THE PEOPLE AND THE BASTILE
Anne of Austria--Her servant Laporte--Clandestine communication
in the Bastile--Birth of Dauphin, afterward Louis XIV--Cinq
Mars--His conspiracy--Richelieu's death--His character and
achievements--Dubois the alchemist--Regency of Anne of
Austria--Mazarin's influence--The "Importants"--Imprisonment
and escape of Duc de Beaufort--Growth of the Fronde--Attacks on
Bastile--De Retz in Vincennes--Made Archbishop of Paris while in
prison--Peace restored--Mazarin's later rule benign.
Richelieu throughout his ministry was exposed to the bitter enmity of
the Opposition; his enemies, princes and great nobles, were continually
plotting to take his life. The King's brother, Gaston, Duc d'Orleans,
intrigued incessantly against him, supported by Anne of Austria, queen
of Louis XIII, who was ever in treasonable correspondence with the King
of Spain. Richelieu, whose power waned for a time, strongly urged the
Queen's arrest and trial, but no more was done than to commit her most
confidential servant, Laporte, to the Bastile. The Queen herself was
terrified into submission and made solemn confession of her misdeeds.
She did not tell all, however, and it was hoped more might be extorted
from Laporte by the customary pressure. It was essential to warn
Laporte, but he was in a dungeon far beneath one of the towers and
access to him seemed impossible. The story is preserved,--an almost
incredible one, but vouched for in Laporte's "Memoirs,"--that a letter
was conveyed to Laporte by the assistance of another prisoner, the
Chevalier de Jars. The letter was conveyed to De Jars by one of the
Queen's ladies disguised as a servant, and he managed by boring a hole
in his floor to pass it to the room below. Here the occupants were
friends, and in like manner they dug into the dungeon beneath them,
with the result that Laporte was eventually reached in his subterranean
cell. Fortified now by the fact of the Queen's avowal, Laporte
conducted himself so well that the most searching examination elicited
no further proofs. The process followed was in due course detected and
Richelieu was heard to lament that he did not possess so faithful a
servant as Laporte.
The Chevalier de Jars, above mentioned, had been long an inmate of the
Bastile, being concerned with the keeper of the seals, Chateauneuf,
in a plot to convey Marie de Medicis and the King's brother, Gaston,
to England. No proof was forthcoming as to Jars's complicity with
Chateauneuf, and he was treated with the utmost cruelty in order to
extort confession. He was imprisoned in a fetid dungeon till his
clothes rotted off his back, his hair and nails grew to a frightful
length and he was nearly starved to death. Père Joseph, the Cardinal's
_alter ego_, the famous "grey eminence," constantly visited him to
make sure that this rigorous treatment was carried out. At length the
Chevalier was taken out for examination, to which he was subjected
eighty times, and threatened first with torture and then with capital
punishment. At last he was warned that he must die and was removed to
the place of execution. Pardon, however, was extended to him just as
the axe was raised. Still the Chevalier refused to make any revelation.
He was taken back to the Bastile, but he was no longer harshly treated.
De Jars seems to have won the favor of Charles I, of England, whose
queen, Henrietta Maria, wrote to Richelieu begging for the prisoner's
release. This came in 1638, apparently a little after the episode of
the clandestine letter described above.
The birth of a son, afterwards Louis XIV, put an end to the worst of
these court intrigues. Gaston d'Orleans lost his position as heir
presumptive and the King, while still hating Richelieu, trusted him
more and more with the conduct of affairs. Fortune smiled upon the
French arms abroad. Richelieu had made short work of his principal
enemies and he was now practically unassailable. No one could stand
against him and the King was simply his servant. Louis XIII would
gladly have shaken himself free from his imperious minister's tyranny,
but the King's health was failing and he could only listen to whispers
of the fresh plots which he was too weak to discountenance and forbid.
