CHAPTER XVII. THE DICTATORSHIP OF RICHELIEU

Cardinal Richelieu is one of those men in whose favour the tide

of affairs always turns at the critical moment, and who also

have skill and courage to take it at the turn. Vigilant, cool,

sagacious, and absolutely fearless, he never throughout his

life missed a single point in the great game he played; and

even with dramatic force knew how to snatch a triumph out of

the very clutches of defeat.--KITCHIN.[w]

[Sidenote: [1629-1643 A.D.]]

Armand Jean du Plessis, Cardinal Richelieu, grown now through the

exercise of his own genius to be the mightiest man in all Europe, was

born at the castle of Richelieu in Poitou, September 5th, 1585. He was

therefore forty-three years old when the famous siege of La Rochelle,

by which he broke the power of the Huguenots in France, was brought to

a close. Chronic invalid though he was, he was destined to live fifteen

years longer, and during that period to control the fortunes of France,

and to exercise a dominating influence in European politics at large; to

be recognised everywhere as the greatest statesman of his age. We have

already seen enough of him to know that he is a man of the largest ideas,

the most indomitable courage, and that he is a born master of men; we

must understand also that he is the wiliest of intriguers, the shrewdest

judge of human motives; that he has a taste for art and for literature;

and that with it all he is not restrained from the successes of practical

politics by any undue niceties of conscience. He is perhaps more similar

in his mental equipment to Augustus than to any other great man of

history; or let us say rather to Augustus with a certain share added of

the genius of Julius Cæsar, further modified by some traits of Louis XI.

But why attempt to characterise? We shall see the great cardinal in the

full exercise of these powers in the coming years. We shall see him carry

war into Italy, acting as his own lieutenant-general. We shall see him

take a hand in the Thirty Years’ War, and accomplish by diplomacy the

overthrow of the great Wallenstein. We shall see him put down uprisings

at home, triumphing over Marie de’ Medici and his other enemies;

holding King Louis XIII as a child in leading strings. We shall see him

dominating church and state alike, and exercising a permanent influence

on the literature of his land through the foundation of the French

Academy. And all the while we must remember that this myriad-minded

statesman is the most hated of Frenchmen at the same time that he is the

most feared. Even those he has benefited do not love him. “Let the world

speak well or ill of the famous cardinal,” says Corneille, “neither in

my prose nor in my verse will I mention his name; he has done me too

much kindness to speak ill of him, and too much injury to speak well.”

There is none to speak well of this strange man; but all speak of him

with bated breath; all contemplate him with something of apprehension.

A weird, incomprehensible figure, he stalks across the scene, lonely,

hated, feared,--but always masterful. Let us follow out the details of

his life story.[a]

RICHELIEU AND THE KING

The history of Richelieu is obscure as to the essential point, his

resources, the ways and means. On what did he live and how? This is not

to be seen either in his memoirs or his documents. All that we have of

Richelieu’s accounts includes only four years (1636-1640) and in a very

confused way gives the ordinary receipts, up to eighty millions. Not a

word of anything extraordinary.

In 1636, when France was invaded, a tax on persons in comfortable

circumstances (_des gens aisés_) was created, or rather regulated, and

the agents placed everywhere in 1637, with the triple power of justice,

police, and finance, collected it with great rigour. But one cannot

doubt that something similar existed even before, especially in the

passages of armies through certain provinces. Otherwise it is impossible

to understand how, with such a deficit under ordinary circumstances,

extraordinary and unforeseen expenditures, for wars or subsidies to

allies, could have been made every year.

Hence action was variable, intermittent, sometimes brilliant, with

relapses due to exhaustion. It was not possible to have a really

permanent army. That was evident in 1629, when Richelieu finished the war

with the Huguenots, but that with Italy was still in a critical state.

He disbanded thirty regiments to raise others six months later. The same

way, in 1636, he disbanded seven regiments in January to make them up

again in June--an economy of five months, necessary perhaps, but which

nearly lost France. In July nothing had been reorganised, and the enemy

came to within twenty leagues of Paris.

The suffering of the great man of affairs who directed this machine with

its spasmodic movements must have been terrible. And one can easily

understand that he was always ill. The insufficiency of his resources,

the continual effort to invent impossible money, on the other hand the

court intrigues, the pricks of no one knows how many invisible insects,

were something to keep him in a terrible agitation. But even that was

not enough; twenty other devils haunted this restless soul, like a

great ruined mansion--the battle of women, tardy gallantries, moreover

theology and the wild desire to write, to make verses, tragedies! What

tragedy could be more gloomy than his very person. Macbeth is gay in

comparison. And he had attacks of violence in which his inner fury would

have strangled him, had he not like Hamlet massacred tapestries with the

blows of his dagger. More often he swallowed his bitterness and fury,

covered everything with the outward seeming of ecclesiastical decency.

His powerlessness, his passion, turned within, worked themselves out on

his body; the red iron burned his soul and he was near to death.

His greatest evil was still the king, who might escape him at any moment.

Spain, the court, waited for the death of Louis XIII. His wife and his

brother looked at his face every morning and hoped. Valetudinarian at the

age of twenty-eight, feverish, subject to abscesses which nearly carried

him off in 1630, it was in vain he claimed to be alive, to act at times

and show courage; it was held that he was dead, at least that no one

had need of him. It was a curious union of two invalids. The king would

have thought his kingdom lost if Richelieu were wanting. Richelieu knew

that, with the king dead, he had not two days to live. So well hated,

especially by the king’s brother, he had to plan to die with Louis XIII.

Perhaps it was for that reason that he was so pleasing to the king, who

was sad, suspicious, and malevolent and who never liked him, but who

could always say to himself: “If I die, that man will be hanged.”

This double chance of death, on which the enemies of Richelieu placed

their hope, was precisely what made him strong and terrible. He had

moments when he talked and acted as though in the presence of death; and

then the sublime, which he had sought so laboriously elsewhere, came of

itself. He touches it, in fact, in passages of allocution which he had

with the king on the return from La Rochelle, in the presence of his

enemies, the queen-mother and the king’s confessor, the suave Jesuit

Suffren. In this conversation he tells everything, his actual situation,

what he has done, what received, what he owns, what he has refused. He

has a patrimony of 25,000 livres rental and the king has given him six

abbeys. He is obliged to make heavy expenditures, especially to pay for

guards, being surrounded with daggers. He has refused 20,000 crowns

pension, refused the appointments of the admiralty (40,000 francs),

refused the right of admiral (100,000 crowns), refused a million which

financiers had offered him in order not to be prosecuted.

He asks for his dismissal, not definitely but temporarily--he may be

called back later if he is still alive and is needed. He explains

clearly that he is in great danger and that he is obliged sometimes to

conceal himself. Does he want to make himself necessary, declare himself

indispensable, and so make sure of so much the more power? If that is

his end, one must say that the method is very strange and daring. He

speaks with the frankness of a man who has no end in view. He dares to

give his master, perhaps as a last service, an enumeration of the faults

of which the king ought to correct himself. And this was not one of

those flattering satires, where one shows a slight fault, a shadow, as a

successful method for showing the beauties of the portrait. No, it is a

firm, hard judgment, like that of a La Bruyère, of a Saint-Simon, which

would penetrate to the depths of a character after a hundred years, a

judgment of the dead by a dead person. Quickness of mind and instability,

suspicions and jealousy, no assiduity, no application to great things,

impulsive aversions, forgetfulness of services, and ingratitude--not a

trait is lacking.

The queen-mother must have trembled with indignation, with terror also,

perhaps, feeling that the man who would venture such a thing would

venture all--and that a man so composed, with death under his feet, would

pay little regard to the death of others. The Jesuit must have fallen

backwards, plunged into silence and humility. The king felt all this and

received it as the testamentary word of one invalid to another, of one

dying man to another. Richelieu, being begged and entreated, remained in

the ministry. It was difficult for him to retire with affairs at such a

crisis. The war with the Huguenots still continued in Languedoc, and the

war with Italy was commencing. Richelieu, called by the pope as well as

by the duke of Mantua, had a good opportunity which might relieve him

from his embarrassments. Victor at La Rochelle, if he saved Italy he

might hope that the pope would appoint him legate for life as Wolsey and

George d’Amboise[88] had been--real kings and more than kings, since they

united the two powers, temporal and spiritual.[b]

RICHELIEU ENTERS THE EUROPEAN ARENA

[Sidenote: [1629-1630 A.D.]]

France had submitted; six years of power had been sufficient for

Richelieu to make himself her master; now he turned his incessant

activity in the direction of Europe. “He feared the repose of peace,”

wrote Nani, the ambassador to Venice, “and believing himself more secure

in the turmoil of arms, he was the author of many wars, and of long and

weighty calamities. We may say that having reunited divided France,

succoured Italy, upset the empire, harassed England, and weakened Spain,

he was the instrument chosen by heaven to direct the great events of

Europe.”

The liberal, penetrating mind of the Venetian was not mistaken on this

point; all over Europe the hand of Richelieu was felt. “Far and near, we

must always negotiate,” he said. He had succeeded with negotiations in

France, and he carried his ideas further. Numerous treaties had already

marked the first years of the cardinal’s power; after 1630 his activity

in external affairs was redoubled. From 1623 to 1640 seventy-four

treaties were concluded by Richelieu; four with England, twelve with the

United Provinces, fifteen with the German provinces, six with Sweden,

twelve with Savoy, six with the Venetian Republic, three with the pope,

three with the emperor, two with Spain, four with Lorraine, one with the

Grison Leagues, one with Portugal, two with the rebels of Catalonia and

Rousillon, one with Russia, and two with the emperor of Morocco; such was

the network of diplomatic negotiation which the cardinal wove in nineteen

years.

While the cardinal was holding La Rochelle in siege, the duke of Mantua

died in Italy, and his natural heir, Carlo di Gonzaga, living in France

as the duke de Nevers, hastened to take possession of his estates.

