We come now to the most important siege of La Rochelle, a siege which
is likewise the great event of the life of so remarkable a man as the
Cardinal de Richelieu. Of all the actions of this able, selfish, cruel
minister, his policy in subduing the Huguenots is, perhaps, the most
defensible. The Huguenots were not only what they pretended to be, a
religious party,--they were a political party; and many men carried
on their schemes of rebellion or aggrandizement under the shadow of
their standard, who cared nothing for religion of any kind. That this
is the case in all religious wars we are willing to admit, but it was
particularly so in France in the reign of Louis XIII. Louis himself was
superstitious enough; as most weak men are; but it would have puzzled
the Sorbonne itself to have told what was the _heart religion_ of
Louis’ minister.
Cardinal de Richelieu, who governed France and its king, being very
desirous to signalize his ministry by the conquest of La Rochelle,
ordered the siege of it to be prepared. In the year 1627, an army of
twenty-three thousand men, with Louis XIII. at their head, presented
itself before this last asylum of the Protestants. The warlike cardinal
conducted all the operations in the name of the king. The city was
vast, well fortified, well situated, provided with numerous artillery,
full of munitions of all kinds, and defended by inhabitants animated by
religious zeal. They elected as mayor, governor, and general of their
city, Jean Guiton, a man of great firmness and valour. He was scarcely
clothed with these important but perilous dignities, than he assembled
the inhabitants, and drawing a poniard, said: “I will be your mayor,
since you insist upon my being so, but only upon condition that I may
be permitted to plunge this poniard into the heart of the first man who
shall speak of surrendering. I consent that it shall be employed in the
same manner upon me, if I should propose to capitulate; and I require
that this poniard shall remain for that purpose upon the table of the
chamber in which we assemble.” Richelieu in the mean time continued his
works for the blockade of the place. A circumvallation of three leagues
was formed, protected by thirteen forts, flanked with redoubts, and
bristling with artillery. But the great object was to close the ports,
in order to exclude succour. Piles were sunk to embarrass the entrance;
a chain of immense force was stretched across the mouth: but all these
means proved useless. At length the cardinal resolved to make a dyke.
We beg our readers to remember that whenever a grand national operation
is successful, the king or minister under whom it is effected is almost
sure to have the credit of it, although, perhaps, perfectly innocent
of any idea of the kind. This, we have reason to believe, was the fact
with respect to Richelieu and his famous dyke, which might have been
planned by any soldier in the army. It will not bear a comparison with
Alexander’s dyke at the siege of Tyre. Everybody, as is usual in such
cases, exclaimed against the project as absurd. Louis Métézeau and Jean
Tiriot alone ventured to undertake the execution of it, and they were
kindly set down by their contemporaries as madmen. It was necessary to
form a canal of seven hundred and forty toises in width, in a place
where the current of the sea was very strong. Long posts were sunk in
the sea, at twelve feet distance from each other, from the point of
Coreille to Fort Louis: other posts, quite as strong, connected them
crosswise. Immense dry stones were thrown into the intervals, to which
the slime and mud acted as cement. This dyke was so elevated, that in
the highest tides the soldiers were dry upon it; its thickness was
proof against cannon. It was, towards the bottom, about twelve toises
wide, and only about four at the top, so that it resembled a glacis.
At each extremity a fort was built; an opening was left in the middle
to allow passage for the tides; but, in order to prevent the enemy’s
vessels from entering by this opening, forty vessels, filled with
hewn stones, were sunk, and a vast number of huge piles were driven.
This great and wonderful work, which required the incessant labour of
six months, was defended by several batteries erected on firm ground,
and by two hundred vessels of all sizes, well armed, which lined the
shore. The advantage of this dyke was soon perceived: La Rochelle,
which till then had received all its munitions and provisions by sea,
became destitute in a very short time. The English made two attempts
to deliver or revictual the place, but were obliged to renounce their
undertaking. After a year’s blockade, the Rochellois, for some time
reduced to subsist upon grass, herbs, and shell-fish, began to be
carried off in great numbers by famine. Twelve thousand men had already
perished; whole houses were filled with dead bodies. One day the mayor
met a person attenuated by famine. “He has but one breath of life
left,” said some one to him. “Are you surprised at that?” replied he;
“you and I must soon come to that, if we are not relieved.” “But,”
added another, “hunger carries off so many daily, that we shall soon
have no inhabitants left.” “Well,” rejoined the brave old man, “never
mind, so long as there is one left to keep the gates shut.” Such was
what Catholic historians call the _obstinacy_, and Protestant ones
the _firmness_, of the commander of the Rochellois and his soldiers.
Although scarcely able to carry their muskets, they preferred death
to surrendering. They really had “but one breath of life left,” when,
on the 28th of October, 1628, they were compelled to capitulate. The
royal troops took possession on the 30th, and on the 1st of November
the king made his public entrance. The fortifications were demolished,
the ditches filled up, the inhabitants disarmed and made taxable;
_echevinage_ and the corporation of the city were abolished for ever.
For nearly two hundred years, La Rochelle had scarcely acknowledged any
sovereigns but its magistrates. This conquest cost Louis forty millions
of francs, but not so many lives as might have been expected.
It is impossible to give an account of the siege of La Rochelle in a
work like this, proportioned to the means at command; with half what
we have at hand, we could compose a volume. But this very abundance
removes the necessity for our going into detail: there are so many
interesting accounts of it before the public, that a longer one from us
is not required. Whilst Richelieu, Buckingham, and Louis XIII.; whilst
the religious wars between Catholics and Huguenots, shall occupy--we
were going to say _stain_--the page of history, the siege of La
Rochelle must be familiar to most readers.