Anxious to strengthen his party, De Luynes received the advances of Richelieu with great courtesy, although he was far from desiring the co-operation of so dangerous an ally; and a day or two subsequently the treacherous prelate was introduced into the private closet of Louis; where, in addition to his previous professions, he went so far as to pledge himself to the young monarch that he would give him timely intimation of the most hidden designs of the Queen-mother and the Marechal d'Ancre.

It was at length decided that Concini should die on Sunday the 23rd of April; but as the day approached Louis became terrified at his own audacity, and it required all the influence of De Luynes and his brothers to prevent his retracting the fatal order which he had given. He was too young coldly to contemplate treachery and murder, and withal so helpless in the event of failure, that his conscience and his timidity alike urged him to revoke the sentence of the unsuspecting victim; nor was he ultimately induced to persevere, until reminded by his insidious advisers that too many persons were now aware of his intentions for them to remain secret, should their execution be long delayed.

On this occasion, however, although every preparation had been made, Concini was saved by a mere accident. He chanced to be delayed as he was about to leave his house, and did not in consequence reach the Louvre until the King had quitted the palace in order to attend mass at the chapel of the Petit Bourbon. Instead, therefore, of proceeding in the first place to the apartments of his Majesty, as had been anticipated, the Marechal no sooner ascertained that Louis was already gone than he hastened to pay his respects to the Queen-mother, for which purpose he took a different direction. This unexpected impediment greatly embarrassed the conspirators, who, secure of success, had displayed an extraordinary want of caution. In addition to his brother M. du Hallier, Vitry had assembled a great number of his friends in the court of the palace, who, although they all wore their cloaks, had nevertheless allowed it to be perceived that they carried pistols in their belts, contrary to the edict forbidding the use of such weapons within the limits of the royal residence. In compliance with the commands of Louis himself, moreover, the bodyguard were under arms; and the unwonted movement in the immediate vicinity of his apartments was so evident, and withal so threatening in its aspect, that a rumour soon spread through the palace that some serious enterprise was in contemplation.

And meanwhile the young monarch was on his knees before the altar of his God, praying, or seeming to pray; asking that his trespasses might be forgiven as he forgave those who trespassed against him; although he anticipated that before his return to his desecrated palace-home the deed of blood would be accomplished. Suddenly, however, his devotions were interrupted by the entrance of De Vitry into the chapel, who, approaching De Luynes, whispered to him the tidings of his disappointment. In another second the lips of the favourite touched the ear of his royal master, to whom he hurriedly murmured—

"Sire, the man you wot of is now in the apartment of the Queen-mother. What do you decide? All is in readiness."

"Touch him not in her presence as you value your lives," was the agitated reply; "we shall find him at the Louvre on our return."

A brief interval of suspense succeeded. The prelate who had officiated then uttered the final blessing; and as the carriage which contained the King and his favourite entered the palace by one gate, that of Concini quitted it by another. Inexperienced as he was, however, Louis at once perceived that he was no longer in a position to recede; and hasty orders were issued to Vitry and his friends to accomplish their fatal project on the following day, while the King at the same time secretly commanded that the light horse of his bodyguard, and the members of his household, should be in attendance at an early hour in the morning, as well as a coach and six, at the entrance of the grand gallery. The pretext for this arrangement was a hunting-party; but its actual intention was to ensure and protect the King's flight, should his purpose prematurely transpire or prove abortive. And meanwhile Marie de Medicis slept, wholly unsuspicious of the change which was about to be effected in her fortunes!

There is something singularly appalling in all the circumstances which formed the prelude to this contemplated tragedy. Hitherto the Queen-mother had created dangers for herself—had started at shadows—and distrusted even those who sought to serve her; while her son, silent, saturnine, and inert, had patiently submitted to the indignities and insults which had been heaped upon him, as though he were either unconscious or reckless of their extent; and the Italian adventurer had braved his enemies, and appeared to defy fate itself. Now, however, when the blow was about to be struck, when the ball and the blade were alike ready to do their deadly office, all the principal personages in the bloody drama had suddenly assumed new characters. Marie slept; the boy-King had become the head of a conspiracy; and the Marechal d'Ancre, enriched and ennobled beyond the wildest dreams of his ambition, was preparing to quit the country of his adoption, and to seek rest and peace in his own land. Another month, perhaps another week, and he would have left France, probably for ever.

History presents few such anomalies; and it appears scarcely credible that so ill-organized a plot, hatched, moreover, under the very eyes of those who were to become its victims, and revealed to upwards of a score of persons, many of whom were incited to join it from merely venal motives, should ever have attained its accomplishment. The fiat had, however, gone forth; and the unfortunate Concini, whose tragical fate compels sympathy despite all his faults, entered the court of the Louvre at ten o'clock in the morning of the 24th of April 1617, there to meet his death.

An hour or two after dawn one of the gentlemen of the royal bedchamber announced that the King having been indisposed throughout the night, the great gates of the Louvre were to remain closed, and the public excluded, in order that his Majesty might not be disturbed. This order did not, however, affect the Marechal d'Ancre, as he was no sooner seen to approach, followed by a numerous retinue of gentlemen, and attended by several of his friends, than the bolts were withdrawn, and he was permitted to pass the barrier, which was instantly closed again, to the exclusion of the greater number of his suite. A man who had been stationed over the gate then waved his hat three times above his head, upon which De Vitry, who had until that moment been seated in one of the windows of the guard-room calmly conversing with the officers on duty, immediately rose, and drawing his cloak closely about him, hurried down the staircase, at the foot of which he was joined as if accidentally by Du Hallier and others of the conspirators, who, apparently engaged in conversation, slowly approached their intended victim. Among the persons who surrounded Concini there chanced to be several who were acquainted with De Vitry, and greatly to his annoyance he was compelled to allow the Marechal to pass on while he returned their greetings; in a few moments, however, he again found himself at liberty, when he discovered that amid the crowd he had lost sight of the Italian.

"Where is he?" he inquired hurriedly of one of his confederates.

"Yonder," was the reply; "he has stopped at the foot of the bridge to read a letter."

De Vitry sprang towards his prey; and as Concini, absorbed in his occupation, still read on, he felt the grasp of a strong hand upon his arm, and on looking up he saw the Captain of the Guard standing at his side. Before he had time to inquire the meaning of this affront, De Vitry had already uttered the ominous words, "I arrest you in the King's name."

"Arrest me!" exclaimed the Marechal, with astonishment, as he clutched the hilt of his sword.

"Yes, you," replied De Vitry haughtily; and while he spoke he made a signal, which was instantly responded to by the simultaneous report of three pistol-shots. As the sounds ceased Concini dropped upon his knees, and fell against the parapet of the bridge. Several weapons were then thrust into his body; and finally De Vitry, with wanton and revolting cruelty, gave him so violent a kick that he extended his body at full length upon the pavement, where it was immediately pilfered of every article of value; among other things, diamonds of great price and notes of hand to a large amount were abstracted from the pockets of his vest.[281]

A few of his followers endeavoured to interpose; but in a second or two all was over, and they were warned by the bystanders instantly to sheathe their swords, and to beware of opposing the orders of the King. They had scarcely had time to obey this bidding when Louis presented himself at the window of a closet adjoining the guard-room, to which, from its height, he was obliged to be lifted by M. d'Ornano;[282] there, by the advice of those about him, the young King appeared with a smile upon his face; and as the members of the cabal raised a cry of "Vive le Roi!" he shouted to his Captain of the Guard, "I thank you, Vitry; now I am really a King." Then showing himself, sword in hand, successively at each window of the guard-room, he cried out to the soldiers who were posted beneath, "To arms, comrades, to arms!"

Meanwhile De Vitry, by the direction of De Luynes, proceeded to the hall occupied by the bodyguard of the Queen-mother, and demanded their weapons, which they refused to deliver up without an express order to that effect from their own officers; upon which the latter were commanded in the name of the King to withdraw their men, and to remain in the antechamber of their mistress. The royal guards then took possession of all the approaches to the Louvre; and horsemen were despatched with instructions to traverse the streets of the capital, and to apprise the citizens of the death of Concini. A dense crowd soon collected in the court of the Louvre, and cries of "Vive le Roi!" resounded on all sides.

