Incidents at the Court and in Paris after the assassination of
Henri IV--Meeting between Bassompierre and Sully--Marie de’ Medici
declared Regent--Her difficult position--Return of Condé--Greed and
arrogance of the grandees--Quarrel between the Comte de Soissons
and the Duc de Guise--Grievance of _Monsieur le Comte_ against
Bassompierre--He persuades Madame d’Entragues to endeavour to
compel Bassompierre to marry her daughter, Marie--Proceedings
instituted against that gentleman--Announcement of the “Spanish
marriages”--Magnificent fêtes in the Place-Royale--Intrigues at the
Court--The Princes and Concini in power--Assassination of the Baron
de Luz by the Chevalier de Guise--Marie de’ Medici and the
Princes--Conversation of the Regent with Bassompierre--Bassompierre
reconciles the Guises with the Queen-Mother--The Chevalier de Guise
kills the son of the Baron de Luz in a duel--The Princes, on the
advice of Concini, return from Court.
On that fatal day, when the knife of Ravaillac changed the destinies of
France and of Europe, Louis XIII, the successor of the murdered King,
was not yet nine years old. The fear of troubles within the realm and of
complications without exacted the immediate institution of a regency,
and Villeroy and the Chancellor, Brulart de Sillery, exhorted Marie de’
Medici, who was lying upon her bed prostrated with grief, to act “as man
and as King.”
The great nobles, out of pity or the desire to assert their own
importance, were zealous in the Queen’s cause; and some who had scarcely
been on bowing terms with each other for years were seen to embrace and
vow to die together sword in hand if the necessity should arise.
D’Épernon, Colonel-General of the French infantry, caused the approaches
to the Louvre and the Pont-Neuf to be occupied by the French Guards;
Guise, with part of a force of some 300 horse which he and Bassompierre
had mustered, proceeded to the Hôtel de Ville to obtain from the
Corporation a formal recognition of the new King and Regent; while
Bassompierre, with the remainder, paraded the streets “to appease
tumults and seditions.” Sully alone showed himself undecided, feeble and
timorous. At the news of the King’s assassination, ill though he was, he
had mounted his horse and set out for the Louvre, accompanied by some
forty of his guards and attendants. Near the Place Saint-Jean he met
Bassompierre and his cavalcade, the sight of whom appears to have filled
him with misgivings.
“He began,” writes Bassompierre, “to say to us in lachrymose tones:
‘Gentlemen, if the service which you have vowed to the King, whom,
to our great misfortune, we have just lost, is also imprinted in
your souls, as it ought to be in those of all good Frenchmen, swear
now at once to preserve the same fidelity to the King his son and
successor, and that you will employ your blood and your life to
avenge his death.’
“‘Monsieur,’ I replied, ‘it is we who are making others take this
oath, and we have no need of anyone to exhort us to do a thing to
which we are already so committed.’
“I know not whether my answer surprised him, or whether he repented
of having come so far from his fortress; but he turned back
forthwith, and went to shut himself up in the Bastille, sending at
the same time to seize all the bread that could be found in the
markets and the bakers’ shops. He sent orders also to M. de Rohan,
his son-in-law, to face about with 6,000 Swiss who were in
Champagne, and of whom he was Colonel General, and to march
straight on Paris.... MM. de Praslin and de Créquy went to invite
him to present himself before the King, like all the other
grandees; but he did not come until the morrow, when M. de Guise
brought him with difficulty, after which he countermanded his
orders to his son-in-law and the Swiss, who had already advanced a
day’s march towards Paris.”
Of the Princes of the Blood who might have been able to aspire to the
regency, one, Condé, was a voluntary exile in the dominions of the King
of Spain; the other, the Comte de Soissons, had left Paris in high
dudgeon before the coronation of the Queen, because Henri IV had refused
to permit _Madame la Comtesse_ to wear on her ceremonial mantle a row of
_fleurs de lys_ more than the wife of his legitimated son the Duc de
Vendôme. As for the Prince de Conti, he was deaf, afflicted with an
impediment in his speech, and almost imbecile. Outside the Princes of
the Blood, and in the absence of the States-General, there was only one
power recognised by all--the Parlement of Paris. And to this body Marie
de’ Medici at once addressed herself.
