THE RISE OF RICHELIEU
Early governors of the Bastile--Frequent changes--Day of
Barricades--Conspiracy of Biron--Assassination of Henry
IV--Ravaillac--Barbarous sentence--Marie de Medicis left
Regent--Story of the Concinis--Rise of Richelieu--Gifts and
character--His large employment of the State prisons--Duelling
prohibited--The Day of Dupes--Triumph over his enemies--Fall of
Marie de Medicis--Maréchal Bassompierre--His prolonged imprisonment.
We may pause a moment at this stage to give some attention to a few of
the more prominent governors of the Bastile, appointed by each side in
turn during the long conflicts of the opposing parties. Antoine d'Ivyer
was the first after the English, as captain under the supreme command
of Duke Charles of Bourbon. One Cissey, after fifteen years' tenure in
the Bastile, was succeeded by La Rochette, he by De Melun, he by De
Chauvigny, and the last by Phillip Luillier, who enjoyed the confidence
of Louis XI and was personally in charge of the bishops and dukes who
have been mentioned. He was the last of the royal functionaries, the
court officials other than military men who acted as gaolers. Only in
the troublous times of the League and later of the Fronde, when the
possession of the Bastile meant so much to the existing régime, was the
fortress entrusted to the strong hands of soldiers and men of action
equal to any emergency. After Luillier the charge was considered equal
to a provincial government and those entrusted with it were some of
the most considerable persons in the State, constables or ministers
who ruled by lieutenant or deputy and kept only the title and dignity
of the office. It was long deemed hereditary in certain great families
and descended from father to son, as with the Montmorencys. The head
of that house, William, in 1504, was succeeded by his son, Anne, a
Pluralist, at the same time governor of Paris and captain of the castle
of Vincennes. Francis, a marshal of France, son of the last-named,
was a third Montmorency governor. Much later the post was held by
successive members of the family of Admiral Coligny, and some of the
governors were very eminent persons, such as Châteauneuf, the Duc de
Luynes, Maréchal Bassompierre and Sully, the celebrated minister of
Henry IV, whose memoirs have been widely read and were the inspiration
of the English novelist, Stanley Weyman.
The Bastile often changed hands. When Henry of Guise made himself
master of Paris after the "Battle," or "Day of the Barricades," Laurent
Testu was governor or king's lieutenant of the Bastile; but after
the second day's fighting, when summoned to surrender, he obeyed
and opened the gates. The Duc de Guise then gave the governorship to
one Bussy-Leclerc, a devoted adherent, but of indifferent character,
who had been a procureur of the Parliament and a fencing master.
He had a large following of bullies and cut-throats. The prisoners
in the Bastile were quite at his mercy and he ruled with a rough,
reckless hand, inflicting all manner of cruelties in order to
extort money,--squeezing the rich and torturing the poor. After the
assassination of Henry of Guise at Blois, he planned reprisals against
Henry III and sought to intimidate the Parliament, which would have
made submission to the King, by making its members prisoners in the
Bastile. Leclerc's excesses roused Paris against him, and the Duc de
Mayenne, now the head of the League, threatened the Bastile. Leclerc,
in abject terror, at once surrendered on condition that he might retire
from the capital to Brussels with the plunder he had acquired. Dubourg
l'Espinasse, a brave, honorable soldier, was appointed to the Bastile
by the Duc de Mayenne, in succession to Leclerc and defended it stoutly
against Henry of Navarre, now King Henry IV, after the assassination
of his predecessor. Dubourg declared that he knew no king of France
but the Duc de Mayenne, and on being told that Henry was master of
Paris, said, "Good, but I am master of the Bastile!" He at length
agreed to yield up the fortress to the Duke, who had entrusted him
with the command, and finally marched out with all the honors of war,
gaining great credit from the King for his staunch and loyal conduct
to his superiors. The text of the capitulation has been preserved and
its quaint phraseology may be transcribed. The commandant promised to
hand over to the king, "on Sunday at three in the afternoon the said
Bastile, its artillery and munitions of war. In return for which the
King will permit the garrison to march out with arms, horses, furniture
and all belongings. The troops will issue by one gate with drums
beating, matches lighted and balls" (for loading).
It is recorded of Henry IV by the historian Maquet, that he was the
king who least abused the Bastile. It is due this sovereign to say
that the prisoners confined in it during his reign were duly tried
and condemned by Parliament and that from his accession the fortress
lost its exceptional character and became an ordinary prison. Sully
was appointed governor and received a letter of appointment in which
the King announced that he relied more than ever upon his loyalty and
had decided to make him captain of the Bastile: "so that if I should
have any birds to put in the cage and hold tight I can rely upon your
foresight, diligence and loyalty." Few prisoners were committed to the
Bastile in this reign, but all imprisoned were notably traitors. Such
was Charles, Maréchal de Biron, the restless and unstable subject who
conspired more than once against the King, by whom at one time he had
been exceedingly favored. Henry IV was greatly attached to Biron. "I
never loved anyone as I loved Biron," he said. "I could have confided
my son and my kingdom to him." For a time Biron served him well, yet
he, too, entered into a dangerous conspiracy with the King of Spain,
the Duke of Savoy and the King's disloyal subjects in France.