The last of these was the celebrated conspiracy of Cinq Mars, well
known in history, but still better known in romantic literature as the
subject of the famous novel by Alfred de Vigny, named after the central
figure. Richelieu, needing an ally near the King's person, had selected
Henri Cinq Mars, youngest son of the Marquis d'Effiat, a handsome,
vain youth who quickly grew into the King's graces and was much petted
and much spoiled. The young Cinq Mars, no more than nineteen, amused
the King by sharing his silly pleasures, teaching him to snare magpies
and helping him to carve wooden toys. Cinq Mars was appointed master
of the horse and was greatly flattered and made much of at court. His
head was soon turned and filled with ambitious dreams. He aspired to
the hand of the Princess Marie de Gonzague of the house of Nevers and
made a formal proposition of himself to Richelieu. The Cardinal laughed
contemptuously at his absurd pretensions, and earned in return the
bitter hatred of Cinq Mars. The breach was widened by the King's bad
taste in introducing his favorite at a conference of the Privy Council.
Richelieu quietly acquiesced but afterwards gave Cinq Mars a bit of his
mind, gaining thereby redoubled dislike. From that time forth Cinq Mars
was resolved to overthrow the Cardinal. He found ready support from the
Duc d'Orleans and the Duc de Bouillon, while the King himself was not
deaf to the hints of a speedy release from Richelieu's thraldom. Only
the Queen, Anne of Austria, stood aloof and was once more on friendly
terms with the Cardinal. A secret treaty had been entered into with
Philip IV of Spain, who was to further the aims of the conspirators by
sending troops into France. The two countries were then at war and it
was high treason to enter into dealings with Spain. Just when the plot
was ripe for execution an anonymous packet was brought to Richelieu
at Tarascon, whither he had proceeded with the King to be present at
the relief of Perpignan. This packet contained a facsimile of the
traitorous treaty with Philip IV and Cinq Mars's fate was sealed. The
King with great reluctance signed an order for the arrest of Cinq Mars,
who was taken in the act of escaping on horseback.
De Thou, another of the conspirators, was taken with the Duc de
Bouillon, while the Duc d'Orleans fled into Auvergne and wandered
to and fro, proscribed and in hiding. The only crime that could be
advanced against De Thou was that he was privy to the plot and had
taken no steps to reveal it. Cinq Mars was now abandoned by the King,
who left him to the tender mercies of Richelieu. This resulted in his
being brought to trial at Lyons, but he contrived to send a message
appealing for mercy to the King. It reached the foolish, fickle monarch
when he was in the act of making toffy in a saucepan over the fire.
"No, no, I will give Cinq Mars no audience," said Louis, "his soul is
as black as the bottom of this pan." Cinq Mars suffered on the block
and comported himself with a fortitude that won him sympathy; for it
was remembered that his faults had been fostered by the exaggerated
favoritism shown him. De Thou was also decapitated after his associate,
and, not strangely, was unnerved by the sight which he had witnessed.
The Duc de Bouillon was pardoned at the price of surrendering his
ancestral estate of Sedan to the Crown.
This was Richelieu's last act of retaliation. He returned to Paris
stricken with mortal disease. He travelled by slow stages in a litter
borne by twelve gentlemen of his entourage, who marched bareheaded.
On reaching Paris, he rapidly grew worse and Louis XIII paid him a
farewell visit on his deathbed. On taking leave of his master he
reminded him of the singular services he had rendered France, saying:
"In taking my leave of your Majesty I behold your kingdom at the
highest pinnacle it has hitherto reached and all your enemies have
been banished or removed." The tradition is preserved that upon this
solemn occasion he strenuously urged the King to appoint Mazarin as his
successor. The Italian cardinal was brought into the Council the day
after Richelieu's death and from the first appears to have exercised
a strong influence over the King. The means and methods of the two
statesmen were in great contrast. Richelieu imposed his will by sheer
force of character and the terror he inspired. Mazarin, soft-mannered
and supple-backed, worked with infinite patience and triumphed by
duplicity and astuteness.
