Читать книгу The Life of Queen Marie de Medicis - Miss Pardoe - Страница 11

Court festivities--Madame de Verneuil is lodged in the palace--She gives birth to a daughter--Royal quarrels--Mademoiselle de Guise--Italian actors--Revolt at Metz--Henry proceeds thither and suppresses the rebellion--Discontent of the Duc d'Epernon--The Duchesse de Bar and the Duc de Lorraine arrive in France--Illness of Queen Elizabeth of England--Her death--Indisposition of the French King--Sully at Fontainebleau--Confidence of Henri IV in his wife--His recovery--Renewed passion of Henry for Madame de Verneuil--Anger of the Queen--Quarrel of the Comte de Soissons and the Duc de Sully--The edict--Treachery of Madame de Verneuil--Insolence of the Comte de Soissons--A royal rebuke--Alarm of Madame de Verneuil--Hopes of the Queen--Jealousy of the Marquise--The dinner at Rosny--The King pacifies the province of Lower Normandy--The Comte de Soissons prepares to leave the kingdom--Is dissuaded by the King--Official apology of Sully--Reception of Alexandre-Monsieur into the Order of the Knights of Malta--Death of the Duchesse de Bar--Grief of the King--The Papal Nuncio--Treachery near the throne--A revelation--The Duc de Villeroy--A stormy audience--Escape of L'Hôte--His pursuit--His death--Ignominious treatment of his body--Madame de Verneuil asserts her claim to the hand of the King--The Comte d'Auvergne retires from the Court--Madame de Verneuil requests permission to quit France--Reply of the King--Indignation of Marie--The King resolves to obtain the written promise of marriage--Insolence of the favourite--Weakness of Henry--He asks the advice of Sully--Parallel between a wife and a mistress--A lame apology--The two Henrys--Reconciliation between the King and the favourite--Remonstrances of Sully--A delicate dilemma--Extravagance of the Queen--The "Pot de Vin"--The royal letter--Evil influences--Henry endeavours to effect a reconciliation with the Queen--Difficult diplomacy--A temporary calm--Renewed differences--A minister at fault--Mademoiselle de la Bourdaisière--Mademoiselle de Beuil--Jealousy of Madame de Verneuil--Conspiracy of the Comte d'Auvergne--Intemperance of the Queen--Timely interference--Confidence accorded by the Queen to Sully--A dangerous suggestion--Sully reconciles the royal couple--Madame de Verneuil is exiled from the Court--She joins the conspiracy of her brother--The forged contract--Apology of the Comte d'Entragues--Promises of Philip of Spain to the conspirators--Duplicity of the Comte d'Auvergne--He is pardoned by the King--His treachery suspected by M. de Loménie--D'Auvergne escapes to his government:--Is made prisoner and conveyed to the Bastille--His self-confidence--A devoted wife--The requirements of a prisoner--Hidden documents--The treaty with Spain--The Comtesse d'Entragues--Haughty demeanour of Madame de Verneuil--The mistress and the minister--Mortification of Sully--Marriage of Mademoiselle de Beuil--Henry embellishes the city of Paris and undertakes other great national works.

A few weeks after the birth of Madame Elisabeth the Court returned to Paris, where, in honour of the little Princess, several ballets were danced and a grand banquet was given to the sovereigns by the nobility; but the heart of the Queen was too full of chagrin to enable her to assist with even a semblance of gratification at the festivities in which those around her were absorbed. The new-born tenderness lately exhibited by her husband had gradually diminished; while the assumption of the favourite, who was once more in her turn about to become a mother, exceeded all decent limits. The daily and almost hourly disputes between the royal couple were renewed with greater bitterness than ever, and when, on the 21st of January, Madame de Verneuil, like herself, and again under the same roof, gave birth to a daughter,[210] Marie de Medicis no longer attempted to suppress the violence of her indignation; nor was it until the King, alike chafed and bewildered by her upbraidings, declared that should she persist in rendering his existence one of perpetual turmoil and discomfort he would fulfil his former threat of compelling her to quit the kingdom, that he could induce her to desist from receiving him with complaints and reproaches. Henry was aware that he had discovered, by the assertion of this resolve, a certain method of silencing his unfortunate consort, who, had she been childless, would in all probability gladly have sacrificed her ambition to her sense of dignity; but Marie was a mother, and she felt that her own destiny must be blended with that of her offspring. Thus she had nothing left to her save to submit; and deeply as she suffered from the indignities which were heaped upon her as a wife, she shrank from a prospect so appalling as a separation from the innocent beings to whom she had given life.

Meanwhile the King, wearied alike of the exigencies of his mistress and the cold, unbending deportment of the Queen, again made approaches to Mademoiselle de Guise, upon whom he had already, a year or two previously, lavished all those attentions which bespoke alike his admiration and his designs; but he was not destined to be more successful with this lady than before, her intimacy with the Queen, to whose household she was attached, rendering her still more averse than formerly to encourage the licentious addresses of the monarch. The excitement of this new passion nevertheless sufficed for a time to wean him from his old favourite; and forgetting his age in his anxiety to win the favour of the beautiful and witty Marguerite, he appeared on the 19th of February in a rich suit of white satin in the court of the Tuileries, where he had invited the nobles of his Court to run at the ring, and acquitted himself so dexterously that he twice carried it off amid the acclamations of the spectators.

From this period until the end of the month the royal circle were engaged in one continual succession of festivities, wherein high play, banquets, ballets, balls (at the latter of which a species of dance denominated Braules, and corrupted by the English into Brawls, which became afterwards so popular at the Court of Elizabeth, was of constant occurrence, as well as the Corranto, a livelier but less graceful movement), and theatrical representations formed the principal features. An Italian company invited to France by the Queen, under the management of Isabella Andrëini, also appeared before the Court, but no record is left of the nature of their performance.[211]

From this temporary oblivion of all political anxiety Henry was, however, suddenly aroused by a rumour which reached the Court of a revolt in the town of Metz, which proved to be only too well founded. For some time previously great discontent had existed among the citizens, who considered themselves aggrieved by the tyranny of the two lieutenants[212] of the Duc d'Epernon their governor; and to such a height had their opposition to this delegated authority at length risen that the Duke found himself compelled to proceed to the city, in order, if possible, to reconcile the conflicting parties. This intelligence had no sooner been communicated to the King than he resolved to profit by so favourable an opportunity of repossessing himself, not only of the town itself, but of the whole province of Messin, in order to disable the Duc d'Epernon (against whom his suspicions had already been aroused) from making hereafter a disloyal use of the power which his authority over so important a territory afforded to him of contravening the measures of the sovereign. The fortress was one of great importance to Henry, who was aware of the necessity of placing it in the safe keeping of an individual upon whom he could place the fullest and most perfect reliance; and the more so that M. d'Epernon had, during the reign of Henri III, rather assumed in Metz the state of a sovereign prince than fulfilled the functions of its governor, and that he would, as the King at once felt, if not opposed, resist any encroachment upon his self-constituted privileges. The revolt of the Messinese (for, as was soon ascertained, the disaffection was not confined to the city, but extended throughout the whole of the adjoining country) afforded an admirable opening for the royal intervention, and Henry instantly decided upon visiting the province in person, accompanied by his whole Court, before the two factions should have time to reconcile their differences and to deprecate his interference. At the close of February he accordingly commenced his journey, despite the inclemency of the weather and the unfavourable condition of the roads, which rendered travelling difficult and at times even dangerous for the Queen and her attendant ladies; and pretexting a visit to his sister the Duchesse de Bar, he advanced to Verdun, where he remained for a few days ere he finally made his entry into Metz.

So unexpected an apparition paralyzed all parties. M. d'Epernon having refused to consent to the removal of Sobole, who was, as he knew, devoted to his interests, had failed to appease the indignation of the Messinese, who were consequently eager to obtain justice from the King; while Sobole himself, after a momentary vision of fortifying the citadel and defying the royal authority, became convinced that his design was not feasible; and he accordingly obeyed without a murmur the sentence of banishment pronounced against him, gave up the fortress unconditionally, and left the province.

Sobole had no sooner resigned his trust than the King appointed M. de Montigny lieutenant-governor of the province of Messin, and his brother, M. d'Arquien,[213] lieutenant-governor of the town and fortress; while the garrison was replaced by a portion of the bodyguard by which the monarch had been accompanied from the capital.

The vexation of the Duc d'Epernon was extreme, but he dared not expostulate, although he at once perceived that his power was annihilated. So long as his lieutenants had been creatures of his own, his dominion over the province had been absolute; but when they were thus replaced by officers of the King's selection, his influence became merely nominal; so great, moreover, had been the tact of Henry, that he had found means to compel the Duke himself to solicit the dismissal of Sobole and his brother, in order to assure his own tenure of office; and he was consequently placed in a position which rendered all semblance of discontent impossible, while the citizens, delighted to find themselves thus unexpectedly revenged upon their oppressors, and proud of the presence of the sovereigns within their walls, were profuse in their demonstrations of loyalty and attachment.

A slight indisposition having detained the King for a longer period than he had anticipated at Metz, the Duchesse de Bar, the Duc de Lorraine, and the Duc and Duchesse de Deux-Ponts, arrived on the 16th of March to welcome him to the province. Thereupon a series of entertainments was given to these distinguished guests which was long matter of tradition among the Messinese; and which resulted in the betrothal of Mademoiselle de Rohan and the young Duc de Deux-Ponts.[214]

While still sojourning at Metz, information reached Henry of the serious illness of Elizabeth of England; a despatch having been forwarded to the monarch by the Comte de Beaumont,[215] his ambassador at the Court of London, informing him of the apprehensions which were entertained that her Majesty could not survive so grave a malady. The effect of this intelligence was to induce the King to hasten his return to his capital, and he accordingly prepared for immediate departure; but he was finally prevailed upon to sojourn for a few days at Nancy, where Madame (his sister) had prepared a magnificent ballet, which was accordingly performed, greatly to the admiration of the two Courts. Henry, however, whose anxiety exceeded all bounds, caused courier after courier to be despatched for tidings of the illustrious invalid, and took little share in the festivities which were designed to do him honour. He was probably on the eve, as he declared in a letter to the Duc de Sully, of losing an ally who was the enemy of his enemies, and a second self, while he was totally ignorant of the views and feelings of her successor.

His forebodings were verified, for ere the Court left Nancy, Elizabeth had breathed her last; which intelligence was immediately conveyed to him, together with the assurance that her council had secured the person of the Lady Arabella Stuart, the cousin of the King of Scotland, and that there was consequently nothing to fear as regarded the succession. The death of Elizabeth did not in fact in any respect affect the relative position of the two countries, neither Henri IV nor James I. being desirous to terminate the good understanding which existed between them; and on the 30th of July a treaty of confederation was concluded between the two sovereigns by Sully, in which they were mutually pledged to protect the United Provinces of the Low Countries against their common enemy Philip of Spain.

But, notwithstanding the apparent certainty of a continuance of his amicable relations with England, whether it were that this fatal intelligence operated upon the bodily health of the King, or that his hasty journey homeward had overtaxed his strength, it is certain that on reaching Fontainebleau he had so violent an attack of fever as to be compelled to countermand the council which had been convened for the third day after his arrival. The Court physicians, bewildered by so sudden and severe an illness, declared the case to be a hopeless one; while Henry himself, believing that his end was approaching, caused a letter to be written to Sully to desire his immediate attendance.[216] So fully, indeed, did he appear to anticipate a fatal termination of the attack, that while awaiting the arrival of the minister, he caused the portrait of the Dauphin to be brought to him; and after remaining for a few seconds with his eyes earnestly fixed upon it, he exclaimed, with a deep sigh: "Ha! poor child, what will you have to suffer if your father should be taken from you!" [217]

SULLY.

Sully lost no time in obeying the melancholy summons of the King; and, on arriving at Fontainebleau, at once made his way to the royal chamber, where he indeed found Henry in his bed, but with no symptoms of immediate dissolution visible either in his countenance or manner. The Queen sat beside him with one of his hands clasped in hers; and as he remarked the entrance of the Duke, he extended the other, exclaiming: "Come and embrace me, my friend; I rejoice at your arrival. Within two hours after I had written to you I was in a great degree relieved from pain; and I have since gradually recovered from the attack. Here," he continued, turning towards the Queen, "is the most trustworthy and intelligent of all my servants, who would have assisted you better than any other in the preservation alike of my kingdom and of my children, had I been taken away. I am aware that his humour is somewhat austere, and at times perhaps too independent for a mind like yours; and that there would not have been many wanting who might, in consequence, have endeavoured to alienate from him the affections of yourself and of my children; but should it ever be so, do not yield too ready a credence to their words. I sent for him expressly that I might consult with both of you upon the best method to avert so great an evil; but, thanks be to God, I feel that such a precaution was in this instance unnecessary." [218]

Sully, in describing this scene, withholds all comment upon the King's perfect confidence in the heart and intellect of his royal consort; but none can fail to feel that the moment must have been a proud one for Marie, in which she became conscious that the nobler features of her character had been thoroughly appreciated by her husband. The vanity of the woman could well afford to slumber while the value of the wife and of the Queen was thus openly and generously acknowledged.

And truly did Marie de Medicis need a remembrance like this to support her throughout her unceasing trials; for scarcely had the King recovered sufficient strength to encounter the exertion than he determined to remove to Paris; and, having intimated his wish to the Queen, immediate preparations were made for their departure. They arrived in the capital totally unexpected at nine o'clock in the morning, and alighted at the Hôtel de Gondy, where Henry took a temporary leave of his wife, and hastened to the residence of Madame de Verneuil, with whom he remained until an hour after mid-day; thence he proceeded to the abode of M. le Grand, with whom he dined; nor was it until a late hour that he rejoined the Queen,[219] who at once became aware that the temporary separation between the monarch and his favourite, occasioned by the journey to Metz, had failed to produce the effect which she had been sanguine enough to anticipate.

Nor did Marie deceive herself; for, during the sojourn of the Court at Paris, which lasted until the month of June, Henry abandoned himself with even less reserve than formerly to his passion for the Marquise; while the forsaken Queen--who hourly received information of the impertinent assumption of that lady, and who was assured that she had renewed with more arrogance, and more openly than ever, her pretended claim to the hand of the sovereign--unable to conceal her indignation, embittered the casual intercourse between herself and her royal consort with complaints and upbraidings which irritated and angered the King; and at length caused an estrangement between them greater than any which had hitherto existed. There can be little doubt that this period of Marie's life was a most unhappy one. Deprived even of the presence of her children, who, from considerations of health, had been removed to St. Germain-en-Laye, and who could not in consequence be the solace of every weary hour, she found her only consolation in the society of her immediate household, and the zealous devotion of Madame de Concini; to whose first-born child she became joint sponsor with M. de Soissons, greatly to the annoyance of the King, who watched with a jealous eye the ever-increasing influence of the Florentine favourite.

Previously to her marriage with the Duc de Bar, Madame, the King's sister, had affianced herself to M. de Soissons; but the circumstance no sooner became known to Henry than he expressed his extreme distaste at such an union, and directed the Duc de Sully to expostulate with both parties, and to induce them, should it be possible, to abandon the project, and to give a written promise never to renew their engagement. In this difficult and delicate mission the minister ultimately succeeded; but since that period a coldness had existed between the two nobles which at length terminated in mutual dissension and avoidance. It was, consequently, with considerable surprise that while preparing for his embassy to England, where he was entrusted with the congratulations of his own sovereign to James I. on his accession, M. de Sully found himself on one occasion addressed by the Prince in an accent of warmth and friendliness to which he had long been unaccustomed from his lips; and heard him cordially express his obligation for some service which, in his official capacity, the minister had lately rendered him, and declare that thenceforward he should never recur to the past, but rather trust that for the future they might be firm and fast friends. Sully answered in the same spirit; and thus a misunderstanding which had disturbed the whole Court, where each had partisans who violently defended his cause, and thus rendered the schism more serious than it might otherwise have been, was apparently terminated; but the Duke had no sooner returned to France than it was renewed more bitterly than ever, to the extreme annoyance of the King, who was reluctant to interfere; the high rank of M. de Soissons on the one hand, and the eminent services of Sully on the other, rendering him equally averse to dissatisfy either party.