Henry IV forgave him and paid his debts, which were large, for he was
a great gambler and had lost large sums at the tables. Biron was sent
to London as ambassador to the English Queen Elizabeth but resumed
his evil courses on his return to France and was summoned before the
King to answer for them. Henry promised to pardon and forgive him if
he would confess his crimes, but Biron was obstinately silent and was
committed to the Bastile. He was tried openly before the Parliament
and unanimously convicted by one hundred and twenty-seven judges. The
sentence was death and he was to be publicly executed on the Place
de la Grève, but Henry, dreading the sympathy of the mob and not
indisposed to spare his friend the contumely of a public hanging,
allowed the execution to take place within the Bastile. Biron, although
he had acknowledged his guilt, died protesting against the sentence.
He comported himself with little dignity upon the scaffold, resisting
the headman and trying to strangle him. Three times he knelt down at
the block and three times sprang to his feet; and the fourth time was
decapitated with much dexterity by the executioner.
The Comte d'Auvergne, the natural son of Charles IX and Marie Touchet,
was an ally of Biron's and put on his trial at the same time. Their
common offense had been to invite invasion by the Spaniards and stir
up a revolution throughout France. D'Auvergne was sentenced to death
and with him the Comte d'Entragues, who had married Marie Touchet, but
neither suffered. D'Auvergne remained in the Bastile for twelve years.
He was released in the following reign and made a good appearance at
court as the Duc d'Angoulême. Henry IV had been moved to soften the
rigors of his imprisonment and wrote to the governor (Sully) saying
that as he had heard his nephew d'Auvergne needed change of air, he was
to be placed in "the pavilion at the end of the garden of the arsenal
which looks upon the water, but to be guarded in any way that seemed
necessary for the security of his person."
Reference must be made to one inmate of the Bastile at this period,
the Vicomte de Tavannes, who was opposed to Henry IV as a partisan
of the League. He was long held a prisoner but was exchanged for the
female relations of the Duc de Longueville; and Tavannes has written
in his "memoirs:" "A poor gentleman was thus exchanged against four
princesses, one a Bourbon, one of the House of Cleves, and two of that
of Orleans." At the fall of the League, Tavannes acknowledged Henry IV
on condition that he should be confirmed in his dignity as a marshal of
France. This promise was not kept and he withdrew from his allegiance,
saying he was the King's subject and not his slave. For this he was
again committed to the Bastile from which he escaped, according to his
own account, with great ease,--"A page brought me some thread and a
file; I twisted the cord, filed through a bar and got away." He was
not pursued but was suffered to remain in peace in his own castle of
Soilly, near Autun. The King could never tolerate Tavannes. He had been
largely concerned in the massacre of St. Bartholomew, of which he is
believed to have been the principal instigator and which he is supposed
to have suggested to Catherine de Medicis.
Henry's reign was abruptly terminated by his assassination in 1610.
He was murdered by François Ravaillac, a native of Angoulême who was
no doubt a victim of religious dementia. Having been much perturbed
with visions inciting him to exhort the king to take action against
the followers of the pretended reformed religion and convert them to
the Roman Catholic Church, Ravaillac determined to do so. On reaching
Paris he went to the Jesuits' house near the Porte St.-Antoine and
sought advice from one of the priests, Father Daubigny, who told him
to put these disturbed thoughts out of his head, to say his prayers
and tell his beads. He still maintained his intention of speaking
to the King and addressed to him on one occasion as he drove by in
his coach, but "the King put him back with a little stick and would
not hear him." Then Ravaillac changed his mind and set out for home;
but on reaching Estampes, was again impelled to return to Paris--this
time with homicidal intent. The would-be regicide watched for the King
constantly, but thought it better to wait until after the new queen
(Marie de Medicis) was crowned. He hung about the Louvre, burning to do
the deed, and at last found his opportunity on the 14th of May, 1610,
near the churchyard of St. Innocent. The King left the Louvre that
morning in his coach unattended. One of his gentlemen had protested.