Richelieu's constant aim was to establish the absolute power of
the monarchy, and to aggrandize France among nations. His internal
government was arbitrary and often extremely cruel and he was
singularly deficient in financial ability. He had no idea of raising
money but by the imposition of onerous taxes and never sought to enrich
France by encouraging industries and developing the natural resources
of the country. A strong, self-reliant, highly intelligent and gifted
man, he was nevertheless a slave to superstition and the credulous dupe
of fraudulent impostures. It will always be remembered against him that
he believed in alchemy and the virtue of the so-called philosopher's
stone; yet more, that he was responsible for the persecution and
conviction of Urban Grandier, a priest condemned as a magician, charged
with bewitching the nuns of Poictou. It was gravely asserted that
these simple creatures were possessed of devils through the malignant
influence of Grandier, and many pious ecclesiastics were employed to
exorcise the evil spirits.
The story as it comes down to us would be farcical and absurd were
it not so repulsively horrible. The nuns believed to be afflicted
were clearly the victims of emotional hysteria. They exhibited the
strangest and most extravagant grimaces and contortions, were thrown
into convulsions and foamed and slavered at the mouth. The ceremony
of exorcism was carried out with great solemnity, and it is seriously
advanced that the admonition had such surprising effects that the
devils straightway took flight into the air. The whole story was
conveyed to Cardinal Richelieu by his familiar, Père Joseph, who
declared that he had seen the evil spirits at work and had observed
many nuns and lay-sisters when they were possessed. The Cardinal
thereupon gave orders for Grandier's arrest and trial, which was
conducted with great prolixity and unfairness. The evidence adduced
against him was preposterous. Among other statements, it was claimed
that he exhibited a number of the devil's marks upon his body and
that he was so impervious to pain that when a needle was thrust into
him to the depth of an inch, it had no effect and no blood issued.
Grandier's defence was a solemn denial of the charges, but according
to the existing procedure, he was put to the "question," subjected to
most cruel torture, ordinary and extraordinary, to extort confession
of the guilt which he would not acknowledge. He was in due course
formally convicted of the crimes of magic and sorcery and sentenced
to make the _amende honorable_; to be led to the public place of Holy
Cross in Loudun and there bound to a stake on a wooden pile and burned
alive. The records state that he bore his punishment with constancy
accompanied with great self-denial, and declare that a certain
unaffected air of piety which hypocrisy cannot counterfeit was shown
in his aspect. On the other hand one bigoted chronicler of the period
declares that, during the ceremony, a flying insect like a wasp was
observed to buzz about Grandier's head. This gave a monk occasion to
say that it was Beelzebub hovering around him to carry away his soul to
hell,--this for the reason that Beelzebub signifies in Hebrew the god
of flies.
It is difficult to understand how Richelieu could suffer himself to be
beguiled into accepting the promises made by an unscrupulous adventurer
to turn the baser metals into gold. But for a space he certainly
believed in Noël Pigard Dubois, a man who, after following for some
time his father's profession of surgery, abandoned it in order to go to
the Levant, where he spent four years in the study of occult science.
On returning to Paris he employed his time in the same pursuit, chiefly
associating with dissolute characters. A sudden fit of devotion made
him enter a monastery, but he soon grew tired of the irksome restraints
he there experienced, and, scaling the walls of his retreat, effected
his escape. Three years after this he once more resolved to embrace a
monastic life, took the vows and was ordained a priest. In this new
course he persevered for ten years, at the end of which time he fled to
Germany, became a Lutheran, and devoted himself to the quest of the
philosopher's stone.
Dissatisfied with this mode of life, he again visited Paris, abjured
the Protestant religion, and married under a fictitious name. As he now
boldly asserted that he had discovered the secret of making gold, he
soon grew into repute and was at last introduced to Richelieu and the
King, both of whom, with singular gullibility, gave full credence to
his pretensions. It was arranged that Dubois should perform the "great
work" in the Louvre, the King, the Queen, the Cardinal, and other
illustrious personages of the court being present. In order to lull all
suspicion, Dubois requested that some one might be appointed to watch
his proceedings. Accordingly Saint-Amour, one of the King's body-guard,
was selected for this purpose. Musket balls, given by a soldier
together with a grain of the "powder for projection," were placed in
a crucible covered with cinders and the furnace fire was soon raised
to a proper heat. When Dubois declared the transmutation accomplished,
he requested the King to blow off the ashes from the crucible. This
Louis did with so much ardor that he nearly blinded the Queen and the
courtiers with the dust he raised. But when his efforts were rewarded
by seeing at the bottom of the crucible the lump of gold which by
wonderful sleight of hand Dubois had contrived to introduce into it,
despite the presence of so many witnesses, the King warmly embraced
the alchemist. Then he ennobled him and appointed him president of the
treasury.
