granted, gave orders to his domestics to prepare to set off the next
morning for St. Germain, where he should hunt the stag for a few days. He
directed the grand huntsman to be ready with the hounds, and retired to
rest, thinking to withdraw awhile from the intrigues of the Court, and
amuse himself with the sports of the field. M. de Villequier, agreeably
to the command he had received from the Queen my mother, asked for leave,
and obtained it. The King, however, staying in his closet, like
Rehoboam, with his council of five or six young men, they suggested
suspicions in his mind respecting my brother’s departure from Court. In
short, they worked upon his fears and apprehensions so greatly, that he
took one of the most rash and inconsiderate steps that was ever decided
upon in our time; which was to put my brother and all his principal
servants under an arrest. This measure was executed with as much
indiscretion as it had been resolved upon. The King, under this
agitation of mind, late as it was, hastened to the Queen my mother, and
seemed as if there was a general alarm and the enemy at the gates, for he
exclaimed on seeing her: “How could you, Madame, think of asking me to
let my brother go hence? Do you not perceive how dangerous his going
will prove to my kingdom? Depend upon it that this hunting is merely a
pretence to cover some treacherous design. I am going to put him and his
people under an arrest, and have his papers examined. I am sure we shall
make some great discoveries.”
At the time he said this he had with him the Sieur de Cosse, captain of
the guard, and a number of Scottish archers. The Queen my mother,
fearing, from the King’s haste and trepidation, that some mischief might
happen to my brother, begged to go with him. Accordingly, undressed as
she was, wrapping herself up in a night-gown, she followed the King to my
brother’s bedchamber. The King knocked at the door with great violence,
ordering it to be immediately opened, for that he was there himself. My
brother started up in his bed, awakened by the noise, and, knowing that
he had done nothing that he need fear, ordered Cange, his valet de
chambre, to open the door. The King entered in a great rage, and asked
him when he would have done plotting against him. “But I will show you,”
said he, “what it is to plot against your sovereign.” Hereupon he
ordered the archers to take away all the trunks, and turn the valets de
chambre out of the room. He searched my brother’s bed himself, to see if
he could find any papers concealed in it. My brother had that evening
received a letter from Madame de Sauves, which he kept in his hand,
unwilling that it should be seen. The King endeavoured to force it from
him. He refused to part with it, and earnestly entreated the King would
not insist upon seeing it. This only excited the King’s anxiety the more
to have it in his possession, as he now supposed it to be the key to the
whole plot, and the very document which would at once bring conviction
home to him. At length, the King having got it into his hands, he opened
it in the presence of the Queen my mother, and they were both as much
confounded, when they read the contents, as Cato was when he obtained a
letter from Caesar, in the Senate, which the latter was unwilling to give
up; and which Cato, supposing it to contain a conspiracy against the
Republic, found to be no other than a love-letter from his own sister.
But the shame of this disappointment served only to increase the King’s
anger, who, without condescending to make a reply to my brother, when
repeatedly asked what he had been accused of, gave him in charge of M. de
Cosse and his Scots, commanding them not to admit a single person to
speak with him.
It was one o’clock in the morning when my brother was made a prisoner in
the manner I have now related. He feared some fatal event might succeed
these violent proceedings, and he was under the greatest concern on my
account, supposing me to be under a like arrest. He observed M. de Cosse
to be much affected by the scene he had been witness to, even to shedding
tears. As the archers were in the room he would not venture to enter
into discourse with him, but only asked what was become of me. M. de
Cosse answered that I remained at full liberty. My brother then said it
was a great comfort to him to hear that news; “but,” added he, “as I know
she loves me so entirely that she would rather be confined with me than
have her liberty whilst I was in confinement, I beg you will go to the
Queen my mother, and desire her to obtain leave for my sister to be with
me.” He did so, and it was granted.
The reliance which my brother displayed upon this occasion in the
sincerity of my friendship and regard for him conferred so great an
obligation in my mind that, though I have received many particular
favours since from him, this has always held the foremost place in my
grateful remembrance.
By the time he had received permission for my being with him, daylight
made its appearance. Seeing this, my brother begged M. de Cosse to send
one of his archers to acquaint me with his situation, and beg me to come
to him.