Meanwhile the duke of Savoy claimed the marquisate of Montferrat. The

Spaniards upheld him, and entering the duke of Mantua’s states, lay siege

to Casale. When La Rochelle fell, Casale was still resisting; but the

duke of Savoy had already seized the greater part of Montferrat, and the

duke of Mantua asked help of the French king, whose subject he was. This

furnished a new field of battle against Spain.[t]

[Illustration: RICHELIEU]

Nobody could understand why the cardinal thought insignificant

possessions at a distance from France, like Mantua and Montferrat, were

of such great importance.[89] He was obliged to explain to the king that

Casale and Mantua were the citadels of Italy--the most valuable military

stations in the basin of the Po; and then war was decided on. Richelieu

left on the 29th of December with the title of “lieutenant-general

representing the person of the king.” He had doffed the cardinal’s

robe to assume the military uniform; under him were the cardinal De la

Valette, marshals Montmorency, Schomberg, and Bassompierre, with Sourdis,

now archbishop of Bordeaux, as administrative lieutenant. The duke of

Savoy declared himself neutral and refused to revictual Casale, though he

would allow the French free passage to go to its relief. The cardinal,

determined in spite of this treacherous ally to gain possession of the

passes into Italy, crossed the Alps at Susa and pretended he was about

to march on Turin; he then rapidly marched back and besieged Pinerolo,

which capitulated (1630). Spinola hastened to the defence of Piedmont,

and owing to his superior forces checked the advance of the French. Louis

XIII then took the command of the army himself and conquered the whole

of Savoy; but he fell ill and his place had to be taken by the duke de

Montmorency, who defeated the Spaniards at Vegliana and took possession

of the marquisate of Saluzzo on the 10th of July. However, Mantua had

been taken and Casale was sorely pressed, the French army was reduced by

sickness, reinforcements were expected from the army in Champagne and

money from Paris. The latter, however, did not arrive, for the marshal De

Marillac and his brother the chancellor, acting under the influence of

the queen-mother, neglected to send it off. Richelieu, rendered uneasy

by the intrigues of his enemies, effected a truce through the mediation

of the abbé Mazarin,[90] who had been sent from the court of Rome.

Mazarin, who was a man of supple and crafty temper, gained and retained

the confidence of Richelieu and was destined subsequently to carry on

the work which the latter had begun. At the expiration of this truce the

serious events which were passing in Germany prevailed on Austria, as we

shall see, to conclude a definite peace. This was the Peace of Ratisbon,

concluded on the 25th of October, 1630.[d] The emperor agreed to invest

the duke de Nevers and withdraw the imperial troops from his states on

the Grison passes provided that France would withdraw hers from Pinerolo

and Savoy.[a]

ENMITY OF MARIE DE’ MEDICI AGAINST RICHELIEU

The termination of war was the commencement of new perils for Richelieu.

He foresaw the fresh efforts of his enemies, and on the return of the

court to Paris, he used all the resources of his address to avert and

conciliate the resentment of the queen-mother. She dissembled, and did

not forgive. Leagued with the Marillacs, and favoured by many of the

nobility, Marie laboured to overturn the minister, who defended himself

with firmness and adroitness. Louis XIII was of a feeble mind, still more

enfeebled by a weak temperament and languid constitution. Resolution was

a state above his powers; it was to him an unnatural tension, menacing at

each instant a relapse.

Despite of this, he was clear-sighted. He loved France, was alive to

its glory and prosperity, and saw that it required the strong hand of

Richelieu to govern and to guide. He did not love the minister, indeed;

and it was thus the more to his credit that he upheld him from a sense

of his talents and utility. When Marie poured into his ear complaints

against the cardinal’s insolence, against his tyranny and domineering

ambition, Louis allowed that she was right. He acquiesced; and the

queen-mother argued from this passive assent that the king shared her

aversion and her views against the minister. She would hurry home to

her palace of the Luxembourg after such interviews, and confidently

assure her followers that her ascendency was complete, that the fall of

Richelieu was near. By that hour, however, Richelieu was closeted with

the monarch, was unfolding to him his high and masterly views of policy,

was exposing the selfish manœuvres of Marie de’ Medici; and had at length

gained in his turn such complete ascendency that the feeble Louis would

not only assent, but kindle up for the moment with warmth and friendship

towards his minister, and then, in confidence, betray the very secrets of

his mother’s converse with him. Richelieu thus drew from a certain source

the hopes, the plans, and the names of his enemies.

_The Day of Dupes_

In an interview with his mother, Louis, assenting to the justice of all

her complaints against the cardinal, had proposed that his niece first,

and then Richelieu himself, should come publicly and ask pardon of Marie

at the Luxembourg. The king intended this as a measure of conciliation.

The queen accepted it for the sake of seeing her enemy humbled.

Accordingly, on the appointed day, Madame de Combalet, the cardinal’s

niece, entered, and flung herself at the feet of Marie, imploring her

forgiveness. The latter, instead of preserving the disdain that suited

her purpose, or of assuming the air of forgiveness that the king desired,

was unable to contain her temper, and burst forth in invectives against

the suppliant lady. Madame de Combalet retreated, terrified and in tears.

The cardinal himself succeeded, equally suppliant, and was received by

the same volley of coarse vituperation. Louis XIII, scrupulous in his

ideas of dignity and delicacy, shocked at the conduct of his mother, took

the part of his minister, and reproved her; but at the same time bade

Richelieu, in the same tone of anger, to retire.[e]

Everyone was convinced of the cardinal’s disgrace; it was already

satirised on the Pont Neuf, and the little porter of the Samaritaine

indulged in a thousand grimaces in imitation of his eminence. At the

palace all minds were occupied with the approaching triumph of M. de

Marillac, lord keeper of the great seal and fairly popular with the

parliament on account of his being known to be for the interests of the

queen-mother and Gaston of Orleans.

Already presidents in caps, councillors in scarlet robes, deliberated

amongst themselves whether it would be made a criminal action to

prosecute his eminence as guilty of tyranny and peculation. The

ambassadors, watching the smallest diplomatic step in Paris, announced

the inevitable disgrace of Cardinal Richelieu to their courts, and the

increasing authority of the queen-mother. The _Mémoires_[f] relate that

Charles I, so ardent a promoter of royal prerogative, replied to the

despatch of his ambassador: “The king of France is making a great mistake

in disgracing a minister of so great competency.”

Louis XIII had set out for Versailles, that poverty-stricken palace he

was too parsimonious to restore, and had there sequestered himself. A

great concourse of people filled the apartments of Marie de’ Medici;

the crowd surrounded her and Gaston of Orleans; power was about to pass

into their hands. The queen-mother, smiling graciously, affectionately

held the hand of Anne of Austria, with whom she conversed amicably. They

treated each other as mother and daughter, although Anne of Austria,

intensely proud of her noble Spanish blood, considered herself superior

to a member of the princely and mercantile house of Florence. The court

wore a new aspect; it was thought that the days of the regency would

be reproduced and Marshal de Marillac, then with the army of Italy,

seemed a new Concini destined to enjoy the favours of Marie de’ Medici.

But the queen-mother was not sufficiently energetic. Naturally of an

indolent disposition, she easily yielded to the Italian _far niente_,

to that nerveless temperament which prevented her from prompt decision

in decisive circumstances. She did not join her son at Versailles, but

remained to be congratulated by the crowd of courtiers that surrounded

her.

[Sidenote: [1630-1631 A.D.]]

During this time the friends of Richelieu were becoming uneasy. Cardinal

de la Valette, that devoted prelate, had gone with all speed to

Versailles, and had had his arrival announced to the king. The cardinal

had been informed by Saint-Simon, the diminutive equerry and favourite,

that Louis XIII had spoken of his minister in terms that did not lead

one to suppose he was out of favour. La Valette was immediately ushered

into the king’s presence and the king smilingly said to him, “Cousin, I

think you are surprised at all that is taking place.” “Sire, more than

your majesty can imagine.” “Well, cousin, return to Cardinal Richelieu

and tell him that he is a good minister, and I desire him to come

instantly.” The minister’s friend did not wait to be told a second time.

Richelieu, who had retired to a small house in the village of Versailles,

immediately hastened to the old palace. The interview took place in the

presence of Saint-Simon, the first equerry, and the marquis de Mortemart,

the first gentleman of the household. Richelieu, throwing himself on his

knees, his customary attitude, thanked the king in humble and submissive

terms for the favour he was conferring upon him. Louis showed himself

kindly and affable. “Cousin, in you I possess the most faithful and

loving servant it were possible to find. I consider myself the more

obliged to protect you that I am cognisant of the respect and gratitude

you bear the queen, my mother. I would have forsaken you, had you not

shown these evidences of your generous nature. Be assured henceforth of

my protection. I shall know how to disperse the cabal of your enemies;

they abuse the credulity of the queen, my mother, who permits herself to

be easily prejudiced. Continue to serve me faithfully, and I will uphold

you against all those who have vowed your destruction.” “Sire,” replied

Richelieu, “solitude is a necessity to me, and I will never remain at

your court against the desire of the queen-mother.” “Cousin, it is not my

mother that you need fear, but certain mischief-making spirits about her;

I know them and I promise you they will do nothing.”[h] Thus the great

cardinal triumphed, while his enemies were rejoicing at his supposed

overthrow. The day when the queen-mother and her coterie were thus

deceived--the 11th of November, 1630--has passed into history as the “Day

of Dupes.”[a]

_Exile of Marie de’ Medici_

The popular feeling was nevertheless against Richelieu and in favour of

Marie de’ Medici, whose munificence and fête-loving habits had won the

good will of the Parisians. This had no small weight in detaining the

king at St. Germain, where he held his court, and where the two queens

appeared, although Louis scarcely spoke to them. Marie bore disgrace and

contempt with impatience; but she could now find no one hardy enough to

brave the cardinal and espouse her quarrel, except Gaston, her second

son, the rash and weak duke of Orleans. The prince imagined a singular

mode of vengeance. Accompanied by a body of young and armed companions,

he entered the cardinal’s palace, came rudely into his presence, and

apostrophised him in a rough and menacing speech. After this bootless

outrage, Gaston retired, left the capital, and proceeded to levy troops

in the provinces. Louis, on learning this sally of his brother, whom he

peculiarly disliked, took up the cause of his minister more warmly; and

attributing, not unjustly, the turbulence of Gaston to their mother, he

openly reproached her, and warned her to become reconciled to Richelieu.

Marie would not abandon her hate; and monarch and minister were obliged

to proceed to extremities.

It required much address to bring the king to this point; and Richelieu

was only enabled to reconcile Louis to use harsh measures towards his

parent by means of the confessors whom he himself had provided for his

master. These smoothed away the difficulties presented by the king’s

conscience, or rather by his filial habits. Some months passed in vain

attempts at accommodation; but the ultimate result was the flight of

Gaston and of Marie de’ Medici out of the kingdom. The latter retired

to Brussels. Thus Richelieu came triumphant from the second struggle.

Bassompierre was sent to the Bastille; the duke of Guise[91] was deprived

of his office of admiral, and went on a pilgrimage to Rome. Even the

proud and veteran Épernon was obliged to crave pardon. The parliament

objected to an ordinance of the king declaring the partisans of Gaston

guilty of high treason. They rightly argued that such a condemnation

could not be issued without trial or by other than a judge. But even from

this just position they were compelled to recede. They were summoned to

the Louvre; their edict of objection was cancelled in the presence of

Louis and his minister, and the obnoxious ordinance registered in its

stead. Richelieu showed a still more culpable contempt for the forms of

justice in the trial of the marshal De Marillac. He was brought before a

commission, which sat in the cardinal’s country-house at Ruel, accused

of a long list of crimes, of all save his true fault of conspiring with

Marie de’ Medici. Being convicted, he was beheaded in the place de Grève.

