her being enabled to effect a reconciliation with
the monarch at his expense, she would not scruple to sacrifice his
interests to her own.
The embassy of M. d'Escures thus signally failed, and instead of
furthering the purpose for which it was intended, it produced a totally
opposite effect, as, warned by this attempt to regain possession of his
person, it induced M. d'Auvergne to adopt the most extraordinary
precautions. He from that moment not only refused to enter any town or
village where he might be surprised, but he also declined to hold any
intercourse even with his most familiar friends save on a highway, or in
some plain or forest where the means of escape were easy; and when
hunting, a sport to which he was passionately attached, and which was at
that period the only relaxation he could enjoy with safety, he caused
videttes to be stationed upon the surrounding heights, who were
instructed to apprise him by a concerted signal of the approach of
strangers.[258]
All his caution was, however, vain, his capture being an object of too
much importance to the King, at the present conjuncture, to be readily
relinquished, and accordingly it was at length effected by a stratagem.
By the advice of the Duc de Sully, this enterprise was entrusted to M.
Murat,[259] who associated with himself M. de Nérestan[260] and the
Vicomte de Pont-Château, who, by his instructions, paid several visits
to the Count at his château of Borderon near Clermont, without,
however, inducing him to quit its walls.
These gentlemen, nevertheless, made themselves so agreeable to the
self-exiled conspirator, and listened so patiently to his complaints,
that their society became at last necessary to him, and so thoroughly
did they succeed in gaining his confidence that they finally experienced
little difficulty in persuading him to be present at a review of the
light cavalry of the Duc de Vendôme, of which he was the
colonel-general, and which was about to take place in a little plain
between Clermont and Nonant. He accordingly proceeded to the spot with
only two attendants, and he was no sooner seen approaching than M. de
Nérestan and the Vicomte de Pont-Château advanced from the ranks,
apparently to welcome him, but on reaching his side, the latter seized
the bridle of his horse, while his companion arrested him in the name of
the King.[261] Resistance was of course impossible, and thus the Comte
d'Auvergne, despite all his precautions, found himself a prisoner.
L'Etoile,[262] with a _naïveté_ well calculated to provoke a smile of
pity, calls this a "brave" and subtle stratagem; on its subtlety we may
be silent, but we leave alike its courage and its honesty to the
judgment of our readers. Sully admits[263] that not only the two
captors, but even Murat himself, who had an ancient grudge against
D'Auvergne, spared no pains or deceit to insinuate themselves into his
confidence, while it is equally certain that it was to his perfect faith
in their professions that he owed his capture.
Having secured their prisoner, M. Murat and his coadjutors caused him to
deliver up his sword, and to exchange the powerful charger upon which he
was mounted for a road-hack that had been prepared for him, upon which
he proceeded under a strong guard to Briare, whence he was conducted in
a carriage to Montargis, and, finally, conveyed in a boat to Paris.
During this enforced journey his gaiety never deserted him, nor did he
appear to entertain the slightest apprehension as to the result of his
imprisonment; throughout the whole of the way he jested, drank, and
laughed, as though his return to the capital had been voluntary; and
when he was finally met at the gates of the city by M. de la Chevalerie,
the lieutenant-governor of the Bastille, he was in such exuberant
spirits that the astounded official deemed it expedient to remind him
that they had not come together to dance a ballet, but for a totally
different purpose.[264]
It was only when he found himself conducted to the very chamber which
had been occupied by the Maréchal de Biron previous to his execution,
that a shade of anguish passed over the features of the Count. He could
not but remember that the traitor-Duke, who had rendered great and good
service to his sovereign, had suffered for the same crime of which he
was in his turn accused without any such plea for mercy, and it is
therefore scarcely surprising that he should have been startled upon
finding himself installed as the successor of the condemned marshal.
M. d'Auvergne was not, however, of a temperament long to yield to gloomy
ideas, and consequently, while his unhappy wife[265] was lost in tears,
and endeavouring by every exertion in her power to save him from a fate
which appeared inevitable, he availed himself to the utmost of the
leniency of his jailors, and indulged in every luxury and amusement
which he was enabled to command. Agonised by her apprehensions, the
unhappy Countess at length resolved to throw herself at the feet of the
King, where, with a humility which contrasted strangely with the
unbending arrogance of her sister-in-law, Madame de Verneuil, she
besought in the most touching terms that Henry would spare the life of
her husband, and once more pardon his crime. Her earnest supplications
evidently affected the King, while Marie de Medicis, who was present,
wept with the heart-broken wife, and warmly seconded her petition, but
the monarch, who probably feared the result of such an act of mercy,
having raised her from her knees with a gentle kindness which made her
tears flow afresh, led her to the side of the Queen, upon whose arm he
placed his hand as he said firmly: "Deeply, Madame, do I pity you, and
sympathize in your suffering, but were I to grant what you ask, I must
necessarily admit my wife to be impure, my son a bastard, and my kingdom
the prey of my enemies."