Dubois repeated the same trick several times with equal success. But
an obstacle which he might from the first have anticipated occurred.
He soon grew unable to satisfy the eager demands of his protectors,
who longed for something more substantial than insignificant lumps of
gold. Some idea of their avidity may be conceived when it is known that
Richelieu alone required him to furnish a weekly sum of about £25,000.
Although Dubois asked for a delay, which he obtained, he was of course
unable to comply with these extravagant demands, and was in consequence
imprisoned in Vincennes, whence he was transferred to the Bastile. The
vindictive minister, unwilling to acknowledge that he had been duped,
instead of punishing Dubois as an impostor, accused him of practising
magic and appointed a commission to try him. As the unhappy alchemist
persisted in asserting his innocence he was put to the torture. His
sufferings induced him in order to gain respite to offer to fulfil
the promises with which he had formerly deceived his patrons. Their
credulity was apparently not yet exhausted, for they allowed him to
make another experiment. Having again failed in this, he confessed
his imposture, was sentenced to death and accordingly perished on the
scaffold.
A host of warring elements was forced into fresh activity by the death
of Richelieu, soon followed by that of the King. Louis XIII, in his
will, bequeathed the regency to his widowed Queen, Anne of Austria,
and her accession to power stirred up many active malcontents all
eager to dispute it. The feudal system had faded, but the great nobles
still survived and were ready to fight again for independence if the
executive were weakened; while parliaments were ready to claim a voice
in government and curtail the prerogatives not yet wholly conceded to
the sovereign. The long minority of Louis XIV was a period of continual
intrigue. France was torn by party dissension and cursed with civil
war. If we would understand the true state of affairs and realise the
part played by the two great prisons, Vincennes and the Bastile, and
the principal personages incarcerated within their walls, a brief
résumé of events will prove helpful.
Anne of Austria was not a woman of commanding ability. She was kind
hearted, well-intentioned, of sufficiently noble character to forget
her own likes and dislikes, and really desirous of ruling in the best
interests of the country. Her situation was one of extraordinary
difficulty and, not strangely, she was inclined to lean upon the best
support that seemed to offer itself. Cardinal Mazarin was a possible
successor to Richelieu and well fitted to continue that powerful
minister's policy. The Queen was willing to give Mazarin her full
confidence and was aghast when he talked of withdrawing permanently
to Rome. She now desired him to remain and take charge of the ship
of state, but his elevation gave great umbrage to his many opponents
at court, and the desire to undermine, upset and even to assassinate
Mazarin was the cause of endless intrigues and conspiracies. The
cabal of the "Importants" was the first to overcome. It consisted of
Richelieu's chief victims now returned from banishment, or released
from gaol; princes of the blood and great nobles aiming at recovered
influence, and the Queen's favorites counting upon her unabated
friendship. They gave themselves such airs and their pretensions were
so high that they gained the ironical sobriquet of "the important
people." Mazarin, when they threatened him, made short work of them.
The Duc de Beaufort, second son of the Duc de Vendôme, handsome of
person but an inordinate swaggerer, whose rough manners and coarse
language had gained him the epithet of "King of the Markets," was
arrested and shut up in Vincennes. Intriguing duchesses were once more
exiled and the principal nobles sent to vegetate on their estates. A
new power now arose; that of the victorious young general, the Duc
d'Enghien, the eldest son of the Prince de Condé, afterwards known as
the "great Condé." He became the hero of the hour and so great was his
popularity that had he been less self-confident and more willing to
join forces with the Duc d'Orleans, "Monsieur," the young King's uncle,
he would have become a dangerous competitor to Mazarin. D'Enghien soon
succeeded to the family honors and continued to win battles and to be
an unknown quantity in politics capable at any time of throwing his
weight on either side.