[Sidenote: [1631-1632 A.D.]]

Marillac was the second victim sacrificed to the supremacy of the

minister. The desire of vengeance and of blood grows, like other criminal

tastes, upon those who indulge and gratify it; and Richelieu stained

deeply his high reputation. Hitherto the nobility bore the tyrannic

ascendency of the cardinal with jealousy and impatience. They saw plainly

that his designs were directed against their power and independence.

Still, from want of union, and from the absence of a spirit amongst them

capable of coping with their great enemy, they held back, in trembling

though indignant submission, looked on while their chains were preparing,

and even aided to forge them. Thus they had helped to put down the

Huguenots, ever the mainstay of rebellion. They then, when too late,

sought to intrigue with Marie de’ Medici against the cardinal. The trial

of Marillac, not by his peers but by a mock commission, and the execution

of that marshal on no grounds save enmity to the minister, filled all the

noblesse with fresh indignation and alarm. And one who, from birth and

position, might well take the lead of the highborn of France in this its

cause, declared himself unhesitatingly on this occasion.

THE REVOLT OF GASTON AND THE EXECUTION OF MONTMORENCY

The duke de Montmorency was governor of Provence. He had distinguished

himself in the Italian war; had never been foremost to complain or to

intrigue; but, like his family, had been remarked for moderate and

independent principles; tolerant though orthodox in religion; a loyal

subject though no fawning courtier. In the king’s extreme illness, he had

given his word to protect the minister, and Richelieu had other causes of

gratitude.

[Illustration: A FRENCH GALLANT, FIRST HALF OF SEVENTEENTH CENTURY]

But Montmorency was now indignant at the insult offered to his rank

in the person of Marillac. He felt it equally a shame that the king’s

brother, the son of Henry IV, should be driven into exile by the enmity

of an upstart minister. Gaston had fled to Lorraine, and there passed

his time in the wooing and espousal of the duke’s daughter. Richelieu

advanced to Lorraine, and Gaston was obliged to fly. He applied to

Montmorency for protection and support, and the duke was both imprudent

and generous enough to grant it. This could be done with arms alone.

The dukes of Orleans and Montmorency therefore raised a little army,

cantoned themselves in Languedoc, and resolved to fight the royal

forces, which under Schomberg advanced against them. It appears that the

population of the south looked with disfavour on the enterprise of the

dukes, either in dread of Richelieu’s power and vengeance, or in dislike

of the aristocratic cause. The issue of the rebellion was decided in a

skirmish at Castelnaudary, where Montmorency, at the head of five hundred

followers, charged the royalists, and was taken prisoner. The news of his

capture dispersed his army, and left Gaston no resource but to join his

mother at Brussels.

It was now in the power of Richelieu to give an example of his

moderation. In pardoning Montmorency, he would have gained many hearts;

nor would his power have been less formidable. Gaston even promised

to submit, if his generous protector were spared: but Richelieu was

inexorable; he knew what would be his own fate if overthrown. He

recollected the fall of Ancre, of every favourite and minister whom

the nobles had overthrown; and private reasons of vindictiveness

concurred with the wish of making a striking example, and by the death

of Montmorency giving the same salutary warning to his order as the

execution of Biron had proved in the last reign. Richelieu had the

power of communicating his own firmness to the king. Louis resisted the

supplications of all the nobles of his court, of the princess of Condé,

Montmorency’s sister, and even the clamours of the mob, who cried under

the windows of the Louvre for mercy. The marshal De Châtillon begged the

king to show himself to the people, and to grant to their prayers the

life of the first noble of the land. “Should I obey the suggestions of

the rabble, I should not act as a king,” replied Louis, displaying that

extreme of monarchic arrogance which his posterity so deeply cherished

and so dearly expiated. The kingdom’s safety might have been an excuse

for cruelty--the pride of the monarch was none.

Montmorency owned his crime, and promised to redeem the disloyalty of

a moment by devoting his after life to the king; but he made no mean

submissions. In passing to the place of execution, he regarded the statue

of Henry IV with emotion. He was the godson of that monarch, who knew how

to unite clemency with firmness. But, shaking off thoughts of the past,

he pointed onward to the scaffold, which he said was the surest road to

heaven. In him perished the last of the lineal descendants of the great

constable, the most illustrious of which were still said to be only the

younger branch of that noble family.

FOREIGN AFFAIRS

[Sidenote: [1629-1632 A.D.]]

As soon as Richelieu felt assured that the political dissensions of

France herself would no longer obstruct his plans abroad, he marched with

firm step to that weakening of Spain and upsetting of the empire of which

Nani speaks. Henry IV and Queen Elizabeth, in pursuit of the same ends,

had sought and found the same allies. But Richelieu had better luck than

they for the execution of his designs to run across the king of Sweden.[t]

Gustavus Adolphus was young, active, bellicose and surrounded by a

military halo which permitted him to be looked upon as a future champion

of Germany against the house of Austria. He had had several clashes

with the emperor or his lieutenants over the Baltic towns, and the idea

occurred to Richelieu to make use of his sword.[l]

Richelieu arranged a truce between the young king and the Poles with whom

he was at war, in September, 1629; he then granted him by the Treaty of

Berwald, in January, 1631, a subsidy of 1,200,000 francs, and threw him

at Germany, pointing out, to excite his ardour, the immense booty to

be seized, his co-religionists to be avenged, and the great rôle to be

played on a brilliant stage.

The Thirty Years’ War was then at its height.[92] This struggle, both

religious and political, began in Bohemia in 1618, and had extended

little by little over the empire. The elector-palatine and the king of

Denmark (Christian IV) had been, one after the other, vanquished and

humiliated. The imperial army created and commanded by Wallenstein had

penetrated as far as the Baltic, crushing under foot on its way, both

Germany and her secular liberties. The oft-discussed problem of that

country--that is, its partition among independent princes or its union

under a single master, was on the point of being solved in favour of

unity under the despotism of the house of Austria. Cardinal though he

was, Richelieu acted like Francis I, like Henry II, and like Henry IV;

he undertook the cause of the German princes without regard to their

religion. His confidential agent, Father Joseph, managed the electors so

well at the diet of Ratisbon in 1630, that they wrung from the emperor

the recall of Wallenstein and the disbandment of his army, after which

they refused to give the emperor’s son the title of king of the Romans,

which Ferdinand II regarded as the implied price of these concessions. “A

miserable Capuchin,” he cried in anger, “has been clever enough to put

six electoral hats into his cowl.”

[Sidenote: [1632-1634 A.D.]]

Gustavus Adolphus fell upon the empire like a thunderbolt. He invented

new tactics which disconcerted his adversaries. He defeated Tilly near

Leipsic, killed him at the passage of the Lech, but was killed himself at

Lützen (November 8th, 1632). “The world is for others,” he cried, as he

fell. Richelieu picked up the hope and the fortune of the young hero. He

was now free from all domestic anxiety and could employ his attention and

his strength abroad. He boldly substituted in the struggle against the

Austrian house, for exhausted Denmark and for Sweden bereft of her king,

France full of youth and ardour.[u]

Richelieu still upheld his alliance with Sweden and the Protestant

powers; and thus keeping the force of Austria employed, he was enabled to

effect his next ambitious project, which was the occupation of Lorraine.

That province was in its origin feudatory to the empire, and was totally

independent of France, except that from vicinity and interest its dukes

were far more French than German. The Guises had drawn these ties closer.

And now that the duke of Lorraine had harboured the duke of Orleans,

and, against the king’s consent, had given him his daughter Margaret

in marriage, the latter had reason or pretext for anger. Richelieu, as

usual, caused an army, with the king at its head, to march to Lorraine.

The duke was alarmed, and sought to parry the attack by offering to

espouse Madame de Combalet, niece of the cardinal; but Richelieu refused

to sacrifice the interests of the state to the aggrandisement of his

family. Perhaps he saw in the offer a trap laid for him. Lorraine was

invaded; and Nancy, its capital, besieged. The duchess of Orleans

contrived to escape from it to Brussels; but Nancy fell into the power of

the king. In vain did the duke negotiate, and make submissions; equally

in vain did he resign his duchy in favour of his brother. The capital and

fortresses were held in firm possession by Richelieu.

Here fell another noble, or rather an independent prince, from having

espoused the quarrel of the duke of Orleans. Whilst the queen-mother gave

signs of increased exasperation, by suborning an attempt to carry off

the cardinal’s niece, Gaston began to be weary of exile. His favourite,

Puylaurens, who had chief influence with him, was still more anxious; and

Richelieu offered great advantages to the latter, if he would induce the

prince to submit. Gaston at length did so, quitted Brussels abruptly,

and repaired to Paris, where he was graciously and splendidly received.

Puylaurens received the hand of the cardinal’s niece, and was created

duke d’Aiguillon for his services. But Richelieu was a dangerous friend,

except to an all-devoted servant. He sought to break Gaston’s marriage;

and Gaston was obstinate in resisting. The cardinal laid the blame on

the new duke d’Aiguillon, and without further pretext arrested and shut

him up in the Bastille, where he soon after perished. Gaston was, as

usual, enraged; and, as usual, allowed his rage to evaporate in vain

menaces, and in vainer enterprises.

_Wars with Austria_

[Sidenote: [1634-1635 A.D.]]

The nobles checked, the Huguenot power destroyed, it remained to abase

still lower the house of Austria, and to extend the territories of France

at its expense. To make the Rhine the limit of the empire was the darling

aim of Richelieu, as of Henry IV. Gustavus Adolphus and the Protestant

princes of Germany had hitherto been instruments in Richelieu’s hand

to effect or further this; but, since the death of the king of Sweden,

the emperor had recovered his superiority, had defeated the Swedes,

and reduced his enemies. It behooved France no longer to confine her

efforts to negotiation; but to draw the sword, if she wished to preserve

her ascendency or to prosecute her political schemes. She demanded

certain advantages for thus declaring herself; and neither Sweden nor

the malcontent Germans were backward in paying the price. Oxenstierna,

the Swedish chancellor, ceded the fortress of Philippsburg to France.

The league of Protestants put the whole of Alsace and its important

fortresses under her protection. Lorraine was already occupied; and now

Richelieu pushed northwards, and garrisoned Treves, forming, at the

same time, a defensive alliance with Holland. Spain, informed of this

treaty, sent an expedition to surprise the town of Treves; and war was in

consequence declared by France against the emperor and the king of Spain,

in the commencement of 1635. A herald was sent to Brussels to announce

it; the last time that this species of feudal etiquette was observed.

