1613
State of France at the commencement of 1613--Characteristics of the
Baron de Luz--His imprudence--He is challenged by the Chevalier de
Guise, and killed--The Regent summons a council--The nobles assemble at
the Hôtel de Guise--The Duke is forbidden to enter the Louvre, and
ordered to disperse his friends--M. de la Rochefoucauld refuses to leave
the Hôtel de Guise--He is exiled from the Court--Moderation of the Duc
de Guise--Inflexibility of Marie de Medicis--Her anger against the
Chancellor--She holds a secret council--The Prince de Condé is directed
to demand the seals from M. de Sillery, and to command him to retire
from the capital--Marie determines to arrest the Duc d'Epernon--Her
designs are thwarted by Concini--The Marquis d'Ancre introduces the son
of M. de Luz to the Regent--Marie promises him her protection--
Bassompierre endeavours to effect the recall of the Duc de Guise, and
succeeds--His reception by the Regent--Arrogance of the Duchesse de
Guise--The Prince de Condé forms an alliance with M. de Guise--
Influence of the Prince--He demands the captaincy of the Château
Trompette--Over-zealous friends--Alarm of the Queen--She resolves to
conciliate the Guises--The Marquis d'Ancre and his wife incur the
displeasure of the Queen--Marie purchases the loyalty of the Duc de
Guise--Dignified bearing of the Duc d'Epernon--A reconciliation--"Put
not your faith in princes"--Exultation of the ministers--A private
audience--Eavesdroppers--Mortification of the Prince de Condé--Concini
endeavours to conciliate the Queen--He is repulsed--The young Baron de
Luz challenges the Chevalier de Guise--Wounds his adversary, and is
killed--Royal solicitude--Death of the Chevalier de Guise--Banquet at
the Hôtel de Condé--Affront to Bassompierre--Concini retires to
Amiens--The Duc de Vendôme joins the faction of the Prince de Condé--A
new intrigue--Suspicions of the Regent--Midnight visitors--The Prince de
Condé and the Duc de Vendôme leave the Court--The Regent refuses to
sanction the departure of M. de Guise--The Queen and her favourite--The
ministers pledge themselves to serve Concini--Peril of Bassompierre--He
determines to leave France--Is dissuaded from his purpose by the
Regent--Troubles in Mantua--Negotiation with the Duke of Savoy--James I.
offers the hand of Prince Charles of England to the Princesse
Christine--Satisfaction of Marie de Medicis--The Pope takes alarm--The
Regent and the Papal Nuncio--Death of the Maréchal de Fervaques--Concini
is made Maréchal de France--Ladies of Honour--The Queen and her
foster-sister--The Princesse de Conti--A well-timed visit--The new
Maréchal--A sensation at Court.
The state of France at the commencement of the year 1613 was precarious
in the extreme. As yet no intestine war had broken out, but there
existed a sullen undercurrent of discontent and disaffection which
threatened, like the sound of distant thunder, to herald an approaching
storm. The Court was, as we have shown, the focus of anarchy and
confusion; the power and resources of the great nobles had steadily
increased since the death of Henri IV, and had they only been united
among themselves, the authority of Marie de Medicis must have been set
at nought, and the throne of the boy-King have tottered to its base. The
provinces were, in many instances, in open opposition to the Government;
the ministers indignant at the disrespect shown alike to their persons
and to their functions; the Parliament jealous of the encroachments on
its privileges; the citizens outraged by the lavish magnificence, and
indignant at the insolent assumption of the nobility; and the people
irritated and impoverished by the constant exactions to which they were
subjected in order to supply the exigencies of the state.
Such was the condition of a kingdom dependent for its prosperity upon
the rule of a favourite-ridden woman, and a helpless child.
We have already stated the anxiety of the Guises to revenge themselves
upon M. de Luz; and we have now to relate the tragedy which supervened
upon this resolution. It appears to be the common fate of all favourites
to accelerate their own ruin by personal imprudence; nor was M. de Luz
destined to prove an exception. His life had been a varied one; but the
spirit of intrigue and enterprise with which he was endowed had enabled
him to bid defiance to adverse fortune, and to struggle successfully
against every reverse. Patient under disappointment because strong in
his confidence of future compensation, he was less cautious in his more
prosperous moments; and in one of these he was unhappy enough to afford
a pretext for the violence of the enemies who had vowed his ruin.
Disregarding the presence of the Chevalier de Guise, or perhaps
unconscious of his propinquity, De Luz, shortly after the return of the
Duc de Bellegarde to Languedoc, was relating to a group of nobles, who
were lounging away the time in the great gallery of the Louvre while
awaiting the appearance of the King, the circumstances which preceded
the assassination of the Duc de Guise at Blois; boasting that he was
present with the Maréchal de Brissac when Henri III decided upon the
murder, and had even prevented the former from intimating his danger to
the intended victim. The Chevalier, who was young, impetuous, and, like
all the members of his house, utterly careless of the consequences of
his actions, would have felt himself justified in demanding satisfaction
of M. de Luz simply for the insult offered to his brothers and himself
by his abrupt and unscrupulous abandonment of their interests, and the
affront given to their friend and ally the Duc de Bellegarde; but when
to these real or imagined injuries was superadded the fact that he had
publicly boasted of the share which he had gratuitously and wantonly
taken in the murder of his father, no wonder that the fiery young man,
disregarding alike the royal edicts against duelling and the dictates of
humanity, at once resolved to silence the vauntings of the
quasi-assassin, or to perish in the attempt.
At the moment in which he volunteered the fatal communication De Luz was
protected by the roof that covered him. It was certain death to any
individual, whatever might be his rank, who drew a hostile weapon within
the precincts of the royal palace; and De Guise was aware that by such
an act of imprudence he might forfeit all hope of vengeance. He
affected, consequently, not to have overheard the imprudent admission of
the baron, and controlled the impulse which would have led him to fell
him as he stood; but his thirst of vengeance only became the more
unquenchable by delay, and he watched the movements of his destined
victim with an assiduity which soon enabled him to slake it.
On the 5th of January, at mid-day, his carriage encountered that of M.
de Luz in the Rue St. Honoré, when he immediately summoned him to alight
and defend himself; and at the second pass stretched him lifeless at his
feet.[158]
The Regent, who since she had pardoned M. de Luz had found him a most
zealous and efficient adherent, was angered beyond measure, not only at
the wilful disregard of the royal authority exhibited by the Chevalier,
but also at the loss of an active and useful agent; and the intelligence
had no sooner reached her than, rising from her dinner, which she had
just commenced when the news was brought, she burst into tears, and
retired to her closet. When she had become somewhat more calm she
assembled the Council, by which she was advised to refer the matter to
the Parliament; but while the subject was under deliberation tidings
reached the Louvre that a numerous body of nobles had assembled at the
hôtel of the Duc de Guise, who was himself about to set forth for the
palace attended by a strong party of his friends. Alarmed at the
prospect of such a demonstration, which bore the semblance of an
enforcement of impunity rather than of a deprecation of justice, the
Queen was entreated by those around her to despatch M. de Châteauvieux
to the residence of the Duc de Guise, to forbid his approach to the
royal presence until formally summoned to appear; and to command in her
name that all the persons who had assembled under his roof should
immediately retire.
