Which shows how a King made reparation, and what came of it.
While, as we have seen, Chavigni galloped off towards Tarascon,
forgetting in the agitation produced by the tidings of Mazarin, to take
those measures which he had proposed in regard to Villa Grande, Cinq
Mars returned directly towards the palace, or rather, the house which
had been converted into a palace for the King's use. It was one of those
old buildings which at that time were common in France, and which even
now are often to be met with in cities where the remains of ancient
splendour, left alone to the less destructive power of time, have not
been demolished by the violence of turbulent times, or the still more
inveterate enmity of modern improvement. The whole front, with the two
octagonal towers at the sides, and the long corridors on the right and
left hand of the court, were ornamented with a multitude of beautiful
arabesques and bas reliefs. These last, the bas reliefs, entirely
covered the principal façade of the building, and offered a number of
pictures in stone, representing in some parts battles and triumphs, and
in others displaying the humbler and more peaceful subjects of pastoral
life and religious ceremonies. Amongst the rest was one medallion which
caught the attention of Cinq Mars; and as the failing light prevented
him from seeing it where he stood, he approached to observe it. The
chisel of the sculptor usurping the place of the pencil, had there
pourtrayed a landscape with a flock of sheep pasturing quietly by the
side of a brook, while a shepherd appeared sleeping under a hill, down
which a wolf was seen stealing upon the flock. Underneath was written in
old gothic characters, _Eveillez vous, le loup s'approche_.
Cinq Mars smiled as he read it, applying the warning to himself. "Let
him come," said he, thinking of Richelieu; "he will be caught himself."
So saying, he turned, and entering the Palace, retired to his own
apartments. He had not remained there long, however, before he was once
more joined by Fontrailles. "Follow me quick, Cinq Mars," cried the
conspirator; "the King asks for you. Now is the moment to speak to him.
He thinks that his peevishness hurt you this morning, and he is willing
to make atonement."
It may be well supposed that Cinq Mars lost no time in following his
companion up the great staircase to the King's apartments. It was,
indeed, as Fontrailles had said. Since his return, Louis had enjoyed an
hour of repose, which cleared from his mind the irritability induced by
fatigue, and made him reproach himself for the unkindness he had shown
to one so devotedly attached to him as the Master of the Horse. The
remembrance of it oppressed him, and he sent for his favourite, not
indeed to apologize, but to wipe away the impression that his
irritability had caused, by more than usual kindness and familiarity.
The two conspirators found Louis seated in a cabinet, which, being
placed in one of the towers, partook of its octangular form. The walls
were wainscoted with dark carved oak, and even the _plafond_ was all of
the same gloomy-coloured material, except a massy gilt cornice and
projecting rose in the centre, from which hung a single silver lamp, the
rays of which, falling on the figure of the King beneath, gave an
additional paleness to his worn but fine countenance, and slightly
touching upon his plain black velvet suit, shone full on the richly
illuminated book in which he had been reading.
Louis raised his eyes as Fontrailles entered, and then turning them full
on the noble countenance of Cinq Mars who followed, a pleased smile
beamed for a moment on his lip, and he exclaimed, "Well, Cinq Mars, art
thou Nimrod enough to hunt again to-morrow after our misfortunes of
to-day? Come in, Monsieur de Fontrailles," he continued, seeing that
Fontrailles remained near the door, hesitating whether he should retire
or not, now that he had done the King's bidding in summoning the Grand
Ecuyer. "Come in, I pray--Sit you down, Gentlemen--it is the King's
request: you, Cinq Mars, here--Monsieur de Fontrailles, there is a seat.
Now," he continued, glancing his eye round as the light of the lamp
gleamed faintly on their several countenances--"now we look like some
secret triumvirate met to decide the fate of nations."
"And that might be too," replied Cinq Mars: "your Majesty to command,
and we to execute."
The King took no notice, but went on with what he had himself been
saying: "There is Cinq Mars looks like a noble prince, and Fontrailles
like a wily minister, and I---- I believe," he continued laughing, "I
have left myself no place but that of secretary."
"Alas!" said Cinq Mars with a deep sigh, "alas! that there should be any
man in your Majesty's dominions more a king than yourself."
Fontrailles and the King both started; and the Conspirator internally
pronounced "All is lost," while Cinq Mars himself, who had spoken
without thought, only felt the imprudence of his speech when it was
beyond recall.
"Cinq Mars! Cinq Mars!" cried Louis, "that is a daring speech;--but I
know it proceeded from your love for me, and therefore I pardon it. But
I will tell you that no man is more a King in France than I am."
"I crave your Majesty's gracious pardon," replied the Master of the
Horse. "If I have offended your Majesty, it was from love for you alone
that I spoke. My words were bolder than my thoughts, and I only meant
to say that I could wish to see my Monarch show himself that great King
which he naturally is. I would fain see the staff of command withdrawn
from one who abuses it."
"Cinq Mars," answered the King, "that staff is in my own hand. It was
but lent, my friend; and it is now resumed."
The Master of the Horse paused for a moment, not exactly certain how far
he could rely upon the King's good humour, which he had already tried so
incautiously, and turned his eyes towards Fontrailles, as if for
counsel.
"Speak, Cinq Mars," said Louis, seeing his hesitation, "speak boldly,
and fear not; for I fully believe that all your wishes are for my
service, and I would fain hear the voice of those that regard me with
affection, rather than for their own interest; and one of these do I
hold you to be."