In her name, the Procurator-General demanded that “now and without
adjourning, the Parliament should provide, as it had been accustomed to
do, for the regency and the government of the realm.” The Parlement was
too convinced of its right and too flattered by the part it was asked to
play to hesitate. But, as a matter of form, it was proceeding to
deliberate upon the matter, when d’Épernon, in his doublet, with his
drawn sword in his hand, swaggered into the chamber, and, having begged
the assembly to excuse his discourtesy, invited it to hasten. As he
left, Guise entered in the same costume, took his seat and protested his
devotion to the Crown. The First President, Achille de Harlay, solemnly
ordered the duke’s words to be recorded; and the Court unanimously
declared the Queen Mother Regent, “to have the administration of the
affairs of the realm during the minority of the said lord her son,
together with all power and authority.” It was quick work: Henri IV had
not been dead two hours.
It was much, without doubt, to have settled so expeditiously the future
government of France. But what a task for a woman, for a foreigner, for
one, too, who bore a name little calculated to reassure the bulk of the
nation, which remembered only too well the troubles in which the rule of
another Medici had involved it, to be called upon to exercise supreme
power in circumstances so difficult! Without, a war on the point of
breaking out; within, princes affecting an entire independence and even
negotiating with the foreigner; a turbulent nobility whom even the
strong hand of Henri IV had not always been able to keep in check; the
Protestant party entrenched in the West and South of France, with its
own organisation, its privileges, its places of surety; finally, the
governors of the different provinces, possessed of the most extensive
powers and strong enough to renounce practically all obedience to the
Crown. Marie de’ Medici has often been reproached with weakness, and
weak in many ways she certainly was; but it would have required the
energy and the resolution of an Elizabeth or a Catherine the Great to
have steered the ship of State uninjured through the shoals and
quicksands which beset its course.
The Regent retained the Ministers of the late King, Villeroy, Jeannin,
Sillery, and Sully, and, to calm the apprehensions of the Protestants,
lost no time in confirming the Edict of Nantes. But the war so long
meditated against the House of Austria was promptly abandoned, though a
small army under Le Châtre and Rohan was sent to co-operate with Maurice
of Nassau in recovering Juliers, which was handed over to the Electors
of Brandenburg and Neuburg, on their undertaking not to interfere with
the exercise of the Catholic religion in that duchy.
It was a wise decision, since there were embarrassments enough within
half-a-mile of the Louvre. The Princes of the Blood had returned;
Soissons, three days after the death of Henri IV; Condé, in the middle
of July. The former complained that the regency had been settled in his
absence, and demanded the post of Lieutenant-General of the Kingdom. To
appease him, Marie de’ Medici gave him the post of governor of Normandy
and a _gratification_ of 200,000 crowns. Condé, to the Regent’s great
relief, was apparently well-disposed towards the new government, and, to
confirm him in his peaceable intentions, she purchased for 400,000
crowns the Hôtel de Gondi, in the Faubourg Saint-Germain, and presented
it to him, together with furniture to the value of 40,000 crowns;
confirmed him in all his offices and appointments; increased his pension
to 200,000 crowns, and gave him a large sum to pay his debts. The Regent
hoped, by setting a price upon them, to keep within bounds all the
ambitions of the grandees; it was her system of government. She paid
Guise’s debts, and authorised him to marry the immensely wealthy widow
of the Duc de Montpensier, a union to which, for political reasons,
Henri IV would never have consented; she promised to pay the debts of
the Duc de Nevers; she accorded to all the governors the right of
appointing their successors.
“The grandees did not weary of receiving, and said to one another: ‘The
time of kings has passed, and that of great nobles and princes has come;
we must take every advantage of it.’” Their arrogance and ostentation
knew no bounds. They seldom left their houses unless accompanied by
numerous and brilliant escorts. Fifteen hundred cavaliers went to meet
Condé on the day of his arrival in Paris; the Duc de Guise had a suite
of five or six hundred horse. The young King remained almost alone in
the Louvre, and Marie de’ Medici was obliged to reconstitute the two
hundred gentlemen halberdiers, disbanded by Henri IV, from motives of
economy.
Happily for the Crown, the grandees were divided, and such parties as
did exist were merely associations of a few covetous nobles, animated by
no common motive except that of filling their pockets. The Guises,
flattered and lavishly paid, boasted of their loyalty to the Regent.
