DEATH ON THE SCAFFOLD.
When Chavigny left the King, Cinq-Mars entered the royal chamber. Louis
was silent, absorbed, and melancholy—would answer no questions, and
abruptly dismissed the favourite on the plea that he was fatigued and
needed rest.
Monsieur le Grand was naturally surprised at the change. The
significant words of Fontrailles recurred to him; too late he repented
his careless indifference to the friendly warning. But after all, if
the King failed him, there was Monsieur and there was the treaty.
What had he, Cinq-Mars, to fear when the King's brother had so deeply
compromised himself? The Cardinal, too, was ill—very ill; he might die.
Still, as he turned to his own suite of apartments his mind misgave
him. The King had not told him one word of his interview with Chavigny;
and although Chavigny would have denied it upon oath on the consecrated
wafer, Cinq-Mars knew he was the Cardinal's creature and his go-between
with the King.
When Cinq-Mars reached his rooms he found a letter from his friend,
De Thou. "Fly," said this letter—"fly instantly. I have certain
intelligence that the Cardinal is acquainted with every particular of
the treaty signed at Madrid. For myself I have nothing to fear; but
you have incurred the deadly hatred of Richelieu."
Thereupon Cinq-Mars, hurriedly disguised himself in a Spanish cloak,
with a sombrero hat slouched over his face, stole out of the prefecture
where the King was staying, and made his way as fast as he could run to
the city gates. They were closed. Then, fully aroused to the urgency
of his position, the strange words of Fontrailles ringing in his ears,
he sought out the abode of an humble friend, whom he had recommended
to serve the Court with mules for the journeying to the south from
Paris—a man of Touraine, whom he had known from his boyhood. He roused
him from sleep—for the night had now closed in—and acquainted him with
his danger. The faithful muleteer did his best. He hid him under some
loose hay with the mules in the stable. It was in vain. Cinq-Mars had
been seen and tracked from the prefecture to the muleteer's house, and
the scented exquisite—whose word a few hours before ruled the destiny
of France—was dragged out headlong from the hay, his fine clothes torn
and soiled, his face scratched and bleeding, amid the hooting of the
populace and the jeers of his enemies.
De Thou, his friend, was arrested on the same day, not as guilty of
conspiring, but simply as being cognisant of the existence of the
treaty of Madrid, which Fontrailles had carefully carried off into
the Netherlands stitched in his clothes, a copy of which lay with the
Cardinal.
Monsieur Duc d'Orléans was also, for the fourth time, arrested and
imprisoned.
The effect of that copy of the treaty which Chavigny had shown to the
King, while Cinq-Mars read his story, was instantaneous. Louis became
greatly alarmed. He understood that Richelieu knew all, and therefore
must be fully aware that he had himself encouraged and approved a plot
to kill him. The same day that Cinq-Mars was conducted a prisoner
to the Castle of Montpellier, Louis insisted upon going himself to
Tarascon, to make a personal apology to Richelieu. He was already so
weakened by the disease of which he died, that he was forced to be
carried in a chair into the Cardinal's lodgings. They were together
many hours. What passed no one knew, but it is certain that the
"_amiable criminal_," as Cinq-Mars is called by contemporary authors,
was the scapegoat sacrificed to the offended dignity of the Cardinal;
that Monsieur, the King's only brother, was to be tried for treason;
and that Richelieu should be restored to the King's confidence. In his
eagerness to propitiate his offended minister, Louis actually proposed
to take his two sons from the custody of the Queen and place them with
the Cardinal, in order to guarantee his personal safety. This abject
proposition was declined by Richelieu, who was unwilling to provoke the
Queen's active hostility at so critical a moment.
Richelieu had conquered, but he was dying. Though his body was broken
by disease, his mind was vigorous as ever; in revenge and hatred, in
courage and fortitude, his spirit was still lusty. In his enormous
thirst of blood, none had ever excited him like the airy Marquis de
Cinq-Mars,—a creature of his own, whom he had raised to the dizzy
height of supreme power, to become his rival in love and power. The
great minister felt he had made a mistake: it angered him. He had not
patience to think that he should have been taken in by a butterfly,
whose painted wings he had decorated with his own hands. He, the
all-potent Cardinal, the ruler of France, circumvented by a boy! He
swore a big oath that not only should Cinq-Mars die, but that death
should be made doubly bitter to him.