In the month of August 1603 the Comte de Soissons, whose lavish expenditure made it important for him to increase his income by some new concession on the part of the monarch, held an earnest consultation with Madame de Verneuil, with whom he was on the closest terms of intimacy, as to the most feasible method of effecting his object, and it was at length determined that the Prince should solicit the privilege of exacting a duty of fifteen sous upon every bale of cloth, either imported or exported throughout the kingdom; while the Marquise pledged herself to exert her influence to induce the King to consent to the arrangement, for which service she was to receive one-fifth of the proceeds resulting from the tax. Extraordinary as such a demand must appear in the present day, it was, according to Sully, by no means an unusual one at that period; when, by his rigorous retrenchments, he had greatly reduced the revenues of the Court nobles, and put it out of the power of the monarch to bestow upon them, as he had formerly done, the most lavish sums from his own privy purse; thus inducing them to adopt every possible expedient in order to increase their diminished incomes. Sympathizing with the annoyance of his impoverished courtiers, and anxious to silence their murmurs, the good-natured and reckless sovereign seldom met their requests with a denial, and from this abuse a number of petty taxes, each perhaps insignificant in itself, but in the aggregate amounting to a heavy infliction upon the people, were levied on all sides, and under all pretences; and the evil at length became so serious that the prudent minister found it necessary to expostulate respectfully with his royal master upon the danger of such a system, and to entreat of him to discountenance any further imposts which had no tendency to increase the revenues of the state, but merely served to encourage the prodigality of the nobles.

It was precisely at this unpropitious moment that M. de Soissons proffered his demand, which was warmly seconded by Madame de Verneuil, who represented to the monarch the impossibility of his refusing a favour of this nature to a Prince of the Blood, when he had so frequently made concessions of the same nature to individuals of inferior rank; and the certainty that, were his request negatived, M. de Soissons would not fail to feel himself at once injured and aggrieved. Still, mindful of the promise which had been extorted from him by Sully, the King hesitated; but upon being more urgently pressed by the favourite, he at length demanded what would be the probable yearly produce of the tax, when he was assured by the Count that it could not exceed ten thousand crowns; upon which Henry, who was anxious not to irritate him by a refusal where the favour solicited was so comparatively insignificant, at once signified his compliance; and as the subject had been cleverly mooted by the two interested parties at Fontainebleau, while the minister of finance was absent in the capital, Madame de Verneuil, by dint of importunity, succeeded in inducing the monarch to sign an order for the immediate imposition of the duty in favour of M. de Soissons; but before he was prevailed upon to do this, he declared to the Prince that he should withdraw his consent to the arrangement, if it were proved that the produce of the tax exceeded the yearly sum of fifty thousand francs, or that it pressed too heavily upon the people and the commercial interests of the kingdom. This reservation was by no means palatable to M. de Soissons, who had, when questioned as to the amount likely to be derived from the transaction, answered rather from impulse than calculation; but as the said reservation was merely verbal, while the edict authorizing the levy of the impost was tangible and valid, the Prince, after warmly expressing his acknowledgments to the monarch, carried off the document without one misgiving of success.

Henry, however, when he began to reflect upon the nature of the concession which he had been prevailed upon to make, could not suppress a suspicion that it was more important than it had at first appeared; and, conscious that he had falsified his promise to the minister, he resolved to ascertain the extent of his imprudence. He accordingly, the same evening, despatched a letter to Sully, in which, without divulging what had taken place, he directed him to ascertain the probable proceeds of such a tax, and the effect which it was likely to produce upon those on whom it would be levied.

So unexpected an inquiry startled the finance minister, who instantly apprehended that a fresh attack had been made upon the indulgence of the monarch; and he forthwith anxiously commenced a calculation, based upon solid and well-authenticated documents, which resulted in the discovery that the annual amount of such an impost could not be less than three hundred thousand crowns; while it must necessarily so seriously affect the trade in flax and hemp, that it was likely to ruin the provinces of Brittany and Normandy, as well as a great part of Picardy.

Under these circumstances it was decided between Henry and his minister, that the latter should withhold his signature to the order which had been extorted from the King; without which, or a letter from the sovereign specially commanding the registration of the edict by the Parliament, the document was invalid. There can be no doubt that the most manly and dignified course which the monarch could have adopted, would have been to inform M. de Soissons of the result of the verification which had been made; and to have declared that, in accordance with his expressed determination when conditionally conceding the edict, he had resolved, upon ascertaining the magnitude of the sum which must be levied by such a tax, not to permit its operation. This was not, however, the manner in which Henry met the difficulty. He felt that his position was an onerous one, and he gladly transferred his responsibility to M. de Sully; who accordingly, upon the application of the Prince for his signature, in order that the document might be laid before the Parliament and thus rendered available, declined to accede to the request; alleging that the affair was one of such extreme importance, that he dared not take upon himself to forward it without the concurrence of the council.

M. de Soissons urged and expostulated in vain; the minister was inflexible; and at length the Prince withdrew, but not before he had given vent to his indignation with a bitterness which convinced his listener that thenceforward all kindly feeling between them was at an end.

But if the Count thus suffered himself to be defeated by a first refusal, Madame de Verneuil was by no means inclined to follow his example. Baffled but not beaten, she resolved upon returning to the charge; and accordingly she drove to the residence of the minister, and met him at the door of his closet as he was about to proceed to the Louvre, in order to have an interview with the King.

There was an expression of haughty defiance in the eye of the favourite, and a heightened colour upon her cheek, which at once betrayed to Sully the purpose of her visit; while he on his side received her with a calm courtesy which was ill-calculated to inspire her with any hope of success; and she had scarcely seated herself before he gave her reason to perceive that he was as little inclined to temporize as herself. When they met he held in his hand a roll of paper, which, even after she had entered the apartment, he still continued to grasp with a pertinacity that did not fail to attract her attention.

"And what may be the precious document, Monsieur le Ministre," she demanded flippantly, "of which you find it so impossible to relax your hold?"

"A precious document indeed, Madame," was the abrupt reply, "and one in which you figure among many others." So saying, he unrolled the scroll, and read aloud a list of edicts, solicited or granted, similar to that of the Comte de Soissons, one of which bore her own name.

"And what are you about to do with it?" she asked.

"To make it the subject of a remonstrance to his Majesty."

"Truly," exclaimed the Marquise, no longer able to control her rage, "the King will be well-advised should he listen to your caprices, and by so doing affront twenty individuals of the highest quality. Upon whom should he confer such favours as these, if not upon the Princes of the Blood, his cousins, his relatives, and his mistresses?"

"That might be very well," replied the minister, totally unmoved by her insolence, "if the King could pay these sums out of his own privy purse; but that they should be levied upon the merchant, the artizan, and the labourer, is entirely out of the question. It is they who feed both him and us; and one master is enough, without their being compelled to support so many cousins, relatives, and mistresses." [220]

Madame de Verneuil could bear no more; but rising passionately from her chair, she left the room without even a parting salutation to the plain-spoken minister, who saw her depart with as much composure as he had seen her enter; and quietly rolling up the obnoxious document which had formed the subject of discussion between them, he in his turn got into his carriage, and proceeded to the Louvre.

Furious alike at her want of success and at the affront which had been put upon her, the Marquise drove from the Arsenal to the hotel of M. de Soissons; where, still smarting under the rebuff of the uncompromising Duke, she did not scruple sufficiently to garble his words to give them all the appearance of a premeditated and wilful insult to the Prince personally. She assured him that in reply to her remark that the relatives of the monarch possessed the greatest claim upon his liberality, M. de Sully had retorted by the observation that the King had too many kinsmen, and that it would be well for the nation could it be delivered from some of them.

This report so exasperated M. de Soissons, that on the following morning he demanded an audience of the sovereign, during which he bitterly inveighed against the arrogance and presumption of the minister, and claimed instant redress for this affront to his honour and his dignity as a Prince of the Blood; haughtily declaring that should the King refuse to do him justice, he would find means to avenge himself.

The unseemly violence of the Count, by offending the self-respect of the monarch, could not have failed, under any circumstances, to defeat its own object; but aware as he was that Sully had sought only the preservation of his master's interests, Henry was even less inclined than he might otherwise have been to yield to a dictation of this imperious nature. The very excess of his indignation consequently rendered him calm and self-possessed, and thus at once gave him a decided advantage over his excited interlocutor. Instead of retorting angrily, and involving himself in an undignified dispute, he replied to the intemperate language of the Count by calmly inquiring if he were to understand that M. de Sully had addressed the obnoxious remark which was the subject of complaint to the Prince himself, or if it had merely been reported to him by a third person. To this question M. de Soissons impatiently replied that the insult had not indeed been uttered to himself personally, but that the individual by whom it was communicated to him was above all suspicion; while he moreover considered that his assurance of its truth ought to suffice, as he was incapable of falsehood.

"Were it so, cousin," said Henry coldly, "you would differ greatly from the other members of your family, especially your elder brother; but since you appear to place so perfect a reliance on the veracity of your informant, you have only to name him to me, and to explain precisely what he alleges to have passed, and I shall then understand what is necessary to be done, and will endeavour to satisfy you as far as I can reasonably do so."

M. de Soissons was not, however, prepared to involve Madame de Verneuil in a quarrel which threatened the most serious results; and he consequently declared that he had plighted his word not to divulge the identity of his informant; a promise which he, moreover, considered to be utterly unnecessary, as he was ready to pledge himself to the entire truth of what he had advanced.

"So, cousin," said the King with an ambiguous smile, "you screen yourself under the shadow of an oath from revealing to me what I desire to know; then I, in my turn, swear not to believe one syllable of your complaint beyond what M. de Sully may himself report to me; for I hold his veracity in as great estimation as you do that of the nameless partisan to whom you are indebted for the fine story you have inflicted upon me."

It was in somewhat the same frame of mind in which the Marquise had quitted the finance minister that M. de Soissons, as the King rose and thus indicated the termination of the interview, passed from the royal closet; nor did he retire until he had indulged in such unrestrained threats of vengeance that Henry considered it expedient to despatch Zamet without delay to the Arsenal to warn Sully to be upon his guard against the impetuous Prince, and not to venture abroad without a sufficient suite; while at the same time the messenger was instructed to inquire if the obnoxious expression had indeed been used, and to whom.

On being apprised of the visit which had been paid by Madame de Verneuil to the Duke, the King instantly comprehended the whole intrigue, and at once declared that it was useless to search further; as he well knew that she possessed both malice and invention enough to distort the words of the minister to her own purposes; an admission which indicated for the moment a considerable decrease of infatuation on the part of her royal lover.[221]

That this had, however, already become evident, was exemplified by the fact that upon some rumour of the kind being addressed to the Duchesse de Rohan, coupled with an inference that the infidelity of Madame de Verneuil had become known to the King, the young Duchess had gaily replied: "What could he anticipate? How was it possible for love to nestle between a mouth and chin which are always interfering with each other?" [222]

It is scarcely doubtful that the present incautious proceeding of the Marquise tended to shake the confidence which Henry had hitherto felt in an affection so admirably simulated that it might have inspired trust in an individual of far inferior rank. He could not overlook the fact that Madame de Verneuil had presumed to declare herself hostile to his favourite minister, and had even made a tool of one of the Princes of the Blood; an affront to himself which he resented after his accustomed fashion, by withdrawing himself from her society, and assiduously appearing in the private circle of the Queen.

On this occasion, however, week succeeded week, and the monarch still continued to avoid the enraged favourite; and even occasionally alluded to her with a contempt which stung her haughty and presumptuous spirit beyond endurance. She saw her little Court melting away, her flatterers dispersing, and her friends becoming estranged; nor could she conceal from herself that if she failed shortly to discover some method of estranging Henry from the Queen, and once more asserting her own influence, all her greatness would be scattered to the winds. Her vanity was also as deeply involved as her ambition, for she had hitherto believed her power over the affections of the King to be so entire that he could not liberate himself from her thrall; yet now, in the zenith of her beauty, in the pride of her intellect, and in the very climax of her favour, she found herself suddenly abandoned, as if the effort had not cost a single struggle to her royal lover.

Marie de Medicis, meanwhile, was happy. She cared not to look back upon the past; she sought not to look forward into the future; to her the present was all in all, and she began to encourage bright dreams of domestic bliss, by which she had never before been visited since the first brief month of her marriage. So greatly indeed did her new-born happiness embellish the exulting Queen, that it was at this period that the profligate monarch declared to several of his confidential friends, that had she not been his wife, his greatest desire would have been to possess her as a mistress.[223] The whole of her little Court felt the influence of her delight; she lavished on all sides the most costly gifts; she surrounded the King with amusements of every description, and day after day the heart of the irritated favourite was embittered by the reports which reached her of the unprecedented gaiety and splendour of the Queen's private circle.

As the dissension which had arisen between Sully and the Comte de Soissons rather increased in intensity than yielded to the royal expostulation, Henry resolved to give a public proof of his continued regard for the minister; and for this purpose he caused him to be informed that on his way to Normandy (whither he was about to proceed in order to investigate the truth of certain rumours which had reached him of a meditated insurrection in that province) he would pass by Rosny, and should claim his hospitality for one day with his whole Court. As the King was on the eve of his departure, Sully at once left the capital, and by travelling with great speed, he reached the château four days before his expected guests, for whose reception he made the most magnificent preparations of which so brief an interval would admit. As the approaches to the domain were not yet completed, and it was necessary to level the road by which their Majesties would arrive, the Duke, in order to accomplish this object, incautiously caused a canal by which it was traversed, and over which the bridge was still unbuilt, to be dammed up; and this arrangement made, he directed his whole attention to the internal decorations of the castle. Unfortunately, however, while his royal and noble guests were still seated at the elaborate and costly banquet which had been prepared for them, a terrific storm burst over the edifice, and information was brought to the host that the waters had become so swollen as to have overflowed their banks, while the pent-up canal which he had just driven back had inundated the court, and was pouring itself in a dense volume through the offices. The alarm instantly became general; the Queen, the Princesses, and the ladies of the Court sought refuge in the upper rooms of the castle, whither, as the danger momentarily increased, they were soon followed by Henry and his retinue; and meanwhile Sully gave instant orders that workmen should be despatched to clear the bed of the canal, and thus afford an escape for the invading element. This was happily accomplished without any loss of life, and the accident entailed no further evil consequence than the destruction of all the fruits and confectionary by which the banquet was to have terminated.[224] After this misadventure the Court proceeded to Caen, where at the close of a patient investigation the King withdrew the government of the city from M. de Crèvecoeur-Montmorency, who was accused of being engaged in a treasonable correspondence with the Duc de Bouillon, the Comte d'Auvergne, and the Duc de la Trémouille, his relative, and bestowed it upon M. de Bellefonds.[225] Thence the royal party removed to Rouen, where Henry succeeded in re-establishing perfect order throughout the whole province of Lower Normandy.

On his return to Paris the King learnt that M. de Soissons, who had declined to accompany him in his journey, so deeply resented his visit to Rosny, the purpose of which he had comprehended upon the instant, that he had resolved in consequence to quit the kingdom. As the voluntary expatriation of the Princes of the Blood tended alike to weaken his resources and to undermine his authority, Henry at once directed MM. de Bellièvre and de Sillery to wait upon the Count, and to assure him that, so soon as he produced certain proof of the culpability of the Duc de Sully, he should receive ample satisfaction for the alleged affront, but that until such proof was furnished he should continue to protect the minister, and to consider him innocent of the offence imputed to him. The Chancellor was, moreover, instructed to inquire into the motive which had induced the Prince to declare his intention of leaving France.