"Take me, Sire, I implore you," he said, "to guard your Majesty." "No,"
replied the King, "I will have neither you nor the guard. I want no
one." The coach was driven to the Hotel de Longueville and then to
the Croix du Tiroir and so to the churchyard of St. Bartholomew. It
had turned from the rue St. Honore into the rue Feronnière, a very
narrow way made more so by the small shops built against the wall of
the churchyard. The passage was further blocked by the approach of two
carts, one laden with wine and the other with hay, and the coach was
brought to a stop at the corner of the street.
Ravaillac had followed the coach from the Louvre, had seen it stop
and noted that there was now no one near it and no one to interfere
with him as he came close to the side of the carriage where the King
was seated. Ravaillac had his cloak wrapped round his left arm to
conceal a knife and creeping in between the shops and the coach as if
he desired to pass by, paused there, and resting one foot upon a spoke
of the wheel, the other upon a stone, leaned forward and stabbed the
King. The knife entered a little above the heart between the third and
fourth ribs. The King, who was reading a letter, fell over towards
the Duc d'Épernon on his other side, murmuring, "I am wounded." At
this moment Ravaillac, fearing that the point of his weapon had been
turned aside, quickly struck a second blow at the fainting monarch,
who had raised his arm slightly, thus giving the knife better chance
to reach his heart. This second stroke was instantly fatal. The blood
gushed from his mouth and he expired breathing a deep sigh. His
Majesty's attendants, now running up, would have killed Ravaillac
on the spot, but the Duc d'Épernon called out to them to secure his
person, whereupon one seized the dagger, another his throat, and he was
promptly handed over to the guards. The news spread that the King was
dead and caused a panic. People rushed from the shops into the streets
and a tumult arose which was stayed only by the prompt assurance of
d'Épernon that the King had merely fainted and was being carried to the
Louvre for medical attention.
The murder created intense excitement in the city, for the King was
beloved and trusted by the people as the one hope of peace after such
constant strife. Sully, his faithful minister, was broken-hearted
but acted with great promptitude and firmness. He brought troops
forthwith into Paris and strengthened the garrison with the Swiss
guards. Despair and consternation prevailed in the Louvre, where were
the widowed Queen, Marie de Medicis, and the infant heir, now Louis
XIII. Bassompierre, in his memoirs, tells us how he found the dead King
laid out in his cabinet, surrounded by afflicted followers and weeping
surgeons. Summoned to the Queen's presence, he found her in dishabille,
overcome with grief, and he with others knelt to kiss her hand and
assure her of his devotion. The Duc de Villeroi reasoned with her,
imploring her to postpone her lamentations until she had made provision
for her own and her son's safety. While the Duc de Guise was directed
to bring together all the principal people to recognise and proclaim
the new sovereign, the marshal proceeded to gather up all the troops
and march through the city to check any signs of tumult and sedition.
Meanwhile, Sully had occupied the Bastile with a force of archers and
had enjoined all good subjects to swear allegiance to the throne and
proclaim their readiness to give their lives to avenge Henry's murder.
With the nation in such a temper it was little likely that any mercy
would be shown to Ravaillac. His trial was hurried forward in all haste
and he was arraigned before the High Court of the Tournelle. Long and
minute interrogatories were administered to him on the rack to extort
confession of an act fully proved by eye-witnesses and of which he
was duly convicted. The court declared that he was "attainted of high
treason divine and human in the highest degree, for the most wicked,
the most abominable parricide committed on the person of the late Henry
IV, of good and laudable memory," and he was condemned in reparation to
make the _amende honorable_ before the principal gate of the city of
Paris, "whither he shall be carried," so runs the decree, "and drawn on
a tumbril in his shirt, bearing a lighted torch of two pounds weight,
and there he shall make confession of his crime, of which he repents
and begs pardon of God, the king and the laws. From thence he shall
be carried to the Grève and, on a scaffold to be there erected, the
flesh shall be torn from him with red-hot pincers ... and after this
his limbs shall be dragged by four horses, his body burnt to ashes and
dispersed in the air. His goods and chattels are also declared to be
forfeited and confiscated to the king. And it is further ordained that
the house in which he was born shall be pulled down to the ground (the
owner thereof being previously indemnified) and that no other building
shall ever hereafter be erected on the foundation thereof; that within
fifteen days after the publication of this present sentence his father
and mother shall, by sound of trumpet and public proclamation in the
city of Angoulême, be banished out of the kingdom and forbidden ever
to return under the penalty of being hanged and strangled, without any
further process at law. The Court has also forbidden, and doth forbid
his brothers, sisters, uncles and others, from henceforth to bear the
said name of Ravaillac."
The curious fact is recorded in history that Henry IV had a strong
presentiment of impending fate. "I cannot tell you why, Bassompierre,
but I feel satisfied I shall never go into Germany" (on a projected
campaign). He repeated several times, "I believe I shall die soon."