The Regent followed this advice, and on his return to the palace M. de
Châteauvieux reported that he had rigidly performed his duty; that the
Duke had abandoned his intention of demanding an audience of her
Majesty; and that although many of those by whom he was surrounded had
originally refused to obey her commands, they had ultimately been
induced to do so by the persuasions of M. de Guise himself, who
represented the propriety of their compliance with her will; with the
sole exception of M. de la Rochefoucauld[159] who had declined to quit
the hôtel.
The Queen immediately issued an order for his exile from the Court,
which was communicated to him upon the instant; nor was her indignation
towards the Duc de Guise appeased, even upon learning that he had
evinced the greatest respect for her authority, and the most perfect
submission to her will; or that when, after his encounter with M. de
Luz, the Chevalier had presented himself at his hôtel and claimed his
protection, he had refused to receive him, or in any way to countenance
the crime of which he had been guilty.
The displeasure of the Regent was, moreover, greatly excited by the
Chancellor, who had evinced no disposition to proceed against M. de
Guise; and she accordingly declared her determination to deprive him of
the seals, and to bestow them upon some individual who would perform his
duty more efficiently. For this purpose she secretly summoned the Prince
de Condé, the Duc de Bouillon, and the Marquis d'Ancre to the Louvre,
the whole of whom approved her intention; and it was arranged that M. de
Condé should demand the seals, and at the same time command the
Chancellor in the name of their Majesties to retire to one of his
estates. It was, moreover, resolved that Marie should name a day when
she would dine at the hôtel of Zamet, and that on her way she should
enter the Bastille and cause the arrest of the Duc d'Epernon, who had
only a week previously returned to Court, after a serious illness. The
accomplishment of these hasty measures was, however, frustrated by the
ambition of the Marquis d'Ancre, who was desirous of replacing the
Chancellor by some creature of his own, while his wife was equally
anxious that the vacant dignity should be conferred upon a person who
was obnoxious to the Duc de Bouillon; and as it was necessary that in
order to effect their purpose they should each propose the same
individual, so much time was lost that Marie had leisure to reconsider
her intention, and to abandon it.[160]
The Marquis d'Ancre had, however, aggravated her displeasure against M.
de Guise by introducing to her presence the son of the murdered man, who
threw himself at her feet, weeping bitterly, and demanding justice.
The woman-heart of Marie de Medicis was deeply moved; and while her
anger increased against the Guises, her sympathy for the sufferer before
her melted her to tears. Bidding him take comfort, she promised all he
asked; and before he withdrew conferred upon him the offices and
pensions of his father, assuring him that he might thenceforward rely
upon her protection.
[Illustration: Marshal Bassompierre.]
At the close of a few days Bassompierre, who was First Gentleman of the
Chamber to the Regent, and greatly in her confidence; and who was
anxious to reinstate the Duc de Guise in her favour, on account of his
attachment to the Princesse de Conti,[161] ventured to impress upon his
royal mistress, not only the inexpediency of utterly estranging from her
interests so powerful a family, but also the policy of recognizing with
indulgence and pardon the ready obedience and loyalty of the Duke, who
had not scrupled to sacrifice the safety of a brother to whom he was
tenderly attached to his sense of duty towards herself. Marie suffered
him to proceed for some time in silence; but at length his zeal was
rewarded by her consent to receive M. de Guise, and to listen to his
offered justification, provided he came to the Louvre at nightfall,
and alone.
After expressing his deep sense of this concession Bassompierre hastened
to communicate his success to the Duke, who lost no time in presenting
himself before his offended mistress; and so ably did he plead his
cause, replacing his accustomed haughtiness and impetuosity by a
demeanour at once respectful and submissive, that Marie de Medicis,
whose attachment to his house had long been notorious, declared herself
satisfied, and assured him that thenceforward she should hold him
exonerated from any participation in the crime of his brother. Upon one
point, however, the Regent remained firm; and although the Duke
earnestly implored the recall of M. de la Rochefoucauld, he was met by
so decided a refusal that he was compelled to abandon all immediate hope
of success. He had, nevertheless, save in this respect, every reason to
congratulate himself upon his reception; and the affair would probably
have elicited no further consequences, had not the Duchess his mother,
whose pride of birth, and natural arrogance, led her to believe herself
inferior to no crowned head in Europe, and who ill-brooked the authority
of one whom she was accustomed to consider as a mere petty Princess,
indebted to circumstances for her temporary position of command,
resolved to demand an interview upon the same subject; which having been
accorded by the Regent, renewed with greater violence than ever the
anger of Marie, who, justly irritated at finding herself defied and
braved by one of her own subjects, dismissed the imprudent Duchess with
so much harshness that the position of the offending parties became more
onerous than before, and the interference of Bassompierre was rendered
worse than useless.
Disconcerted by this unexpected disappointment, M. de Guise, aware that
no influence less than that possessed by the Marquis d'Ancre could any
longer avail him, compelled himself to overcome his pride sufficiently
to entreat the good offices of the astute Italian; who, eager to seize
so favourable an opportunity of strengthening the faction of the Princes
of the Blood, referred him to M. de Condé as the only individual likely
to accomplish his reconciliation with the indignant Queen, and the
rather as the Duc d'Epernon declared himself ready to second the
appeal.[162]
This advice was eagerly adopted by M. de Guise; who found little
difficulty in effecting his object, the Princes having no sooner
discovered that he had lost the favour of the Queen than they became
anxious to attach him to their own interests; and so rapidly did this
new alliance ripen that, with his usual impetuous recklessness, the
young Duke ere long requested Bassompierre never again to mention the
recall of M. de la Rochefoucauld to the Regent, as he should shortly
accomplish it through the medium of the Prince de Condé; adding that
thenceforward their mutual understanding would be so perfect that on the
next occasion of the Queen's displeasure against himself, she would find
no rod with which to chastise him.[163]
The influence of M. de Condé at this precise period was indeed so great
as almost to justify the confidence of his new ally; but it was destined
to be rapidly undermined by his own imprudence. He had long coveted the
command of the Château Trompette, of which, although it was situated in
the principal city of his government, he was not in possession; and
believing that the Regent would not venture, under existing
circumstances, to refuse to him what he had taught himself to consider
as a right, he induced the Ducs de Mayenne and d'Epernon and the Marquis
d'Ancre to make the demand in his name. His friends zealously obeyed his
bidding, and urged the Queen to this, as they declared, unimportant
concession; reminding her that as M. de Condé had devoted himself to her
cause, he merited every favour which she could bestow upon him without
danger to the state.
Marie de Medicis was not, however, prepared to regard this new demand
upon her indulgence in so unimportant a light. She apprehended, and not
without reason, that the Princes were endeavouring to sap the
foundations of her authority, by possessing themselves of the fortresses
of the Crown; and it was consequently with a heightened colour that,
having heard the arguments addressed to her, she briefly replied that
she would give the subject her consideration. The three nobles, anxious
for the success of their mission, were not, however, to be so easily
discouraged; and they consequently proceeded to impress upon her Majesty
the impolicy of a delay which could not fail to wound the susceptibility
of the Prince; but the patience of Marie was not proof against this
pertinacity, and again declaring that she should take time to consider
the subject, she rose from her seat and withdrew to her private closet,
still closely followed by the applicants, her eyes flashing with anger
as she discovered that they were even yet resolved to persecute her with
their entreaties. Soon, however, she recovered her self-possession; and
turning with a smile towards her obnoxious guests, she said, as
playfully as though no cause of annoyance were coupled with their
presence: "I have just learnt a new gallantry of which Bassompierre has
been the hero; he did not know that it would reach my ears, nor will he
be well pleased to find that I have heard of it."