Richelieu was now at Valence on the Rhone. How was he to reach Lyons,
where the trial was to take place? The distance is considerable. His
limbs were cramped and useless, his body racked by horrible pain. But
go he would; if he died upon the road he would go. So he ordered a room
of wooden planks to be constructed, gilt and painted like a coach, and
lined with crimson damask. This room contained a bed, a table, and a
chair. Within reclined the Cardinal. Too ill to bear the motion of a
carriage, he was borne on the heads of twenty of his body-guard by
land. Houses, walls, and gate-ways, were knocked down to make way for
him. By water he was conveyed in a towing boat pulled up the Rhone
against the current by horses to Lyons. Attached to this boat was
another, in which the prisoners Cinq-Mars and De Thou were carried.
So Richelieu passed onwards, with all the pomp of a Roman pro-consul
conducting barbarian princes first to adorn his triumph, then to
die! As for Monsieur, he had already made his peace with his brother
and Richelieu. He turned King's evidence, and betrayed everybody.
Fontrailles, who alone could have convicted him, was safe across the
frontier. "Talk not to me of my brother," even the besotted Louis
exclaimed, when he heard that Monsieur was again at liberty; "Gaston
ever was, and ever will be, a traitor."
The only crime which even the ingenuity of Richelieu could prove
against Cinq-Mars was that he had joined with Monsieur in a treaty
with Spain. Now the original transcript of this treaty was lost,
Fontrailles having carried it with him into the Netherlands, stitched
in his pocket. If Monsieur the Duc d'Orléans, therefore, had declined
to speak, Cinq-Mars and his friend De Thou must have been acquitted.
But Monsieur, on the contrary, loudly demanded to be interrogated on
his own complicity and on the complicity of Cinq-Mars. The Cardinal
had already showed what was in his mind, by giving orders, as soon as
he was lifted out of his portable chamber, on arriving at Lyons, and
before the trial had begun, "for the executioner to hold himself in
readiness."
The trial was on the 12th of September, 1642. It began at seven o'clock
in the morning, at the Hôtel de Ville. The Chancellor Séguier, a
personal enemy of Monsieur le Grand, who had affronted him in the days
of his greatness, was the president, and Monsieur Duc d'Orléans the
principal witness. Monsieur's evidence was given with touching candour.
He was so careful to tell all the truth, so skilful in bringing out
all those facts which were calculated to place Cinq-Mars in the most
odious light, that the charges were easily proved to the satisfaction
of the judges. The trial was over in a few hours. Then the two young
men were summoned before the judges in the council-chamber to hear
their sentence. It was read out to them by Monsieur de Palleruc, a
member of the criminal court of Lyons. According to this sentence they
were both to be beheaded; Cinq-Mars was to be tortured. He listened
with calmness, De Thou with resignation. They both shook hands with
their judges. "I am prepared to die," said Cinq-Mars to Séguier,
the Chancellor, "but I must say the idea of torture is horrible and
degrading. It is a most extraordinary sentence for a man of my rank and
of my age. I thought the laws did not permit it. Indeed, I do not fear
death, gentlemen," continued the poor lad, turning to the judges, "but
I confess my weakness,—I dread torture. At least, I beseech you, let me
have a confessor."
His request was complied with, and Father Malavette, a Jesuit, was
brought into the council-chamber. As soon as he saw him Cinq-Mars ran
forward and embraced him. "My father, they are going to torture me," he
cried; "I can scarcely bring myself to bear it! What is your opinion?"
"That you must submit to the hand of God, Monseigneur. Nothing happens
but by his permission."
Cinq-Mars bowed his handsome head, covered with the sunny curls,
and was silent. From the council-chamber he was led by Monsieur de
Lanbardemont, an officer of the Court, to the torture-room. Here he
remained about half an hour, and suffered torture, both ordinary
and extraordinary. His supple limbs and delicate skin were horribly
lacerated. He was unable to walk when he came out, and was supported
by the officials. "Let me now think of my soul," he said faintly;
"send my confessor to me, and permit me to be alone with him." This
wish was granted, and an hour passed, during which he confessed and
received absolution. Then he said to Father Malavette, "I have not
eaten for twenty-four hours, my father, and I am very weak. I fear if I
do not take something I may swoon upon the scaffold, though indeed, I
assure you, I do not fear to die." A little wine and bread were brought
to him, of which he partook. "Ah! my father," said the poor boy of
twenty-two, "what a world it is! Everybody I know has forsaken me. How
strange it is! I thought I had many friends, but I see no one cares for
me now but poor De Thou, whom I alone have brought to this pass."