To this message M. de Soissons coldly replied by observing that he had been insulted by the Duke, to whom he had given no cause of offence; but that as it nevertheless appeared by the statement to which he had just listened, that it was the pleasure of his Majesty to defend the accused rather than the accuser, he considered that he need not advance any further reason for absenting himself from the kingdom. After the departure of MM. de Bellièvre and de Sillery, however, the Prince requested the Duc de Montbazon[226] and the Comte de St. Pol[227] to wait upon the sovereign, in order to explain to him his reason for quitting the country; to assure him of the regret which he felt that recent circumstances had left him no other alternative; and to entreat his Majesty to pardon him if he ventured to take his leave through the medium of these his friends, rather than, by appearing in person, incur the risk of aggravating his displeasure.

Having seen the two nobles depart upon their mission, M. de Soissons mounted his horse and at once proceeded to Paris, to make the necessary preparations for the journey which he contemplated; but before he had taken any definite measures to that effect he was rejoined by his friends, who had been directed by the King to follow him with all speed, and to explain to him that he had altogether mistaken the message entrusted to the Chancellor, as the only protection which his Majesty had declared his intention of affording to M. de Sully was against his own threats of personal violence; while in the second place they were instructed to inform him that the King strictly enjoined him not to quit Paris, as a want of obedience upon this point would prove very prejudicial to his Majesty's interests; and finally, they were authorized to assure him that, in the event of his compliance with the royal wishes, he should receive ample satisfaction for the affront of which he complained.

In reply, M. de Soissons maintained that he had given no ground for the apprehensions expressed by the monarch for the safety of his minister, and that he had never entertained any design to injure the interests of the sovereign, while the knowledge that his withdrawal from the country might have such a tendency was a more powerful preventive to his departure than "though he had been fettered by a hundred chains"; and that all he required from his adversary was a public acknowledgment of the offence which he had committed against him.

This concession of the irate Prince was followed by a still greater one on the part of the minister, who, anxious to relieve the mind of his royal master from the annoyance which he felt at a quarrel in which every noble of the Court had taken part, and which threatened to become still more inveterate from day to day, addressed a letter to M. de Soissons, wherein, although he explicitly denied "having uttered the expression which was imputed to him," he overwhelmed the Prince with the most elaborate and hyperbolical assurances of respect and devotion, declaring "that he would rather die than so forget himself."

This submissive letter was accepted as an apology, and a hollow peace between the disputants was thus effected, which restored for a time the tranquillity of the Court.

On the 2nd of February 1604 the Queen was invited to participate in a ceremony which, had she been less happy and hopeful than she chanced to be at that particular period, could not have failed to excite in her breast fresh feelings of irritation and annoyance. This was the reception of Alexandre-Monsieur, the second legitimated son of the monarch and Gabrielle d'Estrées, into the Order of the Knights of Malta. The King having decided that such should be the career of the young Prince, was anxious that he should at once assume the name and habit of the Order, and he accordingly wrote to the Grand Master to request that he would despatch the necessary patents, which were forwarded without delay, accompanied by the most profuse acknowledgments on the part of that dignitary. In order to increase the solemnity and magnificence of the inauguration, Henry summoned to the capital the Grand Commanders both of France and Champagne, instructing them to bring in their respective trains as many other commanders and knights as could be induced to accompany them; and he selected as the scene of the ceremony the Church of the Augustines, an arrangement which was, however, abandoned at the entreaty of the Commandeur de Villeneuf, the Ambassador of the Order, who deemed it more dignified that the inauguration should take place in that of the Temple, which was one of their principal establishments.

At the hour indicated the two sovereigns accordingly drove to the Temple in the same carriage, Alexandre-Monsieur being seated between them; and on alighting at the principal entrance of the edifice, the King delivered the little Prince into the hands of the Grand Prior who was there awaiting him, attended by twelve commanders and twelve knights, by whom he was conducted up the centre aisle. The church was magnificently decorated, and the altar, which blazed with gold and jewels, was already surrounded by the Cardinal de Gondy, the Papal Nuncio, and a score of bishops, all attired in their splendid sacerdotal vestments. In the centre of the choir a throne had been erected for their Majesties, covered with cloth of gold, and around the chairs of state were grouped the Princes, Princesses, and other grandees of the Court, including the ambassadors of Spain and Venice, the Connétable-Duc de Montmorency, the Chancellor, the seven presidents of the Parliament, and the knights of the Order of the Holy Ghost.

The coup d'oeil was one of extraordinary splendour. The whole of the sacred edifice was brilliantly illuminated by the innumerable tapers which lit up the several shrines, and which casting their clear light upon every surrounding object, brought into full relief the dazzling gems and gleaming weapons that glittered on all sides. The organ pealed out its deepest and most impressive harmony; and not a sound was heard throughout the vast building as the Grand Prior, with his train of knights and nobles, led the youthful neophyte to the place assigned to him. The ceremony commenced by the consecration of the sword, and the change of raiment, which typified that about to take place in the duties of the Prince by his entrance into an Order which enjoined alike godliness and virtue. The mantle was withdrawn from his shoulders, and his outer garment removed by the knights who stood immediately around him, after which he was presented successively with a vest of white satin elaborately embroidered in gold and silver, having the sleeves enriched with pearls, a waist-belt studded with jewels, a cap of black velvet ornamented with a small white plume and a band of large pearls, and a tunic of black taffeta. In this costume the Prince was conducted to the high altar by the Duc and Duchesse de Vendôme, followed by a commander to assist him during the ceremony, and they had no sooner taken their places than Arnaud de Sorbin,[228] Bishop of Nevers, delivered a short oration eulogistic of the greatness and excellence of the brotherhood of which he was about to become a member. The same prelate then performed a solemn high mass, and when he had terminated the reading of the gospel, Alexandre-Monsieur knelt before him with a taper of white wax in his hand, to solicit admission into the Order. He had no sooner bent his knee than the King rose, descended the steps of the throne, and placed himself by his side, saying aloud that he put off for awhile his sovereign dignity that he might perform his duty as a parent, by pledging himself that when the Prince should have attained his sixteenth year, he should take the vows, and in all things conform himself to the rules of the institution. The procession then passed out of the church in the same order as it had entered, and the young Prince was immediately put into possession of the income arising from his commandery, which was estimated at forty thousand annual livres.[229]

This ceremony was followed by a series of Court festivals, which were abruptly terminated by the arrival of a courier from Lorraine with the intelligence of the death of the Duchesse de Bar, an event which it was so well known would deeply affect the King, that the principal personages of the Court, and the members of his council, determined to go in a body to communicate it, in order that they might offer him the best consolation in their power. This, however, was a grief beyond their sympathy, the affection which Henry bore towards his sister having been unshaken throughout their lives; and the distressing intelligence was no sooner imparted to him than he burst into a passionate flood of tears, and desired that every one should withdraw, and leave him alone with God. He was no sooner obeyed than he caused the windows of his closet to be closed, and admittance refused to all comers; after which he threw himself upon his bed, and abandoned himself to all the bitterness of a sorrow alike unexpected and irremediable. Several days passed away in this ungovernable grief, and when its violence at length partially subsided, the King issued an order that the whole Court should assume the deepest mourning, and that no one should presume to approach him in any other garb. Not only, therefore, were all the great officers of the Crown, and all the Court functionaries, from M. le Grand to the pages and lacqueys in the ante-chambers, clad in the same sable livery, but even the foreign ambassadors, anxious alike to avoid giving offence to the monarch, and to escape the inconvenience of being excluded from his presence and thus rendered incapable of furthering the interests of their several sovereigns, adopted a similar habit. The mourning of the Queen and her household more than satisfied all the exigencies of the King; for Marie de Medicis not only sympathized deeply with the sufferings of her royal consort, but also felt that in Madame Catherine she had lost a sincere friend--that rarest of all luxuries to a crowned head!--and it was not consequently in her outward apparel alone that she gave testimony of her unfeigned regret, for in abandoning her usual garb, she also abandoned every species of amusement, and forbade all movement in her immediate circle beyond that which was necessitated by the service of her attendants.

There was, however, one exception to this general concession, and that one was consequently so conspicuous as to excite instant remark. The Papal Nuncio had exhibited no intention of conforming to the universal demonstration which had draped the throne and palaces of France in sables; and the monarch no sooner ascertained the fact than he caused it to be made known to the prelate that he had no desire to oblige him to assume a garb repugnant to his feelings, but that he requested to be spared his presence until the period of his own mourning was at an end. This announcement greatly embarrassed the Nuncio, who at once felt that by persisting in the course he had adopted he should be deprived of the frequent audiences that were essential to the interests of the Sovereign-Pontiff, and accordingly he resolved no longer to offer any opposition to the express wishes of the King; but after having written to Rome to explain that he had put on mourning simply to secure himself against the threatened exclusion, and thereby to be enabled to watch over the welfare of the Holy See, he ultimately followed the example of those around him, and demanded permission in his turn to offer his compliment of condolence to the monarch.

This he did, however, in a manner little calculated to reconcile Henry to the reluctance which he had exhibited in performing this duty; for after having declared his earnest sympathy with the grief of his Majesty, he went on to remark that those who knew who he was, and for whom he spoke, could not fail to be startled by such an assertion, although he on his part, could assure his Majesty of his sincerity, as while others were weeping over the body of Madame, who had died a Protestant and a heretic, his master and himself were mourning for her soul.

To this unexpected exordium the King replied, with considerable indignation, that he had more faith in the mercy of God than to believe that a Princess who had passed her life in the fulfilment of all her social duties was destined to be condemned from the nature of her creed, and that he himself entertained no doubt of her salvation.[230] After which he diverted the conversation into another channel, with a tone and manner sufficiently indicative to the Nuncio that he must not presume to recur to so delicate a subject.

The body of Madame was, at the King's desire, conveyed to Vendôme, and deposited beside that of her mother, a dispensation to this effect having been, after many delays, accorded by the Pope; although too late for the Duchess to have been made aware that this the earnest wish of her heart had been conceded.

At this period a new cause of uneasiness aroused the sovereign from his private grief. To his extreme surprise he had received intelligence from the Sieur de Barrault[231] that all the most secret deliberations of his council were forthwith communicated to the King of Spain, without a trace of the source whence this important information could be derived; and for a time the mystery defied all the investigations which were bestowed upon it by Henry and his ministers. At length, however, long impunity rendered the culprit daring, and it was ascertained that Philip III was in possession of copies of the several letters written by the French monarch to the King of England, the Prince of Orange, and other friendly powers, all inimical to Spain, a circumstance which at once rendered it apparent that this treachery must be the work of some official in whom the greatest confidence had hitherto been placed; and steps were forthwith taken to secure the identification of the traitor, which was effected through the agency of another equally unworthy subject of Henry himself. A certain native of Bordeaux, named Jean Leyré (otherwise Rafis), who had been one of the most violent partisans of the League, and who had been banished from France, had entered the Spanish service, and long enjoyed a pension from the sovereign of that country, in recompense of the zeal and ardour with which he rendered every evil office in his power to the kingdom whence he had been cast out.

Circumstances, however, tended to make Leyré less useful to Philip, who had, as we have shown, secured a much more efficient agent, and the ill-acquired pension had accordingly been diminished, while the traitor had no difficulty in perceiving that the favour which he had hitherto experienced from his new master was lessened in the same proportion, a conviction which determined him to make a vigorous effort to obtain the permission of his offended sovereign to return to France. In order to effect this object, Leyré attached himself to such of his countrymen as were, like himself, domiciliated in Spain, and finally he made the acquaintance of one Jean Blas, who in a moment of confidence revealed to him that a secretary of the Comte de Rochepot[232] (the predecessor of M. de Barrault as ambassador at the Court of Madrid), who had subsequently returned to the service of the Duc de Villeroy, still maintained a secret correspondence with the Spanish secretaries of state, Don Juan Idiaque Franchesez, and Prada, to whom, in consideration of a pension of twelve hundred crowns of gold, he betrayed all the most important measures of the French cabinet.

This man, whose name was Nicholas L'Hôte, was the son of an old and trusted follower of the Duc de Villeroy, to whose family his own ancestors had been attached for several generations, while he himself was the godson of the Duke, who had obtained for him the honourable office of secretary to M. de Rochepot, when that nobleman accepted the embassy to Spain. On the return of the Count to France, L'Hôte, whose services were no longer necessary to him, was dismissed, and upon an application to his old patron, was unhesitatingly received into his bureau; where, believing that his loyalty and devotion to himself were beyond all suspicion, he was employed by M. de Villeroy in deciphering his despatches; an occupation which afforded the traitor ample means of continuing his nefarious correspondence with his Spanish confederates.

Leyré had no sooner obtained this important information, and moreover convinced himself of its probability by various circumstances connected with L'Hôte which he was careful to learn from other sources, than he proceeded to the residence of M. de Barrault, and solicited an interview on business connected with his government. The ambassador, who was still striving by every method in his power to discover the author of the active and harassing treason by which his official measures were perpetually trammelled, with a vague hope that the object of this request might prove to be connected with the mystery which so disagreeably occupied his thoughts, at once granted the required audience; when Leyré, having explained his own position, and expressed the deepest contrition for his past disloyalty, together with his ardent desire to obliterate, by an essential service to his rightful sovereign, a fault which was now irreparable, proceeded to inform M. de Barrault that he was prepared to reveal a system of treachery which was even at that moment in operation to the prejudice of France; but added that, as in communicating this secret he should be compelled immediately to escape from Spain, he would not consent to do so until the ambassador pledged himself that he should be permitted to return to his own country with a free pardon, and a sufficient pension to secure him against want; and concluded by saying that should it be beyond the power of M. de Barrault to give such a pledge without the royal authority, and that should he consider it necessary to mention him by name, and to state the nature of the promised service to his government, he must entreat him to make this revelation solely to the monarch, and by no means to commit the affair to writing.

To these terms M. de Barrault readily agreed; but after the departure of Leyré, conceiving that the extreme mystery enjoined by that personage was merely intended to enhance the implied value of his revelation; and convinced, moreover, that the sovereign would immediately communicate such a circumstance to his ministers, he addressed himself, as he was in the habit of doing, to the Duc de Villeroy, from whom he shortly afterwards received the required promise of both pardon and pension.

These were, however, no sooner placed in the hands of the astute Leyré, than, perceiving that they bore the counter-signature of Villeroy, instead of that of Loménie,[233] which would have been the case had they been forwarded through the personal medium of the King, he revealed the whole transaction to M. de Barrault; representing that the traitor being under the roof of the minister by whom they had been despatched, and entirely in his confidence, must already be apprized of his danger, as well as fully prepared to avert it by the destruction of his betrayer; and accordingly he declared that, in order to save his life, he must at once get into the saddle, and endeavour to distance the pursuit which could not fail to be made with a view to seize his person.

This reasoning was so valid that the ambassador not only consented to his immediate departure, but also caused him to be accompanied by his own secretary, M. Descartes, by whom he was to be introduced to the sovereign. The precaution proved salutary, as no later than the following morning the officers of the law were sent to the house of Leyré, and being unable to find him, forthwith mounted in their turn and took the road to France. Fortunately for the fugitives they had, however, already travelled a considerable distance; and although hotly pursued, they were enabled to reach Bayonne without impediment, whence they proceeded to Fontainebleau to report their arrival to the King.

Before they reached their destination, they encountered the Duc de Villeroy, who was on his way to his château of Juvisy, and to whom Descartes considered it expedient to declare their errand, without concealing the name of the culprit whom they were about to accuse. The Duke listened incredulously; and when the travellers offered, should it meet with his approbation, to return at once to Paris and arrest his secretary, in order that he might himself deliver him up to the monarch, he declined to profit by the proposal, desiring them to fulfil their mission as the service of the King required; and adding, that he should shortly join them at Fontainebleau, where he was to be met on the morrow by the accused party, when the necessary steps for ascertaining the truth of the statement might be at once taken; but that until he had obtained an audience of the monarch, and ascertained his pleasure, all coercive measures would be premature.

With this unsatisfactory reply Leyré and his companion were fain to content themselves; and having, as they were desired to do, delivered into the hands of the Duke the detailed despatch of M. de Barrault with which they had been entrusted, they saw him calmly resume his way to Juvisy, while they continued their route to Fontainebleau.