LETTER XVIII.
The Brothers Reconciled.--Alencon Restored to His Liberty.
I was ignorant of what had happened to my brother, and when the Scottish
archer came into my bedchamber, I was still asleep. He drew the curtains
of the bed, and told me, in his broken French, that my brother wished to
see me. I stared at the man, half awake as I was, and thought it a
dream. After a short pause, and being thoroughly awakened, I asked him
if he was not a Scottish archer. He answered me in the affirmative.
“What!” cried I, “has my brother no one else to send a message by?” He
replied he had not, for all his domestics had been put under an arrest.
He then proceeded to relate, as well as he could explain himself, the
events of the preceding night, and the leave granted my brother for my
being with him during his imprisonment.
The poor fellow, observing me to be much affected by this intelligence,
drew near, and whispered me to this purport: “Do not grieve yourself
about this matter; I know a way of setting your brother at liberty, and
you may depend upon it, that I will do it; but, in that case, I must go
off with him.” I assured him that he might rely upon being as amply
rewarded as he could wish for such assistance, and, huddling on my
clothes, I followed him alone to my brother’s apartments. In going
thither, I had occasion to traverse the whole gallery, which was filled
with people, who, at another time, would have pressed forward to pay
their respects to me; but, now that Fortune seemed to frown upon me, they
all avoided me, or appeared as if they did not see me.
Coming into my brother’s apartments, I found him not at all affected by
what had happened; for such was the constancy of his mind, that his
arrest had wrought no change, and he received me with his usual
cheerfulness. He ran to meet me, and taking me in his arms, he said,
“Queen! I beg you to dry up your tears; in my present situation, nothing
can grieve me so much as to find you under any concern; for my own part,
I am so conscious of my innocence and the integrity of my conduct, that I
can defy the utmost malice of my enemies. If I should chance to fall the
victim of their injustice, my death would prove a more cruel punishment
to them than to me, who have courage sufficient to meet it in a just
cause. It is not death I fear, because I have tasted sufficiently of the
calamities and evils of life, and am ready to leave this world, which I
have found only the abode of sorrow; but the circumstance I dread most
is, that, not finding me sufficiently guilty to doom me to death, I shall
be condemned to a long, solitary imprisonment; though I should even
despise their tyranny in that respect, could I but have the assurance of
being comforted by your presence.”
These words, instead of stopping my tears, only served to make them
stream afresh. I answered, sobbing, that my life and fortune were at his
devotion; that the power of God alone could prevent me from affording him
my assistance under every extremity; that, if he should be transported
from that place, and I should be withheld from following him, I would
kill myself on the spot.
Changing our discourse, we framed a number of conjectures on what might
be the probable cause of the King’s angry proceedings against him, but
found ourselves at a loss what to assign them to.
Whilst we were discussing this matter the hour came for opening the
palace gates, when a simple young man belonging to Bussi presented
himself for entrance. Being stopped by the guard and questioned as to
whither he was going, he, panic-struck, replied he was going to M. de
Bussi, his master. This answer was carried to the King, and gave fresh
grounds for suspicion. It seems my brother, supposing he should not be
able to go to Flanders for some time, and resolving to send Bussi to his
duchy of Alencon as I have already mentioned, had lodged him in the
Louvre, that he might be near him to take instructions at every
opportunity.
L’Archant, the general of the guard, had received the King’s commands to
make a search in the Louvre for him and Simier, and put them both under
arrest. He entered upon this business with great unwillingness, as he
was intimate with Bussi, who was accustomed to call him “father.”
L’Archant, going to Simier’s apartment, arrested him; and though he
judged Bussi was there too, yet, being unwilling to find him, he was
going away. Bussi, however, who had concealed himself under the bed, as
not knowing to whom the orders for his arrest might be given, finding he
was to be left there, and sensible that he should be well treated by
L’Archant, called out to him, as he was leaving the room, in his droll
manner: “What, papa, are you going without me? Don’t you think I am as
great a rogue as that Simier?”
“Ah, son,” replied L’Archant, “I would much rather have lost my arm than
have met with you!”