All, therefore, that the Countess could obtain was the royal permission
to communicate with her husband, a concession of which she hastened to
take advantage; when, in reply to her anxious inquiry as to what he
desired of her, she received by her messenger the heartless reply that
she might send him a good stock of cheese and mustard, and that she need
not trouble herself about anything else.[266]
The intercepted letters of the Comte d'Auvergne having also implicated
his stepfather M. d'Entragues, and his sister Madame de Verneuil, both
were subsequently arrested; the former by the Provost Defunctis[267] in
his castle of Marcoussis, and the latter at her residence in the
Faubourg St. Germain; while her children were taken from her, and sent,
under a proper escort, to the palace of St. Germain-en-Laye. So
important did it, moreover, appear to the French ministers to ascertain
the exact extent of the conspiracy, that the Provost was accompanied to
Marcoussis by M. de Loménie, in order that a search might be instituted
upon the premises; the result of which tended to prove, beyond all
possibility of doubt, that the original engagement delivered by the
father of the Marquise to the sovereign had, in fact, not been restored,
but had been skilfully copied by some able pen; while the importance
which was still attached to the real document by the family of Madame de
Verneuil may be gathered from the fact that it was discovered by the
Secretary of State in a glass bottle, carefully sealed and enclosed
within a second, which was laid upon a heap of cotton and built up in a
wall of one of the apartments. Nor was this the only object of
importance found in the possession of M. d'Entragues; as, together with
the promise of marriage which he had professed to restore to the King,
M. de Loménie likewise discovered, secreted with equal care, sundry
letters, the treaty between Philip of Spain and the conspirators, and
the cypher which had been employed in their correspondence.[268]
From these documents it was ascertained that the King of Spain had
stipulated on oath that, on the condition of Madame de Verneuil
confiding her son to his guardianship, he should be immediately
recognized as Dauphin of France, and heir to the throne of that kingdom;
while five fortresses in the territory of Portugal should be placed at
his disposal, and subjected to his authority, as places of refuge should
such a precaution become necessary. A similar provision was, moreover,
made for the Marquise herself; and an income amounting to twenty
thousand pounds English was also promised to the quasi-Prince for the
support of his household.
Nor was this domestic arrangement by any means the most important
feature of the conspiracy, as appointments, both civil and military,
involving considerable pecuniary advantages, were also promised to the
Comte d'Auvergne and his stepfather; and a simultaneous invasion was
arranged by the Duke of Savoy in Provence, the Condé de Fuentes[269] in
Burgundy, and Spinola[270] in Champagne.
On the 11th of December M. d'Entragues was conveyed in a close carriage
to the prison of the Conciergerie at Paris, accompanied by his son M. de
Marcoussis on horseback, but without a single attendant; and he was in
confinement for a considerable time before he was allowed either fire or
light; while on the same day, Madame de Verneuil was placed under the
charge of M. d'Arques, the Lieutenant of Police, who was informed that
he must answer with his life for her safe-keeping, and who accordingly
garrisoned her residence with a strong body of his guards and archers.
The Comte d'Entragues was no sooner incarcerated, than his wife,[271]
following the example of her daughter-in-law, obtained an audience of
Henry, in order to implore the pardon of her husband; but it was
remarked that, earnest as she was in his behalf, she never once, during
the whole of the interview, made the slightest allusion either to the
Comte d'Auvergne or Madame de Verneuil; doubtless feeling that in the
one case the well-known respect of the King for the blood of the Valois,
and in the other his passion for the Marquise, would plead more
powerfully in their behalf than the most emphatic entreaties. Like that
of the Comtesse d'Auvergne, her attempt, however, proved abortive, save
that Henry accorded to her prayers a mitigation of the rigour with which
her husband had hitherto been treated.
Meanwhile Madame de Verneuil, far from imitating the humility of her
relatives, openly declared that, whatever might be the result to
herself, she should never regret the measures which she had adopted to
obtain justice for herself and her children; and when on one occasion
she was urged to make the concessions by which alone she could hope for
pardon, she answered haughtily: "I have no fear of death; on the
contrary, I shall welcome it. If the King takes my life, it will at
least be allowed that he sacrificed his own wife, for I was Queen before
the Italian woman. I ask but three favours from his Majesty: pardon for
my father, a rope for my brother, and justice for myself." [272]
Her reason for this expression may be found in the fact that during
three examinations which he underwent the Comte d'Auvergne finally
acknowledged everything, and threw the whole blame upon the Marquise;
feeling convinced that, under every circumstance, her life was safe;
although he had previously (placing the most entire reliance on the
good-faith and secrecy of M. de Chevillard,[273] to whom he had, in
conjunction with his sister, confided the original treaty with Spain,
and never apprehending the discovery of the documents deposited at
Marcoussis), declared his innocence in the most solemn manner; and he
even concluded his address to the commissioners by saying: "Gentlemen,
show me one line of writing by which I can be convicted of having
entered into any treaty, either with the King of Spain or his
ambassador, and I will immediately sign beneath it my own sentence of
death, and condemn myself to be quartered alive."