Richelieu, the destroyer of the Huguenots, was thus leagued with the

Protestant powers of Europe against its Catholic princes--a clear proof

that his principles were politic, not bigoted. This war, which lasted

thirteen years against the emperor and twenty-five against Spain,

produced little glory to the minister, at least from its victories, and

has brought as little interest to history.[93] It is marked by as much

want of spirit as of talent. Yet the Thirty Years’ War in Germany, then

drawing to its close, was marked with both. But religious differences had

given ferocity to this war, which was carried on in the heart of Germany,

and which put daily at stake the fate of kingdoms, capitals, and creeds.

On the other hand, the war which we enter on was merely an extended

line of frontier skirmishes, idle sieges, and fitful expeditions, in

which Richelieu had the advantage, not from military but ministerial

superiority. His vigorous administration enabled France to bear the

expense and weight of the war, whilst the house of Austria, from the bad

husbandry of more immense resources, became exhausted, and towards the

close of it was in a tottering state. As to the lack of able generals, it

may be observed that great military talent must necessarily be wanting at

the commencement of a war, and that it requires half a score of years’

campaigning for the age and the nation to form its military system

anew--the old never sufficing--and to find for that system a head and an

arm capable of directing it. Turenne was a young officer at this epoch.

It was not till the following reign that he and Condé were able to assert

the superiority of French generalship.

[Sidenote: [1635-1636 A.D.]]

France entered on the campaign with four armies--one in the Low

Countries, one on the Rhine, the others in Italy, and the Valtelline.

The first exploit was one of promise and éclat. The marshal De Brézé was

marching to join the Dutch through the country of Liège. Prince Thomas

of Savoy, at the head of the Spanish, sought to prevent the junction.

He was defeated by Brézé at Avein, and lost all his cannon and colours.

Tirlemont was given up to the pillage of the victors. Louvain was

besieged, and Brussels threatened. The unfortunate Marie de’ Medici was

obliged to fly from the latter town, with the duchess of Orleans, pursued

by the good fortune of her enemy Richelieu. Chance, however, may give a

victory; talents can alone make the most of it. The French were obliged

to retire behind the Maas. They and the Dutch, most ill-assorted allies,

laid the blame of tardiness upon each other.

In the following year the imperialists had all the advantage. They

penetrated into Picardy, passed the Somme, and took Corbie. Paris was

in alarm, and her citizens began to retire southward. It was a critical

moment for Richelieu. His ascendency over the king consisted solely in

the monarch’s opinion of his sagacity and good fortune as minister. This

opinion was greatly shaken; yet Richelieu kept a good countenance, and

did all that the emergency required. He made the king show himself to

the people; he despatched reinforcements to the count de Soissons, who

commanded in Picardy. The Spanish knew as little as the French how to

push an advantage. Instead of advancing upon the capital, they passed the

time in pillaging, and were soon obliged to retreat. The court advanced

to Amiens, whilst the army besieged and endeavoured to retake Corbie.

ATTEMPT TO ASSASSINATE THE CARDINAL

Here Richelieu’s good fortune saved him from new peril. The count de

Soissons, son of that prince of the blood whose turbulence made him

conspicuous in the first year of the regency of Marie de’ Medici, had

stepped from the obscurity in which he had been kept, on the unexpected

invasion of his government by the enemy. He had valiantly resisted; but

the cardinal, who dreaded the renown of a prince of the blood, avoided

placing any large force at his disposal, and at length brought the king

himself to command and eclipse Soissons. The count vowed vengeance; he

leagued with Gaston, ever ready to commence a plot; and they agreed to

assassinate the cardinal at Amiens. Two gentlemen, named Saint-Ibal

and Montrésor, were charged with the execution, but were to wait for

the signal to be given by the duke of Orleans. An opportunity offered.

Richelieu was alone at the foot of his staircase, which he had descended

to his carriage, and in the midst of the conspirators. The agents had

their hands on pistols, eagerly watching the countenances of both the

count de Soissons and the duke of Orleans for the signal. Neither had

the courage to give it, and Richelieu walked on; for the moment he was

unsuspicious of the danger that he had escaped.

On reflection, the princes saw that the danger lay in having meditated

the deed, rather than in having executed it. They tried other means,

leagued with the Spaniards, and endeavoured to rouse the nobility to

rebel. Épernon, to whom they chiefly applied, bade them, in answer,

recollect the fate of Marillac and Montmorency. They did so, and fled

from court; the count de Soissons to Sedan, and Gaston to Blois. But the

latter was soon brought back by fair words.

CHARACTER OF LOUIS

[Illustration: A FRENCH GENTLEMAN, TIME OF LOUIS XIII]

[Sidenote: [1615-1638 A.D.]]

In the midst of these intrigues, this warfare, these struggles betwixt

nations and parties, Louis XIII was perhaps the personage who felt the

least interested. “He led,” says Madame de Motteville,[i] “the most

wretched and sad life; without court, or friends, or power; spending his

time in catching birds, whilst his armies were taking towns.” He was

plaintive, melancholy, retiring; not wanting either in good sense or

in any other manly quality, perhaps, but cursed with a diffidence that

neutralised them all. Thus he despaired of ever finding another minister

like Richelieu; and, in fear of offending the cardinal, whom he might

have controlled as well as employed, he resigned all authority into his

hands. Another idea of his, proceeding from the same diffidence, and a

great cause of discontent and sadness with him, was that he despaired

to render himself agreeable to the fair sex. He was cursed with a

bashfulness and a backwardness that he blushed to avow, and that he

concealed under the colour of apathy and suspicion. This kept Louis XIII

for a number of years a stranger to his young and not unlovely queen;

as the same defect produced, in after years, a similar result with his

descendant, Louis XVI. Anne of Austria, piqued by this coldness of her

spouse, avenged herself by ridicule and sarcasm. The king’s indifference

or distance thus became hatred; and Richelieu, who had cause to dread

the young queen, fanned the latter sentiment. Louis nevertheless felt

attracted towards female society, and he paid a kind of distant and

formal court to Mademoiselle de Hautefort. This young lady as little

understood his bashful and susceptible temper as did the queen, and Louis

soon accused them both of leaguing together to mock him. The attentions

of the king were then turned towards a new object, Mademoiselle de la

Fayette, with whom the novel of De Genlis has perhaps rendered the

reader familiar. She, of tenderer feelings and more penetration, knew

how to appreciate the timid affections of the monarch. She cherished and

returned them; never, however, overstepping the bounds of modesty. Louis,

whose reserve, or “wisdom,” to use the words of Madame de Motteville,[i]

“equalled that of the most modest dame,” at length ventured to propose an

apartment at Versailles to Mademoiselle de la Fayette, who replied, after

some hesitation, some intrigue, and certain interference, by retiring to

a convent. The king wept, and was in despair; but his scruples would not

permit him, like Louis XIV, to tear a beauty from the altar. He did not

cease, however, to visit Mademoiselle de la Fayette at her convent; and

long conversations were wont to pass between them through the _grille_

or iron railing of the parlour. The monarch felt the influence of this

virtuous young woman; her counsels, to which her piety now gave weight

and her secure position boldness, prompted him to mistrust Richelieu,

whom she represented as supporting heresy against Catholicism, and to

give peace to Europe.

[Sidenote: [1638-1641 A.D.]]

Another voice, of equal weight with the king, was pouring the same

sentiments into his ear. This was his confessor, the father Caussin, whom

Richelieu had placed in that station, but who betrayed his confidence.

To resist at once a mistress and a confessor was difficult, and the

influence of the minister began to totter. One urgent counsel given

to Louis by Mademoiselle de la Fayette and Caussin was that he should

become reconciled to his queen; they showed, and even proved to him,

that his suspicions against her were unjust. Richelieu, who observed the

changed sentiments of the king towards Anne of Austria, was alarmed, and

tried to prevent the reconciliation that he feared. Suspecting that the

queen held a correspondence with Spain, he caused the police to visit

and search her apartments at the Val de Grace. But his enemies were too

adroit: no discovery was made, and the insult served but to display the

unfounded rancour of the cardinal. After this the pious and generous

voice of Mademoiselle de la Fayette had more influence; and, obedient to

it, Louis XIII became reconciled for the time to his queen. The happy

and unexpected consequence was the birth of a prince (afterwards Louis

XIV) on the 5th of September following (1638). To this, however, the

result was limited. Richelieu regained his ascendency over the king; the

confessor was banished; Mademoiselle de la Fayette forgotten; and the

queen, though no longer banished from the king’s presence, had as little

share as before of his influence or friendship.

The fresh hold which Richelieu here took of the monarch’s confidence was

owing, in a great measure, to the success of the war. In the beginning

of the campaign two actions were fought at Rheinfelden, in the first of

which the gallant duke de Rohan perished; in the second, the duke of Saxe

Weimar defeated the imperials, and took their two generals, one of whom,

the famous Johann von Werth, was sent to Paris. The principal consequence

of this victory was the conquest of Breisach, the chief fortress of

Alsace. The name of the town reminds us again of the celebrated Father

Joseph, a Capuchin friar, the follower and confidant of Richelieu. We

can scarcely imagine a statesman and an ambassador clothed in a monk’s

frock and sandals: yet such was Father Joseph, a name more or less

mingled in all the intrigues of the French court, and its negotiations

with others. His influence was known, and he was dreaded by the court

as a kind of evil spirit, in fact the demon of Richelieu. Although the

latter never procured for his monkish friend the cardinal’s hat which he

demanded, still the people called Father Joseph his “gray eminence,” at

once to distinguish him from and assimilate him to his “red eminence”

the cardinal. They had been friends from youth; congenial spirits in

ambition, depth, and talent: the monk, however, sacrificed his personal

elevation to that of the cardinal. Richelieu was much indebted to him: it

was Joseph that roused and encouraged him, when stupefied and intimidated

by the invasion of Picardy; and it has been claimed that after his

death Richelieu showed neither the same firmness nor sagacity.[94]

When Father Joseph was on his death-bed, Richelieu stood by it: it was

a scene such as a novelist might love to paint. The conversation of

the two ecclesiastics was still of this world; and the cardinal’s last

exhortation to the expiring monk was, “Courage, Father Joseph, Breisach

is ours!” a form of consolation characteristic of both.

REVOLT OF THE COUNT DE SOISSONS (1641 A.D.)

The count de Soissons, on the failure of his scheme against the

cardinal, had taken refuge with the duke de Bouillon in Sedan. All

the enemies of the latter, especially the exiles, looked towards this

prince of the blood as the rallying-point, the support of their cause.