"I trust that your Majesty will inform him of the discovery," said the
Duc de Nevers, instantly adding: "Approach, M. de Bassompierre; the
Queen has something to confide to you."
"No, no," replied Marie, in the same tone of banter which she had so
suddenly assumed, "I shall not tell him one word of the matter."
At once surprised and alarmed, the Marquis immediately approached the
Regent, and entreated her to let him hear the intelligence which she had
to communicate; and he had no sooner done so than Marie, whose
subterfuge had succeeded, moved to a distant window, and motioned to him
to follow her. When she had reached the recess, she still continued to
stand with her back towards the two Dukes; and as Bassompierre gained
her side, she said in a hasty whisper: "I know nothing of your
intrigues; but tell me, has M. de Guise ceased to urge you to effect
the return of La Rochefoucauld?"
"Only three days ago, Madame, he bade me desist from importuning your
Majesty upon the subject, as the Prince de Condé had promised him that
it should be shortly accomplished through his own means; adding,
moreover, that he could scarcely be blamed for adopting the interests of
the Princes, since your own creature, M. d'Ancre, had done the same."
As Bassompierre spoke warm tears gushed from the eyes of the Queen.
"Yes," she exclaimed bitterly; "the very men who induced me to oppose
the Princes and to offend the ministers are now endeavouring to profit
by my unsupported position, to undermine my authority, and to ruin my
credit with the people. You heard how insolently they demanded a royal
fortress for their leader; and I am well aware that should I grant their
request it would only expose me to the necessity of making new
concessions."
"Do not distress yourself, Madame," replied the skilful courtier, eager
to avail himself of so favourable an opportunity of serving his friends;
"you can always command the means of recalling them to their allegiance;
and, did I dare to proffer a counsel to your Majesty, I would suggest
that you should employ them."
"We will talk no more at present," said Marie; "return here when I have
risen from table, and by that time I shall have had leisure to reflect
upon your advice."
She then advanced once more to the centre of the apartment, and
commenced a trivial conversation, which she maintained until the
departure of the two Dukes, thus effectually preventing all recurrence
to the obnoxious subject; but she was not destined to escape so readily
as she had hoped from this new persecution. Concini and his wife had
alike pledged themselves to M. de Condé that they would support his
pretensions with all their influence, and their vanity was consequently
enlisted in the cause as much as their interests. The Queen-mother,
therefore, no sooner found herself alone with Leonora than the subject
was renewed; and that with so much pertinacious resolution that the
dignity of the Regent took alarm, and she expressed herself with
considerable bitterness to the presumptuous favourite. At this crisis
Concini entered the apartment; and with as little caution as his wife
had previously exhibited, persisted in urging upon his harassed mistress
the same unpalatable advice; until, utterly wearied, and deeply
indignant at an interference which exceeded all the bounds of courtesy
and respect, Marie commanded them both to quit her presence, and gave
instant orders that they should not again be admitted until she had
signified her pleasure to that effect.
As the officers of the household were about to marshal the Regent to the
mid-day meal, Bassompierre encountered the Duc de Guise, of whom he
immediately inquired if he had abandoned the cause of the unfortunate La
Rochefoucauld, who would inevitably die of _ennui_, should he be long
exiled from the gaieties of the Court.
"No, no," vehemently replied the Duke, "he shall return to share them;
nor will I be under an obligation to the Queen for his reappearance. I
have served her with zeal, and have been repaid by coldness and neglect.
I have therefore made new interests, and now recognize no leader but M.
de Condé, no coadjutors but his cabal; nor will I abandon them although
I adopted their policy with reluctance; a determination, Monsieur," he
added pointedly, "which you at least will not condemn, as you are a
member of the same party."
"Your Lordship is partially in error," said Bassompierre gaily. "I am,
it is true, the very humble servant of all such individuals as are
favoured by the Prince, but I do not recognize them as a political body.
I am the devoted adherent of their Majesties, and I know no other
masters. Pardon me, moreover, if I venture to say that you have
yourself, M. le Duc, been very ill-advised. You were formerly the leader
of your own faction, since it would appear that we are to talk of
factions; you were dependent upon no one, and responsible only to
yourself for your actions and opinions; and now you have allied your
fortunes to those of persons by whom you will be subjected to a thousand
indignities and annoyances when they no longer require your support.
How, then, do you imagine that you will be able to brook such treatment,
when you suffer yourself to be angered and alienated by a cold word from
the Regent? You should remember that your brother killed M. de Luz
almost under her eyes, and in defiance of a stringent edict; and that
you could scarcely anticipate the immediate recall of one of the
officers of the King's household who had peremptorily refused to obey
the royal command by which he was enjoined to leave your hôtel."
"Well, well," exclaimed the Duke impatiently, "the Queen will one day
discover her error in having ventured to offer me a slight in order to
gratify those by whom she suffers herself to be governed. She will ere
long seek my friendship, but I shall either refuse to listen or compel
her to purchase it at a high price."
The Regent had no sooner returned to her closet than, in obedience to
her orders, Bassompierre again presented himself; and as soon as she had
dismissed her attendants she at once entered upon the subject that
occupied her thoughts. "Bestein," she said, addressing the Marquis by
the name which she usually applied to him during their confidential
interviews, "this wretched affair has totally unnerved me. I was unable
to swallow any food, and unless my mind is relieved at once I shall go
mad. You must reconcile me to the Duc de Guise at any price. Offer
him a hundred thousand crowns for himself, the commission of
Lieutenant-General of Provence for his brother, and the reversion of the
Abbey of St. Germain for the Princesse de Conti. In one word, promise
him what you please, and I will consent, provided you annihilate this
cabal and detach him from the interests of the Princes."
"Madame," replied Bassompierre with a gay smile, "you have filled my
hands so amply that I am sure of making a successful bargain. But have I
no similar commission with regard to M. d'Epernon?"
"Ah, would that I could hope so much," said Marie gloomily; "but I have
wounded his vanity, and he never forgives."
"Seldom, perhaps, Madame," was the ready rejoinder of the shrewd
courtier, "his enemies, but readily his rulers."
"Endeavour then," exclaimed the Queen eagerly, "to effect this also,
Bestein; remind him of all that I have already done, both for himself
and his children, and assure him that I have never lost the inclination
to serve him. If any one can accomplish so desirable an object, you are
the person."
Bassompierre lost no time in opening the important negotiation with
which he was entrusted; and the wiliness with which he first enlisted
the ambition and cupidity of the females of the family presents a
curious picture of the manners of the time. His success could not long
remain doubtful at a period when the allegiance of the highest nobles of
the land was bought and sold like the most common merchandise; and
accordingly, although, as he informs us, the Duc de Guise for a time
indulged in his ordinary extravagance of speech, he gradually yielded,
and--as a natural consequence--received the price of his venal
concession!
On this occasion, however, M. d'Epernon, whose birth was far inferior
to that of his friend, displayed a higher sense of what was due to
himself and to his rank. "In matters of this importance," he said
proudly, as Bassompierre urged him once more to espouse the interests of
the Regent, and hinted at the benefit likely to accrue to himself from
his compliance with her wishes, "I never condescend to bargain.