He shared his forebodings with Sully. "I shall die in this city. This
ceremony of the Queen's coronation (now at hand) disturbs me. I shall
die in this city; I shall never quit Paris again, they mean to kill
me. Accursed coronation! I shall fall during the show." And he did die
the day after it. Yet sometimes he laughed at these fears, remarking,
only two days before his murder, to some of his attendants whom he
overheard discussing the subject, "It is quite foolish to anticipate
evil; for thirty years every astrologer and charlatan in the kingdom
has predicted my death on a particular day, and here I am still alive."
But on this very morning of the 14th of May, the young Duc de Vendôme
brought him a fresh horoscope. The constellation under which Henry
was born threatened him with great danger on this day and he was urged
to pass it in sheltered retirement. The King called the astrologer a
crafty old fox and the duke a young fool, and said, "My fate is in
the hands of God." At the moment Ravaillac was in the vicinity of the
palace, but his gestures were so wild that the guards drove him away to
wait and carry out his fell deed elsewhere.
Ravaillac was no doubt the tool of others. The King's life had been
threatened by courtiers near his person. Not the least active of his
enemies was Madame de Verneuil, born D'Entragues, who had been at one
time his mistress, but who had joined his enemies, notably the Duc
d'Épernon, in cordial detestation of his policy. Henry was at this
time planning a great coalition against the overweening power of Spain
and favored the concession of religious toleration throughout Europe.
Madame de Verneuil had welcomed Ravaillac to Paris and commended him
to the hospitality of one of her creatures, and it was proved that the
murderer had been once in the service of the Duc d'Épernon.
When Henry IV fell under the assassin's knife, it was found by his
will that, in the event of a minority, the regency should devolve upon
Marie de Medicis, his second wife. This happened because Louis XIII,
the new King, was no more than nine years of age, and once again France
came under female rule. The Italian Queen Mother soon fell under the
domination of two other Italians, the Concinis, husband and wife.
The first, a mercenary and overbearing creature, best known as the
Marquis d'Ancre, stirred up the bitterest animosity and brought the
Queen into fierce conflict with the princes of the blood who rose in
open rebellion. They were presently supported by the young King and a
murderous plot was carried out for the marquis' assassination. It was
effected in broad daylight at the entrance of the Louvre by the Baron
de Vitry, a captain of the Gardes du Corps. "I have the King's order to
arrest you," said De Vitry. "_À me?_" asked the astonished d'Ancre in
imperfect French. "_À vous_," replied the other, taking out a pistol
and shooting him down, the rest dispatching him with their swords.
Louis XIII, still barely sixteen, is said to have witnessed the murder
from a window of the Louvre, from which he cried, "Great thanks to all;
now at last I am king."
The Prince de Condé, as leader of the insurgent princes, had been
arrested and imprisoned in the palace but removed to the Bastile. The
mob, greatly incensed, attacked the Louvre, but, unable to find him,
failed to compass Condé's release who was now transferred in the dead
of night, "without torches," to Vincennes. Concini's house was next
sacked, his body dragged from the grave, carried through the streets
and subjected to every indignity, his nose and ears being cut off and
the corpse burned. Hatred of the Queen's foreign favorites was not yet
appeased. Leonora Galigai, the Marquis d'Ancre's widow, was brought to
trial, her conviction being necessary before her property and estates
could be confiscated and divided. She was duly arraigned but it was
impossible to prove her complicity in her husband's misdeeds or to
procure conviction of any crime involving capital punishment. The venue
was therefore changed and she was accused of sorcery and witchcraft. It
was said that she had attracted astrologers and magicians into France
who brought with them spells and incantations, amulets, talismans, and
all the apparatus of wax figures, to produce death by wasting disease.
She was asked in court to confess by what magical arts she had gained
her malign influence over the Queen and she replied contemptuously,
"By the power that strong minds exercise over weak ones." The case
was certain to go against her, but she still hoped to escape with
a sentence of banishment and it was a terrible shock when she was
condemned to death for the crime of _lèse majesté_, human and divine.
Yet she faced her fate with marvellous fortitude. Great crowds turned
out to jeer at her as she was carried in a cart to the Place de Grève,
but she maintained her composure until she saw the flames destined to
consume her decapitated body, then quickly recovering herself, she met
death without bravado and without fear. Her son was imprisoned for
some time in the castle of Nantes and the Concini property was chiefly
divided between the King and the Pope, Clement VII. Leonora Galigai
had originally been the Queen's waiting woman for several years. Of
humble birth, the daughter of a carpenter, she had gained the complete
confidence of her mistress by her soft voice and insinuating ways,
and on coming to France, Marie de Medicis had insisted upon Leonora's
appointment as lady in waiting, although Henry absolutely refused to
appoint her until the Queen gained her point by her importunities.