Early the next day M. de Villeroy in his turn reached the palace, and at once proceeded to the royal closet; where, at the command of the King, he began to read aloud the papers which had been thus obtained; but he had not proceeded beyond the name of the accused when Henry vehemently interrupted him by exclaiming:

"And where is this L'Hôte, your secretary? Have you caused him to be arrested?"

"I think, Sire," was the reply, "that he is at my hotel; but he is still at liberty."

"How, Sir!" said the King still more angrily; "you think that he is at your hôtel, and you have not had him seized? This is strange negligence! What have you been about since you were informed of this act of treason, to which you should at once have attended? See to it instantly, and secure the culprit."

The Duc de Villeroy quitted the royal presence in anxious haste, and made his way to the capital with all speed, feeling convinced that should he fail in arresting his delinquent secretary he could not escape the suspicion of the King. L'Hôte had, however, profited by the intervening time to explain his predicament to the Spanish ambassador, who instantly perceived that not a moment must be lost. Horses were accordingly provided, and the detected traitor, accompanied by the steward of the ambassador, made the best of his way to Meaux, whence they were to travel post to Luxembourg.

Orders had, meanwhile, been despatched to all the postmasters not to supply horses to any traveller answering the description of L'Hôte; but as he wore a Spanish costume similar to that of his companion he might still have passed undetected, had he not, while endeavouring to mount at Meaux, trembled so violently as to fall from his saddle; a circumstance which attracted the attention of the groom who held his stirrup, and who immediately inferred that he must be some criminal who was flying from justice. On re-entering the house he related the incident to his master; and upon comparing the height, and bulk, and features of the fugitive with the written detail furnished by the authorities, both parties became convinced that they had suffered the very individual whom they were commissioned to arrest to pursue his journey to the frontier through their own agency; and thus impressed, the terrified postmaster hastened to the Prévôt des Maréchaux,[234] who lost no time in following upon his track. The fugitives had, however, changed horses before the anxious functionary and his attendants could arrive to interpose their authority; but despite the darkness of the night, which prevented them from obtaining even a glimpse of those whom they were endeavouring to overtake, they persevered with confidence, being aware that before the close of the second stage a ferry must be passed, which would necessarily detain the travellers.

The event proved the accuracy of their calculation, the lateness of the hour compelling L'Hôte and his companion to rouse the reluctant ferryman from his rest, a process which involved considerable delay; and they were consequently scarcely half way across the river when they heard the clatter of horses' hoofs upon the bank, and the voice of the Maréchal hoarsely shouting to their conductor instantly to return, or he should be hanged for his disobedience.

The fugitives at once felt that they were lost should they permit him to comply; and accordingly the Spaniard drew his sword, threatening to bury it in the heart of the affrighted ferryman should he retreat an inch; while L'Hôte, as craven as he was traitor, could only urge the boat forward by the rope, groaning at intervals: "I am a dead man! I am a dead man!"

On gaining the opposite shore neither of the two attempted to remount; but, abandoning their horses, they set off at their best speed on foot; while the postilion by whom they had been accompanied had great difficulty, during the return of the boat, in securing the three animals who were thus suddenly committed to his sole charge.

L'Hôte, terrified and bewildered by the voices of the Prévôt and his men, who had, in their turn, passed the ferry, and unable in the darkness to discern any path by which he might secure his escape, parted from his companion, and continued his course along the river bank; until, attracted by some sallows which he supposed to be an island in the middle of the stream, he threw himself into the water in order to reach it; but soon getting beyond his depth, and being unable to regain the shore, as well as alarmed by the rapid approach of his pursuers, he perished miserably; and was found on the following morning not twenty yards from the spot where he had abandoned the land.

The Spanish steward, who was captured on the morrow in a hayloft about two leagues from the river, was conducted to Paris with the corpse, which was consigned to the prison of the Châtelet, where it was publicly exposed during two days, and then drawn upon a hurdle to the place of execution, where it was torn asunder by horses; the quarters of the body being subsequently attached to four wheels which were placed in the principal roads leading to the capital.

The ignominy with which the body was treated was, as Sully asserts, in accordance with the earnest request of the Duc de Villeroy, who could not disguise from himself the difficulty of his own position; nor was it until after several days' deliberation that Henry, remembering the extent of the confidence placed by the Duke in the traitor by whom his interests had been so seriously compromised, could sufficiently control his indignation to assure him that he in no wise suspected him of complicity, but should continue to regard him with the same trust and favour as heretofore. The people were, however, less amenable; nor did they scruple to accuse M. de Villeroy of participation in the crime of his follower. They could not forget that he had been an active member of the League; and they looked with jealousy upon every transaction in which he was involved; while, fortunately for the Duke, the King was ultimately prevailed upon to believe in the sincerity of his regret, and to remember that since he had attached himself to the royal cause he had rendered essential service to the country; nor did the murmurs of his enemies, who had begun to hope that the treason of his secretary must involve his own ruin, induce the monarch to exhibit towards him either distrust or severity. So lenient, indeed, did the King show himself, that after having being detained for a short time in prison, the Spaniard who had been taken with L'Hôte was set at liberty, as too insignificant for trial, and as the mere tool of his master.[235]

While this affair had monopolized the attention of the King, Madame de Verneuil, enraged by a continual estrangement which threatened the most dangerous results to herself, and resolved at all hazards to recall the attention of the monarch, began to assert more openly and arrogantly than ever her claim upon his hand, and the right of her son to the succession; while at the same time her brother, the Comte d'Auvergne, pretexting a quarrel with M. de Soissons, quitted the Court, and proceeded to the Low Countries, where he had for some time past been actively engaged in organizing a conspiracy, in support of this extravagant and hopeless pretension.

The double personage enacted by the Marquise was one which necessitated the utmost tact and caution, for she was aware that it involved her liberty, if not her life; and consequently, in order to secure the sympathy of the people, while she was at the same time exciting the passions of those discontented nobles who being remnants of the League still retained an unconquerable jealousy of the power by which they had been prostrated, she affected the deepest and most bitter repentance for her past errors, and solicited the permission of the King to retire from France with her children, that she might expiate, by a future of retirement and piety, the faults of which she had been guilty. To this request Henry, without a moment's hesitation, replied by the assurance that she was at perfect liberty to withdraw from the country whenever she saw fit to do so; adding, however, that he would not permit the expatriation of her children, and that before her own departure she must deliver into his hands the written promise of marriage, which, although according to the decision of all the high ecclesiastics of the kingdom totally void and valueless, she had nevertheless been so ill-advised as to render a source of uneasiness and annoyance to the Queen.

This demand was, however, arrogantly rejected, the Marquise declaring that she would neither part with her children nor with a document that rendered her the legal wife of the King; a decision which so incensed Marie de Medicis that she vehemently reproached her royal consort for an act of weakness by which her whole married life had been embittered, and refused to listen to any compromise until the obnoxious paper should be restored.

Thus circumstanced, Henry at length resolved to exert all his authority, and despairing of success through the medium of a third person, he determined himself to visit the Marquise and to exact the restitution of the document. At this period, however, Madame de Verneuil was too deeply involved in the conspiracy of her brother to prove a willing agent in her own defeat, and she accordingly received the monarch with an unyielding insolence for which he was totally unprepared; violently declaring that the promise had been freely given, and that the birth of her son had rendered it valid. In vain did the King insist upon the absurdity of her pretensions; she only replied by sneering at the extraction of the Queen, and asserting her own equality with a petty Tuscan princess, whose gestures and language were, as she declared, the jest of the whole Court. The King, outraged by so gross an impertinence, imperatively commanded her silence upon all that regarded the dignity or pleasure of his royal consort, a display of firmness which more and more exasperated the favourite, who retorted by observing that since the monarch had seen fit to retract a solemn engagement, and thus to brand herself and her children with disgrace, it only remained for her to reiterate her demand for permission to leave the country, with her son and daughter, and her father and brother, both of whom were prepared to share her fortunes, gloomy as they might be, the fear of God not permitting her to recur to the past without the most profound repentance.

To this persistence Henry coldly answered that in his turn he reiterated his declaration that she was at liberty to retire to England whenever she thought proper to do so, and to place herself under the protection of her kinsman, the Earl of Lennox, but that he would not suffer any other member of her family to share her exile; nor should she herself be permitted to reside either in Spain or the Low Countries, where the treasonable practices of the Comte d'Auvergne and the party of the discontented nobles with whom she had recently allied herself, had already given him just cause for displeasure.

Madame de Verneuil, perfectly unabashed by this reproach, assured the King, with a smile of haughty defiance, that she could be as firm as himself where her own honour and that of her children was involved, and added that should he persist in demanding the restoration of the written promise by which he had triumphed over her virtue, he might seek it where it was to be obtained, as he should never receive it from her hands; while as regarded her estrangement from himself, it had ceased to be a subject of regret, as since he had become old he had also become distrustful and suspicious, and his affected favour only tended to render her an object of public jealousy and indignation.

Outraged by this last insult, the King rose angrily from his seat, and without vouchsafing another word to the imperious Marquise quitted the room. It was not, however, in the nature of Henri IV to find himself once more in the presence of his mistress unmoved, and although the indignity to which he had been subjected throughout the interview just described should have sufficed to inspire him only with disgust for the woman who had thus emancipated herself from every observance of respect towards his own person and decency towards the Queen, it is nevertheless certain that his very anger was mingled with admiration; and that not even his sense of what was due to him both as a monarch and as a man could overcome the attraction of Madame de Verneuil. Their temporary separation, during which he had failed to find any equivalent for her wit and vivacity, gave an added charm to every word she uttered; he yearned to see her once more brilliant and happy, devoting her intellect and her fascinations to his amusement; and even while complaining to Sully of her impertinent and uncompromising boldness, he could not forbear uttering a panegyric upon her better qualities, which convinced the minister that their misunderstanding was not destined to be of long duration, an opinion in which he was confirmed when the weak and vacillating Henry, at the close of this enthusiastic apostrophe, proceeded to institute a comparison between the Marquise and the Queen, in which the latter suffered on every point. The earnest wish to please of the favourite was contrasted with the coldness of Marie de Medicis, the wit of the one with the haughty superciliousness of the other; in short, the longer that the King discoursed upon the subject, the more perfect became the conviction of his listener that the late meeting, tempestuous as it was, had sufficed to restore to Madame de Verneuil at least a portion of her former power.

"I have no society in my wife," pursued the monarch; "she neither amuses nor interests me. She is harsh and unyielding, alike in manner and in speech, and makes no concession either to my humour or my tastes. When I would fain meet her with warmth she receives me coldly, and I am glad to escape from her apartments to seek for amusement elsewhere. My poor cousin De Guise is my only refuge; and although she occasionally tells me some home-truths, yet she does it with so much good humour that I cannot take offence, and only laugh at her sallies." [236]

It was sufficiently evident at that moment that even the "poor cousin" of the monarch, beautiful and accomplished though she was, faded into insignificance before the pampered and presuming favourite.

"Perhaps," says Sully, with a calm sententiousness better suited to some question of finance, "the Queen had only herself to blame for not having released him from the snares of her rival, and detached him from every other affair of gallantry, as he appeared to me perfectly sincere when he urged me to induce her to conform to his tastes and to the character of his mind."

M. de Sully, great as he was in his official capacity, evidently possessed little knowledge of a woman's nature, and the workings of a woman's pride. We have seen what were the "tastes" of Henri IV, and what was the "character of his mind"; and although it would undoubtedly have proved both pleasant and convenient to the harassed minister that Marie de Medicis should have devoured her grief and mortification, and have received the mistresses of the King as the intimates of her circle, it was a result little to be anticipated from a pure-hearted wife, who saw herself the victim of every intriguing beauty whose novelty or notoriety sufficed to attract the dissolute fancy of her consort. Even at the very moment in which M. de Sully records this inferential reproach upon the Queen, he admits that Henry was once more in the thrall of the Marquise, and, moreover, the obsequious friend of Mademoiselle de Guise; and yet he seeks to visit upon Marie the odium of a disunion which can only be, with any fairness, attributed to the King himself, who, even while professing to return to his allegiance as a husband, was openly indulging in a system of licentiousness calculated to degrade him in the eyes of a virtuous and exemplary woman.

That Marie de Medicis had many faults cannot be denied by her most zealous biographer, but that she was outraged both as a wife and as a mother is no less certain; and adopting, as we have a right to do, the conjectural style of M. de Sully,--perhaps, we say in our turn, had the Queen, from the period of her marriage, been treated with the deference and respect which were her due, the harsher features of her character might have become softened, and the faults which posterity has been compelled to couple with her name might never have been committed. Assuredly her period of probation was a bitter one, and it may be doubted whether the axe of our own eighth Henry were not after all more merciful in reality than the wire-drawn and daily-recurring torture to which his namesake of France subjected the haughty and high-spirited woman who was fated to find herself the victim of his vices.

The foreboding of M. de Sully was verified, for within a few days of the interview just recorded between the King and Madame de Verneuil, and during the continuance of his estrangement from his wife, it soon became known that the favourite had re-assumed her empire. In vain did the mortified minister protest against this new weakness, and assure his royal master that it could not fail to increase the anger and indignation of Marie de Medicis; Henry only replied by asserting that when Sully should have succeeded in inducing the Queen to change her humour and to exert herself to please him, instead of persisting in closeting herself with her foreign followers, and permitting them to criticise his conduct and to aggravate his defects, he would forthwith relinquish his liaison with the Marquise. Such an answer, however, did not check the zeal of his anxious adviser; who, fearful lest this last schism should prove more important than those by which it had been preceded, and undeterred even by the impatience with which the King listened to his representations, persisted in assailing him with arguments, remonstrances, and warnings, peculiarly unpalatable at all times, but especially so at the very moment in which he had effected a reconciliation with the favourite that promised a renewal of the entertaining intercourse whence he derived so much gratification.

"You have now, Sire," resolutely urged the undaunted counsellor, "an admirable opportunity of terminating in a manner worthy of your exalted rank the difficulty by which you are beset, and of ensuring your own future tranquillity. Assume the authority which appertains to you as a sovereign; compel the Queen to silence; above all, strictly forbid her any longer to indulge in public in those idle murmurs and lamentations by which your dignity suffers so severely in the eyes of your subjects; and visit with the most condign punishment every disrespectful word of which others may be guilty either towards yourself or her. This effort, Sire, will be insignificant beside others which you have made, and in which your personal tranquillity was not involved; be no less courageous in your own cause, and do not suffer your reputation to be tarnished by a weakness incomprehensible in so great and powerful a monarch. By exacting the consideration and obedience which are your due, you are guilty of no tyranny; for it is the indisputable privilege of every crowned head to enforce both. Let me then entreat of your Majesty at once to assert yourself, and thus put a period to the domestic differences by which the whole Court is convulsed."

"Your advice may be good," was the evasive reply of the King, "but you do not yet understand me, or you would be aware that I cannot bring myself to exercise severity against persons with whom I am in habits of familiar intercourse, and especially against a woman."

"In that case, Sire," said Sully, "you have but one alternative. Exile your mistress from the Court, and make the required concessions to the Queen."