Decisions of real weight should be formed frankly and disinterestedly. I
have no wish to capitulate with my sovereign. Offer me no bribe, for I
should consider it only as an insult. Any service which I can render to
the Queen has been already amply recompensed, and I should be unworthy
alike of the name I bear and of the offices I hold did I place my
loyalty at a price. I have only one favour to request of her Majesty
before I again devote myself to her interests, and that is that she will
henceforward exhibit more firmness, and attach a greater value to those
who have served her with fidelity and zeal. This conceded, I am ready to
attend her pleasure whenever she may see fit to summon me to her
presence."
The exultation of Marie de Medicis at the happy termination of his
mission rendered her profuse in her expressions of gratitude to
Bassompierre, which she terminated by the assurance that he should be
appointed First Lord of the Bedchamber to the young King, even should
she, as she declared, be compelled to purchase the post from her own
private funds; and these preliminaries arranged, on the following
morning, at nine o'clock, the two Dukes proceeded to pay their respects
to her Majesty, by whom they were most graciously received, and who
commanded that a seat should be placed for M. d'Epernon, whose recovery
from a severe illness was, as we have already stated, only recent. The
interview was a long one, and no allusion was made on either side to the
late defection of the distinguished guests, who, on rising to retire,
were invited by the Queen to attend her to the theatre that evening; and
they had no sooner expressed their acknowledgments than she gave orders
to the captain of her guard to have benches prepared for both the Duc
d'Epernon and M. Zamet, by whom he was to be accompanied.
This extraordinary favour excited universal comment when the assembled
courtiers perceived that it was not even extended to the Duc de Mayenne,
who was also present at the performance; and Concini, in particular, was
so struck by the sudden change of affairs that he exclaimed
energetically to Bassompierre, beside whom he stood: "_Per Dio!_
Monsieur, I can but laugh over the mutations of this strange world; the
Queen has found a seat for Zamet, and there is none for the Duc de
Mayenne. Place your faith in princes after this!"
Great was the exultation of the courtiers when the disgrace of Concini
became known; but that of the ministers, as they learnt its cause, was
even more profound. One web of the complicated mesh which had been woven
about the spirit of the Queen had at length given way, while her
refusal to accede to the request of the Prince de Condé convinced them
that he was no longer likely to prove so formidable an enemy to
themselves as he had recently been. Acting upon this impression they
hastened to solicit a private audience of the Regent, declaring that
they had matters of great importance to treat with her, which they would
only communicate to herself; and their satisfaction was complete when an
answer was returned appointing an hour for their appearance at the
Louvre, and naming as the place of their reception the private closet of
the Queen.
"Messieurs," said Marie graciously, as they paused upon the threshold of
the apartment to make the accustomed obeisance, "your request shall be
strictly complied with." And then turning to the captain of her guard
she added: "M. de Senneterre, you will suffer no one to enter here, be
he whom he may."
Delighted by the manner of their reception, the ministers at once
entered upon the subject which had induced them to solicit the
interview, and respectfully represented to the Regent the alarm which
they had felt at the dangerous demand advanced by the Prince de Condé,
and the exertions which they had ascertained were to be made by the
Marquis d'Ancre to induce her Majesty's compliance; assuring her that
the surrender of a royal fortress of such importance as the Château
Trompette to the control of the first Prince of the Blood could not fail
to prove prejudicial to the interests of the King and the tranquillity
of the nation.
"I am fully aware of the importance of such a concession, Messieurs,"
replied Marie with dignity; "and my resolution is already formed. I have
not yet forgotten that my late lord your sovereign more than once
assured me that had he, while at war with Henri III, gained possession
of the Château Trompette, he could have made himself Duc de Guienne. A
fact like this is well calculated to rivet itself upon the memory."
At this moment the usher scratched upon the door, and entered to
announce that the Marquis d'Ancre desired admission to the presence of
the Queen; but the ministers had scarcely had time to exchange one
glance of alarm and annoyance before Marie, with considerable vehemence,
repeated her former order, and the mortified Marquis was compelled
to retire.
Cautiously as the audience had been accorded, the Italian had not failed
to ascertain through his spies the presence of the ministers in the
palace; and aware of his own danger should they regain their legitimate
influence over the mind of the Queen, he unhesitatingly resolved to
brave her interdict in order to counteract the effect of their
representations. He had, however, as we have shown, signally failed; and
with the most gloomy forebodings of impending evil he returned to the
apartments of his wife to report the ill-success of his attempt.
Nor was Concini the only visitor who sought admission to the Queen
during her conference with the ministers. M. de Condé, who was still
unaware of the moral revolution which had been effected, had, as was his
custom, proceeded to the Louvre in order to consult with her on state
affairs; and had been panic-struck when denied admission to her
presence, and informed that she was then closeted with his mortal
enemies. In his consternation he sought a solution of the mystery from
Bassompierre, who, after expressing his utter ignorance of its meaning,
cunningly insinuated that it was, in all probability, an intrigue of the
Maréchal de Bouillon, who had effected a reconciliation with the Regent
and her ministers at his expense; a suggestion which appeared so
probable to the Prince that he immediately hurried to the apartments of
Concini to discuss with him the necessary measures for averting this
new danger.
Madame d'Ancre, who was well aware of the extent of her own power over
the spirit of her foster-sister, would not permit herself to regard her
present disgrace as more than a passing shadow, and urged her less
confident husband to persevere in his attempt to regain the good graces
of Marie, assuring him that the Queen would ere long be as anxious for a
reconciliation as himself. Somewhat encouraged by this declaration,
Concini, whose vanity was only rivalled by his ambition, and who,
despite daily experience, believed his own society to be as
indispensable to the Regent as that of his wife, took measures to
ascertain the precise moment at which the ministerial audience
terminated, when, profiting by the opportunity, he threw himself upon
his knees before the justly-offended Queen, and entreated her
forgiveness of his involuntary offence. Marie was, however, in no mood
for trifling, and she sternly bade him leave her; a command which he
obeyed only to wreak upon his wife the consequences of his own
mortification.[164]
The son of the Baron de Luz finding that, despite her promise, the
Regent had taken no measures to avenge the death of his father, but
that, on the contrary, she had stopped the proceedings which previously
to her reconciliation with the Duc de Guise had been commenced against
his brother, determined to demand satisfaction in his own person; and he
accordingly despatched a challenge to the Chevalier, which was
immediately accepted by the hot-headed young noble. Seconds were
appointed, and in compliance with the barbarous custom of the time the
four combatants fought on horseback at the Porte St. Antoine. At the
first pass François de Guise was wounded, but at the third his sword
pierced the body of his antagonist, who fell from his saddle and expired
a few minutes afterwards. Notwithstanding this tragical result, however,
the murderer alike of the father and the son boldly returned to Paris,
where he was visited and congratulated by numbers of the nobles, who,
instead of shrinking from all contact with a man who had desolated the
hearth and home of a sorrowing and now childless widow, were loud in
their encomiums on his bravery and skill. Nor was this the most
revolting feature of the case; for it is on record that Marie de Medicis
herself, in her eagerness to retain the alliance of his family, no
sooner learnt that the Chevalier had received a wound in the encounter
than she despatched an officer of her household to convey to him her
regret and to inquire into the extent of his hurt, overlooking, with
extraordinary inconsistency, or still more reprehensible recklessness,
the fact that only a few weeks previously she had instructed the
Parliament to put him upon his trial for the murder of his first victim.