By this time a new power was rising above the horizon, that of the
Bishop of Luçon, afterwards, and better known as, Cardinal Richelieu.
The cadet of a noble but not affluent family, he was intended for the
career of arms but turned cleric in order to hold the bishopric of
Luçon, the presentation of which was hereditary in his house. By his
talents he soon made his mark as a churchman. He was assiduous in his
religious profession and an eloquent preacher, but his powerful mind
and ambitious spirit presently turned him towards a political career.
He arrived at Paris in 1614 as the representative of the clergy of
Poitou in the States General and his insinuating manners and personal
charm soon won him wide favor at Court. He was presented to the
Queen Mother, Marie de Medicis, by Barbin, the controller-general of
finances, and by the Concinis, the above mentioned ill-fated Marquis
d'Ancre and his wife, Leonora Galigai. He first became the Queen's
chaplain and next the secretary of State for war, barely escaping the
evil consequences of his intimacy with the Concinis. It is rumored in
history that he knew of the intended assassination of d'Ancre the night
before it occurred but neglected to give warning on the plea that he
did not believe the story and thought the news would wait. When the
King and his mother quarrelled and Marie de Medicis withdrew to Blois,
Richelieu accompanied her and served her without at first compromising
himself with Louis. He was at length ordered to leave her and retired
to his bishopric. He was further exiled to the papal province of
Avignon, but was suddenly recalled and forgiven. He still devoted
himself to the Queen and was her chosen friend and adviser, services
which she requited by securing him the cardinal's hat.
Richelieu soon showed his quality and rose step by step to the
highest honors, becoming in due course, First Minister of State. His
success was due throughout to his prudent, far-seeing conduct and
his incomparable adroitness in managing affairs. "He was so keen and
watchful," said a contemporary, "that he was never taken unawares. He
slept little, worked hard, thought of everything and knew everything
either by intuition or through his painstaking indefatigable spirit."
He was long viewed with suspicion and dislike by the young King, but
presently won his esteem by his brilliant talents. He dazzled and
compelled the admiration of all, even those opposed to him. His
extraordinary genius was immediately made manifest; it was enough
for him to show himself. His penetrating eye, the magnetism of his
presence, his dexterity in untying knots and in solving promptly the
most difficult problems, enabled him to dominate all tempers and
overcome all resistance. His was a singularly persuasive tongue; he
had the faculty of easily and effectually proving that he was always
in the right. In a word, he exercised a great personal ascendency and
was as universally feared as he was implicitly obeyed by all upon whom
he imposed his authority. When he was nominated First Minister, the
Venetian minister in Paris wrote to his government, "Here, humanly
speaking, is a new power of a solid and permanent kind; one that is
little likely to be shaken or quickly crumbled away."
Richelieu's steady and consistent aim was to consolidate an absolute
monarchy. Determined to conquer and crush the Huguenots he made his
first attack upon La Rochelle, the great Protestant stronghold, but was
compelled to make terms with the Rochelais temporarily while he devoted
himself to the abasement of the great nobles forever in opposition to
and intriguing against the reigning sovereign. Headed by the princes
of the blood, they continually resisted Marie de Medicis and engaged
in secret conspiracy, making treasonable overtures to Spain or openly
raising the standard of revolt at home. With indomitable courage
and an extraordinary combination of daring and diplomacy, Richelieu
conquered them completely. The secret of his success has been preserved
in his own words, "I undertake nothing that I have not thoroughly
thought out in advance; when I have once made up my mind I stick to
it with unchangeable firmness, sweeping away all obstacles before me
and treading them down under foot till they lie paralysed under my red
robe."
Richelieu, in thus strenuously fighting for his policy, which he
conceived was in the best interests of France, made unsparing use of
the weapons placed at his disposal for coercing his enemies. Foremost
amongst these were the prisons of state, the Bastile, Vincennes and the
rest, which he filled with prisoners, breaking them with repression,
retribution, or more or less permanent removal from the busy scene.
Year after year the long procession passed in through the gloomy
portals, in numbers far exceeding the movement outward, for few went
out except to make the short journey to the scaffold. The Cardinal's
victims were many. Amongst the earliest offenders upon whom his hand
fell heavily in the very first year of his ministry, were those
implicated in the Ornano-Chalais conspiracy. The object of this was to
remove the King's younger brother, Gaston, Duc d'Orleans, generally
known as "Monsieur," out of the hands of the Court and set him up as
a pretender to the throne in opposition to Louis XIII. Richelieu, in
his memoirs, speaks of this as "the most fearful conspiracy mentioned
in history, both as regards the number concerned and the horror of the
design, which was to raise their master (Monsieur) above his condition
and abase the sacred person of the King." The Cardinal himself was to
have been a victim and was to be murdered at his castle of Fleury, six
miles from Fontainebleau. When the plot was betrayed, the King sent
a body of troops to Fleury and the Queen a number of her attendants.
