Before I proceed farther with my own narrative, it may be as well to
take a slight review of the history of the Count de Soissons, whose
fate had a great effect upon the course of my whole future life. Nor
is it here unworthy of remark, how strangely events are brought about
by Providence, while we walk blind and darkling through this misty
existence, groping our way onward on a path from which we cannot
deviate. An accidental word, a casual action, will change the whole
current of life, make a hermit of a monarch, and a monarch of a
shepherd: as we sometimes see near the head of a stream a small
hillock that a dwarf could stride turn the course of a mighty river
far from the lands it flowed towards at first, and send its waters
wandering over other countries to kingdoms, and oceans, and
hemispheres afar.
The ancient county of Vendome was in the year 1515 erected into a
duchy by Francis I., in favour of Charles de Bourbon, a direct lineal
descendant from Robert Count de Clermont, fifth son of Saint Louis.
Charles de Bourbon, thus Duke of Vendome, left five sons, only two of
whom had children, Antoine the elder, and Louis the younger. The
first, by his marriage with Jeanne d'Albret, became King of Navarre,
and left one only son, who, by default of the line of Valois,
succeeded to the crown of France, under the title of Henri Quatre.
Louis, the younger brother, became Prince of Condé; and having been
twice married, left a family by each wife. By his first marriage
descended the branch of Condé, and by the second, he left one son,
Charles Count de Soissons, whose son Louis is the Prince referred to
in the foregoing pages.
Setting out in life with great personal activity and address, immense
revenues, considerable talents, and high rank, it is little to be
wondered at that the young Count de Soissons, under the management of
a weak, an indulgent, and a proud mother, should grow up with the most
revolting haughtiness of character. From morning till night he heard
of nothing but his own praises or his own rank; and by the time he was
eighteen, his pride of demeanour was so repulsive and insupportable,
that it was a common saying, that "No one saw the Count de Soissons
twice; for if he did not dislike them and forbid them to return, they
were disgusted with him and would not go back."
But as the fault was more in his education than in his disposition,
its very excess corrected itself.
He gradually found himself avoided by those whom Heaven had designed
for his companions, and sometimes even deserted by his very servants;
so that he was often left alone to enjoy his rank and dignity by
himself. Under these circumstances he evinced qualities of mind far
superior to the petty vice which shrouded it. He had equally the
wisdom to see that the fault lay in himself, the judgment to discover
in what that fault consisted, and the energy to conquer it entirely.
Not a trace of it remained in his manners; nor did any of his actions,
but upon one occasion, ever give cause to suppose that a touch of his
former haughtiness rested even in the inner recesses of his heart.
With a rare discrimination, also, of which few are master, in the
examination to which he subjected his own character, he separated
completely the good from the bad, and took the utmost care to preserve
that dignity of mind which is the best preservation against base and
petty vices, even while he cast from him the pride which is in itself
a meanness.
Many men, in correcting themselves of the vices of a bad education,
would have felt some degree of bitterness towards the person to whose
weakness that education and its vices were owing; but towards his
mother the Count de Soissons ever remained a pattern of filial
affection, consulting her wishes and inclination on every occasion
where his own honour and character were not interested in opposing
her.
The consequences of the change which he had effected in himself were
not long in rewarding him for the effort he had made, and in a very
few years he found that affection followed him every where instead of
hate. The bright qualities of his mind, and the graces of his person,
shone out with a new light, like the glorious sun bursting through a
cloud. He was adored by the army, loved by the people; and princes
were proud to be his friends.
At this time, however, the councils of France became embarrassed and
disordered; and it was difficult even to run one's course quietly
through life, so many were the dangers and evils that lurked about on
all sides. Every step was upon an earthquake, and few could keep their
footing steadily to the end. The Cardinal de Richelieu had already
snatched the reins of government from the feeble hands that should
have held them, and saw before him a wide field of power and
aggrandisement, with few to oppose his putting in the sickle and
reaping to his heart's content. The power, the wealth, the popularity
of the Count de Soissons, gave him the opportunity of so opposing, had
he been so minded; and Richelieu was not a man to live in fear. He
resolved, therefore, to win him, or to crush him. To win him offered
most advantages, if it could be accomplished; and deeming also that it
would be more easy than the other alternative, Richelieu resolved to
attempt it. For this purpose he united, in one Circean cup, everything
that he fancied could tempt the ambition or passions of him he sought
to gain. By a confidential messenger he proposed to the Count the hand
of his favourite niece, the Duchess d'Aquillon, offering as her dower
an immense sum of ready money, the reversion of all his own enormous
possessions, the sword of Constable of France, and what provincial
government the Count might choose; and doubtless he deemed such an
offer irresistible.