"I am prepared to do so," said Henry hastily, "if, in return for this sacrifice on my part, she will pledge herself no longer to annoy me by her jealousy and violence, and to meet me in the same spirit; but I have little hope of such a result: she is perfectly unable to exercise the necessary self-command, and is perpetually mistaking the impulse of temper for that of reason. Her intolerance and rancour forbid all prospect of sincere harmony between us. She is perpetually threatening with her vengeance every woman upon whom I chance to turn my eyes; and even the children of Gabrielle, who were in being before her arrival in the kingdom, are as hateful to her as though she had been personally injured by their birth; nor have I the least reason to anticipate that she will ever overcome so irrational an antipathy. Nor can she be won by kindness and indulgence. Not only have I ever treated her with the respect and deference due to the Queen of a great nation, but even in moments of pecuniary pressure I have been careful, not merely to supply her wants, but also to satisfy her caprices; and that too when I was aware that the sums thus bestowed were to be squandered upon the Italian rabble whose incessant study it has been to poison her mind against both myself and her adopted country. Would to Heaven, Rosny, that I had followed your advice on her arrival, and compelled the mischievous cabal to recross the Alps; but it is now too late for such regrets; and if you can indeed succeed in inducing the Queen to become more amenable to my wishes, and more indulgent to my errors, Ventre Saint-Gris! you will effect a good work, in which I shall be ready to second you. But mark, you must do this apparently upon your own responsibility, and be careful not to let her learn that I have authorized such a measure, or you will only defeat your own purpose, and render her more impracticable than ever." [237]

Such was the unsatisfactory result of the effort made by the minister to reconcile the royal couple; while, in addition to all his other anxieties, he found himself placed in a position at once so difficult and so dangerous that he was at a loss how to proceed, until a circumstance fortunately occurred of which he hastened to avail himself. In exchanging the petty Court of Florence for that of France, Marie had speedily emancipated herself from the compulsory economy to which she had been accustomed from her childhood, and had become reckless in her expenditure to an excess which constantly disturbed the equanimity of the prudent minister of finance. The current expenses of her household amounted annually to the sum of three hundred and forty-five thousand livres, an enormous outlay for that period; while she was so lavish to her favourites that she was constantly applying for further supplies; and on one occasion, when these were withheld, had actually pawned the crown jewels, which it was necessary to redeem by a disbursement from the public treasury. In addition to these resources, her income was also considerably increased by gratuities, bribes from contracting parties,[238] and edicts created in her favour; the last of which were peculiarly obnoxious to Sully, from the fact of their harassing the people without any national benefit; and it was accordingly with great reluctance, and frequently not without expostulation, that he was induced to countersign these documents.

The circumstance to which we have alluded as affording to Sully an opening for the delicate negotiation with which he was entrusted by the King, was an offer made to Marie de Medicis of the sum of eighty thousand livres in the event of her causing an edict to be issued in favour of the officials of the salt-works of Languedoc, which she forthwith despatched to the minister by M. d'Argouges,[239] with a request that he would use his influence to obtain it.

Having made himself acquainted with the nature and tendency of the edict, M. de Sully desired the messenger to inform her Majesty that he was of opinion that the sovereign might safely authorize its operation without any injury to the public interests; but added that he feared the moment was an unpropitious one as regarded the Queen herself, the King being still deeply offended by some of her recent proceedings; nor would he advise her to venture upon such an application until she had succeeded in disarming his anger; for which purpose he respectfully suggested that she should endeavour to conciliate her royal consort by some concession, which he would exert all his ability to enhance in the eyes of his master, and in every way endeavour to advance her interests as he had already done on several previous occasions.

Marie, eager to possess herself of the large sum thus proffered for her acceptance, consented to follow his advice; and decided upon addressing a letter to the King, expressive of her regret at the coldness which existed between them, and of her willingness to meet his wishes should he condescend to explain them.

This letter having been read and approved by the finance minister was forthwith forwarded from Fontainebleau, where Marie de Medicis was then residing, to the King at Paris; but it was not without a struggle that the Queen had compelled herself to such an act of self-abnegation, and her courier was no sooner despatched than she complained in bitter terms to M. de Sully of the humiliations to which she was subjected by the infatuation of the monarch for Madame de Verneuil; declaring that she could never submit to look with favour or indulgence upon a woman who had the presumption to institute comparisons between herself and her sovereign; who was rearing her children with all the pretensions of Princes of the Blood Royal, and encouraging them in demonstrations of disrespect towards her own person; and who was, moreover, fomenting sedition, by encouraging the discontented nobles to manifestations of disloyalty to their monarch; while the King, blinded by his passion, made no effort to rebuke, or even to restrain, her impertinence.

The minister listened calmly and respectfully to these outpourings of her indignation, but assured her in reply that it only depended upon herself to annihilate the influence of the favourite, by a system of consideration for the feelings of her royal consort of which she had not hitherto condescended to test the efficacy. He, moreover, implored her to make the trial; and represented so forcibly the benefit which must accrue to herself by a restoration of domestic peace, that she at length admitted the justice of his arguments, and pledged herself to accelerate, by every means in her power, a full and perfect reconciliation.

Gratified by this almost unhoped-for success, Sully shortly afterwards withdrew; and the reply of the King to the letter which she had addressed to him was delivered to Marie when she was surrounded only by her own private circle. It was at once courteous and conciliatory; and it is probable that, had it arrived before the departure of the Duke, it would have been acknowledged in the same spirit; but, unfortunately, the Queen had no sooner communicated its contents to her confidential friends than she was met by the assurance that the monarch had, on the receipt of her missive, carried it to the Marquise, where her credulity had excited great amusement, an assertion which was followed by other commentaries so distasteful to her pride, that, instead of persevering in the prudent course which she had been induced to adopt, she haughtily informed the royal courier by whom the letter had been brought that she should entrust him with no written reply, but should expect his Majesty on the following day according to his own appointment.

This marked and impolitic demonstration of disrespect excited anew the resentment of Henry, who openly expressed his indignation in the most unmeasured terms, and that so publicly, that within a few hours Marie was informed of every particular; and the breach which Sully had fondly flattered himself that he was about to heal became wider and more threatening than ever.[240]

Meanwhile the commerce of the King and the favourite was far from affording to the former all the gratification which he had anticipated from its renewal. The coquetry--to designate it by no harsher term--of Madame de Verneuil irritated the jealousy of the monarch, who could not forget that she had taunted him with his advancing age, and who saw her unblushingly encourage the admiration and attention of such of the courtiers as she could induce to brave his displeasure; while her lavish expenditure and unceasing demands, alike upon his patience and his purse, involved him in perpetual difficulties with his finance minister, which her extravagant attempts to assume the airs and to usurp the privileges of quasi-royalty did not tend to diminish.

The French King was, in fact, at this period, the victim of his own vices; the sovereign of a great and powerful nation, without a home or a hearth, a wifeless husband, and a discontented lover; tenderly attached to all his children, and yet unable to confer a favour upon the offspring of one mother without incurring the resentment of the other; and while feeling himself degraded by the thrall in which he lived, totally devoid of the moral courage necessary for his escape from so disgraceful a bondage.

It is in moments such as these that virtue and honour assert their well-earned privileges without even the effort of enforcing them. Weary of his perpetual discomfort, harassed by the heartless conduct of his mistress, and pining for the mental repose which he so greatly needed, Henry once more turned towards his wife as his only probable and legitimate haven of rest; but hopeless of success through his own agency, he again addressed himself to Sully for assistance and support.

Suddenly summoned by the monarch, the minister presented himself at the Tuileries, where he found Henry in the orangery, in which he had taken refuge from a shower of rain, pale, agitated, and anxious. The subject of his reconciliation with the Queen was mooted on the instant, and he repeatedly called upon Sully for his advice as to the best and surest method of effecting it. Conscious that his counsels had hitherto been either disregarded or rendered abortive by the King himself, the Duke endeavoured to escape this new demand upon his patience, but Henry was peremptory.

"Since then you command me to speak, Sire," he said at length, "I will be frank. In order to accomplish the object which you have in view, you can only pursue one course. Put the sea between yourself and four or five individuals by whom you are now beset, and cause as many others to pass the Alps."

"Your first suggestion is practicable," was the reply; "there is nothing to prevent me from banishing the malcontents who are conspiring in my very Court, but I am differently situated with regard to the Italians; for, in addition to the hatred which I should draw down upon myself from a nation proverbially vindictive, the Queen would never forgive an affront offered to her favourites. In order to free myself from these she must be induced herself to propose their return to their own country, and I know no one more likely than you, Rosny, to effect an object at once so desirable and so important. Make the attempt, therefore; and should you succeed, I pledge myself from that moment to abstain from every intrigue of gallantry. Reflect upon what I have suggested in my turn, and consider the means by which this may be accomplished with the least possible delay."

So saying, the King, after ascertaining that the weather had again cleared, abruptly quitted the orangery, leaving M. de Sully perfectly aghast at the new duty which had thus been suddenly thrust upon him.

As it was utterly impossible to propose such a measure to Marie de Medicis as that of dismissing her most favoured attendants until a perfect reconciliation had been effected between the royal couple, it was to that object that the prudent minister first turned his attention; and so successful did he ultimately prove, that after a brief correspondence the King and Queen had an interview, during which the whole of their recent misunderstanding was calmly discussed, and declared by both parties to have been occasioned by the ill-judged interference of those by whom they were severally surrounded; nor did they separate until they had mutually pledged themselves to consign the past to oblivion, and thenceforward to close their ears against all the gossiping of the Court.

The effect produced by this matrimonial truce (for it was unfortunately nothing more, and lasted only for the short space of three weeks) was of the most happy description. Nothing was seen or heard of save projects of amusement, which, not content with absorbing the present, extended also into the future. This calm, like those by which it had been preceded, was not, however, fated to realize the hopes of either party. Henry was too much addicted to pleasure to fulfil his part of the compact, while the Queen had, unhappily for her own peace, so long accustomed herself to listen to the comments and complaints of her favourites, that it was not long ere they found her as well disposed as she had previously been to lend a willing ear to their communications. In Madame de Verneuil they, of course, possessed a fruitful topic; and as Marie, despite all her good resolutions, could not restrain her curiosity with regard to the proceedings of this obnoxious personage, she ere long betrayed her knowledge of the new affronts to which she had been subjected by the Marquise.

The result of this unfortunate enlightenment was such as, from her impulsive character, might justly have been anticipated. She no sooner found herself in the society of the King than she once more assailed him with invectives and reproaches which he was of no temper to brook; and in this new dilemma Sully resolved, as a last and crowning effort to establish peace, to suggest to Marie that as her happiness had again been destroyed solely by the evil tongues about her, she should secure to herself the gratitude and affection of her royal consort by dismissing all her Italian household, and surrounding herself entirely by French friends and attendants.

The indignation of the Queen at this proposal was beyond the reach of all argument. She declared herself to be sufficiently unhappy separated from her family, and neglected by her husband, without driving from her presence, almost with ignominy, the few persons who still remained faithful to her interests, and who sincerely sympathized in her sufferings; and although the Duke ventured again and again to recur to the subject, and always with the same earnestness, Marie continued to reject his counsel as steadily as when it was first offered.[241]

The new attachment felt or feigned by the King for Mademoiselle de la Bourdaisière had again awakened her jealousy; and she complained with equal reason that Henry, even while indulging in this new passion, made no attempt to restrain the arrogance and bitterness of the forsaken favourite. Nor was Madame de Verneuil less indignant than the Queen; for even while affecting an extreme devotion, and surrounding herself with ecclesiastics, who, not content with labouring to effect her salvation, were also feeding her vanity with the most fulsome panegyrics, she could ill brook to see herself so easily forgotten; and once more she indulged in such indecent liberties with the name of Marie de Medicis that the King, whose patience was the more easily exhausted from the fact that he believed himself to be at last independent of her fascinations, was again driven to resort to the assistance of M. de Sully, in order to compel the restoration of the written promise of marriage which he had been weak enough to place in her hands.

It was, indeed, impossible for the sovereign of a great nation longer to temporize with an insolence which at this period had exceeded all endurable limits; for not only did the Marquise assert, as she had previously done, the illegality of the King's union with his wife, but so thoroughly had her affected devotion wrought upon the minds of the priests about her that several among them were induced to support her pretended claim, and even publicly to declare the bans of marriage between herself and the monarch.[242] Among these, two Capuchins, Father Hilaire of Grenoble and Father Archange, her confessors, the last in France, and the first in Rome, attached themselves recklessly to her interests,[243] while at the same time numerous letters and pamphlets were distributed in the capital, advocating her cause;[244] and so dangerously active had the cabal become in the Eternal City that the Cardinal d'Ossat considered it expedient to address a letter to the French Government upon the subject, which implicated in this wild conspiracy both the King of Spain and the Duke of Savoy, who, through the agency of Father Hilaire, were represented as upholding the pretensions of Madame de Verneuil. These circumstances, and especially the notoriety of a fact which involved alike the dignity of her husband and her own honour, so greatly exasperated the temper of the Queen that she no longer attempted to control her irritation; and on one occasion when, as was constantly the case, the pretended claim of the Marquise became the subject of discord between the royal couple, Marie so thoroughly forgot the respect which she owed to the King that she raised her hand to strike him. Fortunately, however, for both parties, the Duc de Sully, who was present during the altercation, and who instantly detected her intention, sprang forward and seized her arm; but in his haste he was compelled to do this so roughly that she afterwards declared he had given her a blow, adding, however, that she was grateful to him for having thus preserved her from a worse evil.

So great, indeed, was her sense of the obligation thus conferred, that thenceforward Marie regarded the finance minister with more favour than she had hitherto done; and occasionally requested his advice during her misunderstandings with the King. She could not have chosen a safer counsellor, for although Sully does not, in any instance, attempt to disguise his dislike to the Tuscan princess, he was incapable of betraying so sacred a trust; and if, as generally occurs in such cases, his advice was frequently neglected, she never once had cause to question its propriety.

A short time subsequent to the scene we have just described the Queen sent to request the presence of the minister in her closet, where he found her conversing with Concini, and evidently much excited. On his entrance she informed him that she was weary of the infidelities of the monarch; that the jealousy which he constantly kept alive alike undermined her health and destroyed her happiness; and that she had determined to follow the advice of her faithful servant, there present, and to communicate to his Majesty certain advances which had been made to her by some of the Court nobles, who were less insensible to her attractions than the King himself.

This communication startled M. de Sully; and while he was endeavouring to frame a reply by which he might remain uncompromised, Concini with his usual presumption followed up the declaration of the Queen by asserting his own conviction that it was the wisest measure which she could adopt; as it would at once convince her royal consort that she desired to keep nothing secret from him in which he was personally interested.

This interruption afforded time for the Duke to collect his thoughts, and heedless of the interference of the Italian, he remarked in his turn that her Majesty must pardon him if he declined to offer any opinion on so delicate a question, as it was one entirely beyond his province; after which, resolutely changing the tone of the discourse, he continued to converse with the Queen upon indifferent topics until Concini had retired. Then, however, he voluntarily reverted to the subject which she had herself mooted, and implored her to abandon her design; assuring her that he had her interest too sincerely at heart to see her without anxiety about to place herself in a position at once false and dangerous, as such an assurance from her own lips could not fail to excite in the breast of the King the greatest and most legitimate suspicions; for every man of sense must at once feel that no individual, be his rank what it might, would have dared to declare his passion to a person of her exalted condition without having previously ascertained that its expression would be agreeable to her, and having been tacitly encouraged to do so; while, on the other hand, so far from discovering any merit in such an avowal, or regarding it as a proof of confidence, his Majesty would immediately decide that the motive by which she had been actuated in making it must have been either the fear of discovery, or a desire to rid herself of persons of whom she had become weary, in order that she might be left at liberty to encourage new suitors; or finally, that she had been urged to this unheard-of measure by individuals who had obtained sufficient influence over her mind to induce her to sacrifice her peace and her honour to their own views.[245]

Happily for herself, Marie de Medicis admitted the validity of these arguments, and abandoned her ill-advised intention; and she was the more readily induced to do this from the assurance which she received from M. de Sully that the restoration of the promise given to Madame de Verneuil by the King was about to be enforced, and that she would consequently be speedily relieved from the anxiety by which she had been so long tormented. Nor was the pledge an idle one, as immediate measures were adopted to effect this act of justice towards the Queen. The negotiation was renewed by two autograph letters from the King himself, addressed respectively to the Comte d'Entragues and the Marquise de Verneuil, which were long preserved in the library of Joly de Fleury, but are now supposed to be lost. Copies of both had been, however, fortunately taken by the Abbé de l'Ecluse,[246] and as they are highly characteristic of the monarch, and cannot fail to prove interesting to the reader, we shall insert them at length.