The conspirators were forestalled and the ringleaders arrested. The
Marshal d'Ornano was taken at Fontainebleau and with him his brother
and some of his closest confidants. The Marquis de Chalais, who was of
the famous house of Talleyrand, was caught in the act at Fleury, to
which he had proceeded for the commission of the deed. He confessed
his crime. There were those who pretended at the time that the plot
was fictitious, invented by Richelieu in order to get rid of some of
his most active enemies. In any case, the Marshal d'Ornano died in
the Bastile within three months of his arrest and it was generally
suspected that he had been poisoned, although Richelieu would not allow
it was other than a natural death. Chalais had been sent to Nantes,
where he was put on trial, convicted, sentenced to death and eventually
executed. The execution was carried out with great barbarity, for the
headsman was clumsy and made thirty-two strokes with his sword before
he could effect decapitation.
The two Vendômes, Caesar, the eldest, and his brother, the Grand
Prior, were concerned in the Ornano-Chalais conspiracy. Caesar was the
eldest son of Henri IV by Gabrielle d'Estrées, but was legitimised and
created a duke by his father, with precedence immediately after the
princes of the blood. Although Louis' half-brother, he was one of his
earliest opponents. After the detection of the plot he was cast into
the prison of Vincennes, where he remained for four years (1626-30),
but was released on surrendering the government of Brittany and
accepting exile. He was absent for eleven years, but on again returning
to France was accused of an attempt to poison Cardinal Richelieu and
again banished until that minister's death. He could not bring himself
to submit to existing authority, and once more in France became one
of the leaders of the party of the "Importants" and was involved in
the disgrace of the Duc de Beaufort, his son. Having made his peace
with Cardinal Mazarin in 1650, he was advanced to several offices,
among others to those of Governor of Burgundy and Superintendent of
Navigation. He helped to pacify Guienne and took Bordeaux. The Grand
Prior, his brother, became a Knight of Malta and saw service early
at the siege of Candia, where he showed great courage. He made the
campaign of Holland under Louis XIV, after having been involved with
Chalais, and throughout showed himself a good soldier.
Richelieu's penalties were sometimes inflicted on other grounds than
self-defense and personal animosity. The disturbers of public peace he
treated as enemies of the State. Thus he laid a heavy hand on all who
were concerned in affairs of honor whether death ensued or not. His own
elder brother had been killed in a duel, and he abhorred a practice
which had so long decimated the country. It was calculated that in one
year alone four thousand combatants had perished. King Henry IV had
issued the most severe edicts against it and had created a tribunal of
marshals empowered to examine into and arrange all differences between
gentlemen. One of these edicts of 1602, prohibiting duels, laid down
as a penalty for the offense, the confiscation of property and the
imprisonment of the survivors. A notorious duellist, De Bouteville,
felt the weight of the Cardinal's hand. He must have been a quarrelsome
person for he fought on twenty-one occasions. After the last quarrel
he retired into Flanders and was challenged by a Monsieur de Beuvron.
They returned to Paris where they fought in the Place Royale, and
Bussy d'Amboise, one of Beuvron's seconds, was killed by one of De
Bouteville's. The survivors fled but were pursued and captured, with
the result that De Bouteville was put upon his trial before the regular
courts. He was convicted and condemned to death. All the efforts on
the part of influential friends, royal personages included, to obtain
pardon having proved unavailing, he suffered in the Place de Grève. The
pugnacity of this De Bouteville was attributed by many to homicidal
mania, and one nobleman declared that he would decline a challenge from
him unless it was accompanied by a medical certificate of sanity. He
had killed a number of his opponents and his reputation was such that
when he established a fencing school at his residence in Paris all the
young noblemen flocked there to benefit by his lessons.
Richelieu used the Bastile for all manner of offenders. One was the
man Farican, of whom he speaks in his "Memoirs" as "a visionary
consumed with vague dreams of a coming republic. All his ends were
bad, all his means wicked and detestable.... His favorite occupation
was the inditing of libellous pamphlets against the government,
rendering the King odious, exciting sedition and aiming at subverting
the tranquillity of the State. Outwardly a priest, he held all good
Catholics in detestation and acted as a secret spy of the Huguenots."
An Englishman found himself in the Bastile for being at cross purposes
with the Cardinal. This was a so-called Chevalier Montagu, son of
the English Lord Montagu and better known as "Wat" Montagu, who was
much employed as a secret political agent between England and France.
Great people importuned the Cardinal to release Montagu. "The Duke
of Lorraine," says Richelieu, "has never ceased to beg this favor.