Bouillon was at enmity with Sully, like himself a chief of the
Protestants. The Prince de Conti had for some years been on bad terms
with his brother, the Comte de Soissons, and at the beginning of 1611
their antipathy to one another found vent in a violent quarrel, in which
Guise, whose sister, it will be remembered, Conti had married, found
himself involved, and which threatened for a moment to develop into a
sort of civil war.
“It happened,” writes Bassompierre, “that, three days after these
nuptials [the marriage of Guise to the Duchesse de Montpensier],
the Prince de Conti quarrelled with the Comte de Soissons, his
brother, because their coaches had collided in passing one another,
and their coachmen had fought. M. de Guise, whom the Queen had
desired, that same evening, to go to M. de Conti to compose this
quarrel, set out the following morning from the Hôtel de
Montpensier, where he had passed the night, to go to the Abbey of
Saint-Germain, where the Prince de Conti was lodging, and was
accompanied by twenty-five or thirty horse. He happened to pass the
Hôtel de Soissons, which was on his way, and this gave offence to
_Monsieur le Comte_, who summoned his friends and told them that M.
de Guise had come to defy him. Thereupon M. de Guise’s friends
flocked to the Hôtel de Guise in such numbers that there were more
than a thousand gentlemen assembled there. _Monsieur le Comte_ sent
to beg _Monsieur le Prince_ to come to him, and together they
proceeded to the Louvre to demand of the Queen that she should call
M. de Guise to account for his insolence. Nevertheless, _Monsieur
le Prince_ was playing in this affair the part of the friendly
arbitrator, and said that he should take neither side, and only
desired to reconcile the parties and to prevent disorder.
“This tumult lasted all that day and the following one, upon which
the Queen, apprehending graver disturbances, gave directions that
the chains should be made ready to be put up at the first order,
and that, in every quarter, the citizens should be prepared to take
up arms on the instant that the command to do so was sent them.
“However, all the day following was employed in seeking means to
accommodate the affair, each of the Princes having a captain of the
Gardes du Corps near his person to protect him. In the evening,
_Monsieur le Prince_ sent to ask M. de Guise to send him one of his
confidential friends; and M. de Guise, having taken counsel with
the princes and nobles who supported him, as to whom they should
choose to act as envoy, finally, on their advice, asked me to go.”
Bassompierre then goes on to relate at great length his interview with
Condé, to whom he pointed out that Guise could have had no intention of
“defying” _Monsieur le Comte_, since, if such had been his object, he
would have sallied forth with a much more imposing retinue than a mere
score or so of attendants, and would have passed before the front
entrance of the Hôtel de Soissons, whereas he had only passed the corner
of the house. The prince appears to have been greatly impressed by this
argument, and, after Bassompierre had been backwards and forwards
several times between Condé’s house and the Hôtel de Guise, the
momentous affair was satisfactorily settled.
But it did not end here, so far as he himself was concerned. For
“_Monsieur le Comte_ was mortally offended with those who had assisted
M. de Guise in his quarrel, and particularly with me, who had formerly
professed to be his servant; and, to revenge himself upon me, he
determined that I should see Antragues no more.”
The prince accordingly sought an interview with Madame d’Entragues, whom
he reproached with allowing her family to be dishonoured by the
notorious intimacy between Bassompierre and her younger daughter, adding
that, as he was distantly related to the d’Entragues, he felt that his
own honour was concerned in the matter.
Now, it had happened that, in the previous August, Marie d’Entragues had
given birth to a son, of whom Bassompierre did not deny the paternity;
indeed, on the lady informing him that she proposed to present him with
a pledge of her affection, he had, following the famous example of Henri
IV with her elder sister, given his inamorata a letter containing a
promise of marriage in the event of her bearing him a son. But this
letter was written merely for the purpose of appeasing the wrath of
Madame d’Entragues, who was threatening to turn her erring daughter out
of the house. For Bassompierre had not the least intention of
regularising his connection with this too-celebrated beauty, of whom, if
he were the most favoured, he was far from being the only successful
admirer; indeed, to do so would mean the loss of a considerable fortune,
since his mother had threatened to disinherit him if he married the
lady.[83] He had, therefore, at the same time, demanded and obtained
from Marie d’Entragues a letter which purported to be an answer to his
own, in which she expressly disclaimed any intention of taking advantage
of his offer. This, in the opinion of “three famous advocates” whom he
had taken the precaution to consult, effectually discharged him from his
obligation.