The next serious conflict was with the Parliament of Paris, ever
eager to vindicate its authority and importance and to claim control
of the financial administration of France. The French treasury was
as ill-managed as ever and the Parliament was resolved to oppose the
proposed taxation. Extreme misery prevailed in the land. The peasants
were ground down into the most wretched poverty, and were said to
have "nothing left to them but their souls; and these also would have
been seized, but that they would fetch nothing at the hammer." The
Parliament backed up the cry for reform, and Mazarin, to check and
intimidate it, decided to arrest two of its most prominent members. The
aged Broussel was sent to the Bastile and Blancmesnil was thrown into
the castle of Vincennes.
These arbitrary acts drove the Parisian populace into open revolt.
Broussel's immediate release was demanded and obstinately refused until
the disturbances increased and barricades were formed, when the Queen,
at last terrified, surrendered her prisoner. The next day she left
Paris, taking the young King with her, declaring that she would return
with troops to enforce submission. Condé, who had returned from the
army with fresh successes, advised conciliation, being secretly anxious
to support those who would cripple the growing authority of Mazarin.
Peace was restored, at least on the surface, and the Queen once more
returned to Paris. But she was almost a prisoner in her palace and when
she appeared in public her carriage was followed by a hooting mob.
She again planned to disappear from Paris and send the royal army to
blockade it. In the dead of a winter's night the whole court, carrying
the King, fled to St. Germain where no preparations had been made to
receive them. For days they were short of food, fuel and the commonest
necessaries. But a stern message was dispatched to the people of Paris,
intimating the immediate advance of a body of twelve thousand troops.
The capital was abashed but not greatly alarmed, and was prepared for
defence and for the support of Parliament. The question of the moment
was that of leadership, and choice lay between the Prince de Condé, the
great Condé's brother, and the Duc d'Elboeuf, who was appointed with
the certainty that Condé would not submit to him.
The Duc de Beaufort was also available, for he had succeeded in
escaping from Vincennes. A brief account of his evasion may well find
place here. Chavigny, a former minister, was governor of the prison,
and no friend to Beaufort. But Cardinal Mazarin did not trust to
that, and special gaolers were appointed to ensure the prince's safe
custody. Ravile, an officer of the King's body-guard, and six or seven
troopers kept him constantly under eye, and slept in the prisoner's
room. Beaufort was not permitted to retain his own servants about
him, but his friends managed to secure the employment of a valet,
supposed to be in hiding to escape the consequences of a fatal duel in
which he had killed his man. This mysterious retainer exhibited the
most violent dislike of Beaufort and treated him openly with insolent
rudeness. On the day of Pentecost, when many of the guards were absent
at mass, Beaufort was permitted to exercise on the gallery below the
level of his regular apartment, with a single companion, an officer
of the Garde du Corps. The valet above mentioned had taken his seat
at table with the rest, but suddenly rose, feigning illness, and
leaving the dining room locked the door behind him. Rejoining the Duke
the two threw themselves upon the officer, whom they overpowered and
bound and gagged. A ladder of ropes, already prepared, was produced
and fastened to the bars of the window, and the fugitives went down
into the moat by means of it. Meanwhile, half a dozen confederates had
been stationed below and beyond the moat to assist in the escape, and
were in waiting, watching the descent. Unfortunately the ladder proved
too short by some feet. A long drop was necessary, in which Beaufort,
a stalwart figure, fell heavily and was so seriously hurt that he
fainted. Further progress was arrested until he regained consciousness.
Then a cord was thrown across the moat and the Prince was dragged
over by his attendants, who carried him to a neighboring wood where
he was met by fifty armed men on horseback. He mounted, although in
great bodily pain, and galloped off, forgetting his sufferings in his
delight at freedom regained. Beaufort fled to a distant estate of his
father's, where he remained in safety until the sword was drawn, when
he promptly proceeded to Paris and was received with open arms after
his imprisonment and long absence. His popularity was widespread and
extravagantly manifested. The market women in particular lavished
signs of affection on him and smothered him with kisses. Later, when
it was believed that he had been poisoned by Mazarin and had applied
to the doctors for an antidote, the mob was convulsed with alarm at
his illness. Immense crowds surrounded the Hotel de Vendôme. So great
was the concourse, so deep the anxiety that the people were admitted
to see him lying pale and suffering on his bed; and many of them threw
themselves on their knees by his bedside and wept pitifully, calling
him the saviour of his country.