"Your Majesty does me justice," replied Cinq Mars. "Let me not offend
you then, when I say that the power you lent is scarcely resumed while
the title under which it was enjoyed remains. The Cardinal Duke of
Richelieu, my liege, is still Prime Minister of France. He has still all
the power (though not exercised), the revenues, the offices. Our
soldiers are fighting at his command, our provinces are governed by his
creatures, our high posts are filled by his friends. He has an army for
his servants, and more than the riches of a prince. Why not--oh, why
not, Sire, break the enchanter's wand that gave him so much sway, and
sweep away the hordes that prey upon the State, like swarms of flies
upon a slain deer? Why not direct the operations of your troops
yourself, and let the armies of France be the armies of the King, and
not of Richelieu? Why not chase from your councils a man who has so
often abused the generous confidence of his Sovereign, and make him
disgorge the ill-gotten wealth which he has wrung from the hearts of
your people?"
As he spoke, Cinq Mars grew warm with his subject; his eye sparkled, his
arm was extended with that wild and graceful energy for which he was
conspicuous; his words flowed uninterrupted, with all the eloquence of
enthusiasm, and his fine and princely features acquired a new and
striking expression, while, animated in the cause of his Country's
liberty, he pleaded against the tyrant who had oppressed both king and
people. Louis gazed on him at first as on one inspired; but as a host
of consequences crowded on his mind, threatening him with a thousand
vague and unsubstantial dangers, he placed his hands before his eyes,
and remained for some moments in deep thought.
"My friend," said he at length, "what is it you would have me do? This
man--this bad man if you will--but still this great man--is like an oak
whose roots are deep in the earth; you may hew them asunder one by one,
but it requires a giant's strength to pluck the tree up at once.
Richelieu's power may be taken from him gradually; but to attempt what
you propose, would instantly cause a rebellion amongst my subjects. He
has so many who depend upon him; he has so many that are allied to
him--"
"What!" exclaimed Cinq Mars, "shall it be said that King Louis was
afraid to dismiss his own minister?"
"Not afraid for myself, Sir," replied the King, somewhat sharply; "but
afraid of bringing the miseries of civil war upon my people."
Perceiving that Cinq Mars was urging the King too impetuously,
Fontrailles, who had hitherto remained silent, now joined in the
conversation in a soft insinuating tone, calculated to remove any newly
raised irritation from Louis's mind. "All danger, Sire," said he, still
labouring to quiet the King's fears without opposing his opinion, "all
danger, which might otherwise be imminent, could easily be obviated, by
commanding the noble Duke of Bouillon--"
At the name of the Duke of Bouillon Louis made an impatient motion with
his hand. "He is Spanish at his heart," said he; "that Duke of Bouillon
is Spanish, rank Spanish. But what of him, Monsieur de Fontrailles?"
"Believe me, my Liege," replied Fontrailles, "the Duke of Bouillon, whom
I know well, is not so much a friend to Spain as he is an enemy to
Richelieu. Remember, Sire, how he is linked with the Prince of Orange,
the sworn adversary of Spain."
Louis shook his head doubtingly. "But what of him, Fontrailles? Come, to
the point."
"Only this, Sire," said Fontrailles. "The Duke commands an army in Italy
devoted to your Majesty's service; but permit me or Cinq Mars to give
him private orders in your name to march them into France, and who
shall dare to murmur at your royal will?"
"Why, that might be done, it is true," answered Louis; "but I am afraid,
_mon Grand_," he continued, applying to Cinq Mars the term by which he
distinguished him in his kindest and most familiar moments--"I am
afraid, _mon Grand_, that though thou art a keen huntsman and a good
soldier, thou wouldst make but a sorry minister."
"I minister!" exclaimed the Grand Ecuyer; "God forbid! No, no, my Lord!
never did such a thought cross my imagination. Believe me, Sire, I had
no view of personal aggrandizement in the proposal I submitted to your
Majesty."
"But if you take from Richelieu his office, whom do you wish to
substitute in his place?" demanded Louis; "some one must be minister."
"True, my Liege; but are there not thousands well fitted for the post?"
said Cinq Mars--"Politicians as deep, but more humane than
Richelieu--Men who can govern, and yet not tyrannize? I will undertake
to find such a one for your Majesty, and yet remain myself fully
satisfied with being the humble friend of my royal master, and the
sincere well-wisher of my native Country. But let me order, in your
name, the Duke of Bouillon to march into France; and then, provided with
sufficient forces to disarm this usurping Minister, and overawe
rebellion, your own royal will will be your only guide."
"At present," said Fontrailles, "the King's love for his people operates
in two opposing directions, making him anxious to relieve them from the
burden under which they groan, yet fearful of throwing a portion of them
into rebellion. But by the presence of the Duke's army, the Minister
might be removed, without endangering the tranquillity of the realm."
"True," said Louis; "true. Monsieur de Fontrailles, you say right;" and
placing his hand before his eyes, the King thought for a moment,
struggling inwardly to exert the powers of his mind, and call up
sufficient resolution to deliver himself from the thraldom in which he
had so long been held. But dangers, and doubts, and difficulties swam
before his mental vision, like motes dancing in the sunbeam; and never
destined in life to overcome his long-encouraged inactivity, he strove
to cast the responsibility from himself. "Well, well," exclaimed he,
"Cinq Mars, you shall decide it; I will leave the conduct of it all to
you. But beware that you do not bring the miseries of civil war upon my
kingdom; for be assured that if you do, I will require it of you
deeply--It is your own seeking, and the consequences be upon your own
head."
"Let it be so, then, my Liege," cried Cinq Mars, kissing the emaciated
hand of the feeble Monarch; "it shall not be my fault if France and my
Sovereign are not soon freed from the cloud that has so long
overshadowed them both."
"Well, well," said Louis, "we will trust in God for the event. But
beware of Bouillon; Cinq Mars, he is rank Spanish at his heart. And now,
gentlemen, to bed, for we must rise in time for our sport. But, in
truth, I fear I shall not hunt much longer--the body fails me, Cinq
Mars, though I was once a thing of strength, as thou art."