The unslumbering eye of Heaven, however, and the unerring fiat of divine
justice, proved less oblivious of this monstrous crime. In the course of
the following year, while at the fortress of Baux near Arles, François
de Guise was in the act of firing off a cannon, which burst and wounded
him in so frightful a manner that he expired two hours subsequently in
extreme torture, thus partially expiating by a death of agony a youth of
misrule and bloodshed.[165]
The murder of the younger De Luz had no sooner reached the ears of M. de
Luynes than he resolved to avail himself of the circumstance to awaken
the ambition of Louis, and to induce him to fling off the shackles of
maternal authority. Eager as he had long been for an opportunity of
effecting this object, his attempts had hitherto been negatived by the
ceaseless energy with which Marie de Medicis had smothered in their germ
all attempts at sedition, thus rendering herself essential to the
well-being and security of the kingdom; and he accordingly felt all the
importance of the present crisis.
Under this impression, after listening attentively to the narrative of
his informant, he hastened to the apartment of the King, who was still
engaged in the cares of his morning toilet; and no contrast could have
been more striking than the simple costume of the young sovereign and
the elaborate dress of his favourite. The pourpoint of Louis was of deep
crimson velvet, slashed with satin of the same colour, and totally
without ornament, a simplicity which marked his own observance of the
sumptuary edict that he had lately issued; whereas De Luynes, with an
arrogant disregard of the royal proclamation, was attired in a vest of
pale blue, richly embroidered with gold and relieved by a short mantle
of amaranth, clasped by a rich jewel similar to that which attached the
snowy plume to his black velvet cap.
As the cap was doffed, however, and the long feather swept the
tapestried floor, Louis forgot to chide this ostentatious defiance of
his will, and with a smile motioned his splendid courtier to a seat.
"You come like a bridegroom from the wedding feast, Albert," he said
cheerfully; "and you surely bring me a message of good import, or your
garb belies you. Has De Brantès announced the speedy arrival of my
sparrow-hawks?"
"Of one only, Sire; the smaller of the two died under his training."
"Ah!" exclaimed the King, with great petulance; "it is always so.
Whatever is destined to give me pleasure fails when I am the most eager
to possess it."
"And yet," interposed De Luynes gaily, "never, in so far as I can judge,
did fortune show herself more favourable to your Majesty."
"What mean you?" asked Louis, roused for an instant from his usual
apathy.
"Oh! it is a long tale, and a strange one," said the favourite. "You may
remember, Sire, the quarrel that arose between the old Baron de Luz and
the Chevalier de Guise, and which grew out of the cabal against Concini.
You cannot have forgotten, moreover, that the Baron was killed. Well,
his son Antoine de Luz, impatient for a vengeance which was too tardy
according to the principle of his filial chivalry, took, as it seems,
the affair into his own hands, and flattered himself that where his
father had failed he should come forth victorious. Poor boy! he has paid
dearly for his mistake. His sword has proved duller than his hopes. He
has encountered the Chevalier in his turn, and in his turn has bit the
dust. François de Guise pierced him through and through one day last
week near the Porte St. Antoine."
"Holy Virgin!" exclaimed Louis in an agitated voice; "do you mean that
he is dead?"
"Dead, like his father," was the unmoved reply.
"And her Majesty the Queen-Regent was no sooner informed of the fact
than she commanded M. de Bassompierre to arrest the Chevalier."
"I will not permit it!" cried the young King vehemently. "I love
François de Guise; he is one of my firmest friends; he shall not be
imprisoned."
"Calm yourself, Sire," said De Luynes with a significant smile; "Madame
la Régente was soon appeased, and so little does she resent the crime of
M. de Guise that she has this morning condescended to cause inquiries to
be made after his health."
"Right, right," murmured Louis; "and yet it is a bad precedent, and a
dangerous example to the lesser nobles. I hate this spilling of blood.
The Princes are too bold. Upon what will they next venture?"
"Nay, it requires no sphynx to solve that problem, my gracious master,"
said the favourite, toying with his plumed cap; "they will endeavour to
effect the exile of Concini and his dark-browed wife: your good subjects
have no love for foreigners, and believe that you, their sovereign,
would find no want of faithful and devoted servitors among themselves.
Then Jeannin, Sire, and Sillery are obnoxious to them; and they trust,
with your good help, to be ere long freed from all these incubi."
"Luynes," said Louis in a tone of weariness, "I hate to hear you talk
upon such subjects. I have more than enough of them from others. Is De
Guise recovering from his wound? for he must also have suffered in the
fray, or the Queen-mother would not have sought tidings of him."
"Fear not for him, Sire," said the favourite; "he will be quite able to
keep the saddle when M. de Condé heads an army to snatch the crown of
our fair France from your own brow."
"Stay, sir!" exclaimed the young King with sudden dignity. "Have _you_
also forgotten that I am the son of Henri IV?"
"May your Majesty never forget it more than I do," said De Luynes, with
an audacity before which the eye of Louis sank; "but believe me that the
fact will avail you little until you have purged the nation of the
foreign fungus which is corroding the root of your authority."
"Albert," murmured the weak young monarch, "in the name of Heaven, what
would you ask?"
"To see you in reality the King of France, Sire."
"And for this purpose--"
"You must appease the Princes. They are weary of the despotic rule of
the Queen-mother and of the influence of these Florentines."
"I dare not urge the Queen to banish them."
"Nor should you, Sire. It is for subjects to solicit, and for sovereigns
to command. There is, moreover, a safer cure than exile for such
an evil."
"Nay, now, De Luynes, you jest," said Louis, striving to force a sickly
smile; "you surely would not counsel--"
"Your Majesty mistakes me," interposed the favourite; "I would dare
anything to secure your safety. Justice holds her sword as firmly as her
balance, and wields the one as freely as she weighs the other."
"Enough, enough," gasped out Louis; "we will talk of this again--but
blood, blood, always blood! It is sickening. You will attend me to
Fontainebleau, Albert; I must have some sport to-day, and endeavour to
forget for a time all your moody arguments."
De Luynes bowed low as he glanced significantly towards Roger, the
favourite valet of the King, who replied to the meaning look by an
almost imperceptible shrug of the shoulders as he adjusted the mantle of
his royal master.
"Go, Monsieur le Grand Fauconnier," pursued the King, "and see that all
is prepared. I will follow on the instant."
Ten minutes subsequently the Court of the Louvre was thronged with
courtiers, equipages, and led horses; and within a quarter of an hour
the voice of the usher was heard at the foot of the great staircase
announcing "The King." Then Louis himself appeared, and taking his place
in the coach which was awaiting him, he motioned De Luynes to his side,
gave the signal of departure, and left the palace at a rapid pace. The
royal suite mounted in haste; and ere long nobles, pages, and equerries
had disappeared, and all was once more silent beneath the deep shadows
of the regal pile.
It is evident that, crafty as Bassompierre had shown himself when
conversing with M. de Condé on the subject of the extraordinary changes
which had taken place at Court, he was nevertheless suspected by the
Prince of having contributed to effect them, as a short time
subsequently a banquet was given at the Hôtel de Condé, to which every
nobleman in office was invited save the handsome and popular Gentleman
of the Bedchamber, who was generally one of the most coveted guests at
entertainments of that description; but the exclusion, marked as it was,
failed to cause any mortification to Bassompierre, who had no sooner
communicated the circumstance to the Regent than she commanded his
attendance in her private _salon_, where he passed the afternoon at
cards with herself and her ladies.