Bussi, being a man devoid of all fear, observed that it was a sign that
things went well with him; then, turning to Simier, who stood trembling
with fear, he jeered him upon his pusillanimity. L’Archant removed them
both, and set a guard over them; and, in the next place, proceeded to
arrest M. de la Chastre, whom he took to the Bastille.
Meanwhile M. de l’Oste was appointed to the command of the guard which
was set over my brother. This was a good sort of old man, who had been
appointed governor to the King my husband, and loved me as if I had been
his own child. Sensible of the injustice done to my brother and me, and
lamenting the bad counsel by which the King was guided, and being,
moreover, willing to serve us, he resolved to deliver my brother from
arrest. In order to make his intention known to us he ordered the
Scottish archers to wait on the stairs without, keeping only, two whom he
could trust in the room. Then taking me aside, he said:
“There is not a good Frenchman living who does not bleed at his heart to
see what we see. I have served the King your father, and I am ready to
lay down my life to serve his children. I expect to have the guard of
the Prince your brother, wherever he shall chance to be confined; and,
depend upon it, at the hazard of my life, I will restore him to his
liberty. But,” added he, “that no suspicions may arise that such is my
design, it will be proper that we be not seen together in conversation;
however, you may, rely upon my word.”
This afforded me great consolation; and, assuming a degree of courage
hereupon, I observed to my brother that we ought not to remain there
without knowing for what reason we were detained, as if we were in the
Inquisition; and that to treat us in such a manner was to consider us as
persons of no account. I then begged M. de l’Oste to entreat the King,
in our name, if the Queen our mother was not permitted to come to us, to
send some one to acquaint us with the crime for which we were kept in
confinement.
M. de Combaut, who was at the head of the young counsellors, was
accordingly sent to us; and he, with a great deal of gravity, informed us
that he came from the King to inquire what it was we wished to
communicate to his Majesty. We answered that we wished to speak to some
one near the King’s person, in order to our being informed what we were
kept in confinement for, as we were unable to assign any reason for it
ourselves. He answered, with great solemnity, that we ought not to ask
of God or the King reasons for what they did; as all their actions
emanated from wisdom and justice. We replied that we were not persons to
be treated like those shut up in the Inquisition, who are left to guess
at the cause of their being there.
We could obtain from him, after all we said, no other satisfaction than
his promise to interest himself in our behalf, and to do us all the
service in his power. At this my brother broke out into a fit of
laughter; but I confess I was too much alarmed to treat his message with
such indifference, and could scarcely, refrain from talking to this
messenger as he deserved.
Whilst he was making his report to the King, the Queen my mother kept her
chamber, being under great concern, as may well be supposed, to witness
such proceedings. She plainly foresaw, in her prudence, that these
excesses would end fatally, should the mildness of my brother’s
disposition, and his regard for the welfare of the State, be once wearied
out with submitting to such repeated acts of injustice. She therefore
sent for the senior members of the Council, the chancellor, princes,
nobles, and marshals of France, who all were greatly scandalised at the
bad counsel which had been given to the King, and told the Queen my
mother that she ought to remonstrate with the King upon the injustice of
his proceedings. They observed that what had been done could not now be
recalled, but matters might yet be set upon a right footing. The Queen
my mother hereupon went to the King, followed by these counsellors, and
represented to him the ill consequences which might proceed from the
steps he had taken.
The King’s eyes were by this time opened, and he saw that he had been ill
advised. He therefore begged the Queen my mother to set things to
rights, and to prevail on my brother to forget all that had happened, and
to bear no resentment against these young men, but to make up the breach
betwixt Bussi and Quelus.
Things being thus set to rights again, the guard which had been placed
over my brother was dismissed, and the Queen my mother, coming to his
apartment, told him he ought to return thanks to God for his deliverance,
for that there had been a moment when even she herself despaired of
saving his life; that since he must now have discovered that the King’s
temper of mind was such that he took the alarm at the very imagination of
danger, and that, when once he was resolved upon a measure, no advice
that she or any other could give would prevent him from putting it into
execution, she would recommend it to him to submit himself to the King’s
pleasure in everything, in order to prevent the like in future; and, for
the present, to take the earliest opportunity of seeing the King, and to
appear as if he thought no more about the past.