Nor was the confidence placed by M. d'Auvergne in his friend misplaced;
for when Chevillard was in his turn taken to the Bastille as his
accomplice, he so carefully concealed the treaty in the skirt of his
doublet that it escaped the search of the officials; and on seeing
himself treated as a prisoner of state, he contrived by degrees to
swallow it in his soup, in order that it should not afterwards fall
into their hands in the event of his condemnation.[274]
The indignation of the Marquise may consequently be imagined, when,
after such a declaration as that which he had originally made, she
ascertained that the Count had not only confessed his guilt, but that he
had, moreover, revealed the most minute details of the plot; and in
order to convince the King that he placed himself entirely at his mercy,
had even given up to him the mutual promise made between himself and the
Dues de Bouillon and de Biron on the occasion of the previous
conspiracy. Her arrogance was also encouraged by the fact that Henry,
anxious to find some pretext for pardoning her treachery, sent secretly
to inform her that if she would confess her fault and ask his
forgiveness, it should be granted in consideration of the past, and from
regard for their children; to which message the Marquise vouchsafed no
further reply than that those who had committed no crime required no
pardon; and in addition to this impertinence, on being informed that
some of her friends, anxious to save her in spite of her own obstinacy,
had asserted that she had solicited the clemency of the monarch, she
bitterly reproached them for their interference, declaring that they
were liars and traitors, and that she would die rather than submit to
such a humiliation.[275]
During the exile of the Marquise, the King, whose passion for
Mademoiselle de Bueil had begun to decrease, and who discovered that
mere personal beauty offered no equivalent for the wit and fascinations
of his old favourite, resolved to provide for her, as he had previously
done for Mademoiselle de la Bourdaisière, by bestowing her upon a
husband; and he accordingly effected her marriage with Henri de Harlay,
Comte de Chésy, a young noble whose poverty, as well as his want of
Court influence, gave every security for his ready submission to all the
exactions of his royal master.[276]
The monarch, whom absence had thus only sufficed to render more devoted
than ever to the Marquise, and who had resolved under all circumstances
to pardon her, continued to employ every method in his power to induce
her to avow her error, although in searching her papers numerous letters
had been discovered which revealed an amount of infidelity on her part
that should have awakened his pride, and induced him to abandon her to
her fate; and at length, despairing that any minor influence would
suffice to alter her resolution, and to lower her pride, he instructed
M. de Sully to see her, and if possible to convince her of the injury
which she was doing to her own cause by the obstinacy with which she
rejected the suggestions of the King.
The minister had no alternative save obedience; and he consequently
presented himself at the residence of Madame de Verneuil, whom he found
as self-possessed and as self-confident as in the palmiest days of her
prosperity. Instead of concessions she made conditions, and complained
loudly and arrogantly of the proceedings of the sovereign; by whom she
declared that she had been outraged in her honour, and from whom she
sought redress rather than indulgence. This tirade was seasoned by
professions of piety and repentance which were appreciated at their real
value by her listener; who, having suffered her to exhaust herself by
her own vehemence, instead of temporizing with her vanity as her friends
had previously done, took up the subject in his turn, and told her that
she would do well to remember that she was at that moment a prisoner
under suspicion of treason, and that she might consider herself very
fortunate if she were permitted to expiate her crime by self-exile to
any country except Spain; bidding her remark, moreover, that this lenity
could not now be exhibited towards her until she had undergone a
criminal examination, and demanded the pardon of the King for her
disobedience.
M. de Sully next proceeded to upbraid her with her unbecoming conduct
towards the Queen; assuring her that every word or act of disrespect of
which any were guilty towards the wife of the sovereign was an offence
against his own person, and was likely to entail upon the culprit a very
severe penalty. He then reproached her for her indecent expressions; and
especially for her having more than once declared that had she not been
treated with injustice, she should have been in the place occupied by
"the fat banker's daughter;" [277] and finally, he reprimanded her very
severely for the impertinent and absurd affectation with which she had
presumed to place herself upon a level with her royal mistress, and her
children upon a par with the Dauphin of France; reminding her, moreover,
that the perpetual disunion of their Majesties was to be solely
attributed to her malignant and malicious insinuations, and advising her
to lose no time in requesting permission to throw herself at the feet of
the Queen, to entreat her pardon for the past and her indulgence for
the future.
To this harangue, so different from the conciliatory and obsequious
discourse of her partisans, Madame de Verneuil listened without any
display of impatience, but with an ostentatious weariness which was
intended to impress upon the minister the utter inutility of his
interference; and when he paused to take breath, she assured him with a
placid smile that she was obliged by his advice, but that she must have
time to reflect before she could decide upon such a measure. M. de
Sully, however, was not to be deceived by this well-acted composure; he
had not carefully studied the character of the Marquise without
perceiving how ill she brooked control or remonstrance; and,
accordingly, she had no sooner ceased speaking than he resumed the
conversation by expatiating upon the enormity of her conduct in
affecting the sudden devotion behind which she had seen fit to entrench
herself, while she was daily indulging alike her jealousy and her hatred
by endeavouring not only to ruin the domestic happiness of the monarch,
but even the interests of his kingdom; and when his offended listener
remarked, with chilling haughtiness, that he was in no position to
impugn her sincerity, he only answered the intended rebuke by persisting
that her assumed piety was a mere grimace, which could not impose upon
any man of sense; a fact which he forthwith proved by detailing all her
past career, and thus convincing her that no one incident of her
licentious life had remained a mystery to him.