Well, Bassompierre’s letter was in the possession of Madame d’Entragues,
who, however, of course, knew nothing of the one which her daughter had
given that gentleman; and when the Comte de Soissons reproached her with
her indifference to Mlle. Marie’s indiscretions, she informed him that
she was not so careless a mother as he appeared to imagine, and could
easily prove it. The prince pressed her to do so, upon which she
triumphantly showed him the promise of marriage.
“_Monsieur le Comte_,” says Bassompierre, “very pleased to have
found an opportunity of injuring me, assured her of his protection
and begged her to follow his counsel in this affair, in which he
promised to secure for her a favourable result. This foolish woman,
to satisfy the malignity of _Monsieur le Comte_, placed herself
entirely in his hands, and he counselled her to press me to execute
this promise, and, in case of my refusal, to cause me to be
summoned before the diocesan court.”
Madame d’Entragues did not fail to follow this advice and, on meeting
with a flat refusal from Bassompierre, promptly instituted proceedings
against him.
“I soon recognised the hand which had cast this stone at me, and
_Monsieur le Comte_ boasted publicly that he was in a position to
ruin me in fortune or honour. I assembled a council of my advocates
to learn how I was to comport myself in this situation. They were
unanimously of opinion that, in strict justice, I had nothing to
fear, but that _Monsieur le Comte_ was a redoubtable enemy, and
advised me to drag the affair out until a favourable time arrived.”
Bassompierre endeavoured to persuade the Regent to intervene in his
behalf, but, though Marie de’ Medici, with whom he was a favourite,
since he was one of the few nobles whose loyalty to the Crown admitted
of no question, was very sympathetic and promised him every assistance
in her power, her position was far too precarious just then to admit of
her offending a Prince of the Blood. All he could do, therefore, was to
act upon the advice of the legal luminaries whom he had consulted; and,
on various pretexts, he succeeded in deferring his appearance before the
diocesan court for some months, at the end of which he appealed to the
jurisdiction of the Archbishop of Sens, who was the metropolitan of the
Bishop of Paris. This insured him a further respite, and, before the
case came on for trial, he appealed to the Parlement of Paris, and was
beginning to plume himself on his astuteness, when the Comte de Soissons
interposed and got the affair transferred to the Parlement of Rouen, to
the great consternation of Bassompierre, who knew that Soissons would
not scruple to use all his influence as Governor of Normandy to
prejudice that body against him.
The annoyance and expense which this affair was occasioning him, and for
which, it must be admitted, he is hardly entitled to much sympathy, did
not prevent Bassompierre from continuing his life of pleasure, and he
took a prominent part in the splendid fêtes in honour of the double
betrothal of Louis XIII to Anne of Austria, and of the Infant Philip,
afterwards Philip IV of Spain, to Élisabeth of France, eldest daughter
of Henri IV. For Marie de’ Medici had completely reversed the foreign
policy of her husband, and Spanish influence was once more in the
ascendant at the Court of France.
These fêtes, originally fixed to begin on March 25, 1612, the day on
which the formal announcement of the approaching marriage was made at
the Louvre, in the presence of the Spanish Ambassador and the officers
of the Crown of France, had been postponed until April 5, owing to the
death of the Queen’s brother, Vincenzo I, Duke of Mantua. Their
principal feature was a carousal in the Place-Royale on a scale of
unprecedented magnificence, in which Bassompierre appeared as one of the
challengers.