The moving spirit of the Fronde was really Gondi, better
known afterwards as Cardinal de Retz, who had been appointed
Coadjutor-Archbishop of Paris. He was a strange character who played
many parts, controlled great affairs, exercised a supreme authority and
dictated terms to the Crown. His youth had been stormy, and although
he was an ordained ecclesiastic, he hated the religious profession.
He led a vicious, irregular life, was a libertine and conspirator,
fought a couple of duels and tried to abduct a cousin. None of these
evil deeds could release him from his vows, and being permanently,
arbitrarily committed to the Church, his ambition led him to seek
distinction in it. Studying theology deeply and inclining to polemics,
he became a noted disputant, argued points of doctrine in public with
a Protestant and won him back to the bosom of the Catholic Church. It
was Louis XIII who, on his death-bed, in reward for this conversion,
named him Coadjutor. Gondi was possessed of great eloquence and
preached constantly in the cathedral to approving congregations. He was
essentially a demagogue on the side of the popular faction. Despite his
often enthusiastic following, his position was generally precarious,
and when the opposing parties made peace he fell into disgrace. In the
midst of his thousand intrigues he was suddenly arrested and carried
to Vincennes as a prisoner. When at length he escaped from Nantes, to
which he had been transferred, his reappearance produced no effect and
he wandered to and fro through Europe, neglected and despised. His only
fame rests on a quality he esteemed the least, that of literary genius,
for his "Memoirs," which he wrote in the quiet years of latter life,
still hold a high place in French literature.
The wars of the Fronde lasted with varying fortunes for five
distressful years. This conflict owed its name to the boyish Parisian
game of slinging stones. The sling, or _fronde_, was the weapon they
used and the combatants continually gathered to throw stones at each
other, quickly dispersing at the appearance of the watch. The Queen
was implacably resolved to coerce the insurgents. The Parisians, full
of fight, raised men and money in seemingly resolute, but really
half-hearted resistance. Condé commanded the royal army, blockaded
Paris for six weeks and starved the populace into submission. The
earlier successes had been with the city. The Bastile had been attacked
and its governor, Monsieur du Tremblay, the brother of Père Joseph,
"His Grey Eminence," capitulated, hopeless of holding out with his
small garrison of twenty-two men. The conflict never rose above small
skirmishes and trifling battles. The civic forces had no military
value. The streets were filled with light-hearted mobs who watched
their leaders disporting gaily in dances and entertainments at the
Hotel de Ville. Condé, on the other hand, was in real earnest. He
attacked the suburbs and carried serious war into the heart of the
city. The insurgents prepared to treat, and Mazarin, who feared that
the surrender of Paris to Condé would make that prince dictator of
France, consented. He agreed to grant an amnesty, to reduce taxation
and bring the King back to Paris.
Condé now went into opposition. He posed as the saviour of the Court,
and as the nobles crowded round him he grew more and more overbearing.
Mazarin had now secured the support of Gondi by promising to obtain for
him the Cardinal's hat and he detached the other leaders of the Fronde
by liberal bribes. The final stroke was the sudden arrest of Condé
and with him two other princes, Conti and Longueville. The volatile
Parisians were overjoyed at the sight of the great general being
escorted to Vincennes. Peace might have been permanently established
had not Mazarin played the Coadjutor false by now refusing him the
Cardinal's hat, and Gondi therefore incited his friends to fresh
rebellion. A strong combination insisted upon the dismissal of Mazarin
and the release of the three princes. They had been removed for safe
custody to Havre, where Mazarin went in person to set them free. He
would have made terms with them, but they resisted his advances and
returned to Paris in triumph, where the Parliament during Mazarin's
absence had condemned Mazarin to death in effigy. Mazarin now withdrew
altogether from France to Cologne where he still directed the Queen's
policy. A fresh conflict was imminent. Gondi was gained by a new
promise of a Cardinalate for him and the opposing forces gathered
together for war.