"Can you now tell me," he asked, "that these adventures existed only in
the jealous imagination of the King, as you have so often assured his
Majesty himself? And will you persist in denying that you have deceived
him in the most unblushing manner? Believe me, Madame, if you had indeed
become penitent for your past errors, and had, from a sincere return to
God, desired to withdraw from the Court, you would at once have obtained
permission to do so with honour to yourself; but you have simply acted a
part, and that so unskilfully as to have deceived no one."
At this period of the interview Madame de Verneuil could not wholly
suppress her emotion, but she controlled it sufficiently to reply only
by a condescending bow, and the exclamation of, "Proceed, M. le
Ministre!"
"I will do so, Madame," said M. de Sully, "by a transition from
remonstrance to inquiry. Have you any legitimate subject of complaint
which you conceive to warrant your failure of respect towards their
Majesties?"
"If this question was dictated to you by the King, Monsieur," was the
proud reply, "he was wrong to put it, as he, better than any other
person, could himself have decided; and if it be your own suggestion you
are no less so, since whatever may be its nature, it is beyond your
power to apply the remedy."
"Then, Madame, it only remains for me to be informed of what you desire
from his Majesty."
"That which I am aware will prove less acceptable to the King than to
myself, M. le Ministre; but which I nevertheless persist in demanding,
since I am authorized by your inquiry to repeat my request. I desire
immediate permission to leave France with my parents, my brother, and my
children, and to take up my permanent residence in some other country,
where I shall have excited less jealousy and less malevolence than in
this; and I include my brother in this voluntary expatriation because I
now have reason to believe that he is suffering entirely for my sake."
Sully was startled: he could not place faith in her sincerity, and he
consequently induced her to repeat her request more than once; until she
at length added a condition which convinced him that she was indeed
perfectly serious in the desire that she expressed.
"Do not, however, imagine, Monsieur," she said, with a significant
smile, "that I have any intention of leaving the kingdom, and taking up
my abode with strangers, with the slightest prospect of dying by hunger.
I am by no means inclined to afford such a gratification to the Queen,
who would doubtlessly rejoice to learn that this had been the close of
my career. I must have an income of a hundred thousand francs, fully and
satisfactorily secured to me in land, before I leave France; and this is
a mere trifle compared with what I have a legal right to demand from
the King."
"I shall submit your proposition to his Majesty, Madame," said the
minister as he rose to take his leave; "and will shortly acquaint you
with the result."
Greatly to the disappointment of M. de Sully, however, he found Henry
decidedly averse to the departure of Madame de Verneuil; nor could all
the arguments by which he endeavoured to convince the infatuated monarch
that the self-exile of the Marquise was calculated to ensure his own
future tranquillity, avail to overcome his distaste to the
proposal.[278] He was weary of his purely sensual intercourse with
Madame de Moret, whose extreme facility had caused him from the first to
attach but little value to her possession; while her total want of
intellect and knowledge of the world continually caused him to remember
with regret the dazzling although dangerous qualities of her
predecessor. Marie de Medicis, moreover, who had originally looked with
complacency upon his _liaison_ with Mademoiselle de Bueil, rejoicing in
any event which tended to estrange his affections from the Marquise,
had, since her melodramatic marriage and her accession of rank, begun to
entertain apprehensions that another formidable rival was about to
embitter her future life; while the reproaches which she constantly
addressed to the monarch, and to which he was compelled to submit, on
the subject of a woman who had merely pleased his fancy without touching
his heart, were another cause of irritation, and only tended to make him
look back upon the past with an ardent longing to repair it. Thus he
continued to employ all his most intimate associates in an attempt to
urge the Marquise to make such concessions as would enable him to pardon
her, with the earnestness of a repentant lover rather than the clemency
of an indulgent sovereign; and when the stern minister so signally
failed to convince her reason by his representations, the King
endeavoured to arouse her vanity and self-interest by the flatteries and
inferences of the more courtly Bassompierre, La Varenne,[279] Sigogne,
and others in whom he placed confidence; but all this ill-disguised
anxiety only served to convince the wily favourite that she should prove
victorious in the struggle, for since Henry could not bring himself to
consent to her expatriation, there was no probability that he would ever
be induced to take her life.
And the astute Marquise judged rightly: for she was not only safe
herself, but the palladium of her family. The King was no longer young;
he had become satiated with the tame and facile pleasures for which he
was indebted to his sovereign rank; and although opposition and
haughtiness in a wife angered and disgusted him, there was a piquancy
and novelty in the defiance of a mistress by which he was alike amused
and interested. He could calculate upon the extent to which the Queen
would venture to indulge her displeasure; but he found himself quite
unable to adjudge the limits of Madame de Verneuil's daring; and thus
his passion was constantly stimulated by curiosity. In her hours of
fascination she delighted his fancy, and in those of irritation she
excited his astonishment. Like the ocean, she assumed a new aspect every
hour; and to this "infinite variety" she was in all probability indebted
for the duration of her empire over the sensual and selfish affections
of her royal lover.