To M. d'Entragues the King wrote as follows:

"M. d'Entragues, je vous envoye ce porteur pour me rapporter la promesse que je vous baillay a Malesherbes je vous prys ne faillir de me la renvoyer et si vous voulez me la rapporter vous mesme je vous diray les raisons qui m'y poussent qui sont domestiques et non d'estat par lesquelles vous direz que jay raison et reconnaitrez que vous avez été trompé, et que jay un naturel plutost trop bon que autrement, massurant que vous obeyrez à mon commandement, je finirai vous assurant que je suis votre bon mestre."

The letter addressed to Madame de Verneuil bears the same date, and runs thus:

"Mademoiselle, lamour, Ihonneur et les bienfaits que vous avez reçus de moi, eussent arrêté la plus legere ame du monde si elle n'eut point été accompagnée d'un mauvais naturel comme le vostre. Je ne vous picqueray davantage bien que je le peusse et dusse fair, vous le savez: je vous prie de me renvoyer la promesse que savez et ne me donnez point la peine de la revoir par autre voye: renvoyez moi aussi la bague que je vous rendis l'autre jour: voilà le sujet de cette lettre, de laquelle je veux avoir réponse à minuit."

These specimens of royal eloquence were unavailing; evasive answers were returned by the King's messenger, and entreaties having proved ineffectual, threats were subsequently substituted, upon which the arrogant Marquise was ultimately induced to relinquish her claim to ascend the throne of France, on condition that she should, at the moment of delivering up the document, receive in exchange the sum of twenty thousand silver crowns and the promise of a marshal's bâton for her father the Comte d'Entragues, who had never been upon a field of battle. This condition, onerous as it appears, was accepted; and the father of the lady finally, but with evident reluctance, restored the pernicious document to the King in the presence of the Comte de Soissons and the Duc de Montpensier, MM. de Bellièvre, de Sillery, de Maisse,[247] de Jeannin, de Gêvres,[248] and de Villeroy, by whom it was verified, and who signed a declaration to this effect,[249] although it was afterwards proved[250] that D'Entragues had only delivered into the hands of Henry a well-executed copy of the paper, while he himself retained the original.

This ceremony over, the Marquise was commanded to leave the Court, and for a short time peace was perfectly restored. The King had already become weary of his new conquest, and the hand of Mademoiselle de la Bourdaisière was bestowed upon a needy and complaisant courtier; but still the absence of the brilliant favourite, despite all her insolence, left a void in the existence of Henry which no legitimate affection sufficed to fill, and it was consequently not long ere he became enamoured of Mademoiselle de Bueil,[251] a young beauty who had recently appeared at Court in the suite of the Princesse de Condé. The extraordinary loveliness of the youthful orphan at once riveted the attention of the King, and her own inexperience made her, in so licentious a Court as that of Henri IV, an easy victim, so easy, indeed, that the libertine monarch did not even affect towards her the same consideration which he had shown to his former favourites, although her extraordinary personal perfections sufficed to render her society at this period indispensable to him.

It was not long ere the exiled favourite was apprised of this new infidelity, yet such was her reliance upon her own power over the passions of the King that she affected to treat it with contempt; but although she scorned to admit that she could feel any dread of being supplanted by a rival, after-events tended to prove that she was by no means so indifferent to the circumstance as she endeavoured to appear, and being as vindictive in her hate as she was unmeasured in her ambition, she could not forgive the double insult which had been offered to her pride. Forgetting the excesses of which she had been guilty, and the forbearance of the King, not only towards her faults, but even towards her vices, she determined on revenge, and unhappily she felt that the means were within her reach.

The Comte d'Auvergne, although he had been a second time pardoned by Henry, who was ever too ready to receive him into favour, and was wont to declare that although he was a prodigal son he could never make up his mind to see the offspring of his King and brother-in-law perish upon a scaffold,[252] was devotedly attached to his sister, and of an intriguing spirit which delighted in every species of cabal and conspiracy; while François de Balzac d'Entragues, her father, overlooking the fact that he had himself become the husband of a woman whose reputation was lost before their marriage, talked loudly of the dishonour which the King had brought upon his family, and moreover resented, with great reason, an attempt made by Henry to seduce his younger daughter, Marie de Balzac.

For this lady, who subsequently became the mistress of Bassompierre, the King conceived so violent a passion that, although at that period in his fiftieth year, he did not hesitate to assume the disguise of a peasant in order to meet her in the forest of Verneuil. The appointment had, however, become known to M. d'Entragues, who, exasperated by this second affront, and indignant at the persevering licentiousness of the monarch, stationed himself with fifteen devoted adherents in different quarters of the wood in order to take his life. Happily for Henry, he was well mounted, and on being attacked, defended himself so resolutely that he escaped almost by a miracle.

The disappointment of M. d'Entragues at this failure was so great that he compelled his daughter to propose another meeting in a solitary spot which he indicated, and where he made every preparation to secure the assassination of the imprudent monarch; but although she despatched the letter containing the assignation, Marie de Balzac found means to apprise her royal lover of the reception which awaited him, and he consequently failed to keep the appointment.[253] That the Comte d'Entragues, twice foiled in his meditated vengeance, should lend himself willingly to any conspiracy against the honour and life of his sovereign, is consequently scarcely surprising, when we remember how many nobles had in turn caballed against Henri IV with scarcely a pretext for their disloyalty; and meanwhile Madame de Verneuil, fully conscious of the hatred of Philip of Spain for the French King, had no sooner resolved upon revenge than she at once turned her attention towards that monarch, and by exciting his worst passions succeeded in securing his support. She found an able and zealous coadjutor in Don Balthazar de Zuñiga, the Spanish Ambassador at the Court of France; while her step-brother, the Comte d'Auvergne, was no less successful with the Duke of Savoy, who, like Philip III, was never more happy than when he discovered and profited by an opportunity of harassing the French sovereign.

This conspiracy, as absurd as it was criminal, was, moreover, supported by many of the discontented nobles who had never pardoned Henry for the suppression of the League; and, wild as such a project cannot fail to appear in these days, we have the authority of Amelot de la Houssaye[254] for the fact that the Comte d'Auvergne had induced Philip by a secret treaty to promise his assistance in placing Henri de Bourbon, the son of Henri IV and Madame de Verneuil, on the throne of France, to the detriment of the legitimate offspring of Marie de Medicis.

In the act by which Philip bound himself thus to recognise the pretended claim of the Marquise, he also gave a pledge to furnish her with five hundred thousand livres in money, and to despatch the Spanish troops which at that moment occupied Catalonia to support the disaffected French subjects who might be induced to join the cabal in Guienne and Languedoc.

Report also said that M. d'Auvergne, not satisfied with this attempt to undermine the throne of Henri IV, had formed a design against his life, but the rumour obtained no credit even from his enemies.[255]

Whatever extenuation may be found for Madame de Verneuil in such an attempt as this; whatever indulgence may be conceded to a woman baffled in her ambition, misled by her confidence in a supposititious claim, and urged on by a blind and uncalculating affection for her children, it is difficult to find any excuse for the persevering ingratitude of her step-brother. As regards M. d'Entragues, we have already shown that he had more than sufficient cause for seeking revenge upon a monarch who sacrificed every important consideration to the passion of the moment; but the Comte d'Auvergne had experienced nothing save indulgence from Henry, and it was consequently in cold blood that he organized a conspiracy, which, had it succeeded, must have plunged the whole nation into civil war. He was, moreover, the more culpable that he had, in order to secure a pardon for his previous participation in the crime of Biron, assured the too-credulous monarch, that in the event of his restoration to favour, he would, if permitted to continue his intercourse with Philip of Spain as unrestrictedly as heretofore, profit by the facility thus afforded to him to reveal to his Majesty all the secrets of the Spanish Government.

There can be no doubt that such a proposal must have startled and even disgusted the frank nature of the French King; but it was nevertheless too tempting to be rejected; and he himself avowed to Sully, when the new conspiracy of D'Auvergne became known to him, that it was less by the prayers of the culprit's sister, and by his own consideration for the children whom she had borne to him, than in the hope that he might, through the medium of the Count, be enabled to counteract the measures of his most subtle and dangerous enemy, that he had been induced on that occasion to pardon his disloyalty.[256]

By this unwise and ill-calculated concession the King had afforded an opportunity to the restless and disaffected noble of pursuing a correspondence with Philip as dangerous as it was convenient. Couriers were permitted to come and go unquestioned; and it was not long ere every measure of the French Cabinet was as intimately known at Madrid as it was in the Privy Council of Henry himself. This evil was, moreover, increased by the unconditional pardon which had enabled M. d'Auvergne, after his strange and degrading offer, to return to the Court; and he profited so eagerly by the opportunity which was thus afforded to him that he had little difficulty in convincing the false and vindictive Philip that the moment was at length come in which he might overthrow the power of the sovereign whom he hated.

M. de Loménie, however, who, unaware of the promise made by the Count to Henry, became uneasy at the constant communication which the former maintained with the Court of Spain, at length determined to satisfy himself as to its nature, and for this purpose he intercepted some letters, by which he instantly became convinced of the treason meditated against his royal master. Indignant at the discovery which supervened, he suffered his displeasure to reach the ears of the culprit, who forthwith quitted the capital, and hastened to secure himself from arrest in Auvergne, of which province he was the governor, and where he made instant preparations to leave the kingdom should such a step become necessary.

It was consequently in vain that the King, when informed of the circumstance, despatched the Sieur d'Escures[257] to summon the Count to his presence in order that he might justify himself. D'Auvergne resolutely refused to quit his retreat until he had received a formal promise from the sovereign that he should be absolved from all blame of whatever description, and received by his Majesty with his accustomed favour, alleging as a pretext for making this demand, that he was on bad terms with all the Princes of the Blood, with the Grand Equerry, and even with his sister, Madame de Verneuil, and that he could not make head against such a host of enemies except he were supported by the King.

The expostulations of the royal messenger were fruitless, the Count being more fully alive to the danger of his position than M. d'Escures himself; and to every argument and denegation of the anxious envoy he consequently replied by saying that it was useless to urge him to compromise his safety while he felt certain that his ruin had been decided upon, a fact of which he was convinced from the circumstance of his having received no letter from any of the intimate friends of the King since he had withdrawn from the Court, while he was sufficiently acquainted with the bad disposition of Madame de Verneuil to be assured that in the event of her being enabled to effect a reconciliation with the monarch at his expense, she would not scruple to sacrifice his interests to her own.

The embassy of M. d'Escures thus signally failed, and instead of furthering the purpose for which it was intended, it produced a totally opposite effect, as, warned by this attempt to regain possession of his person, it induced M. d'Auvergne to adopt the most extraordinary precautions. He from that moment not only refused to enter any town or village where he might be surprised, but he also declined to hold any intercourse even with his most familiar friends save on a highway, or in some plain or forest where the means of escape were easy; and when hunting, a sport to which he was passionately attached, and which was at that period the only relaxation he could enjoy with safety, he caused videttes to be stationed upon the surrounding heights, who were instructed to apprise him by a concerted signal of the approach of strangers.[258]

All his caution was, however, vain, his capture being an object of too much importance to the King, at the present conjuncture, to be readily relinquished, and accordingly it was at length effected by a stratagem. By the advice of the Duc de Sully, this enterprise was entrusted to M. Murat,[259] who associated with himself M. de Nérestan[260] and the Vicomte de Pont-Château, who, by his instructions, paid several visits to the Count at his château of Borderon near Clermont, without, however, inducing him to quit its walls.

These gentlemen, nevertheless, made themselves so agreeable to the self-exiled conspirator, and listened so patiently to his complaints, that their society became at last necessary to him, and so thoroughly did they succeed in gaining his confidence that they finally experienced little difficulty in persuading him to be present at a review of the light cavalry of the Duc de Vendôme, of which he was the colonel-general, and which was about to take place in a little plain between Clermont and Nonant. He accordingly proceeded to the spot with only two attendants, and he was no sooner seen approaching than M. de Nérestan and the Vicomte de Pont-Château advanced from the ranks, apparently to welcome him, but on reaching his side, the latter seized the bridle of his horse, while his companion arrested him in the name of the King.[261] Resistance was of course impossible, and thus the Comte d'Auvergne, despite all his precautions, found himself a prisoner.

L'Etoile,[262] with a naïveté well calculated to provoke a smile of pity, calls this a "brave" and subtle stratagem; on its subtlety we may be silent, but we leave alike its courage and its honesty to the judgment of our readers. Sully admits[263] that not only the two captors, but even Murat himself, who had an ancient grudge against D'Auvergne, spared no pains or deceit to insinuate themselves into his confidence, while it is equally certain that it was to his perfect faith in their professions that he owed his capture.

Having secured their prisoner, M. Murat and his coadjutors caused him to deliver up his sword, and to exchange the powerful charger upon which he was mounted for a road-hack that had been prepared for him, upon which he proceeded under a strong guard to Briare, whence he was conducted in a carriage to Montargis, and, finally, conveyed in a boat to Paris. During this enforced journey his gaiety never deserted him, nor did he appear to entertain the slightest apprehension as to the result of his imprisonment; throughout the whole of the way he jested, drank, and laughed, as though his return to the capital had been voluntary; and when he was finally met at the gates of the city by M. de la Chevalerie, the lieutenant-governor of the Bastille, he was in such exuberant spirits that the astounded official deemed it expedient to remind him that they had not come together to dance a ballet, but for a totally different purpose.[264]

It was only when he found himself conducted to the very chamber which had been occupied by the Maréchal de Biron previous to his execution, that a shade of anguish passed over the features of the Count. He could not but remember that the traitor-Duke, who had rendered great and good service to his sovereign, had suffered for the same crime of which he was in his turn accused without any such plea for mercy, and it is therefore scarcely surprising that he should have been startled upon finding himself installed as the successor of the condemned marshal.

M. d'Auvergne was not, however, of a temperament long to yield to gloomy ideas, and consequently, while his unhappy wife[265] was lost in tears, and endeavouring by every exertion in her power to save him from a fate which appeared inevitable, he availed himself to the utmost of the leniency of his jailors, and indulged in every luxury and amusement which he was enabled to command. Agonised by her apprehensions, the unhappy Countess at length resolved to throw herself at the feet of the King, where, with a humility which contrasted strangely with the unbending arrogance of her sister-in-law, Madame de Verneuil, she besought in the most touching terms that Henry would spare the life of her husband, and once more pardon his crime. Her earnest supplications evidently affected the King, while Marie de Medicis, who was present, wept with the heart-broken wife, and warmly seconded her petition, but the monarch, who probably feared the result of such an act of mercy, having raised her from her knees with a gentle kindness which made her tears flow afresh, led her to the side of the Queen, upon whose arm he placed his hand as he said firmly: "Deeply, Madame, do I pity you, and sympathize in your suffering, but were I to grant what you ask, I must necessarily admit my wife to be impure, my son a bastard, and my kingdom the prey of my enemies."

All, therefore, that the Countess could obtain was the royal permission to communicate with her husband, a concession of which she hastened to take advantage; when, in reply to her anxious inquiry as to what he desired of her, she received by her messenger the heartless reply that she might send him a good stock of cheese and mustard, and that she need not trouble herself about anything else.[266]

The intercepted letters of the Comte d'Auvergne having also implicated his stepfather M. d'Entragues, and his sister Madame de Verneuil, both were subsequently arrested; the former by the Provost Defunctis[267] in his castle of Marcoussis, and the latter at her residence in the Faubourg St. Germain; while her children were taken from her, and sent, under a proper escort, to the palace of St. Germain-en-Laye. So important did it, moreover, appear to the French ministers to ascertain the exact extent of the conspiracy, that the Provost was accompanied to Marcoussis by M. de Loménie, in order that a search might be instituted upon the premises; the result of which tended to prove, beyond all possibility of doubt, that the original engagement delivered by the father of the Marquise to the sovereign had, in fact, not been restored, but had been skilfully copied by some able pen; while the importance which was still attached to the real document by the family of Madame de Verneuil may be gathered from the fact that it was discovered by the Secretary of State in a glass bottle, carefully sealed and enclosed within a second, which was laid upon a heap of cotton and built up in a wall of one of the apartments. Nor was this the only object of importance found in the possession of M. d'Entragues; as, together with the promise of marriage which he had professed to restore to the King, M. de Loménie likewise discovered, secreted with equal care, sundry letters, the treaty between Philip of Spain and the conspirators, and the cypher which had been employed in their correspondence.[268]

From these documents it was ascertained that the King of Spain had stipulated on oath that, on the condition of Madame de Verneuil confiding her son to his guardianship, he should be immediately recognized as Dauphin of France, and heir to the throne of that kingdom; while five fortresses in the territory of Portugal should be placed at his disposal, and subjected to his authority, as places of refuge should such a precaution become necessary. A similar provision was, moreover, made for the Marquise herself; and an income amounting to twenty thousand pounds English was also promised to the quasi-Prince for the support of his household.