Concini, finding that the Queen did not relax in her coldness towards
himself and his wife, withdrew in great displeasure to Amiens; and at
the same period Marie discovered that, despite his promise to the
contrary, the Duc de Vendôme had joined the faction of Condé, and that
they were conjointly endeavouring to win back M. de Guise. Alarmed by
this new cabal, and made aware that the latter had betrayed symptoms of
irresolution which augured ill for his adhesion to her cause, she lost
no time in reminding him of the pledges which he had given, and in
entreating him not to abandon her interests. The Duke, flattered by the
importance that the Queen-mother attached to his allegiance, readily
promised all she wished; and she had reason to congratulate herself upon
her promptitude, as only a few days subsequently M. de Vendôme and
Concini arrived at Fontainebleau, where the Court had recently
established its residence, when the former hastened to take leave of
their Majesties previously to his departure for Brittany, where he was
about to preside over the Assembly of the States, and the latter on the
pretext of bearing him company; but in reality to induce Zamet, who
possessed considerable authority in the palace, to assign rooms to them
in that portion of the building occupied by the Duc de Guise.
Such an arrangement could not, however, be effected without reaching the
ears of the Regent, whose suspicions of their motive were immediately
excited; and she desired Bassompierre not to lose sight of M. de Guise
until he had retired to rest, and to prevent his holding any
communication with the Duc de Vendôme. Resolved, moreover, to ascertain
the correctness of those suspicions, she directed M. de Senneterre to
watch throughout the night upon the staircase of the Duc de Guise; a
vigilance which was rewarded by his discovery of the two nobles, who,
shortly after Bassompierre had withdrawn, paid a visit to the Duke which
lasted upwards of two hours. The astonishment of the Regent was
consequently by no means great when M. de Guise in his turn waited upon
her Majesty to take leave, upon the pretext that he had been chosen by
Madame d'Elboeuf, conjointly with the Duc de Mayenne, as her arbitrator
in a reconciliation which was about to be attempted between herself and
Madame de la Trémouille, who had on her side selected the Prince de
Condé and the Maréchal de Bouillon. Marie, however, refused to consent
to his departure, and informed him that she would despatch Bassompierre
as his substitute; an arrangement with which he was compelled to comply,
but which greatly embarrassed his friends.
Meanwhile the anger of the Queen against Concini had been seriously
increased by this new instance of ingratitude; and even the pleadings of
his wife, who had been restored to favour, failed to appease her
displeasure. In imparting her commands to Bassompierre, Marie had
inveighed bitterly against the attitude assumed by a man who owed
everything to her indulgence; and as her listener endeavoured to excuse
him, she said vehemently:--
"Urge nothing in his behalf. He has thought proper to judge for himself,
and to join a cabal which he knows to be opposed to my authority. Tell
him from me that if he does not return here by Thursday evening, I will
teach him in future to obey me; and that had it not been from
consideration for his wife, I should already have provided him with a
lodging which he would have found it difficult to quit. Leonora is
indignant at his conduct; while he continues to act more disgracefully
from day to day. Inform him that he will do well not to neglect
my orders."
The arrogant Italian was, however, by no means inclined to obedience;
nor was it without considerable difficulty that Bassompierre succeeded
in impressing upon him the extent of the danger to which he exposed
himself by the line of conduct he had so recklessly adopted, and in
ultimately effecting his reconciliation with his justly offended
mistress.[166]
This was no sooner accomplished than the ministers, who thenceforward
despaired of ever permanently counterbalancing the influence of Concini
and his wife, determined, if possible, to unite their interests to his;
and for this purpose the President Jeannin, who had maintained a better
understanding with the Marquis than any of his colleagues, proposed to
the Queen that an effort should be made to reconcile the Chancellor and
Villeroy with her favourite, a suggestion which she eagerly adopted,
being anxious to strengthen her own party by weakening that of the
Princes. She had been apprised that the Maréchal de Bouillon, who was
indignant that he could not attain to the degree of power which he had
anticipated under a regency, was perseveringly employed in endeavouring
to detach the Duc de Guise from her interests, and to fortify the cabal
of the Prince de Condé, in order to render his own allegiance
indispensable to the Crown; and she consequently welcomed any method of
circumventing a conspiracy which was becoming formidable. It was
therefore determined that a marriage should be proposed between the
daughter of Concini and the Marquis de Villeroy, the grandson of the
Secretary of State; and this overture was accompanied by the most lavish
promises on the part of the ministers that they would serve him by
every means in their power, and exert all their energies to advance
his fortunes.
This negotiation, which was undertaken without the knowledge of
Bassompierre, had nearly proved fatal to his prospects; as both parties,
dreading his influence with the Regent, determined to undermine him in
her regard; and for this purpose they so wilfully misrepresented his
actions, and contrived to invest them with so suspicious an appearance,
that Marie, who had begun to misdoubt every one about her, treated him
with a harshness which his proud spirit could not brook; and he
accordingly made preparations for quitting the Court of France, with the
intention of entering the service of some foreign Prince.
His design was no sooner ascertained, however, than his friends,
particularly the Duc de Guise and the Princesse de Conti, hastened to
represent to the Queen the impolicy of forfeiting the friendship and
assistance of one who had so faithfully espoused her cause; and their
representations prevailed. Bassompierre was permitted to justify
himself, and Marie frankly admitted her conviction that she had been
misled by his enemies.
In addition to these intestine intrigues, the Regent was occupied with
the troubles generated by the disputed succession of the duchy of
Mantua, regarding which she was reluctant to come to any resolution
without securing the advice of the Princes and great nobles; upon which
she was, moreover, the more anxious to insist, as it would afford an
opportunity of summoning to the capital not only M. de Condé himself,
but all the other leaders of the adverse faction; who had, as we have
shown, withdrawn from the Court, and were exasperated by the
reconciliation of the Regent with the Ducs de Guise and d'Epernon, and
the recall of the ministers. The Council accordingly met; and as the
Cardinal-Duke of Mantua was a near relative of the Queen, it was decided
that France should support him in his pretensions against the Duke of
Savoy. An army was consequently organized, which was to march on
Monferrat from three several points: one division under the Maréchal de
Lesdiguières, a second under the Duc de Guise, and the third under the
Grand Equerry M. de Bellegarde. The troops were not, however, destined
on this occasion to cross the frontier, the friends of the Duke of Savoy
having soon succeeded in convincing Marie de Medicis of the danger of
investing three great nobles with the command of an armed force of such
importance during the minority of the sovereign; while Ubaldini, the
Papal Nuncio, jealous of the presence of the French soldiery in Italy,
and apprehensive that Lesdiguières would be accompanied by a large
number of Huguenots, was equally strenuous in dissuading her from her
purpose; assuring her that the King of Spain had resolved to oppose the
Duke of Savoy, and to compel him to restore to the House of Mantua the
territories which had been wrested from it in Monferrat. The Duke of
Savoy himself, moreover, alarmed at the demonstration about to be made
by France, and conscious that he was unable to compete with such an
adversary, resolved to open a negotiation; upon which the Marquis de
Coeuvres was despatched to Italy to arrange the terms of the
treaty.[167]
While the whole of the other European Princes were occupied with the
succession in Mantua, James of England was engrossed by his anxiety to
divert the minds of his subjects from the grief which was universally
felt at the untimely death of his eldest son; and so little did he
himself feel the bereavement that he entered with apparent enjoyment
into every kind of entertainment which presented itself. The unfortunate
Prince had expired on the 6th of November; and as his demise threatened
to prevent that close alliance with France which he had so eagerly
anticipated, James caused its announcement to the Regent to be
accompanied by an offer of the hand of his other son, Charles, who had
thus become Prince of Wales, to the Princesse Christine; a proposal
which reached the French Court only three days subsequently to the
decease of Henry, and which consequently created considerable
surprise.[168] Marie de Medicis, however, felt no inclination to quarrel
with this indecent haste, as she trusted that by giving her daughter to
the son of a Protestant sovereign, she should conciliate the Huguenots,
whom she had greatly alienated by concluding the double alliance with
Spain; but the Sovereign-Pontiff was no sooner apprised of the offer of
James, and of the gracious reception afforded to it by the Regent, than
he expressed his extreme displeasure, and refused to listen to any
arguments, declaring that no question of state policy should sanction a
contract the observance of which must prove detrimental to the interests
of the Church. Ubaldini, the Papal Nuncio at the French Court, seconded
these remonstrances with more zeal than judgment; and at length
proceeded so far as to reproach the Queen with the ill return which she
was about to make to God for the blessings He had vouchsafed to her. The
haughty spirit of Marie de Medicis could brook no more; and her reply is
worthy of record. "Monseigneur," she said with dignity, "I do nothing
more upon this occasion than several Princes of Italy have done before
me, and that too under the very eyes of the Pope. The Grand Duchess of
Tuscany, with all her devotion, did not refuse her consent when she was
formerly asked to give the hand of her daughter to the Prince of
Wales." [169]
Thus the proposal was accepted, and the heir to the British throne was
thenceforward considered as the future husband of the young Princess.