Condé was now hostile. With him were Gaston, Duc d'Orleans, the Dukes
of Beaufort and Nemours and other great nobles. Gaston's daughter, the
intrepid, "Grande Mademoiselle," above all feminine weakness, took
personal command of a part of the army. Turenne, one of the greatest
soldiers of his time, led the royal troops against her. Condé made
a bold but fruitless attempt to capture the Court. He then marched
on Paris pursued by Turenne's forces. A fight ensued in the suburb
of Saint Antoine, where Condé became entangled and was likely to be
overwhelmed. He was saved by the "Grande Mademoiselle," who helped
him to carry his troops through Paris and covered the movement by
entering the Bastile in person, the guns of which were opened upon the
royal troops. This was the final action in the civil war. The people,
wearied of conflict, clamored loudly for peace. One obstacle was the
doubtful attitude of Cardinal de Retz, who throughout this later phase
had pretended to be on the side of the Court. He, however, was still
bent on rebellion. He garrisoned and fortified his house and laid in
ammunition and it was essential to take sharp measures with him. He was
beguiled for a time with fair appearances, but the Queen was already
planning his removal from the scene. One day Cardinal de Retz came to
pay his homage and, on leaving the King's apartments, was arrested by
the captain of the guard.
The Cardinal has told his story at length in his extremely interesting
"Memoirs." Some of his friends knew of the fate impending but were
too late to warn him and help him to escape, as they proposed, by
the kitchen entrance of the Louvre. When taken they brought in dinner
and he eat heartily much to the surprise of the attendant courtiers.
After a delay of three hours he entered a royal carriage with several
officers and drove off under a strong escort of gendarmes and light
horse, for the news of his arrest had got out and had caused an immense
sensation in Paris. All passed off smoothly, for those who threatened
rescue were assured that on the first hostile sign, De Retz would
be killed. The prisoner arrived at Vincennes between eight and nine
o'clock in the evening and was shown into a large, bare chamber without
bed, carpet or fire; and in it he shivered at this bitter Christmas
season, for a whole fortnight. The servant they gave him was a ruffian
who stole his clothes, his shoes and his linen, and he was compelled
to stay constantly in bed. He was allowed books but no paper or ink.
He passed his time in the study of Greek and Latin and when permitted
to leave his room he kept doves, pigeons and rabbits. He entered into
a clandestine correspondence with his friends, pondering ever upon
the possibilities of escape, for he had little or no hope of release
otherwise.
Now fortune played into De Retz's hands. His uncle, the Archbishop of
Paris, died, and the Coadjutor, although a prisoner, was entitled to
succeed. Before the breath was out of the deceased's body, an agent
took possession of the Archbishop's palace in the Coadjutor's name,
forestalling the King's representative by just twenty minutes. De Retz
was a power and had to be counted with. He was close in touch with all
the parish clergy and through them could stir up the people to fresh
revolt which the great ecclesiastics, chafing at the incarceration of
their chief, the Archbishop, would undoubtedly support. Moreover, the
Pope had written from Rome an indignant protest against the arrest of
a prince of the Church. The situation was further embittered by a sad
occurrence. A canon of the Notre Dame had been placed by the chapter
near the Archbishop to take his orders for the administration of the
diocese, and this aged priest, suffering from the confinement, lost his
health and committed suicide. The death was attributed to the severity
of the imprisonment and sympathy for De Retz redoubled, fanned into
flame by incendiary sermons from every pulpit in Paris.
The Court now wished to temporise and overtures were made to De Retz
to resign the archbishopric. He was offered in exchange the revenues
of seven wealthy abbeys, but stubbornly refused. He was advised by his
friends not to yield as the only means to recover his liberty, but
he finally agreed to accept the proffered exchange and pending the
approval of the Holy See was transferred from Vincennes to the prison
of Nantes at the mouth of the Loire. Here his treatment was softened.
He was permitted to amuse himself, to receive visitors of both sexes
and to see theatrical performances within the castle. He was still
a close prisoner and there was a guard of the gate sentinels on his
rooms; but he bore it all bravely, being buoyed up with the hope of
approaching release.