A murder had been committed, and the ovation was one which would only have befitted a victory. Louis XIII had proclaimed himself a King, and the hand with which he grasped his sceptre was steeped in blood. Louis "the Just"—we append to his baptismal appellation that which was gravely conferred upon him on this occasion by both clergy and laity—stood an undisguised assassin and a moral matricide before the people who were about to be subjected to his rule.[283]

Within an hour not only was the Queen-mother a prisoner in her own apartments, but the seals were restored to M. du Vair, and Barbin was in the Bastille in the most rigorous confinement.[284] These precautionary measures taken, Louis proceeded to the grand gallery leaning upon the arm of De Luynes; and on perceiving M. de Brienne, who with many other nobles had hastened to present his respects and congratulations (!) to the young monarch, he was so little able to control his delight that, without awaiting the salutation of the Count, he exclaimed triumphantly, "I am now a King, and no one can take precedence of me." [285]

Shortly afterwards the King encountered the Bishop of Lucon-Richelieu, whose confident deportment betokened his conviction of a gracious reception, as he prepared to pay his court in his turn; but the compliments of the prelate were abruptly broken in upon by an imperative command to quit the palace, and the announcement of his discontinuance in office. No wonder that Richelieu murmured under his breath at this unlooked-for severity; for he had in truth that very morning striven to merit the royal smile—striven against conscience, however, and all the holiest and most sacred feelings of humanity. One of the friends of Concini, alarmed by the ominous proceedings at the Louvre, and instinctively persuaded that the life of the Italian was threatened, had hurriedly despatched a letter to Richelieu, in which he stated his reasons for the apprehensions he expressed; and urged the prelate, in memory of the many services for which he was indebted to the intended victim, to interpose his influence in his behalf, and to endeavour to avert the blow. The Bishop, who had not yet left his bed, glanced over the missive, thrust it beneath his pillow, desired the messenger to withdraw, and remained quietly in his chamber until he was apprised by the tumult without that all was over. Then, and not till then, he hastened to the Louvre; where we have already stated the nature of his reception.

As the throng of nobles increased, and crowded about the King so as considerably to inconvenience him, he was lifted upon a billiard-table, from which extraordinary eminence he received their compliments and congratulations upon the murder to which he had been accessory only an hour before; and which the First President of the Parliament of Paris (whose extreme haste to pay his court to his new master was such that, being unable immediately to procure a carriage, he proceeded to the Louvre on foot) designated his happy deliverance.[286] Nothing, in short, but plumed hats sweeping the marble floor, flexile forms bending to the earth, and lips wreathed in smiles, was to be seen in the kingly hall in which Henri IV had loved to discuss grave topics with his sturdy minister, the Duc de Sully, and which Marie de Medicis, in her day of pride and power, had enriched with the glorious productions of her immortal protege, Rubens the painter-prince, as she was wont to call him. None cared to remember at that moment that Henry the Great was in his grave, and that his royal widow had been sacrificed to the insatiable ambition and the quenchless hate of a low-born minion.

But it is now time that we should return to the Queen-mother.

Alarmed by the report of firearms within the boundary of the palace, Marie de Medicis, who had not yet completed her toilet, desired Caterina Selvaggio to throw open one of the windows, and to demand the cause of so singular and unpardonable an infraction of the law. She was obeyed; and the Italian waiting-woman no sooner perceived De Vitry advancing below the apartments of her royal mistress than she inquired of him what had occurred.

"The Marechal d'Ancre has been shot," was his abrupt reply.

"Shot!" echoed Caterina; "and by whom?"

"By myself," said De Vitry composedly; "and by the command of the King."

"Madame!" exclaimed the terrified attendant, as she rushed to the side of the Queen-mother, "M. le Marechal has been killed by order of his Majesty."

Marie de Medicis started from her seat; her cheeks were blanched, her lips quivered, and she wrung her hands convulsively, as she gasped out, "I have reigned seven years. I must now think only of a crown in heaven."

Her attendants, stupified with terror, rapidly gathered round her; and ere long she learnt that her guards had been disarmed, and replaced by those of the King. She listened vaguely to each successive report, and paced the room with rapid but uncertain steps. At length she exclaimed vehemently, "I do not regret that my son should have taken the life of Concini, if he believed it necessary to the safety of his kingdom; but his distrust of myself in concealing such a project from my knowledge is more than I can bear."

When the first violence of her emotion had subsided she sank into a seat, and with clasped hands and drooping head appeared to be absorbed in deep and bitter thought; for at intervals the blood mounted to her brow and burned there for a time, after which she again became pale as ashes, and as motionless as a corpse. She was still in this attitude when one of her confidential servants imprudently approached her, and inquired how the melancholy event was to be communicated to the Marechale d'Ancre? "Perhaps," he incautiously suggested, "your Majesty will condescend to acquaint her with it yourself."

Marie de Medicis suddenly raised her hand, swept back her dishevelled hair from her face, and fixing her flashing eyes upon the officious gentleman, passionately replied, "I have other things to attend to at this moment. If no one can tell the Marechale that her husband has been killed, let them sing it to her. Let me never again hear the name of those people. I told them long ago that they would do right to return to Italy. Yes," she continued, more particularly addressing the Dowager Duchess of Guise, the Princesse de Conti, and the other ladies who were standing near her, "they have at last accomplished my ruin. I foresaw it; I warned them, but they would not be convinced. I told Concini that he had no time to lose, but with his habitual self-sufficiency he declared repeatedly that the King became more courteous to him every day. I was not deceived, however; I charged him not to trust to appearances, for that Louis never said all he thought; he disregarded my words, and he has now involved me in his own destruction." [287]

After this outburst of temper no one ventured to intrude even a remark upon the Queen-mother, who once more fell into a deep reverie, from which she, however, ultimately aroused herself to demand M. de Bressieux.[288] The equerry immediately approached.

"Go, sir," she said, "to his Majesty, and request that he will grant me an interview."

Her command was obeyed, and in a few moments De Bressieux found himself in the presence of the King, to whom he delivered his message.

"I am occupied at present," was the cold reply; "and the visit of the Queen must be delayed until a better opportunity. Tell her, however, from me that I shall always honour her, and that I feel towards her all the sentiments of a good son; but God willed that I should be born a King, and I am resolved henceforth to govern for myself. It is desirable that the Queen should have no other guards but mine. Let her know that such is my will."

Marie de Medicis listened incredulously when, on his return to her apartment, the equerry announced the failure of his mission. She would not comprehend that the stripling who had until that day shrunk before her frown could thus suddenly have acquired the necessary courage to brave her authority; and once more M. de Bressieux was instructed to urge her request upon the King. As he reached the royal anteroom her envoy encountered De Luynes, who dreaded nothing so much as a meeting between the mother and son, which could scarcely fail to prove fatal to himself; and he accordingly reported the return of the applicant in a manner which induced Louis to exclaim impatiently, "If he is here by desire of the Queen his mistress, tell him that there is nothing to apprehend, as I shall treat her well." [289]

Still Marie de Medicis would not be discouraged. She felt that in order to avert the ruin which impended over her she must put every instant to its use; and accordingly M. de Bressieux was a third time despatched to solicit in still more urgent terms that she might be permitted to see his Majesty, were it only for a few moments. But, unfortunately for the agonized Queen, the triumphant favourite was as fully aware as herself of the value of time at so critical a juncture; and he had accordingly profited so well by the opportunities which he was enabled to command, that on this last occasion the Marquis was rudely ordered to abstain from all further intrusion upon his Majesty unless he wished to repent his pertinacity within the walls of a prison.

Convinced at last that there was no hope through her own agency of effecting her object, the Queen-mother next endeavoured to secure its accomplishment through the medium of her daughter-in-law, the two Princesses, and the Duc d'Anjou; but when she summoned them to her apartment, she was informed that each and all had been forbidden to hold any intercourse with herself until the pleasure of the King should be made known.

The despair of the unhappy Marie was at its height; and as she paced her apartment, and approached a window looking upon the gardens, she discovered that a bridge which she had caused to be constructed for the purpose of reaching them without being compelled to traverse the galleries of the palace, was already in process of demolition; while she was also made aware that every other avenue leading to her apartments was strictly guarded, and thus she saw herself a prisoner in her own palace and entirely at the mercy of her son's advisers. Even yet she struggled against so cruel a conviction; and, eager to test its truth, sent to desire the presence of one of her confidential friends. Her messenger was not, however, permitted to accomplish his errand, but returned with the heart-sickening intelligence that thenceforward her Majesty would not be permitted to hold any communication, save with the members of her own immediate household, without the express sanction of the King.[290]

While the Queen-mother was still writhing under this new indignity, the unfortunate Leonora, who had been apprised of the murder of her husband, rushed into the apartment, and flinging herself at the feet of her royal foster-sister, implored her protection for herself and her young son; but sudden adversity had steeled the heart of Marie de Medicis, and sternly upbraiding her former favourite as the cause of her own overthrow, she refused to afford her any aid, and commanded her instantly to retire. The wretched woman obeyed without comment or remonstrance; and having regained her own apartment, which was immediately contiguous to that of the Queen, she hastened to conceal the Crown jewels which were in her keeping between the mattresses of her bed, with the exception of the rings, which were of great value, and which she habitually wore. This task accomplished, she threw herself upon her miserable couch to await in trembling and in tears the next act of the frightful tragedy in which she was called upon to play so conspicuous a part. Her suspense was not of long duration, as only a few minutes had elapsed when a tumult was heard without, amid which cries of "Vive le Roi!" "Vive M. de Luynes!" and "Death to the Italian!" were distinctly audible.