At this period the death of M. de Fervaques left a marshal's _bâton_
disposable, which, to the extreme disgust of the nobility, was bestowed
by the Regent upon Concini, who had never throughout his life been
present at the firing of a hostile shot. The ill-judged manner in which
this dignity was conferred is so characteristic that it merits mention.
Her temporary estrangement from Madame d'Ancre had been a source of
great discomfort as well as sorrow to the Queen; and her ladies, hoping
still further to disgust her with the favourite, had unwittingly
compelled her to feel her dependence upon the disgraced mistress of the
robes. To every petty requirement she was answered that it was not
within their province, and that reference must be made to the Marquise.
"I desire to have the entrance to my closet draperied by a screen of
crimson velvet edged with gold," said the Regent on one occasion to
Madame de Guercheville; "be good enough to have it done immediately."
"Your Majesty has probably overlooked the fact that such orders must be
issued by the Marquise d'Ancre," was the formal reply of the stately
lady of honour.
"Madame du Fargis," resumed the Queen, a short time afterwards, "I have
mislaid a letter--a petition--bearing the name of the Comtesse de
Touraine; I wish it to be found and answered."
"Madame," responded the beautiful Countess meekly, "the Marquise d'Ancre
has charge of all the petitions addressed to your Majesty."
Marie de Medicis turned away in silence. She had striven to believe that
she could dispense with the services of Leonora; but every day, and
almost every hour, she became more convinced of her utter helplessness
without her. Madame d'Ancre had been the playmate of her infancy, the
friend of her girlhood; she was the confidante of her most hidden
thoughts, her counsellor in difficulty, and her consoler in her moments
of trial. The ill-advised bearing of those about her sufficed to remind
her of these facts, and her resolution was forthwith formed. Concini
might still be made to feel and to suffer for his fault, but she could
not dispense with the society and support of Leonora.
The Queen retired to her private closet, and the mistress of the robes
was summoned to her presence by a page. As she entered, Marie was
startled by the change which had taken place in her appearance; her eyes
were swollen with weeping, and her cheek was even more sallow than its
wont. Whatever might be her faults, there can be no doubt that Leonora
was deeply and tenderly attached to her royal foster-sister; and that
the disgrace into which she had fallen had consequently affected her to
an intense degree. She was no longer the proud and imperious favourite
who through the Regent sought to govern France, but a weak and sorrowing
woman, mourning over the ruin of all her hopes.
The apartment to which the Queen-mother had so unexpectedly summoned her
foster-sister was, as we have said, her private closet, in which she
passed several hours each day while residing at the Louvre. The walls
were covered to the height of ten feet from the floor by magnificent
hangings of crimson damask, surmounted by a dome of pale blue silk,
upon which were elaborately embroidered the arms of the Medici. From the
centre of this dome hung a silver lamp, chiselled by the hand of
Benvenuto Cellini, and suspended by a chain of the same metal; a table
of carved oak stood in the centre of the room, upon which were placed a
pair of globes, sundry astronomical instruments, an illuminated missal,
and a flask of Hungary water; while a low divan, heaped with cushions of
black velvet sprinkled with _fleurs-de-lis_ in gold, occupied two entire
sides of the apartment, and completed its furniture.
"Approach, Leonora," said the Queen. "Here, place yourself on this
cushion at my feet, and wipe the tears from your eyes. Even if we part,
we may do so without bitterness."
"Ha, Madame!" exclaimed the Florentine, "should such a feeling indeed
exist it can be only in the bosom of your Majesty, for no true subject
can do otherwise than love and venerate her sovereign."
"Would that it were so," said Marie; "but that is a delusion under which
I have long ceased to labour; for too often where I have sought to
excite affection I have only engendered hatred."
"I know not if your Majesty would address that reproach to me," said
Madame d'Ancre, raising her drooping head with the sudden energy of
honest pride; "but should it really be so, I can summon the past to
vindicate my good faith. I can call upon the Queen-Regent of France
herself to do me justice; I can invoke the two years of that regency,
so full of trial, of struggle, and of calamity, during which I have at
times perilled my head to ensure alike the tranquillity and the triumph
of my august mistress; I can quote the several cabals which I have
helped to crush; and, above all, I can prove the fidelity and submission
with which I have constantly obeyed the behests of my sovereign lady.
All this is, however, worse than idle; the servant only sins the more in
every attempt at self-justification. Monarchs are accustomed from their
cradles to punish upon suspicion, however strong may be the evidences of
the past. Gratitude, as the term is understood between man and man,
never drapes itself in purple; perfect confidence cannot steady its foot
upon the steps of a throne, for the royal canopy is a heaven of impunity
for those whom it overshadows. Yet think not, Madame," she continued, in
a more subdued voice, as she clasped her thin fingers together so
forcibly that they became ashy white beneath the pressure--"think not, I
beseech you, that I say this of myself. I have no such presumption. I
have not forgotten what I was, in feeling what I am. I yet remember,
deeply, thankfully, that I was poor, obscure, and insignificant, and
that it was your royal hand which raised me to rank and honour; and thus
it is with the most fervent gratitude that I now thank you for your past
bounties; and with the utmost humility that I prepare to take my leave
of you for ever."
Marie did not reply; the outburst of outraged feeling in which the
Marquise had indulged was so unexpected and so bold that she remained
speechless, and the tears which had risen to her eyes on the entrance of
her foster-sister congealed upon their lids. Leonora awaited for an
instant some token of relenting in her royal mistress, but as the
threatening silence continued, she became alarmed, and casting herself
upon her knees, she gasped out falteringly, "I am at your feet, Madame;
I kneel before you, wretched and repentant; I am here to bid you
farewell--a life-long farewell. Pardon, and forget me."
The heart of Marie was moved; and as her favourite knelt before her she
pressed her to her bosom, and bade her be of good cheer, for that all
was forgiven. Leonora, unprepared for such an admission, wept
abundantly; and it was long ere she could recover her composure, while
the Queen on her side was scarcely less distressed.