A bitter disappointment was in store for him. The Pope refused to
accept his resignation on the grounds that it had been extorted by
force and was dated from the interior of a prison. The attitude of his
gaolers changed towards him as he was suspected of foul play and he
was secretly apprised that he would probably be carried further out
of the world and removed to Brest. He was strongly advised to attempt
escape. One idea was that he should conceal himself in a capacious mule
trunk and be carried out as part of a friend's baggage. The prospect
of suffocation deterred the Cardinal and he turned his thoughts to
another method. This was the summer season and the river was low and
a space was left at the foot of the castle wall. The prisoner was in
the habit of exercising in a garden close at hand, and it was arranged
that four gentlemen devoted to him should take their posts here on a
certain afternoon. There was a gate at the bottom of the garden placed
there to prevent the soldiers from stealing the grapes. Above was a
kind of terrace on which the sentries guarding De Retz were stationed.
The Cardinal managed to pass into this garden unobserved and he came
upon a rope so placed as to assist him in sliding down to the lower
level. Here a horse was awaiting him, which he mounted and galloped
away, closely followed by his friends. Their way led through streets
where they encountered a couple of guards and exchanged shots with
them. All went well until De Retz's horse shied at the glitter of a
ray of sunlight, stumbled and fell. The Cardinal was thrown and broke
his collar bone. Both horse and man were quickly got on their feet
and the fugitive, though suffering horribly, remounted and continued
his flight. The party reached the river in safety, but when embarking
on the ferry-boat De Retz fainted and was taken across unconscious.
There was no hope of his being able to ride further and while some of
them went in search of a vehicle, the others concealed the Cardinal
in a barn, where he remained for seven hours, suffering terribly. At
last, help came, about two o'clock in the morning, and he was carried
on a litter to another farm where he was laid upon the soft hay of a
stack. He remained here until his safety was assured by the arrival of
a couple of hundred gentlemen, adherents of the De Retz family, for
he was now in the De Retz country. This successful escape caused much
alarm in court circles, for it was feared that De Retz would reappear
at once in Paris, but he was too much shaken by the accident to engage
actively in public affairs. He remained in obscurity and at last
withdrew from the country. He afterwards became reconciled to the royal
power, serving Louis XIV loyally at Rome as ambassador to the Papal
Conclave.
On the removal of the great demagogue from the scene, Mazarin
returned to Paris. The people were well disposed to receive him and
his re-entry was in its way a triumph. The King went many miles out
to meet and welcome him, and the Italian minister, long so detested,
drove into the capital amidst the most enthusiastic acclamations. The
most important personages in the realm vied with each other to do him
honor, many who had long labored for his destruction now protesting the
most ardent attachment to him. Mazarin took his fortune at the flood
and bearing no malice, if he felt any, by no means sought to avenge
himself on those who had so long hated and opposed him. He resumed his
place as chief minister and the remainder of his rule was mild and
beneficent. Disturbances still occurred in France, but they were not
of a serious nature. Conspiracies were formed but easily put down and
were followed by no serious reprisals. The punishments he inflicted
seldom extended to life and limb, for he had a strong abhorrence of
bloodshed and he preferred the milder method of imprisonment. He waged
unceasing war against depredators who infested the capital and parts
of the country. Highway robbery had increased and multiplied during
the long dissensions of the civil war. Mazarin was bitterly opposed to
duelling as was his predecessor, Richelieu, and he wished to keep the
courtiers in good humor. Indeed he directly fostered a vice to which
he was himself addicted, that of the gaming table. He was a persistent
gambler and it has been hinted that he thought it no discredit to take
advantage of his adversary. Never, perhaps, in any age or country was
there a greater addiction to play. Vast sums were won and lost in the
course of an evening. On one occasion Fouquet, the notorious minister
of finance of whom I shall have much more to say, won 60,000 livres
(roughly £5,000) in one deal. Gourville won as much from the Duc de
Richelieu in less than ten minutes. Single stakes ran to thousands of
pounds, and estates, houses, rich lace and jewels of great price were
freely put up at the table.