Richelieu employed every art to pacify the count, remove his distrust,

and entice him to court. All efforts proved vain; and Richelieu was

even obliged to purchase the tranquillity of Soissons, and tolerate his

independent posture. It was dangerous, however, to let such an example

of disobedience subsist; and the cardinal at length sent an army, under

the marshal De Châtillon, to reduce Sedan, and take or humble the count

de Soissons. Châtillon was both valorous and skilful; but nothing could

compensate for the ill humour and backwardness of the troops, who, with

their officers, felt more inclined to a gallant prince of the blood than

to the domineering cardinal. In an action that took place at La Marfée,

near Sedan, the royal troops showed neither alacrity nor determination;

and Châtillon, despite his efforts, was completely put to the rout. No

obstacle seemed now to prevent the count de Soissons from marching to

Paris, when the almost miraculous good fortune of Richelieu saved him

from ruin. As Soissons rode over the field of battle, he pushed up his

visor with his pistol; it was accidentally discharged, and the victor

perished. Report did not fail to say that he was assassinated, and, of

course, by the order of Richelieu; but there is no evidence to support

such a rumour. Louis, who, on receiving tidings of the defeat, was

preparing, with equanimity, to sacrifice the obnoxious minister, was

now struck with his unvarying good fortune; and, with a superstitious

feeling, bowed still lower to the cardinal’s will. The court did not

share the monarch’s obsequiousness.[e]

CAILLET’S ESTIMATE OF THE ADMINISTRATION OF RICHELIEU

[Sidenote: [1624-1642 A.D.]]

Having regarded the great minister of Louis XIII as the politician who,

after having conquered Protestantism and the reawakening of feudalism

at home, continued abroad the work of Francis I and Henry IV, and

finally subdued the power of Austria and laid the foundation of French

ascendency in Europe, we hope now to show that Richelieu was as great an

administrator as he was a politician, and that the sources of national

wealth, as well as what was essential for sound administration, were

subjects to which he gave deep and serious attention. It will be seen

that he did not suffer the work of regeneration, begun by Henry IV and

so disastrously interrupted by the dagger of the assassin Ravaillac, to

fall to the ground. Undertaking in his boundless energy affairs of the

most varied nature, this great genius gave a powerful impetus in every

direction to the national activity, which, having been long restrained or

wrongly directed, was ripe for producing great results.

Richelieu really laid the foundations on which Colbert and Louvois

afterwards built under the eye of Louis XIV. To him is due the final

triumph of pure monarchy, of that form of government which alone was

legitimate at that time, because it alone could bring about and maintain

unity in France. The kingship, elevated into a living symbol of the

national welfare and of the best interests of the country, became a

sort of rampart behind which Louis XIII’s minister, with indomitable

energy, and with that breadth of mind which characterises a great man,

carried on for eighteen years the work of monarchical centralisation.

What he accomplished during this immortal dictatorship, in the midst of

constantly recurring difficulties, is almost incredible. By destroying

Protestantism as a political power, Richelieu made a distinct advance

towards unity in the state. He gave a very essential bond of union to

the higher administration by establishing the council of state, which

remained practically unaltered till 1789. He rendered the triumph of

monarchical authority over the new feudalism a certainty by lessening

the excessive authority which the provincial governors had arrogated to

themselves, by establishing resident overseers, who were energetic and

obedient servants of the king, in various parts of the country to see

that the law was properly administered, that the police were properly

organised, and that the interests of the state in financial matters

were not neglected; by commanding fortified places to be destroyed; and

finally by his treatment of the most important members of the aristocracy

as well as of the royal family, whom he punished or even banished when

necessary, thus showing that the sword of the law was long enough to

reach any head, however highly placed.

He obliged the parliament to keep strictly within the limits of its own

judicial functions, and forbade its taking any part whatever in the

management of public affairs. He maintained a perpetual struggle against

provincial institutions, whose resistance, usually self-interested and

unjust, tended continually to fetter the action of the central power. But

though he abolished the power of all enemies of the royal prerogative,

Richelieu himself was capable of holding very wide and liberal views.

If he destroyed Protestantism as a political party, he rose above the

religious prejudices of his time by adhering strictly to the terms of

the treaties which had been concluded with the Protestants, and by

fearlessly bestowing his favours and his confidence on many of them. If

he compelled the nobility to renounce their claims to independence, he

opened up to them new paths to fortune and power, he enabled them to

engage in maritime commerce without any loss of dignity, he admitted

them to the royal councils, and he founded schools for them. In short,

he wished them to take the lead in the country by superiority of culture

as well as of wealth. If he failed to assemble the states-general, he

nevertheless did not claim to be independent of public opinion; he

frequently summoned assemblies of important people and explained to them,

in patriotic language, his great projects for the good of the country; he

more than once took for his text the resolutions presented to the states

of 1640 by the commons. Lastly, he created one of the most powerful

engines of modern civilisation, the periodical press, by authorising the

publication, under his patronage, of Renaudot’s _Gazette_.

Absorbed as he was by all these plans and preoccupations, Richelieu

nevertheless found time to effect important improvements in all the

public services. The statute of January, 1629, drawn up under the

direction of Marillac, the keeper of the seals, summarises and completes

the great statutes of the sixteenth century, and must be regarded as the

most important attempt at codification previous to the time of Louis

XIV. A stricter enforcement of police regulations increased the public

security, whilst the numerous hospitals and benevolent institutions of

all kinds founded at this time greatly ameliorated the condition of the

labouring classes. Nor were manufactures, agriculture, and internal

commerce neglected. Richelieu encouraged the formation of many companies

whose object was to turn to account all the riches of the soil; he had

the canal of Briare, begun in the time of Henry IV, finished, and he

made wise regulations respecting the taxation of the common people and

the allowance of provisions to be given to the troops, which improved

the condition of the rural population. He was the creator of military

administration; he gave France a merchant navy and a military navy,

he organised consulates, concluded commercial treaties with Russia,

Persia, Morocco, etc., and did much to encourage early French colonial

enterprise. Literature, science, and the arts were also in a flourishing

condition during this period. The special patronage accorded by Richelieu

to artists and men of letters, whom he extricated from the precarious and

humiliating position they had previously occupied; the creation of the

French Academy,[95] the reorganisation of the Sorbonne, the foundation of

the royal botanical gardens, of the royal press, and of the mint, prove

how large a share in the striking development of the national genius

which took place during his time may justly be claimed by the great

cardinal.

It is difficult to believe that one single man can have carried out

successfully so many plans whilst at the same time laying the foundations

of internal prosperity and of political ascendency in Europe, and that

amid such difficulties as no other statesman has ever succeeded in

surmounting. And what makes all this the more wonderful was the frailty

of the body which contained this invincible spirit, and which was

liable to be prostrated by illness at any moment. Although Richelieu’s

health was extremely delicate, and he was constantly falling ill,

this extraordinary man seemed able to make his body obey his mind. He

usually went to bed at eleven o’clock, and would sleep for three or four

consecutive hours; then he would do some writing himself or dictate to

a secretary till about six o’clock, at which time he would go to sleep

again till between seven and eight, when he rose. Avenel has clearly

proved that Richelieu kept some confidential secretaries night and day

about his person, but that he had no offices. The secretaries of state,

who were nothing more than his head clerks, used to come for his orders,

get the necessary work done in their own offices, bring it when required

to the prime minister for his inspection, and then signed the documents

themselves. Richelieu only signed what was written in his own study.

Father Joseph himself does not seem to have been permitted, any more than

were the secretaries, the privilege of supervising the minutes signed

by the cardinal. The latter wished everything to be seen and done by

himself. To our thinking, nothing more striking could be conceived than

the picture of this statesman fighting against sleep and death for every

moment of his existence, in order to consecrate it to the glory of France.

What is specially characteristic of Richelieu, and gives him a distinct

position among the founders of unity in France, is the clearness and

the grandeur of his projects. Without foreseeing all the results of his

system, results which he would no doubt have been unwilling to accept,

he inaugurated with power and splendour that last social phase which the

modern world was to pass through, before the light of a new era should

shine upon it. Raising the kingship above family ties, and above all the

traditions of precedent, he detached from it all foreign elements, and,

isolating it within its own sphere, as a pure idea, he made it the living

personification of the public welfare and the best interests of the

nation. Thanks to this formidable weapon he broke away definitely from

the traditions of the Middle Ages, and caused French society to enter

once for all on the path of civil unity and equality. From the time of

Louis the Fat to that of Louis XIV, the kingship had always pursued the

mission which providence seemed to have laid upon it, to draw towards the

shadow of the throne all the varied and inimical forces which divided the

country between them; but there had been unfortunate intervals when it

seemed almost as if the spirit of disaffection and anarchy would finally

prevail, as happened after the reigns of Philip the Fair, Charles V,

Louis XI, and after the death of Henry IV. From the time of Richelieu,

the work of monarchical centralisation met with no further check. The

kingship, having reached the height to which this great minister had

raised it, was only to descend from that position in order to make way

for a still wider and more productive form of government.

THE CHURCH AND THE STATE UNDER RICHELIEU

[Sidenote: [1624-1639 A.D.]]

Two great facts are of paramount importance in the history of the church

of France during the first half of the seventeenth century. On the one

hand a sort of intellectual and moral regeneration, a true religious

renascence, was taking place in her midst, a movement which might be

compared to the literary renascence which had taken place in lay society

in the preceding century. On the other hand, the question so long debated

between the temporal and the spiritual power was at last decided in

favour of the former. Richelieu fought desperately against ultramontanism

and loudly proclaimed the absolute independence of the civil power, and

the necessity of having a national clergy whose interests should be bound

up with those of the state.

The religious wars had left the French clergy in a deplorable condition.

The church of France was in such a lax state that she seemed in danger

of losing the fruits of the victory she had gained, by the incapacity or

the vices of her members. However, we may say at once that this state

of religious decadence was not irremediable. It was necessary to take

prompt measures for reform, but the machinery for the work was there,

and in greater completeness than appeared at first sight. It was only

awaiting the workmen who were to set it in motion. If the wars of the

league were responsible for great crimes and terrible outrages, they had

also produced great virtues and fine characters. Men’s minds, somewhat

enervated at the beginning of the sixteenth century by the introduction

of a new morality, had regained their vigour in the struggle. Having

erred temporarily they were nevertheless not weakened, and when the

combat was over they felt an intense craving for action and for a living

faith; two forces which, well directed, can accomplish wonders.

This condition of mind also explains the very practical tendency shown

by the religious movement which then took place. Indeed one of the most

remarkable features of this regeneration of French Catholicism was, as

Henri Martin[p] observes, the predominance of the practical over the

ascetic and contemplative element.

Richelieu did not intend to exclude either the nobility or the clergy

from the administration of state affairs; on the contrary he treated the

clergy just as he did the aristocracy. He sought to introduce members of

the order into the king’s councils, but only on condition that they were

sufficiently enlightened to be worthy of such a position. He acted in

the same way with regard to the clergy. We see him giving most important

positions, both military and naval, to ecclesiastics. What he insisted

upon was that these two orders of the nobility and clergy should not

subordinate the interests of the state to their own, as they had been

too prone to do in former times. He wished the clergy to be part of the

state and to belong to the state, and to contribute a fair proportion

towards public expenses. In a word, he wished for a national clergy.