"I cannot part from you, _mia cara, mia dolce_" pursued Marie
passionately; "you are my good angel, the friend and sister of my happy
years--for we were happy then, _Leonora mia_, before a crown and a court
came between us. You have said truly that you have been my guardian
spirit, and we do not part with our best security in the hour of peril.
No, Leonora, no; I will listen no more to the evil accusations of those
who would fain separate us. You shall not quit the Louvre."
Madame d'Ancre pressed her hand forcibly upon her heart as if to control
its tumultuous throbbings; and then, fixing her large dark eyes
earnestly upon those of her royal mistress, she said in a low deep
accent of earnest emotion, "And thus you love me still--you, the proud
daughter of the Medici, the wife and the mother of kings--you love me
still, and I have not lived in vain! Did you hear those words,
Countess?" she asked, suddenly springing to her feet, and addressing
Madame du Fargis, who was standing in the recess of one of the tall
windows, with the tears falling fast over her fair cheeks; "the Regent
will not suffer me to leave France--the Regent will not allow me to
wither away my life an alien from her presence. Now I am once more calm
and strong--calm in the security of my happiness, strong in the
consciousness of my honesty. Let them accuse me now, I defy their
malice, for my royal mistress believes in me, and loves me."
"Compose yourself, Leonora," said the Queen-mother affectionately; "your
feeble frame is unequal to these bursts of passion. Come hither, child,
and pillow your aching head upon my knees, as you were wont to do long,
long ago, when we sang together the beloved songs of our fair Florence,
or indulged in day-dreams which were never destined to be realized. Let
Madame de Conti beware in her turn: higher heads than hers have been
brought low; and from this day I will teach a bitter lesson to her and
to her kinsmen. I have borne much, but I am still a Medicis; I can be as
firm as Catherine, although I shall endeavour to act with greater
justice, and to be in all things worthy of the name I bear."
"Ha, Madame!" exclaimed the favourite, "you have already proved that
however others may endeavour to forget that you are the widow of Henry
the Great the fact is ever present to yourself." And as she spoke,
Leonora buried her face in the lap of her royal foster-sister, while her
long black hair, which had become unfastened by the energy of her
movements, fell to the floor and covered her like a pall.
Little did either the Queen or the Marquise at that moment anticipate
how soon a deeper and a denser pall would replace those luxuriant and
gleaming tresses! Happy was it for both that no prophetic glance into
the future darkened the joy of that bright hour of reconciliation!
Meanwhile the Princesse de Conti, who dreaded the effect of this same
reconciliation upon herself and her family, privately despatched a
messenger to the Prince de Condé to inform him that Madame d'Ancre was
at that very time closeted with the Regent, and that he must forthwith
devise some method of terminating so dangerous a conference. M. de Condé
was for a moment aghast; and on reflection could adopt no better
expedient than that of prevailing upon M. de Brèves, the governor of the
Duc d'Orléans, to suggest to the young Prince that he should proceed to
the apartments of his royal mother, in order to pay his respects to her
Majesty. Monsieur obeyed; and Leonora was still seated on a cushion at
the feet of her foster-sister, with her pale face pillowed upon her
knees, when Madame de Conti threw open the door of the royal closet, and
announced the Prince.
"Let Monseigneur await my pleasure without," exclaimed Marie angrily. "I
understand the motive of this breach of etiquette, and shall reward it
as it deserves. _Leonora cara_" she added, as the drapery again closed
over the portal, "dry your tears; I owe you some recompense for all that
you have suffered, and I will not be tardy in my requital."
At this instant some one scratched upon the door of the royal closet.
"Again!" cried the Queen indignantly. "See who waits, Madame du Fargis."
The Countess proceeded to draw aside the tapestry. "Madame," she said,
as she retired a pace or two with a profound curtsey, "his Majesty
the King."
"Ha!" exclaimed the Regent, starting from her seat, and advancing
towards the young sovereign, whom she tenderly embraced, "your visit
could not have been more welcome or better-timed, my son. The death of
M. de Fervaques has created a vacancy which must be at once filled, and
I have a marshal's commission for you to sign."
The wife of Concini gazed eagerly into the face of her royal mistress.
Marie smiled. "Go, Madame," she said affectionately, "and bid the
Marquis d'Ancre hasten here upon the instant to kiss the gracious hand
from which he is about to receive a marshal's _bâton_."
Leonora knelt before the startled King, who suffered her in silence to
perform the same ceremony; and then radiant with happiness she pressed
the jewelled fingers of the Queen to her quivering lips. "And hark you,
Leonora," pursued Marie, "cause Concini to be announced by his new title
when he seeks admission here. This will at once put an end to a host of
rivalries which are now unavailing."
Madame d'Ancre hastily withdrew; but as she passed through the
apartments of the Queen she remarked that the antechamber was already
thronged with a crowd of courtiers, who had been attracted thither by
curiosity; while they, in their turn, did not fail to detect in the
flushed cheek and flashing eye of the Marquise the indications of some
new triumph. Little, however, were they prepared for its extent; and
when Concini, some minutes afterwards, appeared, with a sarcastic smile
upon his lips, and glanced a look of defiance around him, even while he
bowed right and left alike to his friends and to his enemies, every
pulse quickened with anxiety. The suspense was but momentary. The
Italian was preceded by one of the royal pages, who, as the captain of
the guard flung back the door of the cabinet in which Louis XIII was
still closeted with his mother, announced in a voice so audible that it
was heard throughout the apartment, "Monseigneur le Maréchal d'Ancre."
"Concini a Marshal of France!" exclaimed simultaneously the Ducs de
Guise, d'Epernon, and de Bellegarde, who were standing together; and
then there was a dead silence as the draperied door closed upon the
exulting favourite.
FOOTNOTES:
[158] Siri, _Mém. Rec_. vol. iii. pp. 23, 24. D'Estrées, _Mém_. pp. 398,
399. Bassompierre, _Mém_. p. 80. Mézeray, vol. xi. pp. 40, 41.
[159] François, Comte (and subsequently Duc) de la Rochefoucauld, Master
of the Wardrobe to Louis XIII, was descended from one of the most
ancient and noble families of France. He died in 1650.
[160] Richelieu, _Hist. de la Mère et du Fils_ vol. i. pp. 204-206.
D'Estrées, _Mém_. p. 399.
[161] This lady, who had commenced her career at Court by the most
bitter enmity towards Bassompierre, was not long ere she became one of
his firmest friends; and it was even asserted that, after the death of
the Prince her husband, she privately bestowed her hand upon the
fascinating Gentleman of the Bedchamber.
[162] Mézeray, vol. xi. pp. 40-42. Le Vassor, vol. i. pp. 172, 173.
[163] Bassompierre, _Mém_. p. 81.
[164] Bassompierre, _Mém_. pp. 81-87. Le Vassor, vol. i. pp. 174-178.
Richelieu, _Hist. de la Mère et du Fils_, vol. i. pp. 207-209. Mézeray,
vol. xi. pp. 42, 43.
[165] _Mercure Français_, 1614.
[166] Bassompierre, _Mém_. pp. 88, 89.
[167] Le Vassor, vol. i. pp. 191, 192.
[168] Lingard, _Hist. of England_, vol. ix. p. 271.
[169] Siri, _Mém. Rec_. vol. iii. pp. 50-52.