He began with vain threats and then, with words more suitable to his
position, sent the Prince of Phalsbourg to Paris for the third time
to me to grant this request." The Duke having been gratified with
this favor came in person to Paris to thank the King. An entry in an
English sheet dated April 20th, 1628, runs, "The Earl of Carlisle will
not leave suddenly because Walter Montagu is set free from France and
has arrived at our court. The King says he has done him exceeding
good service." It was Montagu who brought good news from Rochelle to
the Duke of Buckingham on the very day he was assassinated. Later in
October, Montagu had a conference with Richelieu as to the exchange of
prisoners at Rochelle.
Richelieu's upward progress had not been unimpeded. The Queen Mother
became his bitter enemy. Marie de Medicis was disappointed in him. He
had not proved the humble, docile creature she looked for in one whom
she had raised so high and her jealousy intensified as his power grew.
She was a woman of weak character and strong passions, easily led
astray by designing favorites, as was seen in the case of the Concinis,
and there is little doubt that the Maréchal d'Ancre was her lover.
After his murder she was estranged from Louis XIII, but was reconciled
and joined with Richelieu's enemies in ceaselessly importuning the King
to break with his too powerful minister. She was backed by Anne of
Austria, the wife of Louis XIII; by "Monsieur," the Duc d'Orleans and
a swarm of leading courtiers in her efforts to sacrifice Richelieu.
The conflict ended in the so-called "Day of Dupes," when the minister
turned the tables triumphantly upon his enemies. Louis had retired to
his hunting lodge near Versailles to escape from his perplexities and
Richelieu followed him there, obtained an audience and put his own case
before the King, whom he dazzled by unveiling his great schemes, and
easily regained the mastery. His enemies were beaten and like craven
hounds came to lick his feet; and like hounds, at once felt the whip.
One of the first to suffer was the Queen Mother. She had no friends.
Every one hated her; her son, her creatures and supporters,--and the
King again sent her into exile, this time to Compiègne, where she was
detained for a time. She presently escaped and left France to wander
through Europe, first to Brussels, then to London and last of all to
Cologne, where she died in a garret in great penury. Marie de Medicis'
had been an unhappy life. Misfortune met her on the moment she came
to France, for the King, her bridegroom, who had divorced his first
wife, Marguerite de Valois, in the hopes of an heir by another wife,
was much disappointed when he saw Marie de Medicis. She was by no means
so good looking as he had been led to believe. She was tall, with a
large coarse figure, and had great round staring eyes. There was
nothing softly feminine and caressing in her ways, she had no gaiety
of manner and was not at all the woman to attract or amuse the King's
roving fancy,--the _vert galant_, the gay deceiver of a thousand errant
loves. Yet he was willing to be good friends and was strongly drawn to
her after the birth of the Dauphin, but was soon repelled again by her
violent temper and generally detestable character. The establishment of
the Jesuits in France was Marie's doing. She was suspected of duplicity
in Henry's assassination, but the foul charge rests on no good grounds.
After becoming Regent, she alienated the nobility by her favoritism and
exasperated the people by her exorbitant tax levies to provide money
for her wasteful extravagance and the prodigal gifts she bestowed. The
one merit she possessed in common with her house was her patronage
of arts and letters. She inspired the series of famous allegorical
pictures, twenty-one in number, painted by Rubens, embodying the life
of Marie de Medicis.
There was no love lost between the Cardinal and the Maréchal
Bassompierre, who paid the penalty for being on the wrong side in
the famous "Day of Dupes" and found himself committed for a long
imprisonment in the Bastile. The Marshal had offended Richelieu by
penetrating his designs against the nobility. When asked what he
thought of the prospect of taking La Rochelle, he had answered, "It
would be a mad act for us, for we shall enable the Cardinal, when
he has overcome the Calvinists, to turn all his strength against
our order." It was early in 1631 that danger to his person began
to threaten him. He was warned by the Duc d'Épernon that the Queen
Mother, of whose party Bassompierre was, had been arrested and that
others, including himself, were likely to get into trouble. The Marshal
asked the Duc d'Épernon for his advice, who strongly urged him to get
away, offering him at the same time a loan of fifty thousand crowns
as a provision until better days came. The Marshal refused this kind
offer but resolved to present himself before the King and stand his
ground. He would not compromise himself by a flight which would draw
suspicion down on him and call his loyalty in question. He had served
France faithfully for thirty years and was little inclined now that
he was fifty to seek his fortune elsewhere. "I had given my King the
best years of my life and was willing to sacrifice my liberty to him,
feeling sure that it would be restored on better appreciation of my
loyal services."