Therefore in his struggles to maintain, in the civil power as well as in

the religious order, the ascendency of the patriotic principles of the

true Gallican spirit, Richelieu found himself supported by his bitterest

opponent, the parliament, and deserted by the majority of the clergy,

who saw in this extension of the civil power the possible abolition of

their own privileges. In 1625, the clergy, in order to defend themselves

from the constant demands for money made on them by the government, had

decided that in future no deputy could vote subsidies under any pretext

without having expressly received full powers in the matter, and that

the opposition of a single province should be sufficient to annul the

resolutions of the assembly. Richelieu replied that he could not admit

the principle in virtue of which the clergy were claiming absolute

immunity from taxation; that the needs of the state were real, while

those of the church were chimerical and arbitrary; that if the king’s

armies had not repulsed the enemy the clergy would have suffered much

more.

The struggle about taxation between the civil power and the clergy

attained still more formidable proportions in 1638. Richelieu seems to

have made use of the brothers Dupuy to prepare the ground on which he

intended openly to attack the immunities of the clergy in the matter

of taxation. Pierre Dupuy in conjunction with his brother Jacques

published anonymously, about the middle of 1638, his great work on the

_Liberties of the Gallican Church_. He collected in the first volume

some very daring tracts on the subject; then, following his usual

method, he supported them by a second volume of official acts and

significant precedents, systematically arranged under the title _Proofs

of the Liberties_. In the tracts, published mostly during the troubles

of the league, when the national orthodoxy of France was called in

question, it was stated amongst other things that the pope had exercised

no jurisdiction at all over the Gallican church during the first six

centuries; that in the time of Clovis the sovereign head of the church

after Jesus Christ was the king, not the pope; that the pope had no

right to issue excommunications outside his own diocese; that there

is no instance of either the popes or their legates presiding at any

council held in Gaul before 742; that the said popes had not then any

title which placed them above the other archbishops, and indeed did not

possess any which was not common to them all. As for the proofs, “great

care had been taken not to draw deductions from the acts; our kings, the

assembled bishops of France, the parliament, and other sovereign bodies,

the universities and some of the communities of the kingdom, were the

authors of this work.” This was an adroit way of assuming the consent of

the whole nation during many centuries.

The clergy understood the significance of the attack, and protested

strongly against doctrines which they thought would declare them

independent of Rome only to make them the slaves of temporal power. On

the 9th of February, 1639, eighteen bishops met at the house of Cardinal

de la Rochefoucauld and drew up a letter denouncing “this work of the

devil” to their colleagues in a most violent manner. The cardinal

undertook to deliver this letter to Richelieu. How the minister replied

is not known; but from that time edicts more violent than ever were

issued against the clergy.

[Sidenote: [1639-1640 A.D.]]

Amongst the bishops was one, the bishop of Chartres, who was entirely

devoted to the cardinal, and who supported him strongly in his struggle

with the church. He succeeded, it is said, in recovering a copy of all

the edicts issued against the church in the most disturbed times and

sent them to the superintendent Bullion. The latter made a report on

them to the cardinal, and on the 16th of April, 1639, appeared an edict

in which it was set forth that “ecclesiastics, communities, and other

persons falling under the statute of mortmain are incapable of holding

real property in France, that the king can compel them to pay dues on it

within a year and a day of acquiring it, and in default of this the king

may add the said property to his own domains; that the king is willing

nevertheless to be satisfied with the payment of the indemnity for royal

and feudal rights, which is due to him by his claims under mortmain; his

majesty commands that these rights shall be sought out wherever they

exist, in all sorts of livings, foundations, hospitals, confraternities,

etc., excepting only the new communities, established thirty years ago,

of the Jesuits and the Carmelites.” The edict commanded that the research

should extend as far back as 1520. This was, according to financiers,

a matter of nearly eighty millions for the state. A short time after,

an order appeared commanding the alienation of 200,000 livres a year

on the Hôtel-de-Ville, guaranteed for five years only by the clergy,

and imposing on the latter a perpetual responsibility for these 200,000

livres, and this without their own consent. The irritation of the clergy

had reached a climax. They protested forcibly against this measure.

Richelieu thought it would not be wise to push things to extremities. A

declaration issued on the 7th of January, 1640, announced that the king

would be satisfied with a levy of 3,600,000 livres as a compensation for

his royal rights.

It was then that Dupuy, seeing that the king’s authority was waning,

published a violent discourse in defence of the king. Upon this an

obscure priest named Hersent undertook in a Latin pamphlet, entitled

_Optatus gallus_, to defend the rights of the church and denounce the

machinations of those who were trying, he said, to foster schism in

France. The parliament by a decision dated March 23rd, 1640, ordered

the _Optatus gallus_ to be torn up and burned “as casting doubt on the

authority bestowed on sovereign princes by God.” On the 28th of the same

month, the archbishop of Paris, F. de Gondi, with Léonor d’Étampes bishop

of Chartres, Nicolas bishop of Orleans, and Séguier bishop of Meaux,

signed a declaration couched in almost the same terms, and having for

its special object to repel most decidedly the accusation of schism made

against the cardinal and a portion of the French clergy by the author of

the _Optatus gallus_.

As for the government, it recommenced its attacks on the clergy and,

no longer satisfied with the 3,600,000 livres at first demanded, it

called upon all holders of livings to pay over the sixth part of their

income for two years (6th of October, 1640). The edict was published

under the seal, and a chamber was established at the Louvre composed of

councillors of state, both ecclesiastic and lay, and magistrates, whose

function it was to carry out the provisions of the edict and settle the

law. Berland, the prior of St. Denis-de-la-Chartre, who, having entered

the clerical agency and not being recognised as an agent, had not the

keys of the archives at his disposal, had the audacity to break in the

doors and carry off the old assessment rolls, amongst them that of 1583,

and to hand them over to the superintendent. When the new assessment

was drawn up the agents of the clergy were desired to sign it. The abbé

Saint-Vincent immediately formed an opposition party. This was suppressed

by a decision of the 10th of November, which also forbade the agents

“to hold any meeting either general or particular without the king’s

permission.” The abbé Saint-Vincent then wrote to the dioceses telling

them that all was lost. They decided to write to the cardinal and even

the king, to appeal to his holiness, and to order public prayers to

be offered up. In short, the clergy were in a state of indescribable

tumult. The most violent accusations were hurled against this tyrant,

this apostate, who was violating the privileges of the church, and trying

to reduce her to a state of slavery which was quite unprecedented.

Richelieu, however, who was at this time involved in a gigantic struggle

against Austria and Spain, was anxious to be freed from all these

entanglements at home. He appeared to give way and agreed to accept from

an ecclesiastical assembly what he found it difficult to obtain by force.

A general assembly was summoned at Mantes at the beginning of 1641. The

government demanded 6,600,000 livres in all. The debate was long and

stormy. The sieur d’Émeri was deputed by the king to signify to the

archbishops of Sens and Toulouse and the bishops of Évreux, Maillezais,

Bazas, and Toulon that they must leave the town, and each one retire to

his own diocese without passing through Paris.

On the other hand the minority, who were devoted to Richelieu, made some

very bold speeches. The affair finally ended according to Richelieu’s

desires. The government reduced its claims to five and a half millions,

which were voted by the majority on the 27th of May.[r]

THE CONSPIRACY OF CINQ-MARS (1641-1642 A.D.)

[Sidenote: [1641-1642 A.D.]]

One more effort was made to shake off the trammels of the hated cardinal.

A conspiracy was entered into to deliver the land by the old Roman method

of putting the tyrant to death; and the curious part of the design is

that it was formed almost in the presence of the king.[j]

Louis XIII had at that time a favourite, Henry d’Effiat, son of the

old marshal and marquis de Cinq-Mars. He was a young man of twenty-two

years of age, with a handsome face, finished manners, magnificent and

extravagant. The king, always gloomy, found the need of an agreeable

person, capable of diverting his thoughts, and even of amusing him.

Having formed an affection for Cinq-Mars, he gave him in succession the

posts of keeper of the wardrobe and grand equerry. Richelieu, whose close

observation extended even over the intimate friends of Louis XIII, did

not take umbrage at the favour bestowed upon a young man of so frivolous

a nature, son of a father who had been one of his most devoted servants,

and step-brother of the marshal De Meilleraie; on the contrary he felt

that the equerry usurped the place in the king’s confidence of one of his

declared enemies, Mademoiselle de Hautefort.

But Cinq-Mars was a young madman and, as Monglat said, too presumptuous.

Intoxicated by his success, thinking he could do in all things as he

pleased, he began to show an inordinate ambition. He dreamed of the

fortune of Luynes; he wished to be a duke and a peer, and to command

the armies. Richelieu treated him like a child. Louis XIII had enough

strength of mind to resist these follies, but not sufficient to send

him away from him. He quarrelled with him, became reconciled again, and

treated him as if he were a spoiled child. They called the equerry “the

king’s plaything.” Cinq-Mars--offended at the way in which the cardinal

snubbed him, encouraged, moreover, by the society of the Marais in which

he was considered a success, and which was not afraid to show political

opposition, in words at least--thought that he could, thanks to the

liberty which Louis XIII granted him, compass the downfall of Richelieu.

Louis XIII, like everyone else, felt the burden of his powerful

minister’s rule. He allowed his favourite to talk; he even listened to

him willingly, without taking him seriously. At heart he looked upon

Richelieu as a necessary man and one whom he could not do without, as

much from habit as from a conviction of the superiority of his genius. He

told Cinq-Mars that he need never think of replacing him. Cinq-Mars then,

with his daring and swift imagination, conceived the most incoherent

ideas, such as killing the cardinal, waiting for his death, which the

failing condition of his health made him think might be very soon, or

bribing Gaston who would become regent if the king were to die. Each day

he changed his plans, deciding upon no particular one. He had made vows,

and probably more than vows, for the success of the count de Soissons.

After the battle of La Marfée, he was advised to leave court, because of

the suspicions that had arisen against him; he refused, hoping to refute

them by his presence, and to think of some new plan by which he could

compass the end he desired.

[Illustration: HENRI COIFFIER DE RUZÉ, MARQUIS DE CINQ-MARS

(1620-1642)]

Notwithstanding the risk, he formed a conspiracy. He tried to come to

an understanding with the duke of Orleans, who might become regent, and

also with the duke de Bouillon, whose fortress of Sedan was admirably

situated to furnish him a refuge should he be obliged to fly from France.