“At three o’clock in the afternoon, the Queens, princesses and
ladies took their places on the stands which had been prepared for
them, besides which there were all round the Place-Royale, rising
from the pavement to the level of the first floor of the houses,
other stands holding 200,000 people. Then the cannon placed on the
bastion fired a salvo, after which the thousand Musketeers who
lined the barriers fired another, a very beautiful one. This
finished, M. de Praslin, marshal of the camp of the challengers,
emerged from the Palace of Felicity, from which came the sound of
all kinds of musical instruments. He was splendidly mounted and
attired, and was followed by twelve lackeys habited in black velvet
bordered with gold lace. He came, on our behalf, to demand from the
Constable (who occupied a private stand with the Maréchal de
Bouillon, de la Châtre, de Brissac, and de Souvré) the camp which
he had promised us. The Constable and the marshal descended from
their stand and advanced to that of the King and Queen; and the
Constable said: ‘Madame, the challengers demand the camp which I
have promised them by your Majesty’s order.’ The Queen answered:
‘Monsieur, grant it them.’ Upon which the Constable said to M. de
Praslin: ‘Take it; the King and the Queen accord it you.’ Then he
returned to us, and the great door of the palace, which was
opposite that of the Minims, was flung open, and we entered the
camp, preceded by all our retinue, war-chariots, giants,[84] and
other things so beautiful that it is impossible to describe them in
writing; and I shall only say that nearly five hundred persons and
two hundred horses took part in our entry alone, all habited and
caparisoned in crimson velvet and white cloth-of-silver, and our
costumes were so richly embroidered that nothing could exceed them
in magnificence. Our entry cost the five challengers 50,000
écus.[85] The troupe of the Prince de Conti entered after ours,
followed by that of M. de Vendôme, who danced a very beautiful
ballet on horseback.[86] Then came M. de Montmorency, who entered
alone, and the Comte d’Ayen[87] and the Baron d’Ucelles,[88] under
the names of Amadis and Galaor.
“We [the challengers] kept the lists against all these opponents,
and when the night drew near, the fête was concluded by a new salvo
of cannon, followed by that of the thousand Musketeers; and, when
darkness fell, there was the most beautiful display of fireworks
over the Château of Felicity that was ever seen in France.
“On the morrow, at two o’clock in the afternoon, we returned to the
camp in the same order as on the first day, together with the
troupe of M. de Longueville,[89] who made his entry alone,[90] of
the Nymphs,[91] of the Knights of Felicity, that of d’Effiat and
Arnaut,[92] and, the last, that of the twelve Roman emperors,[93]
all of whom ran against us, and the fête was terminated by the same
salvoes and another display of fireworks.”
On the following day, “because all the innumerable people of Paris had
not been able to witness this fête,” the various troupes passed in
procession through the town, that of the challengers, resplendent in
their crimson velvet and cloth-of-silver, bringing up the rear.
The fête concluded with a grand tilting-match in the Place-Royale, the
prize being a ring of great value given by _Madame Royale_, the future
Queen of Spain, which was won by the Marquis de Rouillac, a nephew of
d’Épernon.
At night there was another display of fireworks, a salvo fired by two
hundred cannon, a bonfire at the Hôtel de Ville, and an illumination of
Paris with “lanterns made of coloured paper, in such great profusion in
every window that the whole town seemed on fire.”
In November the old Connétable de Montmorency took leave of the Regent
and the young King and retired from Court to spend his last days in
retirement on his estates of Languedoc. “We escorted him to Moret,”
writes Bassompierre, “where he feasted us, and afterwards bade farewell
to his chief friends, with so many tears that we thought that he would
die in that place. He was a good and noble lord, who loved me as though
I were his own son; I am under a great obligation to honour his
memory.”
* * * * *
The fêtes in honour of the betrothal of the young King and his eldest
sister were but a brief interlude in the sordid struggle for place and
power between the ambitious and greedy princes and nobles which had
begun before Henri IV was in his grave. Marie de’ Medici distributed
honours and emoluments with a lavish hand, increased the pensions of the
grandees and made serious inroads into the millions accumulated in the
coffers of the Bastille by the prudent Sully, who in January, 1611, had
resigned his post of Comptroller of the Finances, on finding that he was
no longer listened to, and that he could not maintain his position
“without offending the Princes.” But the appetites she strove to satisfy
were insatiable, and the more she gave, the more she was expected to
give.
After the death of the Comte de Soissons, the most restless of the
Bourbons, at the beginning of November, 1612, the Regent forsook Guise
and d’Épernon, who had until then enjoyed a large measure of her favour,
and, at the instigation of Concini, that singular Italian adventurer who
governed her through his wife Leonora Galigaï, the Queen’s _dame
d’atours_ and confidante, and for whom she had purchased the marquisate
of Ancre, allied herself with Condé and his friends Bouillon, Nevers,
and Mayenne.[1]
“At this time,” says Bassompierre, “the aspect of the Court
entirely changed; for a close alliance was formed by _Monsieur le
Prince_, MM. de Nevers, Mayenne,[94] Bouillon, and the Marquis
d’Ancre; and the Queen threw herself entirely on that side. The
Ministers were discredited, and no longer had any power, and
everything was done according to the desire of these five persons
... MM. de Guise, d’Épernon, de Joinville, and the Grand Equerry
were very much out of favour.”