Nor was this domestic arrangement by any means the most important feature of the conspiracy, as appointments, both civil and military, involving considerable pecuniary advantages, were also promised to the Comte d'Auvergne and his stepfather; and a simultaneous invasion was arranged by the Duke of Savoy in Provence, the Condé de Fuentes[269] in Burgundy, and Spinola[270] in Champagne.

On the 11th of December M. d'Entragues was conveyed in a close carriage to the prison of the Conciergerie at Paris, accompanied by his son M. de Marcoussis on horseback, but without a single attendant; and he was in confinement for a considerable time before he was allowed either fire or light; while on the same day, Madame de Verneuil was placed under the charge of M. d'Arques, the Lieutenant of Police, who was informed that he must answer with his life for her safe-keeping, and who accordingly garrisoned her residence with a strong body of his guards and archers.

The Comte d'Entragues was no sooner incarcerated, than his wife,[271] following the example of her daughter-in-law, obtained an audience of Henry, in order to implore the pardon of her husband; but it was remarked that, earnest as she was in his behalf, she never once, during the whole of the interview, made the slightest allusion either to the Comte d'Auvergne or Madame de Verneuil; doubtless feeling that in the one case the well-known respect of the King for the blood of the Valois, and in the other his passion for the Marquise, would plead more powerfully in their behalf than the most emphatic entreaties. Like that of the Comtesse d'Auvergne, her attempt, however, proved abortive, save that Henry accorded to her prayers a mitigation of the rigour with which her husband had hitherto been treated.

Meanwhile Madame de Verneuil, far from imitating the humility of her relatives, openly declared that, whatever might be the result to herself, she should never regret the measures which she had adopted to obtain justice for herself and her children; and when on one occasion she was urged to make the concessions by which alone she could hope for pardon, she answered haughtily: "I have no fear of death; on the contrary, I shall welcome it. If the King takes my life, it will at least be allowed that he sacrificed his own wife, for I was Queen before the Italian woman. I ask but three favours from his Majesty: pardon for my father, a rope for my brother, and justice for myself." [272]

Her reason for this expression may be found in the fact that during three examinations which he underwent the Comte d'Auvergne finally acknowledged everything, and threw the whole blame upon the Marquise; feeling convinced that, under every circumstance, her life was safe; although he had previously (placing the most entire reliance on the good-faith and secrecy of M. de Chevillard,[273] to whom he had, in conjunction with his sister, confided the original treaty with Spain, and never apprehending the discovery of the documents deposited at Marcoussis), declared his innocence in the most solemn manner; and he even concluded his address to the commissioners by saying: "Gentlemen, show me one line of writing by which I can be convicted of having entered into any treaty, either with the King of Spain or his ambassador, and I will immediately sign beneath it my own sentence of death, and condemn myself to be quartered alive."

Nor was the confidence placed by M. d'Auvergne in his friend misplaced; for when Chevillard was in his turn taken to the Bastille as his accomplice, he so carefully concealed the treaty in the skirt of his doublet that it escaped the search of the officials; and on seeing himself treated as a prisoner of state, he contrived by degrees to swallow it in his soup, in order that it should not afterwards fall into their hands in the event of his condemnation.[274]

The indignation of the Marquise may consequently be imagined, when, after such a declaration as that which he had originally made, she ascertained that the Count had not only confessed his guilt, but that he had, moreover, revealed the most minute details of the plot; and in order to convince the King that he placed himself entirely at his mercy, had even given up to him the mutual promise made between himself and the Dues de Bouillon and de Biron on the occasion of the previous conspiracy. Her arrogance was also encouraged by the fact that Henry, anxious to find some pretext for pardoning her treachery, sent secretly to inform her that if she would confess her fault and ask his forgiveness, it should be granted in consideration of the past, and from regard for their children; to which message the Marquise vouchsafed no further reply than that those who had committed no crime required no pardon; and in addition to this impertinence, on being informed that some of her friends, anxious to save her in spite of her own obstinacy, had asserted that she had solicited the clemency of the monarch, she bitterly reproached them for their interference, declaring that they were liars and traitors, and that she would die rather than submit to such a humiliation.[275]

During the exile of the Marquise, the King, whose passion for Mademoiselle de Bueil had begun to decrease, and who discovered that mere personal beauty offered no equivalent for the wit and fascinations of his old favourite, resolved to provide for her, as he had previously done for Mademoiselle de la Bourdaisière, by bestowing her upon a husband; and he accordingly effected her marriage with Henri de Harlay, Comte de Chésy, a young noble whose poverty, as well as his want of Court influence, gave every security for his ready submission to all the exactions of his royal master.[276]

The monarch, whom absence had thus only sufficed to render more devoted than ever to the Marquise, and who had resolved under all circumstances to pardon her, continued to employ every method in his power to induce her to avow her error, although in searching her papers numerous letters had been discovered which revealed an amount of infidelity on her part that should have awakened his pride, and induced him to abandon her to her fate; and at length, despairing that any minor influence would suffice to alter her resolution, and to lower her pride, he instructed M. de Sully to see her, and if possible to convince her of the injury which she was doing to her own cause by the obstinacy with which she rejected the suggestions of the King.

The minister had no alternative save obedience; and he consequently presented himself at the residence of Madame de Verneuil, whom he found as self-possessed and as self-confident as in the palmiest days of her prosperity. Instead of concessions she made conditions, and complained loudly and arrogantly of the proceedings of the sovereign; by whom she declared that she had been outraged in her honour, and from whom she sought redress rather than indulgence. This tirade was seasoned by professions of piety and repentance which were appreciated at their real value by her listener; who, having suffered her to exhaust herself by her own vehemence, instead of temporizing with her vanity as her friends had previously done, took up the subject in his turn, and told her that she would do well to remember that she was at that moment a prisoner under suspicion of treason, and that she might consider herself very fortunate if she were permitted to expiate her crime by self-exile to any country except Spain; bidding her remark, moreover, that this lenity could not now be exhibited towards her until she had undergone a criminal examination, and demanded the pardon of the King for her disobedience.

M. de Sully next proceeded to upbraid her with her unbecoming conduct towards the Queen; assuring her that every word or act of disrespect of which any were guilty towards the wife of the sovereign was an offence against his own person, and was likely to entail upon the culprit a very severe penalty. He then reproached her for her indecent expressions; and especially for her having more than once declared that had she not been treated with injustice, she should have been in the place occupied by "the fat banker's daughter;" [277] and finally, he reprimanded her very severely for the impertinent and absurd affectation with which she had presumed to place herself upon a level with her royal mistress, and her children upon a par with the Dauphin of France; reminding her, moreover, that the perpetual disunion of their Majesties was to be solely attributed to her malignant and malicious insinuations, and advising her to lose no time in requesting permission to throw herself at the feet of the Queen, to entreat her pardon for the past and her indulgence for the future.

To this harangue, so different from the conciliatory and obsequious discourse of her partisans, Madame de Verneuil listened without any display of impatience, but with an ostentatious weariness which was intended to impress upon the minister the utter inutility of his interference; and when he paused to take breath, she assured him with a placid smile that she was obliged by his advice, but that she must have time to reflect before she could decide upon such a measure. M. de Sully, however, was not to be deceived by this well-acted composure; he had not carefully studied the character of the Marquise without perceiving how ill she brooked control or remonstrance; and, accordingly, she had no sooner ceased speaking than he resumed the conversation by expatiating upon the enormity of her conduct in affecting the sudden devotion behind which she had seen fit to entrench herself, while she was daily indulging alike her jealousy and her hatred by endeavouring not only to ruin the domestic happiness of the monarch, but even the interests of his kingdom; and when his offended listener remarked, with chilling haughtiness, that he was in no position to impugn her sincerity, he only answered the intended rebuke by persisting that her assumed piety was a mere grimace, which could not impose upon any man of sense; a fact which he forthwith proved by detailing all her past career, and thus convincing her that no one incident of her licentious life had remained a mystery to him.

"Can you now tell me," he asked, "that these adventures existed only in the jealous imagination of the King, as you have so often assured his Majesty himself? And will you persist in denying that you have deceived him in the most unblushing manner? Believe me, Madame, if you had indeed become penitent for your past errors, and had, from a sincere return to God, desired to withdraw from the Court, you would at once have obtained permission to do so with honour to yourself; but you have simply acted a part, and that so unskilfully as to have deceived no one."

At this period of the interview Madame de Verneuil could not wholly suppress her emotion, but she controlled it sufficiently to reply only by a condescending bow, and the exclamation of, "Proceed, M. le Ministre!"

"I will do so, Madame," said M. de Sully, "by a transition from remonstrance to inquiry. Have you any legitimate subject of complaint which you conceive to warrant your failure of respect towards their Majesties?"

"If this question was dictated to you by the King, Monsieur," was the proud reply, "he was wrong to put it, as he, better than any other person, could himself have decided; and if it be your own suggestion you are no less so, since whatever may be its nature, it is beyond your power to apply the remedy."

"Then, Madame, it only remains for me to be informed of what you desire from his Majesty."

"That which I am aware will prove less acceptable to the King than to myself, M. le Ministre; but which I nevertheless persist in demanding, since I am authorized by your inquiry to repeat my request. I desire immediate permission to leave France with my parents, my brother, and my children, and to take up my permanent residence in some other country, where I shall have excited less jealousy and less malevolence than in this; and I include my brother in this voluntary expatriation because I now have reason to believe that he is suffering entirely for my sake."

Sully was startled: he could not place faith in her sincerity, and he consequently induced her to repeat her request more than once; until she at length added a condition which convinced him that she was indeed perfectly serious in the desire that she expressed.

"Do not, however, imagine, Monsieur," she said, with a significant smile, "that I have any intention of leaving the kingdom, and taking up my abode with strangers, with the slightest prospect of dying by hunger. I am by no means inclined to afford such a gratification to the Queen, who would doubtlessly rejoice to learn that this had been the close of my career. I must have an income of a hundred thousand francs, fully and satisfactorily secured to me in land, before I leave France; and this is a mere trifle compared with what I have a legal right to demand from the King."

"I shall submit your proposition to his Majesty, Madame," said the minister as he rose to take his leave; "and will shortly acquaint you with the result."

Greatly to the disappointment of M. de Sully, however, he found Henry decidedly averse to the departure of Madame de Verneuil; nor could all the arguments by which he endeavoured to convince the infatuated monarch that the self-exile of the Marquise was calculated to ensure his own future tranquillity, avail to overcome his distaste to the proposal.[278] He was weary of his purely sensual intercourse with Madame de Moret, whose extreme facility had caused him from the first to attach but little value to her possession; while her total want of intellect and knowledge of the world continually caused him to remember with regret the dazzling although dangerous qualities of her predecessor. Marie de Medicis, moreover, who had originally looked with complacency upon his liaison with Mademoiselle de Bueil, rejoicing in any event which tended to estrange his affections from the Marquise, had, since her melodramatic marriage and her accession of rank, begun to entertain apprehensions that another formidable rival was about to embitter her future life; while the reproaches which she constantly addressed to the monarch, and to which he was compelled to submit, on the subject of a woman who had merely pleased his fancy without touching his heart, were another cause of irritation, and only tended to make him look back upon the past with an ardent longing to repair it. Thus he continued to employ all his most intimate associates in an attempt to urge the Marquise to make such concessions as would enable him to pardon her, with the earnestness of a repentant lover rather than the clemency of an indulgent sovereign; and when the stern minister so signally failed to convince her reason by his representations, the King endeavoured to arouse her vanity and self-interest by the flatteries and inferences of the more courtly Bassompierre, La Varenne,[279] Sigogne, and others in whom he placed confidence; but all this ill-disguised anxiety only served to convince the wily favourite that she should prove victorious in the struggle, for since Henry could not bring himself to consent to her expatriation, there was no probability that he would ever be induced to take her life.

And the astute Marquise judged rightly: for she was not only safe herself, but the palladium of her family. The King was no longer young; he had become satiated with the tame and facile pleasures for which he was indebted to his sovereign rank; and although opposition and haughtiness in a wife angered and disgusted him, there was a piquancy and novelty in the defiance of a mistress by which he was alike amused and interested. He could calculate upon the extent to which the Queen would venture to indulge her displeasure; but he found himself quite unable to adjudge the limits of Madame de Verneuil's daring; and thus his passion was constantly stimulated by curiosity. In her hours of fascination she delighted his fancy, and in those of irritation she excited his astonishment. Like the ocean, she assumed a new aspect every hour; and to this "infinite variety" she was in all probability indebted for the duration of her empire over the sensual and selfish affections of her royal lover.

Conscious of her power, the Marquise continued inexorable; and finally, Henry found himself compelled to include her in the public accusation brought against the other conspirators, and to issue an order to the Parliament, as the supreme criminal tribunal of the kingdom, to commence without further delay the prosecution of the delinquents.

A new anxiety at this time divided the attention of the King with that which he felt for the vindication of the favourite. His permission had been asked by the Huguenots to hold a meeting at Châtellerault, and this he had at once conceded; but circumstances having arisen which induced the Council to apprehend that the intrigues of the Duc de Bouillon, supported by MM. de la Trémouille, and du Plessis-Mornay,[280] were about to involve the kingdom in new troubles, M. de Sully proceeded to Poitou under pretext of taking possession of his new government, and by his unexpected appearance on the scene of action counteracted the project of the conspirators; while a short time subsequently the Duc de la Trémouille fell into a rapid decline which terminated his existence at the early age of thirty-four years, and deprived the reform party of one of their most able and zealous leaders.

Meanwhile, amid all the dissensions, both political and domestic, by which Henri IV had latterly been harassed, his earnest desire to improve and embellish his good city of Paris and its adjacent palaces had continued unabated. Henri III, during whose reign the Pont Neuf had been commenced, had only lived long enough to see two of its arches constructed, and the piles destined to support the remainder raised above the river; this undertaking was now completed, and numerous workmen were also constantly employed on the galleries of the Louvre, and at the châteaux of St. Germain-en-Laye, Fontainebleau, and Monceaux; the latter of which, as we have already stated, the monarch had presented to the Queen on her arrival in Paris; while, emulating the royal example, the great nobles and capitalists of the city were building on all sides, and increasing alike the extent and splendour of the metropolis.[281] It was at this period that Henry joined the Faubourg St. Germain to the city, and caused it to be paved; constructed the Place Royale; repaired the Hôtel de St. Louis for the purpose of converting it into a plague-hospital; and commenced building the Temple Square.[282]

Other great works were also undertaken throughout the kingdom; the junction of the Garonne with the Aude, an attempt which presented considerable difficulty and which was only terminated during the reign of Louis XIV, was vigorously commenced; other rivers, hitherto comparatively useless, were rendered navigable; and the canal of Briare, with its two-and-thirty locks, although not more than half completed at the death of Henry, had already cost the enormous sum of three hundred thousand crowns. Numerous means of communication were established by highways which had not previously existed; bridges were built, and roads repaired; taxes which paralyzed the manufactures of the country were remitted; the fabrication of tapestried hangings wrought in worsted, silk, and gold, was earnestly encouraged; mulberry plantations were formed, and the foundation laid for the production of the costly silks and velvets for which Lyons has ever since been so famous. An imitation of the celebrated Venetian glass was also introduced with great success; and, above all, even in the midst of these expensive undertakings, a tax of four annual millions of francs, hitherto raised by the customs upon the different classes of citizens, was altogether abolished. Hope and energy were alike aroused by so vigorous a measure; and thus the people ceased to murmur, and were ready to acknowledge that the King had indeed begun to verify his celebrated declaration that "if he were spared, there should not exist a workman within his realm who was not enabled to cook a fowl upon the Sunday." [283]

FOOTNOTES:

[210] Gabrielle-Angélique de Bourbon, who was declared legitimate as her brother had previously been, married in 1622 Bernard de la Valette et de Foix, Duc d'Epernon, and died in childbed in April 1627.