Conscious of her power, the Marquise continued inexorable; and finally,
Henry found himself compelled to include her in the public accusation
brought against the other conspirators, and to issue an order to the
Parliament, as the supreme criminal tribunal of the kingdom, to commence
without further delay the prosecution of the delinquents.
A new anxiety at this time divided the attention of the King with that
which he felt for the vindication of the favourite. His permission had
been asked by the Huguenots to hold a meeting at Châtellerault, and this
he had at once conceded; but circumstances having arisen which induced
the Council to apprehend that the intrigues of the Duc de Bouillon,
supported by MM. de la Trémouille, and du Plessis-Mornay,[280] were
about to involve the kingdom in new troubles, M. de Sully proceeded to
Poitou under pretext of taking possession of his new government, and by
his unexpected appearance on the scene of action counteracted the
project of the conspirators; while a short time subsequently the Duc de
la Trémouille fell into a rapid decline which terminated his existence
at the early age of thirty-four years, and deprived the reform party of
one of their most able and zealous leaders.
Meanwhile, amid all the dissensions, both political and domestic, by
which Henri IV had latterly been harassed, his earnest desire to improve
and embellish his good city of Paris and its adjacent palaces had
continued unabated. Henri III, during whose reign the Pont Neuf had been
commenced, had only lived long enough to see two of its arches
constructed, and the piles destined to support the remainder raised
above the river; this undertaking was now completed, and numerous
workmen were also constantly employed on the galleries of the Louvre,
and at the châteaux of St. Germain-en-Laye, Fontainebleau, and Monceaux;
the latter of which, as we have already stated, the monarch had
presented to the Queen on her arrival in Paris; while, emulating the
royal example, the great nobles and capitalists of the city were
building on all sides, and increasing alike the extent and splendour of
the metropolis.[281] It was at this period that Henry joined the
Faubourg St. Germain to the city, and caused it to be paved; constructed
the Place Royale; repaired the Hôtel de St. Louis for the purpose of
converting it into a plague-hospital; and commenced building the Temple
Square.[282]
Other great works were also undertaken throughout the kingdom; the
junction of the Garonne with the Aude, an attempt which presented
considerable difficulty and which was only terminated during the reign
of Louis XIV, was vigorously commenced; other rivers, hitherto
comparatively useless, were rendered navigable; and the canal of Briare,
with its two-and-thirty locks, although not more than half completed at
the death of Henry, had already cost the enormous sum of three hundred
thousand crowns. Numerous means of communication were established by
highways which had not previously existed; bridges were built, and roads
repaired; taxes which paralyzed the manufactures of the country were
remitted; the fabrication of tapestried hangings wrought in worsted,
silk, and gold, was earnestly encouraged; mulberry plantations were
formed, and the foundation laid for the production of the costly silks
and velvets for which Lyons has ever since been so famous. An imitation
of the celebrated Venetian glass was also introduced with great success;
and, above all, even in the midst of these expensive undertakings, a tax
of four annual millions of francs, hitherto raised by the customs upon
the different classes of citizens, was altogether abolished. Hope and
energy were alike aroused by so vigorous a measure; and thus the people
ceased to murmur, and were ready to acknowledge that the King had indeed
begun to verify his celebrated declaration that "if he were spared,
there should not exist a workman within his realm who was not enabled to
cook a fowl upon the Sunday." [283]
FOOTNOTES:
[210] Gabrielle-Angélique de Bourbon, who was declared legitimate as her
brother had previously been, married in 1622 Bernard de la Valette et de
Foix, Duc d'Epernon, and died in childbed in April 1627.
[211] Matthieu, _Hist. de Henri IV_, vol. ii. book vi. p. 446.
[212] Raimond de Comminge, Sieur de Sobole, and his brother, noblemen of
Gascony.
[213] Antoine, Seigneur d'Arquien, was Governor of Calais, Sancerre,
etc.
[214] Jean Henri, Duc de Deux-Ponts, who married Catherine de Rohan, was
descended from a branch of the royal house of Bavaria.
[215] Christophe de Harlai, Comte de Beaumont, Governor of Orleans. He
died in 1615.
[216] L'Etoile, vol. iii. p. 94.
[217] Capefigue, vol. viii. p. 163.
[218] Sully, _Mém_. vol. iv. pp. 197-199.
[219] L'Etoile, vol. iii. pp. 88, 89.
[220] Sully, _Mém_. vol. v. pp. 45-50.
[221] Sully, _Mém_. vol. v. pp. 49-53. Dreux du Radier, vol. vi. pp.
90-92. Saint-Edmé, pp. 222, 223
[222] Capefigue, vol. viii. p. 130.
[223] Richelieu, _La Mère et le Fils_, vol. i. p. 17.
[224] Sully, _Mém_. vol. v. pp. 54, 55.
[225] Bernardin Gigault de Bellefonds.
[226] Hercule de Rohan, Duc de Montbazon.