It was beginning over again the plot of the count de Soissons. Gaston

answered vaguely, according to his custom, leaving others to act, and

doing nothing himself. Bouillon showed himself more decided. Although

he had accepted from the cardinal the command of the Italian army,

he believed himself able, should the conspiracy prove unsuccessful,

to withdraw to Sedan, and there await the death of the king. Francis

Augustus de Thou, son of the historian, an inconsistent, restless, and

nervous person, served as a go-between for the equerry, with the duke

de Bouillon, and even with the queen. Bouillon simply observed that an

army was necessary to protect Sedan. Cinq-Mars and Gaston then sent into

Spain an agent, Fontrailles, with some blank signatures, to demand troops

and a subsidy, and to propose a treaty. Olivares seized this opportunity

to cause Richelieu trouble. Seriously or not, he accepted the proposals

which Fontrailles made to him; he signed the treaty, scarcely discussing

the terms of it, and contented himself with exacting from the princes

a promise to restore to peace all that France had wrested from Spain.

Fontrailles returned to Narbonne, where he found the conspiracy half

divulged, and the head equerry decided to undertake nothing until he knew

how the cardinal’s illness would end. The duke of Orleans, carried away

by the passion and zeal of some of his followers, but always irresolute

and full of contradictions, had not left Blois; Bouillon was in Italy

at the head of the army, they could not even communicate with one

another. Fontrailles took a great deal of trouble to establish a secret

correspondence between them. It was not only the illness of the cardinal

that induced them to wait, but also the striking failure of the king’s

health. Cinq-Mars only looked upon the treaty as a last resource which

they could keep back for a time. Gaston demanded that it should be given

to him; then when Cinq-Mars, after much resistance, decided to send it to

him, he kept it without signing it, or addressing the ratification to the

governors of the Spanish Netherlands, as they had agreed to. Fontrailles

fled to England.

RECOVERY AND TRIUMPH OF RICHELIEU

For a whole month Richelieu hung between life and death. At last he

recovered, not indeed his health, but that energy which even suffering

could not keep under. Prostrated by infirmity and pain, he appeared

to have scarcely a spark of life, but, notwithstanding, never has one

seen a finer example of Bossuet’s _mot_: “A courageous soul is master

of the body it animates.” Retiring to Tarascon, a healthful and lonely

town, under the care of the count d’Alais, governor of Provence, the

cardinal, in spite of illness and absence, did not cease to rule the

king, the government, and the army. A rumour was circulated that his

retirement was due to fear; his enemies made a last attempt to destroy

his influence over Louis XIII, but he triumphed over them on this as

on all former occasions. The king, wearied by the length of the siege

of Perpignan, and ill himself, left the camp to establish himself at

Narbonne. There he fell a prey to the most contrary anxieties. He saw

himself beset and spied upon on one side by Cinq-Mars, on the other by

Chavigny and the Noyers. But, apart from the fact that he was in no wise

willing to sacrifice Richelieu, he could perceive that the principal

leaders and officers of the army were partisans of the cardinal, that

the vain boastings of the equerry were displeasing to the military men,

and that the latter indulged the maddest schemes for making himself well

thought of. He was already very weary of his favourite, when on the 10th

of June, 1642, he received a copy of the Spanish treaty that Richelieu

sent to him at Narbonne by the intervention of Chavigny. How did this

copy get into the cardinal’s hands? No one could tell; according to the

most likely conjectures, he obtained it through one of his secret agents

or by the treachery of the abbé De la Rivière, who sought his favour, or

through a servant of the duke of Orleans. Louis XIII was most indignant,

and no longer hesitated. On the 12th he ordered Cinq-Mars, De Thou, and

two others, to be arrested. Cinq-Mars remained concealed all one day in a

house in the town, but he was discovered, and imprisoned in the citadel

of Montpellier. Bouillon was arrested in Italy by his brigadiers at the

head of the very army that he commanded. Gaston only was not pursued. The

abbé De la Rivière came in his name to acknowledge his fault and to beg

for the royal pardon.

The king went to Tarascon to the cardinal to assure him that his

sentiments had not changed, and that he wished to await with him the end

of this great trial. We are told how Richelieu was in bed; how Louis,

himself ill, was obliged to have a bed made up for himself by the side

of Richelieu, and how they discussed thus the measures they ought to

take. They decided that Gaston should be questioned and then pardoned,

but on the condition of his making a full confession, the only means of

convicting the accused parties. Louis XIII was unable to return to the

army; he went to Fontainebleau by easy stages, arriving there the 23rd

of July. Whilst on the road he heard of the death of his mother; Marie

de’ Medici had left England, where her presence was looked upon as a

public encumbrance. Not finding the inhabitants either of Spain or of

Holland willing to receive her, she went to Cologne where, at the house

of the archbishop elector, she terminated the anxieties of her wandering

life. The chancellor and the members of parliament claimed that a prince

could not be cross-examined like anyone else, and that it was necessary

he should give his declaration in writing. This mode of procedure had

been adopted towards the duke of Orleans. The judges received his

declaration at Villefranche on their way to Lyons, where the commission

would sit. This commission was composed of state counsellors, of

masters of requests, and of several members of the Grenoble parliament.

Cinq-Mars had been transferred from the citadel of Montpellier to that

of Pierre-Scize. De Thou had been taken to Lyons in a boat towed up the

Rhone by that of the cardinal. Bouillon was brought there from his side.

Richelieu had started by going up the Rhone slowly, for he could not

bear the least fatigue. As this navigation was very laborious, he left

the river at Valence and was placed in a great litter, or room, made

expressly and carried upon the shoulders of his musketeers, who succeeded

each other in relays. He was partially paralysed, incapable of moving or

even of signing anything; nevertheless he never ceased working, having

beside his bed in this portable room a chair and a table for a secretary.

In this fashion he arrived at Lyons. He remained there only a few days,

leaving before the end of the trial, and continuing his strange journey,

partly by land, partly by the Loire and the recently finished canal of

Briare.

Gaston’s declarations left no doubt as to the reality of the plot.

Cinq-Mars did not deny it; he owned to everything, and appeared before

his judges with a bearing as noble as it was courageous. As for De Thou,

he had played an absurd part, and one full of contradictions; “he was

concerned in everything,” said Fontrailles,[k] “and denied knowledge of

anything.” Priding himself upon a scrupulous loyalty and delicacy of

conscience, he was made the confidant of all the conspirators and all

the conspiracies invented against the cardinal and against the king.

He had got it into his head that his name, his character, his title of

former minister of state would assure him a high place in the government

that should succeed to that of Richelieu. He was then mixed up with the

enemies of the cardinal; he had even, which was far more serious, warned

the queen of what was being prepared. Of his complicity there was no

doubt. His guilt was not so certain.

The judges passed a sentence of death. Cinq-Mars was condemned

unanimously; De Thou unanimously but for one voice. The execution took

place at once upon a scaffold erected in the middle of the place des

Terreaux (September 13th). The grand equerry and his friend died with as

much dignity as resignation. De Thou, whose eager mind was filled with

the deepest sentiments of religion, showed a martyr’s enthusiasm. Neither

of them protested against the blow which struck them, but their youth,

the sensation they had caused, the candour of their answers at the trial,

their noble bearing upon the scaffold deeply affected the town of Lyons.

“M. de Thou,” wrote Marca, one of the judges, “died like a Christian and

a brave man. M. le Grand also showed an equal firmness and met his death

with an admirable confidence, composure, and Christian devotion.” The

sight of this execution awoke a very natural pity, seeing that the public

knew little of the details of the plot. It was regarded as the last act

of vengeance of a minister who felt his power ebbing with his life.[l]

THE LAST DAYS OF RICHELIEU

[Sidenote: [1642-1643 A.D.]]

The tempestuous year of 1642 was drawing to a glorious close. Fortune,

after long wavering, threw itself on the side of France. Austria

was humiliated and France was in the ascendency. Henry IV had won

independence for her, Richelieu gave her supremacy; the work of Charles V

and Philip II was undone forever. France resumed the position at the head

of the nations which she had held when she led Europe in the Crusades

of the Middle Ages. This grand symphony of victories resounded about a

funeral pyre. All these conquered standards were lowered before a dying

man. The epic poem that astonished the world for eighteen years was not

to lack a majestic end; the hero was to be buried in the triumph which

providence did not permit him to complete.

The victory over Cinq-Mars, and above all the general success of the

French policy, had for a few months brought back the life that was ebbing

away; but the slow dissolution of the worn-out organism had continued. On

the evening of the 28th of November Richelieu, after returning from Ruel

to the palais Cardinal, was taken with a violent fever, with pain in the

side, and spitting of blood; four bleedings were insufficient to allay

the fever. On the 2nd of December public prayers were offered for the

sick man in all the churches of Paris, and the king came from St. Germain

to see him. Richelieu talked to Louis like a man resigned to death,

asked him to protect his family in memory of his services, recommended

to him the ministers Noyers and Chavigny, and especially Mazarin whom he

represented, it is said, as the person most capable of filling his own

place; and finally submitted to the king a declaration which he had just

had drafted against the duke of Orleans, to exclude that prince from all

right to the regency and the administration of the kingdom in case of the

death of the king. This was the last service that Richelieu rendered to

France.

After the visit of the king the cardinal, feeling worse, asked the

physicians how long he might still live. They, wishing to flatter the

master to the very mouth of the tomb, replied that there was no need to

despair--that God, seeing how necessary he was to the welfare of France,

would intervene to save him. The cardinal shook his head and calling

back one of the royal surgeons said, “Speak to me with open heart, not

as a physician but as a friend.” “Monseigneur,” said the physician, “in

twenty-four hours you will be dead or well.” “That’s the way to talk!”

said Richelieu, “I like that.” He sent for the curate of St. Eustace,

his parish. “Here is my Judge,” he said when the consecrated host was

presented to him, “my Judge who is soon to pronounce my sentence. I pray

him to condemn me if in my ministry I have followed any other end than

the welfare of religion and of the state.” “Do you forgive your enemies?”

asked the curé. “I have never had any but the enemies of the state.”

Most of those present contemplated the dying man with admiration, some

with fear. “Here,” said Cospéan, the bishop of Lisieux, “is an assurance

that dismays me!” Doubtless Richelieu,[m] in order to fortify his

conscience, repeated the maxims of those two Latin testaments which

contain his supreme thought; his official will in which he disposes of

his dignities and his wealth concerns only his family; the other two are

addressed to posterity. “I have been severe to some,” he said, “in order

to be good to all. I have loved justice and not vengeance.” Was he very

sure of it? “I have tried to give to Gaul the boundaries that nature

intended for it, to identify Gaul with France, and to establish the new

Gaul wherever the old one was.”