Bassompierre prepared for the worst like a man of the world. "I
rose early next day and proceeded to burn more than six thousand
love-letters received from ladies to whom I had paid my addresses. I
was afraid that if arrested my papers would be seized and examined and
some of these letters might compromise my old friends." He entered his
carriage and drove to Senlis where the King was in residence. Here
he met the Duc de Gramont and others who told him he would certainly
be arrested. Bassompierre again protested that he had nothing on his
conscience. The King received him civilly enough and talked to him
at length about the disagreement of the Queen Mother with Cardinal
Richelieu, and then Bassompierre asked point blank whether the King
owed him any grudge. "How can you think such a thing," replied the
treacherous monarch. "You know I am your friend," and left him. That
evening the Marshal supped with the Duc de Longueville and the King
came in afterwards. "Then I saw plainly enough," says Bassompierre,
"that the King had something against me, for he kept his head down,
and touching the strings of his guitar, never looked at me nor spoke a
single word. Next morning I rose at six o'clock and as I was standing
before the fire in my dressing-room, M. de Launay, Lieutenant of the
Body-Guard, entered my room and said, 'Sir, it is with tears in my eyes
and with a bleeding heart that I, who, for twenty years have served
under you, am obliged to tell you that the King has ordered me to
arrest you.'
"I experienced very little emotion and replied: 'Sir, you will have
no trouble, as I came here on purpose, having been warned. I have all
my life submitted to the wishes of the King, who can dispose of me or
my liberty as he thinks fit.'... Shortly afterwards one of the King's
carriages arrived in front of my lodging with an escort of mounted
musketeers and thirty light horsemen. I entered the carriage alone with
De Launay. Then we drove off, keeping two hundred paces in front of
the escort, as far as the Porte St.-Martin, where we turned off to the
left, and I was taken to the Bastile. I dined with the Governor, M. du
Tremblay, whom I afterwards accompanied to the chamber which had been
occupied by the Prince de Condé, and in this I was shut up with one
servant.
"On the 26th, M. du Tremblay came to see me on the part of the King,
saying that his Majesty had not caused me to be arrested for any fault
that I had committed, holding me to be a good servant, but for fear I
should be led into mischief, and he assured me that I should not remain
long in prison, which was a great consolation. He also told me that the
King had ordered him to allow me every liberty but that of leaving the
Bastile. He added another chamber to my lodging for the accommodation
of my domestics. I retained only two valets and a cook, and passed two
months without leaving my room, and I should not have gone out at all
had I not been ill.... The King, it seems, had gone on a voyage as far
as Dijon, and on his return to Paris I implored my liberty, but all
in vain. I fell ill in the Bastile of a very dangerous swelling, due
to the want of fresh air and exercise and I began therefore to walk
regularly on the terrace of the Bastion."
Bassompierre was destined to see a good deal of that terrace, for the
years slowly dragged themselves along with hope constantly deferred
and no fulfilment of the promises of freedom so glibly extended to
him. He was arrested in 1631 and in the following year heard he would
in all probability be released at once; but, as he says, he was told
this merely to redouble his sufferings. Next year he had great hope
of regaining his liberty and Marshal Schomberg sent him word that on
the return of the King to Paris he should leave the Bastile. This
year they deprived him of a portion of his salary and he was greatly
disheartened, feeling "that he was to be eternally detained and from
that time forth he lost all hope except in God." Two years later
(1635) the Governor, Monsieur du Tremblay, congratulated him on his
approaching release and the rumor was so strong that a number of
friends came every day to the Bastile to see if he was still there.
These encouraging stories were repeated from month to month without
any good result, and at length Père Joseph, "his gray eminence,"
Richelieu's most confidential friend and brother of Monsieur du
Tremblay, being at the Bastile, promised the Marshal to speak to the
Cardinal on his behalf. "I put no faith in him," writes Bassompierre,
and indeed nothing more was heard for a couple of years, but we find in
the Marshal's journal an entry to the effect that the King had told the
Cardinal it weighed on his conscience for having kept him in prison
so long, seeing that there was nothing against him. "To which," says
Bassompierre, "the Cardinal replied that he had so many things on his
mind he could not remember the reason for the imprisonment or why he
(Richelieu) had advised it, but he would consult his papers and show
them to the King." The poor Marshal's dejection increased, having been
detained so long in the Bastile, "where he had nothing to do but pray
God to speedily put an end to his long misery by liberty or death."
The imprisonment outlasted the journal which ends in 1640, and it was
not until the death of the Cardinal in 1642 that he at length obtained
his release, just eleven years after his first committal to prison.
He at once presented himself at Court and was graciously received by
the King who asked him his age. "Fifty," replied Bassompierre, "for I
cannot count the years passed in the Bastile as they were not spent in
your Majesty's service." He did not enjoy his freedom long, for he soon
afterwards died from an apoplectic seizure.