[227] François d'Orléans-Longueville, Comte de St. Pol, Governor of
Picardy.
[228] Arnaud de Sorbin, Bishop of Nevers, was justly celebrated both for
his piety and his learning. He was originally curate of the parish of
Ste. Foy, where he had been placed by Georges, Cardinal d'Armagnac,
Bishop of Toulouse, who afterwards removed him from that parish, in
order to keep him near his person. The Cardinal d'Este, aware of his
great worth and extraordinary talents, conferred upon him the rank of
doctor of divinity of the cathedral of Auch, the capital of his
archbishopric; but he did not retain it long, having been recalled by
his first patron to assume the same position in his church at Toulouse,
where he was universally loved and respected. He was successively
lecturer to Charles IX, Henri III, and Henri IV, and was consecrated, on
his elevation to the see of Nevers, by the Cardinal de Gondy, Bishop of
Paris. Monseigneur de Sorbin died in Nevers, on the 1st of May 1606.
[229] L'Etoile, vol. iii. pp. 152-154.
[230] Cayet, _Chron. Septen_., 1604.
[231] Emeric Gobier, Sieur de Barrault, ambassador at the Court of
Spain.
[232] Antoine de Silly, Damoiseau de Commercy, Comte de Rochepot, knight
of the Order of the Holy Ghost.
[233] Antoine de Brienne de Loménie, Seigneur de la Ville-aux-Clercs,
ambassador-extraordinary to England in 1595, and secretary of state, was
the representative of a distinguished family of Berry, whose father,
Maréchal de Brienne, registrar of the council, fell a victim to the
massacre of St. Bartholomew. He himself died in 1628, bequeathing to the
royal library three hundred and forty manuscript volumes, known as the
_Manuscripts of Brienne_.
[234] The Prévôts des Maréchaux were magistrates whose duties consisted
in trying vagrants and persons who could not prove their identity,
culprits previously sentenced to corporal punishment, banishment, or
fine, soldiers, highway robbers, and the members of illicit societies.
The Prévôts des Maréchaux took the title of Equerry-Councillors of the
King, and their place on the bench of the criminal court was immediately
after that of the presiding judge.
[235] L'Etoile, vol. iii. pp. 185-193. Matthieu, _Hist, des Derniers
Troubles,_ book ii. pp. 435-437. Sully, _Mém._ vol. v. pp. 109-121.
Mézeray, vol. x. pp. 254-257.
[236] Sully, _Mém_. vol. v. p. 137.
[237] Sully, _Mém_. vol. v. pp. 139-142.
[238] The French term which I have ventured thus freely to translate is
_pot-de-vin_, and literally signifies a sum of money given to a third
party who is able to ensure the success of a bargain or negotiation of
whatever nature. Thus, for example, in the granting and acceptance of a
lease which has been effected by such means, the contracting parties
jointly pay down the stipulated amount, irrespective of the value of the
lease, for the benefit of the person through whose agency it has been
concluded; while so general is the system throughout the country, even
to this day, that domestic servants give a _pot-de-vin_ to the
individual, to whom they are indebted for their situation, in which
instance, however, the bribe or recompense is also called a _denier
à Dieu_.
[239] Florent d'Argouges, Treasurer of the Queen's Household. His son
was first president of the Parliament of Brittany, and subsequently
councillor of state and member of the Privy Council.
[240] Sully, _Mém_. vol. v. pp. 144-146.
[241] Sully, _Mém_. vol. v. pp. 147-149.
[242] Sully, _Mém_. vol. v. p. 155.
[243] Saint-Edmé, vol. ii. p. 223.
[244] In order to convey some idea of the effect produced by the
ostensible devotion of Madame de Verneuil upon those who gave her credit
for sincerity, we need only quote a passage in the dedication of
D'Hemery d'Amboise to his translation of the works of Grégoire de Tours,
in which, addressing himself to the Marquise, he gravely says "that she
had deduced from the inspired writings of the fathers their salutary
doctrine; and that she practised it so faithfully, that her firmness had
triumphed over her adversities, and her merit exceeded her happiness."
"Your life," he adds, with the same unblushing sycophancy, "serves as a
mirror for the most pious, and compels the admiration of all who see so
holy and resolute a determination exerted at an age that has scarcely
attained its prime; and at which, despising mere personal beauty, and
the other precious advantages with which you have been richly endowed by
Heaven, you have devoted the course of your best years to the
contemplation of the marvels of God, joining spiritual meditation to
good works."--Dreux du Radier, vol. vi. pp. 94, 95.
[245] Richelieu, _Hist. de la Mère et du Fils_, vol. i. pp. 8-11.
[246] MSS. Dupuy, vol. 407.