Not so the Count de Soissons, who conceived himself insulted by the
proposal; and the only spark of his ancient haughtiness that remained
breaking forth into a flame, he struck the messenger for daring to
propose the hand of Marie de Vignerot, widow of a mean provincial
gentleman, to a prince of the blood-royal of France.
Contemned and rejected, personal resentment became added to the other
motives which urged Richelieu to the destruction of the Count de
Soissons. Personal resentments never slept with him; they lived while
he lived, nor were they even weakened by sickness and approaching
death. No means but one existed of gratifying his animosity towards
the Count de Soissons; which was, to implicate him with some of the
conspiracies which were every day breaking forth against the tyranny
of the government. But even this was difficult; for, though living
with princely splendour, the Count continued to reside in the midst of
the court, where all his actions were open, and nothing could be
attributed to him on which to found an accusation. Hatred, however, is
ingenious; a thousand petty vexations were heaped upon him, and, in
the end, even personal insult was added, but without effect.
The Count firmly resisted all the temptations which were held out to
him to sully himself with any of the intrigues of the day. The
solicitations of his friends, or the persecutions of his enemies, were
equally in vain; and, when human patience could no longer endure the
grievances to which he was subjected at the court of France, he left
it for Italy, bearing with him the love and regret of the noblest of
his countrymen.
A retreat, however, which left him free, unstained, and happy, neither
quieted the fears, nor appeased the hatred of Richelieu; but, forced
to dissemble, he gradually appeared to abandon his evil intentions,
invited the Count to return, and one by one made him such proposals as
were likely to efface his former conduct, without exciting suspicion
by a sudden change. The Prince was not competent to cope with so deep
an adept in the art of deceit; and, though still remembering with
indignation the insults that had been offered him, he suffered himself
to be persuaded that they would not be repeated, and returned to the
court of France.
The minister lost no time, and at length effected his object. On his
return, the Count found the best laws of the state defeated,
individual liberty lost, and the public good sacrificed to the
particular interests of one ambitious man. Richelieu took care that a
thousand new affronts should mix a full portion of personal enmity
with the Count's more patriotic feelings, and in the end the prince
suffered himself to be led into the conspiracy of Amiens.
The weak and fickle Duke of Orleans had been placed in command over
the Count de Soissons, at the siege of Corbie; and, brought in closer
union from this circumstance than they had ever been before, the two
princes had various opportunities of communicating their grievances,
and concerting some means of crushing the tyranny which at once
affected themselves personally, and the whole kingdom. There were not
wanting many to urge that the assassination of the cardinal was the
only sure way of terminating his dominion; but as the consent of the
Count de Soissons could never be obtained to such a measure, it was
determined to arrest the minister at the council at Amiens, and submit
his conduct to the judgment of a legal tribunal. The irresolution of
the Duke of Orleans suspended the execution of their purpose at the
moment most favourable for effecting it, and before another
opportunity presented itself the conspiracy was discovered; and the
Duke of Orleans fled to Blois, while Monsieur le Comte (as the Count
de Soissons was usually called) retired across the country to the
strong town of Sedan, the gates of which were willingly thrown open to
him by the Duke of Bouillon, who, though a vassal of France, still
held that important territory between Luxembourg and Champagne, in
full and unlimited sovereignty.
Here the prince paused in security, well aware that Richelieu would
never dare to attempt the siege of so strong a place as Sedan, while
pressed on every side by the wars he himself had kindled; and here
also he was, at the time of my arrival in Paris, though in a very
different situation from that in which he at first stood in Sedan.[7]