Leonora bounded from her recumbent position like a lioness at bay. Her parted lips were bloodless, her breath came quick and hard, and her heart heaved by its violent pulsations the rich velvet of the robe in which she was attired.

"My child!" she at length gasped out, as her attendants gathered about her—"save my child! He at least is guiltless."

The appeal was not made in vain. M. du Rouvray[291] took her little son, the Comte de la Pena, by the hand, raised him in his arms that his lips might once more touch those of his mother, and then, without uttering a syllable, led him from the apartment. In another instant the Norman noble was once more at her side. "The child is in sure hands," he said hurriedly; "and now, Madame, to provide for your own safety. Follow me—you have no time to spare."

It was, however, already too late; for as Du Rouvray ceased speaking, De Vitry, still reeking with the blood of Concini, stood upon the threshold of the chamber, attended by a troop of halberdiers.

"You are my prisoner, Madame," he exclaimed harshly: "prepare to accompany me to the Bastille."

"I am ready, Sir," replied the Marechale, with the composure of utter despair, "All is as it should be. The murderer of the husband is well fitted to be the gaoler of the wife."

The rings belonging to the Crown were then removed from the fingers of the Marquise; and upon her refusal to reveal where the remainder of the jewels were secreted, her apartments were strictly searched; and not only were the royal ornaments carried off by De Vitry and his companions, but also every other article of value which fell into their hands. While this unmanly outrage was going on around her, the Marechale d'Ancre passively permitted her women to fasten her mantle, and to adjust her mask and hood; her thoughts were evidently elsewhere. Within a few yards of where she was then seated, and within hearing of the tumult occasioned by the reckless insolence of the men-at-arms by whom she was surrounded, her foster-sister, the playmate of her girlhood, the friend of her youth, and the protectress of her latter years—whose tears she had so often wiped away, whose sorrows she had so often soothed, and whose hopes and fears she had equally shared throughout so long a period—remained cold and unmoved by her misery. It was a bitter pang: and drops of anguish, wrung from the deepest recesses of a bursting heart, fell large and heavy upon the cheek of the new-made widow and the abandoned favourite, and moistened her clasped hands. None, however, heeded her agony; each of her attendants, whatever might have been the previous attachment of all to her person, was absorbed by her own terrors; while the strangers who had invaded her privacy were eager, under the specious pretext of performing their duty to the King, to avail themselves to the uttermost of so favourable an opportunity of furthering their individual interests.

At length all was over: every cabinet and chest had been ransacked to its deepest recesses; every article of use or ornament had been displaced in search of plunder; and the wretched Leonora was warned that it was time to depart. She rose silent and rigid; and as De Vitry preceded her from the room, his guards closed up behind her. A carriage was in waiting at the foot of the staircase by which she descended; the twilight was rapidly deepening into night, and her melancholy path was lighted at intervals by the torches of the numerous attendants who were hurrying through the corridors in the service of their several employers. The long dark shadows of the Louvre lay heavy on the dull pavement of the court, save where they were broken at intervals by the resinous flambeaux which glared and flickered against the walls of the building. All looked wild, and sad, and strange; and not one kindly accent fell upon the ear of the unhappy captive as she was hurried onward. A few harsh words were uttered in a tone of authority: she was lifted into the conveyance which had been prepared for her: the cavalcade slowly traversed the enclosure; and then as the iron gates of the palace were passed, the horses were lashed into a gallop; and in less than an hour the life-long companion of Marie de Medicis, husbandless, childless, and friendless, was an occupant of the gloomy prison-chamber which had recently been vacated by the Prince de Conde.

The noise created by the entrance of the new prisoner, the clashing of arms, the grating of the heavy portcullis, as it groaned and strained in its ascent, the dull fall of the drawbridge, the voices of men, and the rattling of wheels, awakened the Prince; who, with the natural weariness of a captive, had already retired to rest. Summoning an attendant he demanded to know the cause of the disturbance.

"It is M. de Vitry, Monseigneur," was the reply; "who has just transferred the Marechale d'Ancre to the safe keeping of the governor."

"Good!" said the Prince, as he once more settled himself to sleep; "I have now one enemy the less." [292]

This rapid succession of misfortunes produced an extraordinary effect upon the sensitive organization of Leonora Galigai. As we have already hinted, she had for a considerable period suffered under mental hallucination; and the disease had latterly fastened so tenaciously upon her system that she had even shunned the presence of the Queen, believing that every eye which rested on her produced some baneful result; while her very attendants were dismissed from her presence when they had terminated their duties, and she thus remained hour after hour in solitude, brooding over the sickly fancies of her disordered brain. The sight of her husband's murderer had, however, instantly and for ever restored the healthful tone of her mind. She did not weep, for she had already exhausted all her tears; she asked no mercy, for she was aware that, whatever might be her fate, she was alike prejudged and pre-condemned; but she resigned herself passively into the hands of her persecutors, with a Spartan firmness which she maintained to the last hour of her existence.

Who shall venture to follow her to her prison-cell, and to trace the tide of back-flowing thought which rolled like a receding wave from the present to the past? Now, indeed, she left little behind her to regret. From the husband to whom she had once been devoted with a love which blinded her to all his errors and to all his egotism, she had, during the last two years, been almost utterly estranged; her first-born and idolized daughter was in her grave; the royal friend and almost relative, to whom she had clung from her youth up, had refused even a tear to her sufferings, or a shelter to her peril; her hoarded wealth was in the hands of her enemies; and of all that she once boasted there remained only her son. And what might be his fate?

But memory held wider stores than these; and who can doubt that throughout that first long night of captivity they were probed to their very depths! What palace-pageants—what closet-conspiracies—what struggles for pre-eminence and power—what heart-burnings at defeat, and exultation at success—must have swept hurricane-like across her awakened soul, to be forgotten in their turn as she recalled the childish sports of her early and hopeful years, under the sunny sky and among the orange-groves of her native Florence, where, with her royal playmate, she chased the hours along as though they were made only for the happy!

Did she sleep the weary and outworn sleep of the wretched while those sweet and soothing visions were still busy at her heart? And if so, breathes there one who would have roused her, whatever may have been her faults, from such a slumber?

FOOTNOTES:

[263] Richelieu, Unpublished MSS.

[264] Mezeray, vol. xi. p. 134.

[265] Bassompierre, Mem. p. 123.

[266] Bassompierre, Mem. p. 126. D'Estrees, Mem. p. 418.

[267] Richelieu, Mem. book viii. p. 411.

[268] Deageant was a man of considerable talent, but crafty and ambitious; his whole career was one of deceit and truckling. After numerous vicissitudes he was committed to the Bastille, where he beguiled the weariness of captivity by composing his Memoirs.

[269] Sismondi, vol. xxii. pp. 391, 392. Le Vassor, vol. i. p. 583. Richelieu, Unpublished MSS.

[270] Siri, Mem. Rec. vol. iv. pp. 29-31. Mercure Francais, 1617.

[271] Henri de Schomberg was the representative of an ancient family of Meissen established in France. He succeeded his father, Gaspard de Schomberg, in the government of La Marche, and in 1617 served in Piedmont. He was also one of the generals of Louis XIII, in 1621 and 1622, and in 1625 was created Marshal of France. He distinguished himself by defeating the English in the battle of the Isle de Rhe in 1627, and in forcing the defile of Susa in 1629. In the following year he took Pignerol. He was then despatched to Languedoc against the rebels, and in 1632 gained the battle of Castelnaudary, at which the Duc de Montmorency was made prisoner. For this victory he was invested with the government of Languedoc. He died in 1633.

[272] In his History of the Parliament of Paris, Voltaire, whose party-spirit was ever too ready to betray his judgment, and to obscure his genius, has not hesitated, in allusion to the arrogant boast of the Italian adventurer, to express himself thus:—"This Concini, at this very time, performed an action which merited a statue. Enriched by the liberality of Marie de Medicis, he raised at his own expense an army of between five and six thousand men against the rebels; he supported France as though she had been his native country." It is impossible to dwell upon the career of Concini, and not be startled by so extraordinary an encomium.

[273] Mercure Francais, 1617. Siri, Mem. Rec. vol. iv. pp. 27-35.

[274] Deageant, Mem. pp. 38-44.

[275] Le Vassor, vol. i. pp. 614-617. Deageant, Mem. pp. 43-56. Bassompierre, Mem. pp. 123, 124.

[276] Siri, Mem. Rec. vol. iv. pp. 26, 27. Relation de la mort du Marechal d'Ancre, at the end of the Histoire des Favoris.