[247] André Hurault, Seigneur de Maisse, had been ambassador to Venice
under both Henri III and Henri IV, and in his official capacity had
frequent disputes with the nuncios of Sixtus V and Clement VIII, in
consequence of which those prelates exerted all their influence to
injure his interests at the Court of Rome. André Morosin mentions M. de
Maisse as an able and far-seeing man, _sagaci admodum ingenio_. In 1595
Henri IV again sent him to Venice to offer his thanks to the Senate for
the extraordinary embassy which they had forwarded to him during the
previous year; and as M. de Maisse travelled on this occasion with
Cardinal Duperron, who was instructed to pass by that city on his way to
Rome, great alarm was created in the mind of the Pope that the French
ambassador was about to visit the Papal Court in his company, an event
which he deprecated from the distrust which he felt of the designs of an
individual who had already frustrated the measures of his accredited
agents. His Holiness was, however, _quitte pour la peur_, the
instructions of M. de Maisse having restricted him to his
Venetian mission.
[248] Louis Potier de Gêvres, Secretary of State. It is from him that
the branch of his family still bearing the name of Gêvres is descended,
while that of Novion owes its origin to his elder brother, Nicolas
Potier de Blancménil.
[249] Mézeray, vol. x. p. 261.
[250] _Le Laboureur sur Castelnau_.
[251] Jacqueline de Bueil, subsequently Comtesse de Moret, was the
daughter of Claude de Bueil, Seigneur de Courcillon and La Machère, and
of Catherine de Monteclu, who both died in 1596. The family of Bueil
traced their descent from Jean, the first of the name, Sieur de Bueil in
Touraine, who was equerry of honour to Charles-le-Bel in 1321.
[252] Dreux du Radier, vol. vi. p. 97.
[253] Wraxall, vol. v. pp. 356, 357.
[254] Abraham-Nicolas Amelot de la Houssaye, was born at Orleans in the
year 1634, and passed nearly all his life in composing works of history
and in translating the historians by whom he had been preceded. His
principal productions are _A History of the Government of Venice;
Historical, Political, Critical, and Literary Memoirs_; and translations
of the _History of the Council of Trent_, by Fra Paolo; of the _Prince_
by Machiavelli; and of the _Annals of Tacitus_. He died in 1706.
[255] Mézeray, vol. x. pp. 261, 262.
[256] Sully, _Mém_. vol. iv. p. 125.
[257] Pierre Fougeuse, Sieur d'Escures.
[258] Daniel, vol. vii. pp. 453, 454.
[259] Treasurer of the war department, and lieutenant-general at Riom.
[260] Philibert de Nérestan, knight of Malta, and captain of the
bodyguard of Henri IV, was as celebrated for his admirable qualities of
mind and heart as for the antiquity of his birth. He was grand master of
the Orders of St. Lazarus and Notre-Dame du Mont Carmel, the latter of
which was instituted by the sovereign at his intercession.
[261] Matthieu, _Hist, des Derniers Troubles_, book ii. p. 438.
Péréfixe, vol. ii. pp. 406, 407.
[262] L'Etoile, vol. iii. p. 242.
[263] _Mémoires,_ vol. v. p. 185.
[264] L'Etoile, vol. iii. p. 243.
[265] Charlotte, eldest daughter of Henri, Duc de Montmorency, High
Constable of France.
[266] L'Etoile, vol. iii. pp. 247-249.
[267] Jean Defunctis, Lieutenant criminal of the Provost of
Paris.--_Hist. Chron. de la Chancell. de France_, p. 316.
[268] Wraxall, Note quoted from _Le Laboureur sur Castelnau_, vol. v. p.
356.
[269] Pedro Henriques Azevedo, Condé de Fuentes, succeeded to the
command of the Spanish army on the demise of the Archduke Ernest.
[270] Ambroise Spinola, Marques de los Balbazez, one of the most
distinguished generals of the seventeenth century, was the descendant of
an illustrious family of Geneva, whose branches spread alike over Italy
and Spain. He was born in 1569, and first bore arms in Flanders. In
1604, being in command of the army, he took Ostend, and in consequence
of his important services was appointed General of the Spanish troops in
the Low Countries. When opposed to Prince Maurice of Nassau, he
counterbalanced alike his renown and his success; and in 1629, when
serving in Piedmont, he took the town of Casal, but died in the
following year of vexation at having failed to reduce the fortress of
that city.