On the afternoon of the 3rd of December the king came to see the cardinal

for the last time. The physicians, having no more hope, had given up the

sick man to empirics, who gave him a little relief. But his feebleness

was increasing; on the morning of the 4th, feeling the approach of death,

he made his niece, the duchess d’Aiguillon retire, as she was “the person

whom he had most loved,” according to his own words. This was the only

moment, not of weakness, but of tenderness, that he had; his indomitable

firmness had not given way during his long suffering. All present,

ministers, generals, relatives, and servants, burst into tears; for this

terrible man was, according to the testimony of his least favourable

contemporaries, “the best master, relative, and friend that ever was

known.” Towards noon he heaved a deep sigh, then a feebler one, then

his body collapsed and was still; his great soul was gone. He had lived

fifty-seven years and three months, the same number of years as Henry IV.

Human judgments [continues Martin] have been and still are contradictory

concerning this minister of salutary harshness, this strong-armed

labourer who is accused of having pulled up from French soil the good

grain along with the tares. The most opposite opinions are in league

for and against his memory. Before 1789 lords and commons, after 1789

ultramontanes and a large part of the liberals heap abuse upon him.

Retz[n] claims that Cardinal Richelieu traded on all the evil intentions

and all the ignorance of the last two centuries, in order to form in the

most legitimate of monarchies the most scandalous and most dangerous

tyranny. Montesquieu[o] believes that “the most harmful citizens of

France” were Richelieu and Louvois.

On the other hand the partisans of unity and of strong and vigorous

power, whether monarchists or democrats, rise in favour of the great

man, as do all those who put the love of country above all other social

or political sentiments. The _Moniteur_ of 1789, as the mouthpiece of

this party, exclaims with the voice of the Revolution itself: “Let

the aristocrats rage against the memory of this intrepid minister who

overthrew their pride and avenged the people for the oppression of the

great. By sacrificing great victims to the tranquillity of the state he

became its pacifier. He was the first to apply true remedies to the root

of the evil by degrading the intermediate powers that had enslaved the

nation for nearly nine centuries. Nothing that can make a vast kingdom

powerful and glorious escaped his indefatigable activity.”

The popular instinct however has not decided the question as it has for

Henry IV. The abstract and half veiled greatness of this invalid who

from his bed overturned empires has not taken hold of the heart and the

imagination of the unlettered masses and imprinted its pale mysterious

figure in ineffaceable lines. The man who did most for the greatness of

France is little known by the French people: is this the punishment for

his severity towards the suffering masses and for his harsh maxims? “If

the people were too much at ease, it would not be possible to hold them

within the rules of their duty.”[p]

When the king heard of the death of his minister he coldly remarked: “A

great statesman is dead.” He survived him but six months. A few days

before his death he named Anne of Austria regent and Gaston, his brother,

lieutenant-general of the kingdom. Louis XIII felt great remorse for the

assassination of Marshal d’Ancre and for his treatment of his mother, the

queen. He died at the château St. Germain, at the age of forty-two years.

One of his contemporaries says of him that he was so indifferent in his

government that all the world awaited his death with impatience, even

those who owed most to him.[c]

STEPHEN’S ESTIMATE OF LOUIS XIII AND OF RICHELIEU

Louis XIII [says Stephen] was a man of large and just capacity. His ideas

of the duties of his station were princely and magnanimous. He lived in

profound submission to the law of his conscience, in the fear of God,

and in veneration for all men in whom he saw, or thought he saw, any

image, however faint, of the divine beneficence and power. But he was of

a feeble, indolent, and melancholy spirit. He was habitually wrapt in

reveries, sometimes splendid, though more often gloomy; but he was always

incapable of prompt or decisive action. Though a king, he never was and

never could have been a free man. It was among the necessities of his

existence to live under the government of a master. After selecting and

rejecting many such, he at length submitted himself to the dominion of

Richelieu, and thenceforward endured that bondage to the last. He endured

it certainly, neither from attachment nor from fear, but because, as

often as he struggled to regain his liberty, his efforts were baffled by

his admiration of the genius of his great minister, and by his persuasion

that no other man could so effectually promote the welfare of his state

and people.

Richelieu, on the other hand, was one of the rulers of mankind, in virtue

of an inherent and indefeasible birthright. His title to command rested

on that sublime force of will, and decision of character, by which, in

an age of great men, he was raised above them all. It is a gift which

supposes and requires in him on whom it is conferred, convictions too

firm to be shaken by the discovery of any unperceived or unheeded

truths. It is, therefore, a gift, which, when bestowed on the governors

of nations, also presupposes in them the patience to investigate, the

capacity to comprehend, and the genius to combine, all those views of the

national interest, under the guidance of which their inflexible policy is

to be conducted to its destined consummation. For the stoutest hearted of

men, if acting in ignorance, or under the impulse of haste or of error,

must often pause, often hesitate, and not seldom recede. Richelieu was

exposed to no such danger. He moved onwards to his predetermined ends

with that unfaltering step which attests, not merely a stern immutability

of purpose, but a comprehensive survey of the path to be trodden, and a

profound acquaintance with all its difficulties and all its resources. It

was a path from which he could be turned aside neither by his bad nor by

his good genius; neither by fear, lassitude, interest, or pleasure; nor

by justice, pity, humanity, or conscience.

The idolatrous homage of mere mental power, without reference to

the motives by which it is governed, or to the ends to which it is

addressed,--that blind hero-worship, which would place Wallenstein and

Gustavus Adolphus on the same level, and extol with equal warmth the

triumphs of Cromwell and of Washington, though it be a modern fashion,

has certainly not the charm of novelty. On the contrary it might, in

the language of the Puritans, be described as one of the “old follies of

the old Adam”; and, to the influence of that folly, the reputation of

Richelieu is not a little indebted.

In his estimate, the absolute dominion of the French crown and the

grandeur of France were convertible terms. They seemed to him but as two

different aspects of the great consummation to which every hour of his

political life was devoted. In approaching that ultimate goal, there were

to be surmounted many obstacles which lie distinctly perceived, and of

which he has given a very clear summary in his _Testament Politique_.

“When it pleased your majesty,” he says, “to give me not only a place

in your council, but a great share in the conduct of your affairs, the

Huguenots divided the state with you. The great lords were acting not

as your subjects, but as independent chieftains. The governors of your

provinces were conducting themselves like so many sovereign princes.

Foreign affairs and alliances were disregarded. The interest of the

public was postponed to that of private men. In a word, your authority

was, at that time, so torn to shreds, and so unlike what it ought to be,

that, in the confusion, it was impossible to recognise the genuine traces

of your royal power.”

Before his death, Richelieu had triumphed over all these enemies, and

had elevated the house of Bourbon upon their ruins. He is, perhaps,

the only human being who ever conceived and executed, in the spirit of

philosophy, the design of erecting a political despotism; not, indeed,

a despotism like that of Constantinople or Teheran, but a power which,

being restrained by religion, by learning, and by public spirit, was to

be exempted from all other restraints; a dynasty, which like a kind of

subordinate province, was to spread wide its arms for the guidance and

shelter of the subject multitude; itself the while inhabiting a region

too lofty to be ever darkened by the mists of human weakness, or of human

corruption.

To devise schemes worthy of the academies of Laputa, and to pursue them

with all the relentless perseverance of Cortes or of Clive, has been

characteristic of many of the statesmen of France, both in remote and in

recent times. Richelieu was but a more successful Mirabeau. He was not

so much a minister as a dictator. He was rather the depositary, than the

agent, of the royal power. A king in all things but the name, he reigned

with that exemption from hereditary and domestic influences, which has so

often imparted to the papal monarchs a kind of preterhuman energy, and

has as often taught the world to deprecate the celibacy of the throne.

Richelieu was the heir of the designs of Henry IV, and the ancestor

of those of Louis XIV. But they courted, and were sustained by, the

applause and the attachment of their subjects. He passed his life in

one unintermitted struggle with each, in turn, of the powerful bodies

over whom he ruled. By a long series of well-directed blows, he crushed

forever the political and military strength of the Huguenots. By his

strong hand, the sovereign courts were confined to their judicial

duties, and their claims to participate in the government of the state

were scattered to the winds. Trampling under foot all rules of judicial

procedure and the clearest principles of justice, he brought to the

scaffold one after another of the proudest nobles of France, by sentences

dictated by himself, to extraordinary judges of his own selection; thus

teaching the doctrine of social equality, by lessons too impressive

to be misinterpreted or forgotten by any later generation. Both the

privileges, in exchange for which the greater fiefs had surrendered

their independence, and the franchises, for the conquest of which the

cities, in earlier times, had successfully contended, were alike swept

away by this remorseless innovator. He exiled the mother, oppressed the

wife, degraded the brother, banished the confessor, and put to death

the kinsman and favourites of the king, and compelled the king himself

to be the instrument of these domestic severities. Though surrounded by

enemies and by rivals, his power ended only with his life. Though beset

by assassins, he died in the ordinary course of nature. Though he had

waded to dominion through slaughter, cruelty, and wrong, he passed to his

great account amidst the applause of the people, with the benedictions

of the Church; and, as far as any human eye could perceive, in hope, in

tranquillity, and in peace.[v]

[Illustration: COSTUMES OF THE PERIOD OF LOUIS XIII]

FOOTNOTES

[88] [Thomas Wolsey (1471-1530), the celebrated English cardinal, was

prime minister of Henry VIII. Cardinal George d’Amboise (1460-1510) was

the minister of Louis XII of France (see pp. 294 and 303).]

[89] [The war in North Italy cut off Spain from the Netherlands, now that

England dominated the sea. Hence the great importance of Richelieu’s

plan.]

[90] [Giulio Mazarini, born at Piscina, Italy, July 14th, 1602; died at

Vincennes, France, March 9th, 1661. He was to be Richelieu’s successor

and scarcely his inferior in power.]

[91] [Charles IV, duke of Guise. He died in exile in Italy in 1640.]

[92] [For the detailed history of the Thirty Years’ War, see vol. XIII.]

[93] [As regards what was done by French armies. But of course the allies

entered constantly into Richelieu’s plans.]

[94] [Kitchin’s[w] estimate of Father Joseph seems a just one. He

says: “It is impossible to say with the Italians, that Richelieu owed

everything to him; that Father Joseph not only strengthened him in all

the crises of his fortune and gave him wise advice, but that he even

invented his policy for him, and supplied him with ideas; yet we must

admit that Richelieu owed more to him than to any other person, and that

he was thrice happy in such an agent and friend. Yet the difference

between them is great: Father Joseph lives in history as an able

intriguer; Richelieu as a king among men.”]

[95] [Richelieu formally created the ever afterward famous _Académie

Française_ in the year 1635. Its membership was (and is) limited to

forty,--the “forty immortals.” Its object was to control the French

language, and regulate the literary taste of the people. Its influence

has been extraordinary; but the wisdom of attempting to dam up the stream

of so limpid a medium as language may be questioned. Membership in the

Academy continues to be the highest honour that can be offered a French

man of letters. See below, chapter xxi.]

[Illustration]