[277] Deageant, Mem. pp. 56, 57.

[278] Richelieu, Mem. book viii. p. 416.

[279] Brienne, Mem. vol. i. p. 300 note.

[280] Deageant, Mem. p. 48. Le Vassor, vol. i. pp. 625, 626.

[281] Brienne, Mem. vol. i. p. 329.

[282] Alphonse d'Ornano, colonel-general of the Corsican troops in the French service, and himself a native of Corsica, was the son of San Pietro di Bastelica, a man of low birth, who attained to the rank of colonel of the Corsican infantry in France, and who married (in 1548) Vanina d'Ornano, the daughter and heiress of one of the most wealthy nobles in Corsica. The avowed enemy of the Genoese, by whom himself and his family were proscribed and banished from their native island, San Pietro strangled his wife with his own hands on discovering that she had attempted to escape from Marseilles in order to obtain a revocation of the edict issued by the Genoese in 1563. Alphonse, the son of San Pietro, to whom his very name had become odious, adopted that of his mother, under which he rendered important services to Henri IV during the wars of the League, and by whom he was first appointed lieutenant of the King in Dauphiny, and subsequently Marshal of France (1595). He died in 1620, at the age of seventy-two. He was a man of probity, but had inherited the violent character of his father.

[283] Le Vassor, vol. i. pp. 625-632. Brienne, Mem. vol. i. p. 327. Sismondi, vol. xxii. pp. 393-395. Mezeray, vol. xi. pp. 134-136. Matthieu, Hist. des Derniers Troubles, book iii. p. 603.

[284] Richelieu, Unpublished MSS. The words underlined in the text are in the Cardinal's autograph on the margin of the manuscript.

[285] Brienne, Mem. vol. i. p. 327.

[286] Le Vassor, vol. i. p. 637. Sismondi, vol. xxii. p. 396.

[287] Lumieres pour l'Histoire de France. Le Vassor, vol. i. pp. 634, 635.

[288] The Marquis de Bressieux was first equerry to Marie de Medicis.

[289] Siri, Mem. Rec. vol. iv. pp. 61, 62.

[290] Rambure, MS. Mem. vol. vii. p. 66. Mezeray, vol. xi. p. 138. Bassompierre, Mem. p. 126.

[291] Louis, Sieur du Rouvray, was a Norman noble, and a descendant of the celebrated Louis du Rouvray, who was one of the hundred and eighty devoted men who in 1421 shut themselves up in the Mont Saint-Michel, in order to defend it against the English.

[292] Richelieu, Hist. de la Mere et du Fils, vol. i. p. 219.



CHAPTER X

1617

The Comte de la Pena—Anne of Austria and the orphan—Popular atrocities —The wages of crime—Submission of the Duc de Mayenne—Suspension of hostilities—The great nobles return to the capital—Louis refuses to be reconciled with his mother—Insolence of De Vitry—Generosity of the Duc de Rohan—Marie de Medicis resolves to retire from the Court—Richelieu offers to share her exile—He becomes the secret emissary of De Luynes—Gratitude of the deluded Queen—A parting interview—Marie de Medicis proceeds to Blois—Destitution of the Marechale d'Ancre—Her despair—Royal recreations—A fatal parallel—Madame de Conde requests permission to share the captivity of her husband—Trial of Madame d'Ancre—Her execution—Cupidity of De Luynes—Justice of the Grand Duke of Tuscany—Death of the President de Thou—Marriage of De Luynes with Mademoiselle de Montbazon—De Luynes is created duke and peer—Death of M. de Villeroy—Recall of the old ministers—Policy of De Luynes—His suspiciousness—His ambition—De Luynes lodges his brothers in the Louvre—The sign of "the Three Kings"—Louis resolves to re-establish the Roman Catholic religion in Bearn, and to annex that principality to the Crown of France—Meeting of the Notables at Rouen—The French march to the support of the Duke of Savoy.

On the return of De Vitry from the Bastille he found the hotel of the Marechal d'Ancre entirely pillaged, not even excepting the chamber of the little Comte de la Pena, whose escape having been prevented, he was also placed under arrest, and left until the following morning without clothes, food, or bed. On the morrow, however, the Comte de Fiesque,[293] touched by the extreme beauty and desolate condition of the child, and probably anxious to secure one friend to him in his necessity, became answerable for his safe keeping; and, wrapping him in the cloak of one of his lackeys, he carried him to the Louvre, and introduced him to the young Queen, informing her Majesty that no one at Court could dance a branle in such perfection. Anne of Austria was enchanted with the beauty of the boy, who had just attained his twelfth year, and whose intellect was as remarkable as his person; but giddy, thoughtless, and ever eager for amusement, the girl-Queen, overlooking the fatal circumstances in which he was placed, immediately commanded that he should exhibit his talent; and the poor fatherless child, whose whole career had been blighted only a few short hours before, was compelled to this unseemly display; after which he was regaled with sweetmeats, and returned to the custody of his gaolers, by whom he was shortly afterwards imprisoned in the castle of Nantes.[294]

While this incredible scene was being enacted in an apartment of the palace, another of a far more terrible nature was to be witnessed in the streets of Paris; but before we describe this, we must explain all that had passed since the murder of the Marechal d'Ancre. As we have already stated, the body was pillaged where it lay; and then, as no further booty could be anticipated, it was carried into a small closet attached to the common guard-room, where it remained until nightfall, when a coarse sheet, for which fifty sous were given, was folded about it, and it was buried without any religious ceremony under the organ of the church of St. Germain l'Auxerrois near the Louvre. A priest who attempted to chant a funeral-hymn as it was laid in the earth was compelled to desist, in order that the place of burial might not be known; and the flags which had been raised were so carefully replaced that it was only by secret information that the spot could possibly have been discovered. This information was however given; and early in the morning the pavement was torn up, and a rope fastened round the neck of the corpse, which was then dragged through the streets by the infuriated mob; and the desecrated remains of the recently powerful favourite were hung by the feet to a gibbet, dismembered in the most brutal manner, and finally burned.[295]

At the close of this tragedy the Baron de Vitry received the wages of his brutality, and found himself before sunset a Marshal of France: while Du Hallier his brother became his successor as Captain of the Royal Guard; and Persan, the husband of his sister, who had also assisted in the massacre of Concini, was recompensed by the lieutenancy of the Bastille, and entrusted with the safe keeping of the Prince de Conde. On the same day it was publicly proclaimed in the streets of Paris that all the relatives and adherents of the Marechale d'Ancre were forthwith to leave the capital, and that the Sieur de Vitry had acted throughout the late execution by the express command of the King; the ministers who had recently held office under the Queen-mother were dismissed, and those whom she had displaced were restored to power; De Luynes was formally invested with the confiscated property of Concini; and a new Government was organized which had for its leading object the subversion of all previously concerted measures.[296]

The death of Concini no sooner became known in the provinces than the Duc de Mayenne resigned Soissons and all the other towns and fortresses throughout his government into the hands of the King. Both parties suspended hostilities; and the royal troops and those of the insurgents drank and feasted together in a general rejoicing. This example was followed by the army in Champagne; and on every side the rebel Princes declared their readiness to offer their submission to the King. The moment was a perilous one for De Luynes, but to Louis it afforded only triumph and exultation; and ere long the self-exiled nobles reappeared in the capital, where they were graciously received. On the 12th of May a declaration was registered by the Parliament in which their past offences were pardoned, and they were assured that thenceforward they would be held as good and loyal subjects to the Crown; while no single exception was made save in the person of the Prince de Conde, who was still retained a prisoner in the Bastille, and who appeared to be totally forgotten by his former adherents.

Rendered confident by this increase of strength, Louis remained inflexible to the tears and prayers of his mother, and readily suffered himself to be persuaded by those about him that she had, in conjunction with Concini, determined to take his life by poison in order to place the Duc d'Anjou upon the throne. In vain did the estimable Marquise de Guercheville throw herself at his feet, and offer the most solemn assurances of the innocence of her unhappy mistress: she was listened to with impatience, and dismissed with an abruptness which left no room for hope.[297] Meanwhile the captivity of Marie de Medicis became each day more irksome, through the unrestrained insolence of De Vitry, who caused her apartments to be searched by the officers under his command, her chests to be emptied, and even her bed to be displaced. The Queen devoured her mortification, and bore the insult in silence; but Madame de Guercheville could not restrain her indignation, and insisted upon learning the reason for such an outrage.

"I am ordered to ascertain, Madame," was the reply of the individual to whom she addressed herself, "if there be not a cask of powder in these apartments destined to destroy the King who sleeps above."

"Let them obey their orders," said Marie coldly; "their employers are capable of even more than this." [298]

As she learnt each successive arrival at Court, the unfortunate Princess trusted from day to day that her position would be ameliorated through the influence of some of her former friends; but until the Duc de Rohan reached the capital none of the great nobles appeared to remember her existence. Well might the Duke exclaim when he learnt how utterly friendless she had become in her adversity, "There are few generous and bold enough to cleave to the misfortunes of those whom they honoured in their prosperity." [299] He was himself, however, one of those noble exceptions; and although he excited the undisguised displeasure of De Luynes, he persisted in demanding the royal sanction to pay his respects to the Queen-mother; an example which was subsequently followed by Bassompierre, who, being unable to obtain the permission which he sought, availed himself of the medium of the Queen's tailor to offer his assurances of devotion and fidelity to her person, through the Duchesse de Guise and the Princesse de Conti.[300]

Weary of her utter isolation in a palace of which she had so lately been the undisputed mistress, and where she had received the homage of all by whom she was approached; heart-sick and disgusted with the ingratitude of those whose fortunes had been her own work; and pining for that rest which she could never hope to find amid the persecutions to which she was daily subjected, Marie de Medicis at length resolved to retire to Moulins in the province of Bourbon, which was one of her dower-cities; and she accordingly sent to request the consent of the King to her departure.

This was precisely what De Luynes had hoped; and his exultation was consequently great. Her exile by the command of her son might have excited a murmur, and he had therefore forborne from advising such a step; but when it could be publicly asserted that the Queen-mother was about to leave the Court for a few months by her own express desire, not even those who still remained faithful to her cause would be enabled to resent her absence. Her demand under such circumstances could not fail to prove successful; and it was conceded by Louis himself with the greater alacrity that her presence as a prisoner in the Louvre was irksome and painful to a youth whose conscience was not yet totally seared; and who professed, even while exposing her from hour to hour to the insults of his hirelings, to feel towards her "all the sentiments of a good son."

The contemplated retirement of Marie de Medicis from the capital soon became publicly known, and at once decided the measures of Richelieu. He himself informs us that immediately after his cold reception by the King he despatched his valet to assure the Queen-mother of his sympathy in her sorrows, and of his anxiety to serve her;[301] nor could he fail to believe that such an assurance at such a moment had produced the desired effect, unconscious as the unfortunate Marie must necessarily have been of the circumstances which had induced him to feel for her reverses when all the other members of the Court were intent only upon winning the good graces of the monarch and his favourite. The time was now come, as he at once saw, to profit by so signal a proof of policy and forethought; and Richelieu was prepared to use it with the craft and cleverness which were destined to shape out his future fortunes. To his active and ambitious spirit a residence in the capital in the character of a deposed minister was impossible; while he equally deprecated the idea of burying himself in his diocese among the marshes of Lower Poitou. He resolved, therefore, to share the exile of the Queen-mother, and by this display of devotion to gain her confidence; while, at the same time, he communicated his intention to De Luynes in a manner which ensured its sanction. Few words were needed. Ere the conference was at an end the favourite was aware that no safer person could be admitted to the privacy of Marie de Medicis; while Richelieu had, on his side, been careful to avoid any acknowledgment of the real motive by which he was influenced.[302]

"You incur no risk by acceding to his request, Sire," said De Luynes in a subsequent interview with the King; "M. de Lucon will understand how to calm the mind of the Queen-mother, and to advise her as we could wish. He may be the means of establishing a good understanding between you; and even should he fail to do this, it will be easy to compel him to reside in his diocese, or to banish him to a distant province, should your Majesty not be satisfied with his conduct."

"It must not be expected," gravely observed Richelieu in his turn, while negotiating the arrangement, "that I should act as a Court spy when I am admitted to the confidence of the Queen; nor that I should report all which may take place; but to this I will pledge myself—that I will immediately retire to Lucon should she refuse to be guided by my advice, or adopt any resolutions inimical to the interests of the King."

It would have been unreasonable to require more, and with a thrill of pleasure to which she had been long a stranger, the beguiled Queen learnt that the Bishop of Lucon-Richelieu had received the royal permission to devote himself to her fallen fortunes. This was, indeed, more than she had ever ventured to hope, for she was capable of appreciating to the utmost the talents of the individual who thus, as she fondly believed, sacrificed his own interests to her necessities; and she consequently lost no time in making him the medium of her communications with the King. Before her departure she was anxious to secure such terms as might tend, in some degree, to diminish the bitterness of her exile; and she accordingly availed herself of the services of her new adherent to convey her wishes to Louis. These were that she might be permitted to reside for some days at Blois, until the castle of Moulins, which had been uninhabited for a considerable time, could be prepared for her reception; that she might be informed of the number and identity of those who would be allowed to follow her in her retreat; that she might retain unlimited authority in the place of her residence; that she should be immediately informed whether it were the pleasure of the King that she should be left in possession of the whole of her revenues, or restricted in her income, in order that she might be prepared to regulate the expenses of her household accordingly; and, finally, that her son would accord her an interview before her departure.

In reply to these demands, Louis, after having conferred with his favourite, replied that, had circumstances permitted such a measure, he should not, during the last few days, have deprived himself of the happiness of her society, of which he had deeply felt the privation; but that since it was her wish to retire from the Court, she was at perfect liberty to reside at Moulins, or in any other city which she thought proper to select, and to include in her suite all the individuals whom she might be desirous of retaining about her person: that she was fully authorized to exert the most absolute authority, not only in the city, but throughout the province in which it was situated; and that so far from seeking to diminish her resources, although they greatly exceeded those of any previous Queen-Dowager of France,[303] he would willingly augment them should she deem it necessary, even to his own inconvenience; while as regarded her desire for a parting interview, he could not, on his side, suffer her to leave the capital without assuring her in his own person of his anxiety for her happiness.[304]

Despite these professions, however, it was agreed on both sides that each party should previously arrange, and submit to the other, the substance of all that was to pass between them; and in consequence of this extraordinary arrangement Richelieu was desired by the Queen-mother to compose her address to the King, which having been submitted to the Council and approved, the reply of Louis was in like manner prepared by the ministers. A flight of stairs alone separated the mother and the son: the footsteps of the stripling monarch could be heard in the apartment of Marie as he passed from one room to the other; and were not the subject too sad for ridicule, it would be difficult to suppress a smile at these puerile and undignified formalities. No political negotiation was ever conducted, however, with more circumspection and mutual distrust; every detail of the interview was regulated beforehand; the two principal actors pledged themselves to say no more than was set down for them; and each committed to memory the harangue which was to be pronounced. The Princesses were to pay their parting respects to the Queen-mother so soon as she should have assumed her travelling-dress, but the nobles and officers of the Court were only to be permitted to salute her after she had taken leave of the King; a privilege from which, at her express request, De Vitry and his brother were, however, excluded.

On the 4th of May, the day fixed for her departure from the capital, Marie caused her ladies to dress her with extraordinary care, but at the same time with extreme simplicity; the slighted mother and the humbled Queen yet entertained a hope that the sight of her mourning attire and subdued deportment might produce their effect upon her son; and as, at the appointed hour, she left her chamber, and with words of gratitude and affection joined her attendants, there was a faint smile upon her lips, and a tremulous light in her dark eyes which betrayed her secret trust. The members of her household were assembled in one of those noble halls which were enriched by the grand creations of Jean Goujon,[305] and the magnificent tapestried hangings that were subsequently destroyed during the Revolution; they were grouped together near the door by which she entered, and, despite every effort which she made to overcome her emotion, Marie de Medicis could not suppress a sigh as she marked how small a space they occupied in that vast apartment which had so lately been thronged with princes and nobles, all professedly devoted to her cause. Suddenly, as she was exchanging a few words with the Marquise de Guercheville, the royal bodyguards appeared upon the threshold; and a page, advancing one step into the hall, announced—"The King!"

At the same instant Louis XIII appeared, with the Duc d'Anjou on his right hand, leaning upon his favourite, preceded by Cadenet and Brantes, and followed by the Prince de Joinville and Bassompierre. As he entered the Queen-mother rose and curtsied profoundly, while the ladies and gentlemen of her household imitated her example, as they retired a pace or two behind her. Hitherto the Queen-mother had exhibited the most perfect composure, but she no sooner found herself once more in the presence of her son than she burst into a passionate flood of tears, which she attempted to conceal as she approached him by spreading her fan before her face. Louis moved forward in his turn, still clinging to De Luynes, but no trace of emotion was visible in his countenance, which was cold, and almost careless in its expression.

"Sir," said the unhappy Queen so soon as she had recovered her composure, "the tender care with which I watched over your youth, the efforts which I made for the preservation of your kingdom, the dangers which I braved, and which I might have avoided had I been induced to hazard the safety of your crown, will justify me before God, and prove that I have never had any other view than that of securing your welfare. I have repeatedly entreated that you would be pleased to take the reins of government into your own hands, and relieve me from so heavy a responsibility, but you considered my services to be necessary, and commanded their continuance. I have obeyed you, both because I was bound to respect your will, and because I felt that it would have been cowardly to abandon you when you were threatened with danger.[306] If I have failed to meet your wishes, or have contravened them, I can only entreat of you to pardon me; and to believe that had you explained your pleasure it should have been fulfilled. I rejoice that you are now about to govern your kingdom in your own person; and I pray God to grant you every prosperity. I thank you for the concessions which you have made; and I trust that you will henceforward act towards me like a good son and a good sovereign; while I, on my side, pledge myself that I shall ever continue to be your very humble and very obedient mother and servant."

"Madame," replied Louis in a cold and constrained tone, while the Queen was still struggling to suppress her tears, "I am convinced that you have always acted with the greatest zeal and affection. I am perfectly satisfied, and beg to thank you. You have expressed a wish to retire to Blois, and I have consented to that wish. Had you remained near me you should still have retained that share in the government which you have so long held; and you are still at liberty to do so, whenever you may desire it. Rest assured that I shall never fail to love, honour, and obey you as my mother upon every occasion; and that I shall continue throughout my life to be your very humble son."

This notable oration had been delivered by the young King with all the monotonous intonations of a studied recital, and was terminated by a sigh of relief as he saw himself near the conclusion of the comedy. It had been arranged that so soon as he ceased speaking the Queen should stoop forward to embrace him; but in the excess of her agitation the outraged mother disregarded the instructions which she had previously received, and in an accent of heart-broken anguish she exclaimed: "I am about to leave you, Sir; do not deny my last prayer. Release my faithful Barbin, and suffer him to share my exile."

Louis, unprepared for this request, was uncertain how he should reply, and glanced uneasily from De Luynes to Richelieu.

"Do not refuse me this, Sir," urged Marie once more; "it is the only boon I ask—perhaps," she added after a moment's pause, "the last I shall ever ask of you,"

Still Louis remained silent, with his cold stern eyes riveted upon her agitated countenance.

The unfortunate Queen could not mistake the meaning of that fixed and passionless look: her lip quivered for an instant, and then she bent her stately head and slightly touched the forehead of her son. Louis replied to the embrace by a profound and silent bow, and turned away hurriedly, as if weary of the scene in which he had played so undignified a part. As he moved aside, De Luynes approached the Queen-mother; and having bent his knee, and kissed the hem of her robe, he uttered a few words in so low a voice that they were inaudible to those who stood behind her. In reply she was overheard to say that she had solicited his Majesty to allow Barbin to follow her to Blois, and to continue his duties as superintendent of her household; and that she should consider herself greatly indebted to the kindness of the favourite if he would exert his influence to that effect. De Luynes was about once more to speak, when the voice of the King was heard loudly calling for him; and putting forward as an excuse the impossibility of compelling his Majesty to wait, he once more bowed to the ground, and made his retreat.

When she saw him disappear in the crowd Marie de Medicis gave free vent to the emotion which she had so long partially controlled; and as the other great nobles of the Court successively bent before her, she remained with her face buried in her handkerchief, sobbing audibly, and apparently unconscious of their homage. Ten minutes afterwards she descended the great staircase, and took her seat in the coach which was to convey her to Blois, accompanied by the Princesses and all the principal ladies of the Court, who were to attend her to the city gates. An immense crowd had collected on the quay of the Louvre to see her pass; but, contrary to the apprehensions of her friends, not a word of insult or reproach was uttered. There was something so appalling even to the most reckless in her sudden fall; something so sad in this gorgeous procession which seemed rather to mock than to honour her misfortunes; so sharp and bitter a lesson in the spectacle of a Princess lately all-powerful thus driven from her palace-home to immure herself in a fortress, and this too in broad daylight, under the eyes of her subjects, and in the streets of the capital, that she excited the involuntary sympathy even of her enemies.

This sympathy was, however, unfelt by her son; who no sooner became aware that she was about to enter her carriage than he hurried to the balcony of the Queen's apartment, whence he attentively watched the departure of the cortege, manifesting the most lively interest in the preliminary arrangements; and as the last equipage disappeared, he returned to the room saying gaily: "Now then, gentlemen, we will start for Vincennes."

Some minutes afterwards, the palace resounded with the voices of ushers, pages, and men-at-arms; a dozen carriages rolled into the Court; the King paid a farewell visit to his dogs, his birds, and his wife; and then, desiring that the Queen and her ladies should follow him on the morrow, he left orders that the Louvre should be minutely searched throughout, in order to ascertain beyond all possibility of doubt that no gunpowder had been concealed within the edifice for the purpose of effecting his destruction; after which he sprang into his coach, with an undisguised cheerfulness which left no doubt that his affected respect and attachment for his mother were by no means incompatible with a hearty sense of relief at his emancipation from her control.[307]

The Marechale d'Ancre had been committed to the Bastille on the 29th of April, lightly dressed, despoiled of all her ornaments, and without the most trifling pecuniary resource; so thoroughly destitute, indeed, of the common necessaries of life that she was indebted to Madame Persan, the wife of the lieutenant of the fortress, for a couple of changes of body-linen. Even the Prince de Conde, who was professedly her enemy, was deeply moved when he ascertained her pitiable condition. "It was not to Leonora that political crimes should be attributed," he said, with an indignation which did honour to his heart; "but to the insatiable ambition of her husband."

Her only attendants were an Italian maid and her apothecary, whose constant care was required from the precarious state both of her bodily and mental health; but she nevertheless maintained a self-command and composure which astonished all by whom she was approached. She uttered no complaint; exhibited no resentment; and in reply to the condolences of her gaolers, simply replied: "I must have patience; my enemies are powerful, the Queen-mother is absent, and no doubt I shall be compelled to leave France. I will retire with my son to Florence; we have still the means of subsistence, and I must endeavour to forget the past."

Some days subsequently her women succeeded in conveying to her a few changes of apparel and two hundred crowns in money; but when, on the 11th of May, she was transferred to the prison of the Conciergerie, these effects were in their turn stolen from her, and she once more found herself totally penniless. In addition to this misfortune she was apprised that she could no longer be permitted to retain her attendants, as the regulations of a felon prison did not admit of such an indulgence; and on hearing this, she said with a cry of agony: "I am lost!"

The Court remained a fortnight at Vincennes, after which the King returned to the Louvre. There, instead of endeavouring, according to the sage advice of his ministers, to render the absence of his mother unfelt by the adoption of measures calculated to prove that he was equal to the responsibility which he had been so eager to assume, he soon returned to the puerile amusements he had latterly affected to despise; and spent the day in colouring prints, beating a drum, blowing a bugle, or making jets d'eau with quills.[308] On one occasion when Bassompierre was complimenting him upon the facility with which he acquired everything that he desired to learn, he replied with great complacency: "I must begin again with my hunting-horn, which I blow very well; and I will practise for a whole day."

"Be careful, Sire," was the reply of the courtier; "I would not advise your Majesty to indulge too much in such a diversion, as it is injurious to the chest; and I have even heard it asserted that the late King Charles IX burst a blood-vessel on the lungs from his abuse of that instrument; an accident which terminated his life."

"You are wrong, Sir," said Louis with one of his cold saturnine looks; "it was his quarrel with Catherine de Medicis which caused his death. If he had not followed the bad advice of the Marechal de Retz, and resided with her subsequently at Monceaux, he would not have died so young."

Bassompierre was silenced; and thenceforward resolved never again to mention the name of the Queen-mother in the presence of his royal master.[309]

Meanwhile it was universally anticipated that as all the other Princes had been restored to favour, M. de Conde would be liberated; but such a measure by no means accorded with the views of De Luynes, who, aware of the influence of the noble prisoner, felt himself too weak to cope openly with the first Prince of the Blood; and, consequently, the only benefit which Conde derived from the death of the Marechal d'Ancre was a mitigation of the extreme vigilance with which he had hitherto been guarded. The conduct of the Princess his wife was at this juncture above all praise. She had, from the first period of his imprisonment, been persevering in her efforts to accomplish his liberation; and having failed to do this, had solicited the permission of the King to share his captivity; but, by the advice of his favourite, Louis had hitherto resolutely refused to accede to such an arrangement; although he might justly have been struck by the heroism of a sacrifice which in her case was heightened tenfold by the fact that, despite the jealousy which he had constantly exhibited, M. de Conde had made no secret of his utter indifference to his wife, and would never forgive her relations with Henri IV. After the departure of the Queen-mother, however, De Luynes judged it expedient to accept the offer of the Princess; and she was accordingly informed that she might proceed to the Louvre, where the King would grant her an audience. She had no sooner received this permission than she hastened, accompanied by the Duchesse d'Angouleme her sister, to throw herself at the feet of the young sovereign; where, bathed in tears, she sobbed out her acknowledgment of the indulgence extended to her, and implored him to extend his clemency to the Prince her husband. "But should you unhappily consider it expedient to detain him in the Bastille, Sire," she concluded with deep emotion, "I entreat of your Majesty to allow me to share his prison."

"Madame," replied Louis, "it was already my intention so to do. I am sincerely attached to M. de Conde, and to all his house; and every attention shall be paid to him until my government is perfectly established. I greatly regret that at the present moment I am prevented by circumstances from restoring him to liberty; but assure him from me that I will cause his liberation at the earliest opportunity."

Again and again did the delighted Princess utter her thanks; and after having been graciously dismissed by the King, she lost not a moment in proceeding, armed with the royal authority, to the Bastille, where, having constituted herself a prisoner, she hastened to impart her hopeful tidings to the Prince.

Despite the assurances which she had received, however, from the lips of Louis himself, four more weary months were passed by M. and Madame de Conde in the fortress, in that daily and hourly fever of expectation which is more agonizing than utter despair; and even at the close of that dreary time, instead of the liberty for which the husband and wife alike panted, an order arrived at the Bastille for the transfer of the deluded and unhappy couple to the Castle of Vincennes, which was communicated to them as a signal mark of the royal clemency; and in that citadel they were detained until the autumn of 1619.[310] The result of Madame de Conde's admirable self-abnegation was, however, a source of triumph for her woman-heart, as the Prince was not proof against so unequivocal a demonstration of attachment, and thenceforward evinced towards her a tenderness which amply repaid her sacrifice.

Shortly after the transfer of Madame d'Ancre to the Conciergerie she was put upon her trial; but as her mental hallucination, together with her estrangement from her husband, rendered it probable that sufficient proof of political delinquency could not be adduced against her to justify an extreme sentence, and as her escape from the scaffold must necessarily tend to render his tenure of the confiscated property of Concini (of which he had already obtained the reversion) difficult, if not impossible, De Luynes did not hesitate to tamper with her judges, and to induce them, alike by bribes and threats, to accomplish her death. For this purpose a second charge was coupled with that of lese-majeste, which was brought conjointly against herself and her murdered husband. She was accused of sorcery as well as of conspiring against the state; of casting alike nativities to compass the destruction of the King, and cannon for the service of the disaffected Princes; together with a host of other crimes, none of which could be proved against her. So palpable, indeed, was the motive of her persecutors, that it excited the popular indignation; and the masses, who had so recently execrated the name of the unfortunate woman, began, ere the conclusion of her trial, to look upon her only as the victim of De Luynes. "You will see," said some of the citizens, as they learnt with what dignified calmness and logical precision she refuted the several charges brought against her, "that here the case of the Duc de Biron will be reversed—like her he was the victim of policy, but he died like a woman, while she will meet her fate like a man."

And they were correct in their conclusion. Whatever might have been her faults while she continued the favourite of fortune, Leonora Galigai was grand in her adversity; and one of her judges was so much overpowered by his conviction of her innocence, that on recollecting the pledge which he had given to De Luynes to decide upon her guilt, he fainted and was carried from the Court. When accused of treason against the state, the prisoner replied by reminding her accusers of her total estrangement from her husband during the last two years, throughout which period he had been all-powerful with the Queen-mother, and her own consequent loss of influence; and when questioned as to the nature of the sorcery by which she had so long governed her royal mistress, she answered that it was simply the magic exercised by a strong mind over a weak one.[311] To the other charges she responded with equal composure and conclusiveness; and many among them were of so puerile a character that, despite the fearful position in which she was placed, she could not suppress a smile of mingled pity and amusement.

She was foredoomed, however; and on the 8th of July the sentence was pronounced. It was in truth a frightful one! Both the husband and the wife were declared guilty of lese-majeste divine and human; and she herself was condemned to lose her head, and to be afterwards burned; their house was to be levelled with the ground; their property, not only in France, but also all that they possessed at Rome and Florence, was to be confiscated to the Crown; and their son deprived of his rank, and rendered incapable of holding any office in the kingdom.[312]

When this sentence was declared the wretched woman, who had never anticipated a more severe fate than exile, exclaimed in a piteous voice: "Oime poveretta!" but shortly recovering herself, she resumed the same calm courage which she had previously evinced.

Perhaps the most merciful portion of her sentence was that which condemned her to suffer on the same day; and for this she was undoubtedly indebted to the impatience of De Luynes, who did not feel himself secure of the succession until she should have ceased to breathe. The revelations which she had made of the extent of her wealth during the preliminary examinations in the prison had sealed her fate, as they so far exceeded all his anticipations that they silenced every throb of compunction and negatived every other feeling; and they thus at least spared her a night of agony during which she might have brooded over the miserable prospects of her idolized son.

It is painful to reflect upon the position which the Marquise had filled, and to see her thus shaken and withered both in mind and body; abandoned by the protectress to whom she had clung so long and so confidingly; widowed by violence; separated from her only surviving child; and compelled to drain her cup of bitterness to the very dregs. Not a pang was, however, voluntarily spared to her. She might, in consideration of her rank as the wife of a Marshal of France, and out of respect for the Queen-mother, of whom she had not only been the foster-sister but also the familiar friend, have been conveyed to the place of execution in a covered carriage, and thus have been in some degree screened from the public gaze; but no such delicacy was observed. The criminal's cart, with its ghastly faggot for a seat, was her ordained conveyance; but her step did not falter as she stepped into the vehicle which had been previously tenanted by the vilest and most degraded culprits. Never had there been seen so dense a crowd in the Place de Greve; and as she glanced hurriedly around, unaware of the popular reaction of feeling, she cowered for an instant panic-struck, and murmured helplessly: "Oh, what a multitude to gaze upon a miserable woman!"

Not a word, not a gesture of vengeance or of hate, escaped, however, from the populace. Her deportment had been so dignified, her courage so great, her piety so perfect, that those who were once her bitterest enemies looked on her through their tears. Her charities had been unremitting and extensive; and those whom she had aided in their necessities had thronged, through a morbid and mingled feeling of gratitude and awe, to see her die.[313]

Her head fell—her body was burned—and her ashes were scattered to the wind.

De Luynes had, as we have stated, constituted himself her heir; but it was not without difficulty that he succeeded in appropriating the principal portion of the coveted wealth of his victims. Du Vair, with a firmness for which the favourite was not prepared, refused for a considerable time to countersign the letters of consignment which had been granted by the King to that effect; declaring that as the property of Concini and his family had been confiscated to the Crown, it could not be otherwise disposed of. This difficulty was, however, surmounted after the fashion of the period, and the signature of the scrupulous minister was purchased by the rich bishopric of Lisieux; after which De Luynes himself negatived the destruction of the magnificent hotel of the Marechal, to which he transferred his own establishment, and then proceeded to enforce his claims upon the funded property in Rome. This pretension was, however, opposed by the Pope, who declared that all monies confiscated within the Roman states must necessarily revert to himself; and Louis XIII, after having in vain endeavoured to induce the Sovereign-Pontiff to rescind this declaration, found himself ultimately compelled to make a donation of the five hundred thousand francs claimed by his favourite to the cathedral of St. Peter's.

The Grand Duke of Tuscany, in his turn, refused to recognize the right of De Luynes to the funds which had been entrusted to him by the Marechal d'Ancre, but from a higher and a holier motive; as the young Comte de la Pena was no sooner set at liberty, with an injunction immediately to leave France, than he received him with all the sympathy due to his unmerited misfortunes, and put him in possession of this remnant of his inheritance. Thenceforward the son of Concini remained in Italy until the year 1631, when he fell a victim to the plague.[314]

Before we quit the Court to follow exclusively the fortunes of Marie de Medicis, it is necessary that we should record three circumstances of social interest which occurred during the year 1617. The first in order is the death of the President de Thou, one of the most able and upright ministers, and, perhaps, the most conscientious historian that France had ever known. He expired on the 7th of May. The next, in point of chronology, is the marriage of De Luynes, who—having obtained the most absolute power, not only over the King personally, but also over all state affairs—being anxious to strengthen his position yet more by a great alliance, after having for a time contemplated an union with the daughter of the Duc de Vendome, ultimately entered into a negotiation for the hand of Mademoiselle de Montbazon.[315] This negotiation proved successful; and through her means he became closely connected with the most ancient and powerful families in the kingdom. The marriage took place on the 13th of September, and the bride was admitted to the honours of the tabouret;[316] while in order to render him more acceptable to the haughty houses into which the favour of his sovereign had thus afforded him ingress, the exulting favourite was elevated to a duchy-peerage, and took his seat in the Parliament. The last circumstance to which allusion has been made is the death of M. de Villeroy, who terminated his life at the ripe age of seventy-four years on the 30th of December. As we have already stated, he was possessed of little education, had no taste for either literature or art, but was singularly upright and shrewd in the management of public business; while he was, moreover, so thoroughly disinterested, that in the midst of all the cupidity which at that period disgraced the Court of France, after having been fifty-one years in office, he died with the mere addition of two thousand livres per annum to his patrimonial income.[317]

In order to enlist popular opinion in his favour, De Luynes had, as we have seen, induced the King to recall the old ministers to power; and the people, still remembering the wisdom which they had displayed during their administration, welcomed with joy the reappearance of Sillery, Villeroy, and Jeannin in the Council; but although the favourite ostensibly recognized their privileges, he was far from intending to permit their interference with his own interests;[318] and so thoroughly did he enslave the mind of the young King, that while Louis, like a schoolboy who had played truant, and who was resolved to enjoy his new-found liberty to the uttermost, was constantly changing his place of abode, and visiting in turn St. Germain, Fontainebleau, Villers-Cotterets, and Monceaux, without one care save the mere amusement of the hour, De Luynes was multiplying his precautions to prevent a reconciliation between the mother and the son; an event which must, as he believed, whenever it should occur, prove the ruin of his own fortunes. For this purpose, so soon as he saw a cloud upon the brow of the royal stripling, he hastened to devise for him some new and exciting pursuit, which might tend to deaden his remorse for the past, and to render him more conscious of the value of that moral emancipation which he had purchased at so fearful a price; but ere long even this subtle policy failed to dissipate the apprehensions of the favourite. Like all persons who occupy a false position of which they fully appreciate the uncertain tenure, he became suspicious of all around him; and would not allow any individual, whatever might be his rank, to approach the King without his knowledge, nor to attempt to converse with him in private. Thus, therefore, while Louis fondly believed that he had indeed become a monarch in fact as well as name, he was in reality more enslaved than ever.

Enriched by the spoils of Concini and his wife, De Luynes next caused himself to be appointed lieutenant of the King in Normandy; and this was no sooner done than he entered into a negotiation for one of the principal governments in the kingdom. He appeared suddenly to have forgotten that one of the most cogent reasons which he had so lately given for the necessity of sacrificing the Marechal d'Ancre and his wife was the enormous wealth of which they had possessed themselves at the expense of the state. His ambition as well as his avarice became insatiable; and not contented with pushing his own fortunes to a height never before attained by a mere petty noble, he procured great advantages for his brothers, and lodged them in his apartments in the Louvre. But while Louis remained unconscious or careless of the new bondage into which he had thus fallen, the courtiers and the people were alike less blind and less forbearing. With that light-heartedness which has enabled the French in all ages to find cause for mirth even in their misfortunes, some wag, less scrupulous than inventive, on one occasion, under cover of the darkness, affixed above the door leading to the rooms occupied by the brothers a painting which represented the adoration of the Magi, beneath which was printed in bold letters, "At the sign of the Three Kings"; a practical jest which afforded great amusement to the Court.[319]

At this period Louis XIII, still a mere youth, and utterly inexperienced in those great questions of public policy which determine the prosperity or the peril of a nation, resolved upon a measure which Henri IV himself had not ventured to undertake. The Roman Catholic religion had been abolished in Bearn by Jeanne d'Albret, his grandmother, and the property of that church seized in virtue of an Act passed at the assembly of the States; and now, on the demand of his clergy, he determined to issue a decree ordaining the restitution of all the ecclesiastical property, and the re-establishment of the Roman faith. This was, of course, resisted by the Protestants, as well as the annexation of the principality of Bearn to the Crown of France; but the advisers of the young King considered the opportunity to be a favourable one for effecting both measures; and they easily persuaded him to persevere in his purpose. The edict was consequently published; and its effects were destined to be painfully felt by the reformed party throughout the remainder of his reign.

The people, on their side, had not forgotten the promises which they had received of a reform in the government, and De Luynes still continued to give them hopes of their accomplishment; but as no measures to that effect were taken, they, at this period, demanded a new assembly of the States-General. They were, however, induced to modify this demand; and a meeting of the Notables[320] was finally conceded, which was to take place at Rouen on the 24th of November, in the presence of the sovereign. This assembly was accordingly held, but thanks to the influence of De Luynes produced none of the results which had been anticipated.[321]

A few days before the departure of Marie de Medicis from Paris the King of Spain declared war against the Duke of Savoy, who immediately appealed to France for aid, which was in the first instance refused; but, on the representations of the Marechal de Lesdiguieres, it was finally accorded, and troops were raised which proceeded to Piedmont under the command of that general.[322]

Such was the general aspect of the Court and kingdom of France at the close of the year 1617; of which we have considered it necessary to sketch the principal features, in order to remind the reader of the exact position of the country at the period of the Queen-mother's exile. Henceforward we shall principally confine ourselves to following her in her banishment.

FOOTNOTES:

[293] The Comte de Fiesque was the equerry of Anne of Austria.

[294] Le Vassor, vol. i. pp. 643, 644. Pontchartrain, Mem. p. 223.

[295] Sismondi, vol. xxii. pp. 396, 397. Richelieu, Mem. book viii. pp. 420-428. Rohan, Mem. p. 144. Le Vassor, vol. i. pp. 647-649. Mezeray, vol. xi. p. 139. Richelieu, Hist, de la Mere et du Fils vol. i. pp. 200-202.

[296] Richelieu, Hist. de la Mere et du Fils, vol. i. pp. 202-204.

[297] Siri, Mem. Rec. vol. iv. p. 63.

[298] Le Vassor, vol. i. p. 643.

[299] Rohan, Mem. book i.

[300] Bassompierre, Mem. p. 126. Le Vassor, vol. i. p. 653.

[301] Richelieu, Hist, de la Mere et du Fils, vol. i. p. 200.

[302] Deageant, Mem. pp. 65, 66.

[303] The dower of the widowed Queens of France was twelve hundred thousand annual livres.

[304] Mezeray, vol. xi. pp. 140, 141. Le Vassor, vol. i. pp. 655, 656. Sismondi, vol. xxii. p. 403.

[305] Jean Goujon, a celebrated architect and sculptor, who was surnamed the Correggio of sculpture from the grace and beauty of his productions. The finest of his statues was the Hunting Diana, which long formed one of the treasures of Malmaison. The Fountain of the Innocents, the bas-reliefs of the Hotel de Carnavalet, and those of the Louvre were alike the monuments of his genius. He was occupied in completing the latter when he was killed by the ball of a carbine during the massacre of St. Bartholomew.

[306] Richelieu, Unpublished MSS.

[307] Sismondi, vol. xxii. pp. 398-404. Bassompierre, Mem. pp. 126, 127. Le Vassor, vol. i. pp. 653-659. Mezeray, vol. xi. pp. 137-142. Brienne, Mem. vol. i. pp. 327-329.

[308] Rohan, Mem. book i. Le Vassor, vol. i. p. 659.

[309] Bassompierre, Mem. p. 128.

[310] Le Vassor, vol. i. p. 666. Relation de la mort du Marechal d'Ancre. Mezeray, vol. xi. pp. 142, 143. Dreux du Radier, vol. vi. pp. 123, 124. Brienne, Mem. vol. i. p. 333.

[311] Sismondi, vol. xxii. pp. 407, 408. Le Vassor, vol. i. pp. 667-672. Richelieu, Hist, de la Mere et du Fils, vol. i. pp. 223-230.

[312] This incapacity to hold office under the French Government was, moreover, on this occasion, declared thenceforward to extend to all individuals who were natives of other countries; and an attempt was made thirty years subsequently to render it applicable to Cardinal Mazarin.

[313] Bernard, book iii.

[314] Sismondi, vol. xxii. pp. 410, 411. Le Vassor, vol. i. pp. 674, 675.

[315] Marie de Rohan-Montbazon was the daughter of Hercule de Rohan, Due de Montbazon, and of his first wife, Madeleine de Lenoncourt. After the death of the Connetable de Luynes she married Claude de Lorraine, Due de Chevreuse, and became celebrated towards the close of the reign of Louis XIII, and during the minority of his successor, for her wit, her beauty, her profligacy, and her political intrigues. She died at a very advanced age in the year 1679.

[316] Brienne, Mm. vol. i. p. 333.

[317] Le Vassor, vol. i. p. 675. Sismondi, vol. xxii. pp. 430, 431.

[318] D'Hericourt, vol. i. p. 529.

[319] Le Vassor, vol. i. p. 678.

[320] By the Notables was understood a body of the most eminent individuals among the nobles, the clergy, and the law-officers; and as these were chosen by the ministers themselves, such an assembly could excite no apprehension among the Court party.

[321] Mezeray, vol. xi. pp. 144, 145.

[322] Sismondi, vol. xxii. p. 331.

END OF VOL. II