We replied that we were both of us sensible of God’s great mercy in
delivering us from the injustice of our enemies, and that, next to God,
our greatest obligation was to her; but that my brother’s rank did not
admit of his being put in confinement without cause, and released from it
again without the formality of an acknowledgment. Upon this, the Queen
observed that it was not in the power even of God himself to undo what
had been done; that what could be effected to save his honour, and give
him satisfaction for the irregularity of the arrest, should have place.
My brother, therefore, she observed, ought to strive to mollify the King
by addressing him with expressions of regard to his person and attachment
to his service; and, in the meantime, use his influence over Bussi to
reconcile him to Quelus, and to end all disputes betwixt them. She then
declared that the principal motive for putting my brother and his
servants under arrest was to prevent the combat for which old Bussi, the
brave father of a brave son, had solicited the King’s leave, wherein he
proposed to be his son’s second, whilst the father of Quelus was to be
his. These four had agreed in this way to determine the matter in
dispute, and give the Court no further disturbance.
My brother now engaged himself to the Queen that, as Bussi would see he
could not be permitted to decide his quarrel by combat, he should, in
order to deliver himself from his arrest, do as she had commanded.
The Queen my mother, going down to the King, prevailed with him to
restore my brother to liberty with every honour. In order to which the
King came to her apartment, followed by the princes, noblemen, and other
members of the Council, and sent for us by M. de Villequier. As we went
along we found all the rooms crowded with people, who, with tears in
their eyes, blessed God for our deliverance. Coming into the apartments
of the Queen my mother, we found the King attended as I before related.
The King desired my brother not to take anything ill that had been done,
as the motive for it was his concern for the good of his kingdom, and not
any bad intention towards himself. My brother replied that he had, as he
ought, devoted his life to his service, and, therefore, was governed by
his pleasure; but that he most humbly begged him to consider that his
fidelity and attachment did not merit the return he had met with; that,
notwithstanding, he should impute it entirely to his own ill-fortune, and
should be perfectly satisfied if the King acknowledged his innocence.
Hereupon the King said that he entertained not the least doubt of his
innocence, and only desired him to believe he held the same place in his
esteem he ever had. The Queen my mother then, taking both of them by the
hand, made them embrace each other.
Afterwards the King commanded Bussi to be brought forth, to make a
reconciliation betwixt him and Quelus, giving orders, at the same time,
for the release of Simier and M. de la Chastre. Bussi coming into the
room with his usual grace, the King told him he must be reconciled with
Quelus, and forbade him to say a word more concerning their quarrel. He
then commanded them to embrace. “Sire,” said Bussi, “if it is your
pleasure that we kiss and are friends again, I am ready to obey your
command;” then, putting himself in the attitude of Pantaloon, he went up
to Queus and gave him a hug, which set all present in a titter,
notwithstanding they had been seriously affected by the scene which had
passed just before.
Many persons of discretion thought what had been done was too slight a
reparation for the injuries my brother had received. When all was over,
the King and the Queen my mother, coming up to me, said it would be
incumbent on me to use my utmost endeavours to prevent my brother from
calling to mind anything past which should make him swerve from the duty
and affection he owed the King. I replied that my brother was so
prudent, and so strongly attached to the King’s service, that he needed
no admonition on that head from me or any one else; and that, with
respect to myself, I had never given him any other advice than to conform
himself to the King’s pleasure and the duty he owed him.
LETTER XIX.
The Duc d’Alencon Makes His Escape from Court.--Queen Marguerite’s
Fidelity Put to a Severe Trial.
It was now three o’clock in the afternoon, and no one present had yet
dined. The Queen my mother was desirous that we should eat together,
and, after dinner, she ordered my brother and me to change our dress (as
the clothes we had on were suitable only to our late melancholy
situation) and come to the King’s supper and ball. We complied with her
orders as far as a change of dress, but our countenances still retained
the impressions of grief and resentment which we inwardly felt.
I must inform you that when the tragi-comedy I have given you an account
of was over, the Queen my mother turned round to the Chevalier de Seurre,
whom she recommended to my brother to sleep in his bedchamber, and in
whose conversation she sometimes took delight because he was a man of
some humour, but rather inclined to be cynical.