[271] Marie Touchet, Comtesse d'Entragues, was the daughter of an
apothecary at Orleans; who, on the occasion of a visit of Charles IX to
that city, obtained permission to see his Majesty dine in public, where
her extreme beauty so impressed the Monarch that he inquired her name,
and at the close of the repast despatched M. de Latour, the master of
his wardrobe, to desire her attendance in his closet. The negotiation
did not prove a difficult one; as the lady, although at the moment
strongly attached to M. de Monluc, the brother of the Bishop of Valence,
could not resist the prestige of royalty. Charles, anxious to retain her
near him, requested Madame Marguerite, his sister, to receive her into
her household as a waiting-woman; but as she shortly afterwards became
pregnant, he removed her from the Court and established her in Paris,
where she gave birth to Charles, Comte d'Auvergne. Although tenderly
beloved by the King, Marie Touchet still retained her attachment to
Monluc, with whom she carried on an active correspondence, which was at
length discovered by Charles; who, having on one occasion been apprised
that she had at the moment a letter from her former lover in her pocket,
instantly caused a number of the Court ladies to be invited to supper;
and they were no sooner assembled than he sent to desire a man named
Chambre, the chief of a band of gipsies, to disperse a dozen of his most
expert followers about the apartment, with orders to cut away the
pockets of all the guests and to bring them carefully to his closet when
he retired for the night. He then caused the faithless favourite to be
seated beside himself, in order that she might not have an opportunity
of disposing of the letter elsewhere; and the Bohemians having adroitly
obeyed his instructions, the King found himself a few hours afterwards
in possession of the booty. In the pocket of Marie Touchet he
discovered, as he had anticipated, the letter of M. de Monluc; which, on
the following morning, he placed, with the most bitter reproaches, in
the hands of its owner; who, on finding herself detected, declared that
the pocket in which the King had discovered it was not hers, a
subterfuge by which, as the letter bore no address, she hoped to escape
the anger and indignation of her royal lover. Unfortunately, however,
Charles recognized several of the trinkets by which it had been
accompanied; and she had, consequently, no alternative save to
acknowledge her fault and to entreat for pardon. Charles, who could not
resist her tears, was soon induced to promise this, provided she pledged
herself to relinquish all intercourse with Monluc; and in order to
render her performance of this pledge more sure, he shortly afterwards
married her to the Comte d'Entragues, whose complaisance he rewarded by
the government of Orleans.--L'Etoile, _Hist, de Henri IV,_ vol. iii.
pp. 247-249.
[272] Dreux du Radier, vol. vi. p. 98. Saint-Edmé, vol. ii. p. 227.
L'Etoile, vol. iii. p. 247.
[273] Antoine Eugène Chevillard, general treasurer of the gendarmerie of
France.
[274] Sully, _Mém_. vol. v. p. 161, quoted from Amelot de la Houssaye.
[275] Dreux du Radier, vol. vi. p. 99.
[276] Mademoiselle de Bueil became Comtesse de Chésy on the 5th of
October 1604, and two months later she obtained a divorce. M. de Chésy
died in 1652.
[277] Péréfixe, vol. ii. p. 401.
[278] Sully, _Mém_. vol. v. pp. 193-197.
[279] Guillaume Fouquet, Sieur de la Varenne, was one of those
singularly-gifted individuals who by the unaided power of intellect are
raised from obscurity to fortune. On his first introduction to the Court
of France, his position was merely that of cloak-bearer to the King; but
his excessive acuteness and his genius for intrigue soon drew upon him
the attention of the Cabinet. The event that originally procured for him
the favour by which he so largely profited in the sequel was a voyage to
Spain, voluntarily undertaken under unusual difficulties. The courier
who was conveying to Philip the despatches of the Duc de Mayenne and the
other chiefs of the League, having been taken by the emissaries of Henri
IV, and the despatches opened by his ministers, it was decided that
copies should be made, and the originals resealed and forwarded to their
destination by some confidential person who might bring back the
replies, in order that a more perfect judgment might be formed by the
Council of their probable result. For such an undertaking as this,
however, it was obvious that a messenger must be found at once faithful,
expert, and courageous; and such an one offered himself in the person of
La Varenne, who without a moment's hesitation offered his services to
the King, and acquitted himself so dexterously of his self-imposed task
that he succeeded, not only in procuring two interviews with the Spanish
Council, but even an audience of Philip, without once exciting
suspicion; and his arrival at Madrid had been so well timed that
although a second courier was despatched in all haste by the League, to
announce the capture of his predecessor, he was enabled to effect his
return to France with the reply of the Spanish monarch, by which Henry
and his ministers were apprised of the plans and pretensions of that
potentate (Amelot de la Houssaye, _Lettres du Cardinal d'Ossat_, vol.
ii. p. 17 _note_.) La Varenne was subsequently Master-General of the
Post Office.
[280] Philippe de Mornay, Seigneur de Plessis-Marly, Governor of Saumur,
was born in the year 1549, at Bussy, in the department of the Oise, of a
Catholic father and a Protestant mother (Françoise du Bec), the latter
of whom educated him in the reformed faith. Having escaped the massacre
of St. Bartholomew, he visited Germany, Italy, and England, and finally
entered the service of Henri IV, while he was still King of Navarre, who
sent him on a mission to Queen Elizabeth. His science, his valour, and
his high sense of honour, rendered him after the abjuration of the
monarch the chief of the Protestant party, and caused him to be called
_the Huguenot Pope_. He sustained against Duperron, Bishop of Evreux,
the famous conference of Fontainebleau, at whose close each of the two
parties claimed the victory. Louis XIII deprived him of his government
of Saumur; and he died in 1623. He had issue by his wife, Charlotte de
l'Arbalète, widow of the Marquis de Feuquières, one son (Plessis-Mornay,
Sieur de Bauves), who was killed in 1605 while serving under Prince
Maurice in the Low Countries, and three daughters, the younger of whom
married the Duc de la Force.
[281] Mézeray, vol. x. pp. 254, 255.
[282] Bonnechose, _Hist. de France_, vol. i. p. 438, seventh edition.
[283] Bonnechose, vol. i. p. 438.