In December, Guise and d’Épernon sent for Bellegarde, who was in his
government of Burgundy, to come to Court, “in order to strengthen their
tottering party”; but on his way thither he was met by a messenger from
Marie de’ Medici, with orders forbidding him to come to Paris, and he
was obliged to return to his government.
The chief agent in Concini’s intrigues was the old Baron de Luz, who had
formerly been an adherent of the Guises, but had been persuaded by the
favourite to enter the service of the Queen, or rather his own. The
Guises avenged themselves for what they were pleased to call his treason
in characteristic fashion. About midday on January 5, 1613, the
Chevalier de Guise, the youngest of the brothers, stopped Luz as he was
driving in his coach along the Rue Saint-Honoré, challenged him to fight
him there and then, and, without giving the old man time to draw his
sword, ran him through the body and killed him.
This affair created an immense sensation.
“The Queen was extremely exasperated,” writes Bassompierre. “I
went, just at this time, to the Louvre, and found her in tears, and
that she had sent for the Princes and Ministers to hold a council
on the affair. She said to me as soon as I entered: ‘You see,
Bassompierre, how I am treated, and what a brave action it was to
kill an old man without defence and without warning. But these are
the tricks of the family. It is a repetition of the Saint-Paul
affair.’[95] There was a great murmur against this action, and
everyone was scandalised to learn that a great crowd of the
nobility had assembled at the Hôtel de Guise, and that M. de Guise
was coming accompanied by a large retinue to speak to the Queen.
Upon this, the Queen was advised to send M. de Châteauvieux to see
the said Sieur de Guise and forbid him to approach the Queen until
she sent for him, and to command, in her Majesty’s name, all those
who had gone to his hôtel to disperse.”
Châteauvieux returned and reported that Guise had advised his adherents
to obey the Queen’s command, but that three or four of them, including
the Comte de la Rochefoucauld, Master of the Wardrobe to the King, had
shown marked reluctance to do so. It was thereupon resolved that La
Rochefoucauld should be exiled to his estates, and that the Parlement
should be directed to hold an inquiry into the affair and bring the
Chevalier de Guise to trial.
The Parlement, however, seemed in no hurry to do what was required of
it, for the Guises still retained much of their traditional popularity
with all classes of the Parisians, and before many days had passed, an
event occurred which obliged the Queen to abandon all idea of punishing
the assassin.
For some little time Marie de’ Medici had been chafing beneath the
domination of the Princes, who set altogether too high a price upon
their loyalty. Condé, indeed, appeared to consider that, now that his
brother Soissons was dead, he was entitled to receive double wages; and
one fine morning Nevers, Mayenne, and Concini waited upon the Queen and
demanded, on his behalf, the government of Château-Trompette, the
citadel of Bordeaux, pointing out that, since _Monsieur le Prince_ was
Governor of Guienne, it was only fitting that the citadel of the chief
town in his government should be entrusted to him also. Now, Marie had
heard the late King say that if, in the time of Henri III, this fortress
had been in his hands, he would have made himself Duke of Guienne, and
she knew that its governor had always been one in whose loyalty to the
Crown the most implicit confidence could be placed. She determined to
resist and to be reconciled with the Guises and the Ministers.
Dissembling her indignation, she informed Nevers and his friends that
she would think the matter over, upon which they pressed her for a
speedy answer, saying that _Monsieur le Prince_ was impatient to know
her decision. This she promised, and then, changing the subject,
informed them that she had just discovered a love-affair in which
Bassompierre was engaged and which she knew he was very anxious should
not be discovered. What ought she to do? “You should tell him about it,
Madame,” answered Nevers. Upon which she turned to Bassompierre, and,
beckoning him to follow her, moved to one of the windows.