“Well,” said she, “M. de Seurre, what do you think of all this?”
“Madame, I think there is too much of it for earnest, and not enough for
jest.”
Then addressing himself to me, he said, but not loud enough for the Queen
to hear him: “I do not believe all is over yet; I am very much mistaken
if this young man” (meaning my brother) “rests satisfied with this.” This
day having passed in the manner before related, the wound being only
skinned over and far from healed, the young men about the King’s person
set themselves to operate in order to break it out afresh.
These persons, judging of my brother by themselves, and not having
sufficient experience to know the power of duty over the minds of
personages of exalted rank and high birth, persuaded the King, still
connecting his case with their own, that it was impossible my brother
should ever forgive the affront he had received, and not seek to avenge
himself with the first opportunity. The King, forgetting the ill-judged
steps these young men had so lately induced him to take, hereupon
receives this new impression, and gives orders to the officers of the
guard to keep strict watch at the gates that his brother go not out, and
that his people be made to leave the Louvre every evening, except such of
them as usually slept in his bedchamber or wardrobe.
My brother, seeing himself thus exposed to the caprices of these
headstrong young fellows, who led the King according to their own
fancies, and fearing something worse might happen than what he had yet
experienced, at the end of three days, during which time he laboured
under apprehensions of this kind, came to a determination to leave the
Court, and never more return to it, but retire to his principality and
make preparations with all haste for his expedition to Flanders. He
communicated his design to me, and I approved of it, as I considered he
had no other view in it than providing for his own safety, and that
neither the King nor his government were likely to sustain any injury by
it.
When we consulted upon the means of its accomplishment, we could find no
other than his descending from my window, which was on the second story
and opened to the ditch, for the gates were so closely watched that it
was impossible to pass them, the face of every one going out of the
Louvre being curiously examined. He begged of me, therefore, to procure
for him a rope of sufficient strength and long enough for the purpose.
This I set about immediately, for, having the sacking of a bed that
wanted mending, I sent it out of the palace by a lad whom I could trust,
with orders to bring it back repaired, and to wrap up the proper length
of rope inside.
When all was prepared, one evening, at supper-time, I went to the Queen
my mother, who supped alone in her own apartment, it being fast-day and
the King eating no supper. My brother, who on most occasions was patient
and discreet, spurred on by the indignities he had received, and anxious
to extricate himself from danger and regain his liberty, came to me as I
was rising from table, and whispered to me to make haste and come to him
in my own apartment. M. de Matignon, at that time a marshal, a sly,
cunning Norman, and one who had no love for my brother, whether he had
some knowledge of his design from some one who could not keep a secret,
or only guessed at it, observed to the Queen my mother as she left the
room (which I overheard, being near her, and circumspectly watching every
word and motion, as may well be imagined, situated as I was betwixt fear
and hope, and involved in perplexity) that my brother had undoubtedly an
intention of withdrawing himself, and would not be there the next day;
adding that he was assured of it, and she might take her measures
accordingly.
I observed that she was much disconcerted by this observation, and I had
my fears lest we should be discovered. When we came into her closet, she
drew me aside and asked if I heard what Matignon had said.
I replied: “I did not hear it, Madame, but I observe that it has given
you uneasiness.”
“Yes,” said she, “a great deal of uneasiness, for you know I have pledged
myself to the King that your brother shall not depart hence, and Matignon
has declared that he knows very well he will not be here to-morrow.”
I now found myself under a great embarrassment; I was in danger either of
proving unfaithful to my brother, and thereby bringing his life into
jeopardy, or of being obliged to declare that to be truth which I knew to
be false, and this I would have died rather than be guilty of.
In this extremity, if I had not been aided by God, my countenance,
without speaking, would plainly have discovered what I wished to conceal.
But God, who assists those who mean well, and whose divine goodness was
discoverable in my brother’s escape, enabled me to compose my looks and
suggested to me such a reply as gave her to understand no more than I
wished her to know, and cleared my conscience from making any declaration
contrary to the truth. I answered her in these words: