CHAPTER XIX.
The state of France at that time was curious, and worthy of a shortdescription. It shall be very short, reader, for I am aware how tiresomesuch details are to three classes of people,--to those who know everything, to those who know nothing, and to those who want to "get on withthe story." But it will save us a world of trouble hereafter, and spareus the use of that bad beast, Explanation, which is always trotting withthe wrong leg foremost.
In England, the Wars of the Roses, the salutary severity of that greatking, Richard the Third, the avarice of his successor, the tyranny ofthe eighth Henry and his two daughters, had swept away the exorbitantpower and privileges which the feudal system had conferred upon the highnobility. But in France not even the wise rigor of some of herkings--not even the sanguinary struggles of the League--had effectednearly so much. Indeed, the termination of the wars of the League hadwellnigh undone what had previously been accomplished toward restrictingthe inordinate independence of the nobles; for Henry IV., after havingconquered his enemies, was obliged to buy them, and to make concessionswhich would have rendered the sceptre powerless in any hand less mightythan his own.
When the knife of Ravaillac placed Louis XIII. on the throne of France,troubles of various kinds succeeded, which not only weakened the royalauthority but impoverished the kingdom; and at the moment when theCardinal de Richelieu laid his strong hand upon the reins of government,the weak monarch, feeling his own incompetence, had fallen almost into astate of despair from the troubles and dangers around him. But the wordsof an author who wrote while despotism still existed theoretically inFrance will give us a good picture of the ideas of the day, though wemay not coincide with him in his conclusions.
"Louis," says the writer of whom I speak, "to excuse the timidity of hiscouncil, did not fail to repeat the statements made to him every dayabout the weakness of his kingdom, and to assert that by a firmer coursehe would run the risk of bringing wars upon his hands which he could notsupport. The prelate [Richelieu] overthrew all these objections, byshowing the young monarch the resources of France,--her immensepopulation, the bravery of her inhabitants, the fertility of her soil,the abundance and variety of her productions, her beautiful forests, herquarries, the riches of her mines,--above all, her wine and her salt,gifts of Nature which other nations are obliged to come to her and askfor; her rivers almost all navigable, so favorable to internal commerce;her happy position between two seas, favorable to external; the strengthof her frontiers, defended by rivers and mountains, natural ramparts, orby cities which a little art would render impregnable; in fine, the veryconstitution of her government, which gave to a single man the power toput all these resources in action by one word and in one instant.
"Richelieu then proceeded to assert that the principal cause of thedepression of France amongst the nations was that she tolerated variousreligions in her bosom, and doubtless he had determined to root out thatevil; but there was another which he clearly saw, but concealed from theking, and against which he afterward waged a continual war, by art, byarms, and by the axe: this was the independent power of the nobles,which, in fact, gave all its strength to religious faction."
In that day, every high noble had his city or his castle, which he didnot scruple, on slight pretexts, to garrison against his sovereign, andvery often resisted the royal troops with so much success as to forcethe monarch to purchase his submission. Such was the case, but two orthree years before the time of which I write, with the Marquis de laForce at Montauban; such the case with the Count de Coligni at AiguesMortes. A marshal's baton, a large sum of money, the government of aprovince, the revenues of an abbey, were the reward of acts whichRichelieu resolved should in future be rewarded by exile or the axe.
A report of the surprise of one of these feudal fortresses at this veryperiod gives a vivid picture not only of the state of France in a timeof profound peace, but of the strength of the castle itself. "They [thecitizens of Chateau Renard]," says Monsieur de Fougeret, in his_Relation_, "obtained possession with the armed hand on the 27th May,1621, at four o'clock in the afternoon, of the fortress called theCastellet, which commanded their town, and in which the lords ofChatillon had kept a garrison for the last twenty-five years. The wallswere four toises and a half in thickness; and there were within manychambers, casemates, prisons, dungeons, cellars, a well, ovens,hand-mills, battering-pieces, falconets, powder, ammunition of everykind, and a private subterranean passage to come and go under cover allabout the said fortress, all terraced within."
Instead of attempting to remedy this state of things, Louis hadrecognised and acted upon the system which he had found in existence,and about this time, in the case of Richelieu himself, not onlypermitted him to maintain a guard of musketeers, but gave him the townof Brouage "as a place of surety."
To strike at the root of such a system of legalized rebellion at oncewas impossible; but the cardinal had resolved to make his master, or hismaster's minister, King of France in reality as well as in name, to curband humiliate the high nobility, and in the end to make them servantsinstead of rulers of the state. To effect this, the first step was tostrike them with terror, and, although the name of Richelieu had alreadybecome redoubtable to many, to make it a word of omen to all. The firstacts of a terrible tragedy arranged for that purpose were actuallypassing before the eyes of the court at the time when Edward Langdalearrived in Nantes. The Duke of Vendome, the governor of the province ofBretagne, and his brother the Grand Prior of France, were both alreadyprisoners in the castle of Amboise,--a place full of the memories ofcruelty, treachery, and crime; and Marshal Ornano was in the prison ofVincennes. Chalais--once a great favorite, and still Master of the Robesto the King--was in the dungeons of Nantes, waiting trial and judgmentby an iniquitous and illegal tribunal. No victims could have been betterchosen for the gods whom Richelieu sought to propitiate: Vendome and theGrand Prior were natural sons of Henry IV. and half-brothers of theactual monarch. The one humbled himself completely before the minister,and issued out of prison stripped of all his offices and property, andreduced to the revenue of a simple and even needy gentleman. The GrandPrior conceded nothing, confessed nothing, and died in prison. Ornanoalso died a captive, exclaiming, almost with his last breath, "Ah,cardinal, what power thou hast!" But the Count de Chalais was the choicevictim, reserved for the most conspicuous sacrifice. Of the high houseof Talleyrand-Perigord, grandson of the great and terrible Montluc, heldup to envy by the favor of the king and the high dignities to which heseemed treading a rapid course, the news that he was arrested, throwninto a solitary dungeon, forbidden communication with any one, to betried by a high commission, spread that air of fear and gloom over thecourt and city which Edward Langdale had remarked on entering Nantes. Noone knew how far the conspiracy extended; no one knew who was next tofall. All were aware, however, that the number of noble gentlemen andladies under suspicion was immense, and that the king's own brotherhimself trembled at the consequences of his rash acts and purposes. Apause of hope came in the midst of all these disquietudes. Thecommission had sat once, presided over by Marillac, the lord-keeper; andit began to be whispered that the prisoner had defended himself so well,had cast so much suspicion upon the documents produced against him, andhad shown so clearly that the graver parts of the accusation wereutterly improbable and probably false, that even the fickle king, whoseaffection he had long lost, expressed convictions in his favor. But thatsame day, in the darkness of the night, Richelieu's chamber was leftvacant; that same night a muffled cavalier passed Edward Langdale anddescended to the dungeons; that same night the jailer gave the strangeradmission to the cell of the unhappy Count de Chalais; and that samenight the king was roused to receive the cardinal, bearing himimportant intelligence.
Previous to that hour, Richelieu had been restless, imperious, anxious,irritable: the first proceedings of the commissioners had brought him,evidently, any thing but satisfaction; but a strange change came overhim in a few hours. When De Tronson visited him on the morning of
theday succeeding his mysterious interview with the prisoner Chalais, hefound him calm, placable, even sportive. The mind was evidently at ease:he had slept, he said, like a child: some great object wasaccomplished,--some mighty triumph gained,--some move on the widechess-board made which insured the game. There had been a moment ofapprehension, a moment of danger: if he failed against Chalais, thefabric of his power, the cement of which was hardly dry, would tumbleabout his ears. But Richelieu was not destined to fail. He had taken thenecessary course, however terrible, however unusual, however strange;and now he could not only repose in peace, but he could be as playful ashis cat.
The cardinal's equipage had been ordered for his beautiful house ofBeauregard, not far from the walls of Nantes, at one o'clock; and he setout for that place at the exact hour. Shortly after he was gone, theDuke of Anjou applied to see him at his usual apartments in the castle.The air of the king's brother was somewhat troubled,--not greatly, forhe thought he had assured himself that the rumor of Chalais having madesome unexpected confession was false. The duke was, as all the worldknew, timid and feeble, and less personally brave than his brother; andthe very first reports of a confession made by Chalais, which he fearedmight compromise himself, had induced him to see the king and ask hispermission to go for a few days to the sea-side to recover his health.Louis, with his habitual hypocrisy, caressed his brother, whom he hated,but told him he must apply to the cardinal for the permission herequired. The manner of the king was so gentle and so smooth that Gastonof Anjou was quite deceived. He mounted his horse within the hour, and,followed by a gay and brilliant company, rode out for Beauregard.Richelieu had watched his coming from the window, and met him at thetop of the great stairs. He conducted the prince into his privatecabinet, and then begged him to be seated, himself standing in thepresence of his sovereign's brother.
"Monsieur le Cardinal, I am anxious to go to the sea-side for a shorttime," said Gaston, "and my brother has no objection; but he requiresfirst that I shall obtain your consent."
"How does your royal Highness propose to travel?" asked the minister.
"Oh, quite simply," replied the prince; "in fact, _incognito_."
"Would it not be better for your Highness to wait," said Richelieu, "atleast, till your marriage with Mademoiselle de Montpensier has takenplace? Then you can travel as a prince."
That marriage had been the central point of all the plots and intriguesof the court for months. Richelieu, knowing the volatile and intriguingspirit of the prince, as well as his wild ambition, had determined thatGaston should wed a French gentlewoman, whatever wealth she might bringhim, rather than a princess who would insure to him the dangeroussupport of foreign aid. Chalais and his party had opposed such a union;Gaston had joined them; and round this simple opposition, Richelieu hadwoven a web of mingled facts and falsehoods which was of a far strongertexture than the young duke fancied at that moment.
"If I wait till I am married to Mademoiselle de Montpensier," said theDuc d'Anjou, "I shall not get to the sea-side this summer, at least."
"Why so?" asked the cardinal. "Why cannot the marriage take place in afew days?"
"I do not feel well," said the prince, who did not venture to say hewould not conclude the marriage at all: "I am ill, and would ratherregain my health before I marry. The sea-air will do me good."
The serpent-smile came upon Richelieu's lips again. "Oh, I have aprescription," he said, "which will cure the malady of your Highnessvery rapidly."
"How soon?" asked the prince, in a hesitating tone, not liking thatsmile, which he had seen before.
"In ten minutes," answered Richelieu, "for it cannot take long to act."And, opening his portfolio, he took forth a paper all written in a handwhich Gaston knew too well. There, before his eyes, all apparently inthe writing of the unhappy Chalais, was a confession of a treasonableconspiracy against the king and the state, in which he himself, Gastonof Anjou, and the young Queen Anne of Austria, were implicated by name.How much was really written by Chalais, how much had been added by thecardinal's skilful secretaries, has never been known; but Gaston wasconscious that he was lost if he did not make his peace. After a momentof stupefied astonishment, he agreed to the proposed marriage,--agreedthat it should take place immediately; but then, remembering his highposition as brother of the reigning monarch and heir-presumptive to thethrone, he began to make conditions,--demanded some security for thelife, at least, of his friend and partisan Chalais.
But the terrible words which had long been hanging on the cardinal'slips were spoken at last, when the prince proposed some stipulations."Perhaps," he said, "in the position in which your Highness now stands,it would be better to content yourself with the promise of your own lifeand liberty."
The young duke stood like one stupefied. The audacious idea that he--he,Gaston of Anjou--might possibly be brought to trial, condemned,executed, or sentenced to perpetual imprisonment, was spoken with calmcivility, with courtly reverence for his high rank, but in a tone socold, so grave, so determined, as to show that it was not unfamiliar tohim who uttered it. A vague impression of the character of the man withwhom he had to do--no definite perception, no clear insight into hischaracter, but a sort of instinct, which seemed given to him on a suddenfor his preservation--took possession of Gaston of Anjou. He yielded atonce and entirely. A faint, hypocritical effort in favor of the unhappyChalais, which Richelieu well knew how to parry with soft words andhalf-promises, was all that the selfish prince ventured to attempt.Toward himself, however, the minister showed himself unbounded inliberality. Dukedoms, Government posts to the amount of a million ofrevenue, were promised and given on the marriage of Monsieur withMademoiselle de Montpensier; and the contract was sealed with the bloodof Chalais. It was a part of Richelieu's system.
Vialart, Bishop of Avranches, a contemporary, remarks that the greatminister was accustomed, in dealing with those nobles who had any realpretensions, to grant them even more than they could rightly claim; but,if they showed themselves insensible to such conduct, from that momenthe had no mercy on them. It was a part of his system, also, to teach oneto betray another. The weaknesses of the men with whom he had to doserved him as much as their strength.
The art of fathoming the characters of those who surround us, and thescience of applying their strong qualities against our enemies and usingtheir weaknesses against themselves, is the great secret of ambition. Byit, every usurper has risen to power; by it, most have maintainedthemselves in authority; and when they have fallen, it has been morefrequently by a mistake in the character of others than by want of forcein their own. It may seem a Machiavelian axiom; but, had I the wisdom ofthe great Florentine, I should not be at all ashamed of being compared,even in one short passage, to that wise, virtuous, much-misunderstoodman. The axiom, however, applies as closely to nations as toindividuals. It resolves itself simply into this:--Who knows a nationbest will rule that nation best. We have a thousand illustrations of thefact; and Richelieu certainly knew the French nation--that is to saywhen speaking of those times--knew the nobility, as well as man couldknow them,--in the mass, and individually; and, whenever it suited hispurpose to be stern, he knew no pity, showed no compassion; wheneverthere was no object in severity, he was kind, or gentle, or sportive.
The well-known anecdote of Boisrobert and Mademoiselle de Gournay, whenthe former induced Richelieu to bestow upon the good old poetess, firsta pension of a hundred crowns for herself, then a pension of fiftycrowns for her chambermaid, then a pension of twenty crowns for her cat,and, lastly, a pistole for each of the cat's kittens, shows to whatextent his good-humor could be carried. On the other hand, the fate ofChalais, Montmorency, Cinq Mars, De Thou, Marillac, and a host ofothers, gives fearful evidence of his relentless vengeance. At theperiod of which I write, however, the harsher points of his characterhad not fully developed themselves: perhaps they were not fully formed;for the minister whom we see represented on the stage, at this veryperiod of his history, as an old and almost decrepit man struggling with
an imaginary conspiracy, was really only forty-two years of age, andvigorous in body as in intellect.[2]
[Footnote 2: In the beautiful play of Richelieu, by Sir Edward Lytton,Richelieu is always dressed and represented, both on the English andAmerican stage, as a very old and feeble man. The period of Richelieu'slife is marked in the play by the introduction of Baradas. Now, Baradassucceeded Chalais in the favor of Louis XIII., and was exiled within theyear. His fall from high favor and great wealth to his originalobscurity and actual poverty was caused by no crime or conspiracy on hispart, but merely by his rudeness and imprudence.]
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