[211] Matthieu, Hist. de Henri IV, vol. ii. book vi. p. 446.

[212] Raimond de Comminge, Sieur de Sobole, and his brother, noblemen of Gascony.

[213] Antoine, Seigneur d'Arquien, was Governor of Calais, Sancerre, etc.

[214] Jean Henri, Duc de Deux-Ponts, who married Catherine de Rohan, was descended from a branch of the royal house of Bavaria.

[215] Christophe de Harlai, Comte de Beaumont, Governor of Orleans. He died in 1615.

[216] L'Etoile, vol. iii. p. 94.

[217] Capefigue, vol. viii. p. 163.

[218] Sully, Mém. vol. iv. pp. 197–199.

[219] L'Etoile, vol. iii. pp. 88, 89.

[220] Sully, Mém. vol. v. pp. 45–50.

[221] Sully, Mém. vol. v. pp. 49–53. Dreux du Radier, vol. vi. pp. 90–92. Saint-Edmé, pp. 222, 223

[222] Capefigue, vol. viii. p. 130.

[223] Richelieu, La Mère et le Fils, vol. i. p. 17.

[224] Sully, Mém. vol. v. pp. 54, 55.

[225] Bernardin Gigault de Bellefonds.

[226] Hercule de Rohan, Duc de Montbazon.

[227] François d'Orléans-Longueville, Comte de St. Pol, Governor of Picardy.

[228] Arnaud de Sorbin, Bishop of Nevers, was justly celebrated both for his piety and his learning. He was originally curate of the parish of Ste. Foy, where he had been placed by Georges, Cardinal d'Armagnac, Bishop of Toulouse, who afterwards removed him from that parish, in order to keep him near his person. The Cardinal d'Este, aware of his great worth and extraordinary talents, conferred upon him the rank of doctor of divinity of the cathedral of Auch, the capital of his archbishopric; but he did not retain it long, having been recalled by his first patron to assume the same position in his church at Toulouse, where he was universally loved and respected. He was successively lecturer to Charles IX, Henri III, and Henri IV, and was consecrated, on his elevation to the see of Nevers, by the Cardinal de Gondy, Bishop of Paris. Monseigneur de Sorbin died in Nevers, on the 1st of May 1606.

[229] L'Etoile, vol. iii. pp. 152–154.

[230] Cayet, Chron. Septen., 1604.

[231] Emeric Gobier, Sieur de Barrault, ambassador at the Court of Spain.

[232] Antoine de Silly, Damoiseau de Commercy, Comte de Rochepot, knight of the Order of the Holy Ghost.

[233] Antoine de Brienne de Loménie, Seigneur de la Ville-aux-Clercs, ambassador-extraordinary to England in 1595, and secretary of state, was the representative of a distinguished family of Berry, whose father, Maréchal de Brienne, registrar of the council, fell a victim to the massacre of St. Bartholomew. He himself died in 1628, bequeathing to the royal library three hundred and forty manuscript volumes, known as the Manuscripts of Brienne.

[234] The Prévôts des Maréchaux were magistrates whose duties consisted in trying vagrants and persons who could not prove their identity, culprits previously sentenced to corporal punishment, banishment, or fine, soldiers, highway robbers, and the members of illicit societies. The Prévôts des Maréchaux took the title of Equerry-Councillors of the King, and their place on the bench of the criminal court was immediately after that of the presiding judge.

[235] L'Etoile, vol. iii. pp. 185–193. Matthieu, Hist, des Derniers Troubles, book ii. pp. 435–437. Sully, Mém. vol. v. pp. 109–121. Mézeray, vol. x. pp. 254–257.

[236] Sully, Mém. vol. v. p. 137.

[237] Sully, Mém. vol. v. pp. 139–142.

[238] The French term which I have ventured thus freely to translate is pot-de-vin, and literally signifies a sum of money given to a third party who is able to ensure the success of a bargain or negotiation of whatever nature. Thus, for example, in the granting and acceptance of a lease which has been effected by such means, the contracting parties jointly pay down the stipulated amount, irrespective of the value of the lease, for the benefit of the person through whose agency it has been concluded; while so general is the system throughout the country, even to this day, that domestic servants give a pot-de-vin to the individual, to whom they are indebted for their situation, in which instance, however, the bribe or recompense is also called a denier à Dieu.

[239] Florent d'Argouges, Treasurer of the Queen's Household. His son was first president of the Parliament of Brittany, and subsequently councillor of state and member of the Privy Council.

[240] Sully, Mém. vol. v. pp. 144–146.

[241] Sully, Mém. vol. v. pp. 147–149.

[242] Sully, Mém. vol. v. p. 155.

[243] Saint-Edmé, vol. ii. p. 223.

[244] In order to convey some idea of the effect produced by the ostensible devotion of Madame de Verneuil upon those who gave her credit for sincerity, we need only quote a passage in the dedication of D'Hemery d'Amboise to his translation of the works of Grégoire de Tours, in which, addressing himself to the Marquise, he gravely says "that she had deduced from the inspired writings of the fathers their salutary doctrine; and that she practised it so faithfully, that her firmness had triumphed over her adversities, and her merit exceeded her happiness." "Your life," he adds, with the same unblushing sycophancy, "serves as a mirror for the most pious, and compels the admiration of all who see so holy and resolute a determination exerted at an age that has scarcely attained its prime; and at which, despising mere personal beauty, and the other precious advantages with which you have been richly endowed by Heaven, you have devoted the course of your best years to the contemplation of the marvels of God, joining spiritual meditation to good works."--Dreux du Radier, vol. vi. pp. 94, 95.

[245] Richelieu, Hist. de la Mère et du Fils, vol. i. pp. 8–11.

[246] MSS. Dupuy, vol. 407.

[247] André Hurault, Seigneur de Maisse, had been ambassador to Venice under both Henri III and Henri IV, and in his official capacity had frequent disputes with the nuncios of Sixtus V and Clement VIII, in consequence of which those prelates exerted all their influence to injure his interests at the Court of Rome. André Morosin mentions M. de Maisse as an able and far-seeing man, sagaci admodum ingenio. In 1595 Henri IV again sent him to Venice to offer his thanks to the Senate for the extraordinary embassy which they had forwarded to him during the previous year; and as M. de Maisse travelled on this occasion with Cardinal Duperron, who was instructed to pass by that city on his way to Rome, great alarm was created in the mind of the Pope that the French ambassador was about to visit the Papal Court in his company, an event which he deprecated from the distrust which he felt of the designs of an individual who had already frustrated the measures of his accredited agents. His Holiness was, however, quitte pour la peur, the instructions of M. de Maisse having restricted him to his Venetian mission.

[248] Louis Potier de Gêvres, Secretary of State. It is from him that the branch of his family still bearing the name of Gêvres is descended, while that of Novion owes its origin to his elder brother, Nicolas Potier de Blancménil.

[249] Mézeray, vol. x. p. 261.

[250] Le Laboureur sur Castelnau.

[251] Jacqueline de Bueil, subsequently Comtesse de Moret, was the daughter of Claude de Bueil, Seigneur de Courcillon and La Machère, and of Catherine de Monteclu, who both died in 1596. The family of Bueil traced their descent from Jean, the first of the name, Sieur de Bueil in Touraine, who was equerry of honour to Charles-le-Bel in 1321.

[252] Dreux du Radier, vol. vi. p. 97.

[253] Wraxall, vol. v. pp. 356, 357.

[254] Abraham-Nicolas Amelot de la Houssaye, was born at Orleans in the year 1634, and passed nearly all his life in composing works of history and in translating the historians by whom he had been preceded. His principal productions are A History of the Government of Venice; Historical, Political, Critical, and Literary Memoirs; and translations of the History of the Council of Trent, by Fra Paolo; of the Prince by Machiavelli; and of the Annals of Tacitus. He died in 1706.

[255] Mézeray, vol. x. pp. 261, 262.

[256] Sully, Mém. vol. iv. p. 125.

[257] Pierre Fougeuse, Sieur d'Escures.

[258] Daniel, vol. vii. pp. 453, 454.

[259] Treasurer of the war department, and lieutenant-general at Riom.

[260] Philibert de Nérestan, knight of Malta, and captain of the bodyguard of Henri IV, was as celebrated for his admirable qualities of mind and heart as for the antiquity of his birth. He was grand master of the Orders of St. Lazarus and Notre-Dame du Mont Carmel, the latter of which was instituted by the sovereign at his intercession.

[261] Matthieu, Hist, des Derniers Troubles, book ii. p. 438. Péréfixe, vol. ii. pp. 406, 407.

[262] L'Etoile, vol. iii. p. 242.

[263] Mémoires, vol. v. p. 185.

[264] L'Etoile, vol. iii. p. 243.

[265] Charlotte, eldest daughter of Henri, Duc de Montmorency, High Constable of France.

[266] L'Etoile, vol. iii. pp. 247–249.

[267] Jean Defunctis, Lieutenant criminal of the Provost of Paris.--Hist. Chron. de la Chancell. de France, p. 316.

[268] Wraxall, Note quoted from Le Laboureur sur Castelnau, vol. v. p. 356.

[269] Pedro Henriques Azevedo, Condé de Fuentes, succeeded to the command of the Spanish army on the demise of the Archduke Ernest.

[270] Ambroise Spinola, Marques de los Balbazez, one of the most distinguished generals of the seventeenth century, was the descendant of an illustrious family of Geneva, whose branches spread alike over Italy and Spain. He was born in 1569, and first bore arms in Flanders. In 1604, being in command of the army, he took Ostend, and in consequence of his important services was appointed General of the Spanish troops in the Low Countries. When opposed to Prince Maurice of Nassau, he counterbalanced alike his renown and his success; and in 1629, when serving in Piedmont, he took the town of Casal, but died in the following year of vexation at having failed to reduce the fortress of that city.

[271] Marie Touchet, Comtesse d'Entragues, was the daughter of an apothecary at Orleans; who, on the occasion of a visit of Charles IX to that city, obtained permission to see his Majesty dine in public, where her extreme beauty so impressed the Monarch that he inquired her name, and at the close of the repast despatched M. de Latour, the master of his wardrobe, to desire her attendance in his closet. The negotiation did not prove a difficult one; as the lady, although at the moment strongly attached to M. de Monluc, the brother of the Bishop of Valence, could not resist the prestige of royalty. Charles, anxious to retain her near him, requested Madame Marguerite, his sister, to receive her into her household as a waiting-woman; but as she shortly afterwards became pregnant, he removed her from the Court and established her in Paris, where she gave birth to Charles, Comte d'Auvergne. Although tenderly beloved by the King, Marie Touchet still retained her attachment to Monluc, with whom she carried on an active correspondence, which was at length discovered by Charles; who, having on one occasion been apprised that she had at the moment a letter from her former lover in her pocket, instantly caused a number of the Court ladies to be invited to supper; and they were no sooner assembled than he sent to desire a man named Chambre, the chief of a band of gipsies, to disperse a dozen of his most expert followers about the apartment, with orders to cut away the pockets of all the guests and to bring them carefully to his closet when he retired for the night. He then caused the faithless favourite to be seated beside himself, in order that she might not have an opportunity of disposing of the letter elsewhere; and the Bohemians having adroitly obeyed his instructions, the King found himself a few hours afterwards in possession of the booty. In the pocket of Marie Touchet he discovered, as he had anticipated, the letter of M. de Monluc; which, on the following morning, he placed, with the most bitter reproaches, in the hands of its owner; who, on finding herself detected, declared that the pocket in which the King had discovered it was not hers, a subterfuge by which, as the letter bore no address, she hoped to escape the anger and indignation of her royal lover. Unfortunately, however, Charles recognized several of the trinkets by which it had been accompanied; and she had, consequently, no alternative save to acknowledge her fault and to entreat for pardon. Charles, who could not resist her tears, was soon induced to promise this, provided she pledged herself to relinquish all intercourse with Monluc; and in order to render her performance of this pledge more sure, he shortly afterwards married her to the Comte d'Entragues, whose complaisance he rewarded by the government of Orleans.--L'Etoile, Hist, de Henri IV, vol. iii. pp. 247–249.

[272] Dreux du Radier, vol. vi. p. 98. Saint-Edmé, vol. ii. p. 227. L'Etoile, vol. iii. p. 247.

[273] Antoine Eugène Chevillard, general treasurer of the gendarmerie of France.

[274] Sully, Mém. vol. v. p. 161, quoted from Amelot de la Houssaye.

[275] Dreux du Radier, vol. vi. p. 99.

[276] Mademoiselle de Bueil became Comtesse de Chésy on the 5th of October 1604, and two months later she obtained a divorce. M. de Chésy died in 1652.

[277] Péréfixe, vol. ii. p. 401.

[278] Sully, Mém. vol. v. pp. 193–197.

[279] Guillaume Fouquet, Sieur de la Varenne, was one of those singularly-gifted individuals who by the unaided power of intellect are raised from obscurity to fortune. On his first introduction to the Court of France, his position was merely that of cloak-bearer to the King; but his excessive acuteness and his genius for intrigue soon drew upon him the attention of the Cabinet. The event that originally procured for him the favour by which he so largely profited in the sequel was a voyage to Spain, voluntarily undertaken under unusual difficulties. The courier who was conveying to Philip the despatches of the Duc de Mayenne and the other chiefs of the League, having been taken by the emissaries of Henri IV, and the despatches opened by his ministers, it was decided that copies should be made, and the originals resealed and forwarded to their destination by some confidential person who might bring back the replies, in order that a more perfect judgment might be formed by the Council of their probable result. For such an undertaking as this, however, it was obvious that a messenger must be found at once faithful, expert, and courageous; and such an one offered himself in the person of La Varenne, who without a moment's hesitation offered his services to the King, and acquitted himself so dexterously of his self-imposed task that he succeeded, not only in procuring two interviews with the Spanish Council, but even an audience of Philip, without once exciting suspicion; and his arrival at Madrid had been so well timed that although a second courier was despatched in all haste by the League, to announce the capture of his predecessor, he was enabled to effect his return to France with the reply of the Spanish monarch, by which Henry and his ministers were apprised of the plans and pretensions of that potentate (Amelot de la Houssaye, Lettres du Cardinal d'Ossat, vol. ii. p. 17 note.) La Varenne was subsequently Master-General of the Post Office.

[280] Philippe de Mornay, Seigneur de Plessis-Marly, Governor of Saumur, was born in the year 1549, at Bussy, in the department of the Oise, of a Catholic father and a Protestant mother (Françoise du Bec), the latter of whom educated him in the reformed faith. Having escaped the massacre of St. Bartholomew, he visited Germany, Italy, and England, and finally entered the service of Henri IV, while he was still King of Navarre, who sent him on a mission to Queen Elizabeth. His science, his valour, and his high sense of honour, rendered him after the abjuration of the monarch the chief of the Protestant party, and caused him to be called the Huguenot Pope. He sustained against Duperron, Bishop of Evreux, the famous conference of Fontainebleau, at whose close each of the two parties claimed the victory. Louis XIII deprived him of his government of Saumur; and he died in 1623. He had issue by his wife, Charlotte de l'Arbalète, widow of the Marquis de Feuquières, one son (Plessis-Mornay, Sieur de Bauves), who was killed in 1605 while serving under Prince Maurice in the Low Countries, and three daughters, the younger of whom married the Duc de la Force.

[281] Mézeray, vol. x. pp. 254, 255.

[282] Bonnechose, Hist. de France, vol. i. p. 438, seventh edition.

[283] Bonnechose, vol. i. p. 438.