"Alas! my son, you are young, or you would not wonder at this,"
answered Father Malavette sorrowfully; "'put not your faith in
princes.' What says Ovid too, who, like you, enjoyed the favour of
Augustus, and was then cruelly punished?
"'Donec eris felix, multos numerabis amicos.'"
"But, my father, when I was the favourite of his Majesty, I tried to
serve my friends in every way I possibly could, yet now I am alone."
"No matter," said the priest, shaking his head, "your service to them
only made them your enemies."
"Alack, I fear it is so," replied Cinq-Mars, sighing deeply. Then he
asked for paper, and wrote to his mother. He prayed her to pay all his
debts, and again expressed his utter astonishment at the conduct of his
friends. At three o'clock in the afternoon both he and De Thou were
carried in a hired coach into the Place des Terraux, lying over against
the banks of the river Soane, in the outskirts of the city. Here the
scaffold was erected. Every house in the Place was covered by temporary
balustrades and balconies; the roofs also were crowded with spectators.
Thousands had come together to see the favourite die.
Cinq-Mars with difficulty mounted the ladder leading to the scaffold,
with the help of Father Malavette. Then, still holding him by the
hand to steady his wounded limbs, he raised his plumed hat from off
his head, and, with a graceful air, saluted the multitude. He turned
to every side, and passed around to each face of the platform, so
that all might see him and receive his salutation. He wore a court
suit of fine Holland broadcloth, trimmed with gold lace; his black
hat ornamented with red feathers was turned back in the Spanish
style. He had high-heeled shoes with diamond buckles, and green silk
stockings, and he carried a large scarlet mantle, to cover his body
after decapitation, neatly folded on one arm. His fair young face was
perfectly serene, and his clustering curls, slightly powdered, were
scented and tended as carefully as heretofore. Having bowed to the
crowd, he replaced his hat on his head, and, with his hand resting on
his right side, he turned round to look about him. Behind were two
blocks, covered with red cloth. Beside them stood the executioner. He
was only a city porter—the regular official being ill—a coarse and
brutal fellow, with bloated face, wearing the dress of a labourer. When
he came up to Cinq-Mars with scissors to cut off his hair, M. le Grand
put him away with a motion of disgust. He begged Father Malavette to do
him this office, and to keep his hair for his mother. While the long
ringlets which fell over his shoulders were being cut off, Cinq-Mars
turned towards the executioner, who had not yet taken the axe out of a
dirty bag which lay beside him, and asked him haughtily, "What he was
about?" and "Why he did not begin?" The rude fellow making a wry face
in reply, Cinq-Mars frowned, and addressed himself to Father Malavette.
"My father," said he, "assist me in my prayers, then I shall be ready."
After he had prayed very devoutly, and kissed the crucifix repeatedly,
he rose from his knees, and again in a firm voice repeated, "I am
ready, begin!" Then he added, "May God have mercy upon me, and forgive
my sins." He threw away his hat, unloosed the lace ruff about his
throat, put back his hair from his face, and laid his head on the
block. Several blows descended ere his head was severed from the body;
the executioner being unready and new to his office. When the head
fell it gave a bound, turned itself a little on one side, and the lips
palpitated visibly, the eyes being wide open. The body was covered with
the scarlet mantle borne by Cinq-Mars on his arm for that purpose, and
carried away to be buried.
The King, informed by the Cardinal of the precise day and hour when
Cinq-Mars would suffer death,—for every detail had been virtually
arranged before Richelieu left Valence in his wooden chamber,—took out
his watch at the appointed time, and, with the most perfect unconcern,
remarked to Chavigny, "At this moment Monsieur le Grand is making an
ugly face at Lyons."
Then Richelieu ordered that the feudal castle of Cinq-Mars, in the
valley of the Loire, should be blown up, and the towers razed "_to the
height of infamy_."