Here, standing with her back to the room, so that none might see her
face, she told him that the matter upon which she desired to speak to
him was very different from the one she had mentioned. She then asked
him if Guise had spoken to him about the exile of his friend La
Rochefoucauld. Bassompierre answered that the duke had done so, and
begged him to make intercession with the Queen for his recall, and that
he had added that, if he were not successful, he must persuade Condé to
use his influence, and make La Rochefoucauld’s recall the price of his
reconciliation with that prince and his friends. The Queen was silent
for a moment, while “four or five tears welled up in her eyes.” Then,
recovering herself, she said: “These wicked men have made me leave those
princes [the Guises] and despise them, and have made me also abandon and
neglect the Ministers; and then, seeing me deprived of support, they
wish to usurp my authority and ruin me. See how they have come to demand
insolently for _Monsieur le Prince_ the Château-Trompette, and they will
not remain content with that. But, if I am able, I will surely prevent
them obtaining it.”
“Madame,” answered Bassompierre, “do not distress yourself; when you
will, I am sure that these princes and Ministers will be at your
disposal; at least, we must find some way to bring them back.”
The Regent then told him to come to her when she had finished dinner,
and that, meanwhile, she would think of some way to effect this.
At the hour when her Majesty usually rose from table Bassompierre
returned, and followed her into her cabinet, pretending that he had some
favour to ask of her.
“As I entered, she said to me, ‘I have eaten nothing but fish, to
such a degree is my stomach weakened and turned. If this continues
long, I believe that I shall lose my reason. In one word,
Bassompierre, you must endeavour to bring M. de Guise back to me.
Offer him a hundred thousand crowns in cash, which I will arrange
to give him.’ ‘Madame,’ I replied, ‘I will serve you well and
faithfully.’ ‘Offer him,’ said she, ‘the post of
lieutenant-governor of Provence for his brother, the Chevalier.[96]
Offer his sister the reversion of the Abbey of Saint-Germain,[97]
and assure him that La Rochefoucauld shall be recalled. In short,
provided that I can withdraw him from this cabal and that I am
assured of his support, I give you _carte blanche_.’”
Bassompierre assured her that, as she had empowered him to make the
Guises such a generous bid for their support, he had no fear that he
should return to her “without having completed the purchase.” And, in
point of fact, on the following day he returned triumphant, pluming
himself not a little on having succeeded without the necessity of
promising the post of lieutenant-governor of Provence to the Chevalier
de Guise, “having endeavoured,” said he to Marie de’ Medici, “to act
like those prudent valets who bring back at the bottom of the purse a
part of the money which their masters give them to settle their bills.”
The Queen, however, was so pleased at the success of his negotiations
that she, nevertheless, determined to offer the post in question to the
chevalier, in order that the reconciliation between her and his family
might be the more complete, and directed Bassompierre to inform the
Princesse de Conti of her gracious intentions.
A few days after these humiliating concessions to the rapacity of the
House of Guise, the Chevalier killed the son of the Baron de Luz in a
duel at Charenton, though it is only fair to the former to observe that
the other had called him out, and that the combat had been conducted in
strict accordance with the rules governing these “affairs of honour.”
On this occasion, Bassompierre, experienced courtier though he was, is
unable to conceal his astonishment:--
“And here I saw a strange instance of the changes of the Court;
that when the Chevalier de Guise killed the father, the Queen
commanded the Parlement to take cognizance of it, to institute
proceedings against him and to try him; but when, in less than a
week afterwards, he killed the son, so soon as he returned from the
combat, the Queen sent to visit and to inquire how his wounds
were.”
Guise being thus reconciled with the Queen, no difficulty was
experienced in persuading d’Épernon to follow his example, after which
Bassompierre addressed himself to the Ministers, who, tired of being
mere cyphers, were only too ready to forgive and forget; and, in an
interview between Marie de’ Medici and Jeannin at the Luxembourg, an
understanding was arrived at.
The Princes and Concini were outwitted. In any case, the latter
pretended to be. Hearing the Queen give directions that seats were to be
reserved for d’Épernon, and his friend Zamet also, at a play which was
to be performed in her apartments, he remarked to Bassompierre in that
strange mixture of Italian and bad French which he affected in moments
of excitement: “_Par Dio, Mousu, je me ride moy della chose deste monde.
La roine a soin d’un siège pour Zamet, et n’en a point pour M. du Maine
[Mayenne]; fiez-vous à l’amore dei principi._”
He advised Condé and his friends to accept the situation and withdraw
from Court, predicting that the Regent would soon grow weary of the
exigencies of the Guises, and promising to watch over their common
interests. And this the Princes decided to do.