CHAPTER VII

1607

Profuse expenditure of the French nobles--Prevalence of duelling under Henri IV--Meeting of the Prince de Condé and the Duc de Nevers--They are arrested by the King's guard--Reconciliation of the two nobles--The Duc de Soubise is wounded in a duel--Profligacy of Madame de Moret--The King insists upon her marriage with the Prince de Joinville--Indignation of the Duchesse de Guise--A dialogue with Majesty--The Prince de Joinville is exiled--Madame de Moret intrigues with the Comte de Sommerive--He promises her marriage--He attempts to assassinate M. de Balagny--He is exiled to Lorraine--Mademoiselle des Essarts--Birth of the Duc d'Orléans--Peace between the Pope and the Venetians--The Queen and her confidants--Death of the Chancellor of France--Death of the Cardinal de Lorraine--Royal rejoicings--The last ballet of a dying Prince--Betrothal of Mademoiselle de Montpensier to the infant Duc d'Orléans--Sully as a theatrical manager--The Court gamester--Death of the Duc de Montpensier--The ex-Queen Marguerite founds a monastery--Influence of Concini and Leonora over the Queen--Arrogance of Concini--Indignation of the King--A royal rupture--The King leaves Paris for Chantilly--Sully and the Queen--The letter--Anger of the King--Sully reconciles the King and Queen--Madame de Verneuil and the Duc de Guise---Court gambling--Birth of the Duc d'Anjou--Betrothal of the Duc de Vendôme and Mademoiselle de Mercoeur--Reluctance of the lady's family--Celebration of the marriage--Munificence of Henry--Arrival of Don Pedro de Toledo--His arrogance--Admirable rejoinder of the King--Object of the embassy--Passion of Henry for hunting--Embellishment of Paris--Eduardo Fernandez--The King's debts of honour--Despair of Madame de Verneuil--Defective policy--A bold stroke for a coronet--The fallen favourite.

Despite the presence of the pestilence the gaieties of the past winter had surpassed, alike in the Court and in the capital, all that had hitherto been witnessed in France. The profusion of the nobles, whom no foreign war compelled to disburse their revenues in arming their retainers, and in preparing themselves to maintain their dignity and rank in the eyes of a hostile nation, was unchecked and excessive; while, as we have already shown, the monarch felt no inclination to control an outlay by which they thus voluntarily crippled their resources.

The year 1607 commenced, with the exception of the fatal scourge which still existed in and about Paris, in the greatest abundance, and the most perfect peace. The Court celebrated the New Year at St. Germain-en-Laye, and on the following day proceeded to Fontainebleau, where during the _carême-prenant_[356] a ballet was danced, and several magnificent entertainments were given to their Majesties by the great nobles of the household. These festivities were, however, unfortunately interrupted by an event which created universal consternation and anxiety. The most glaring evil of the reign of Henri IV had long been the prevalence of duelling, which he had in the first instance neglected to discountenance; and which had, in consequence, reached an extreme that threatened the most serious results, not only to the principal personages of the kingdom, but even to those whose comparative insignificance in society should have shielded them from all participation in so iniquitous and senseless a practice. L'Etoile computes the number of individuals who lost their lives in these illicit encounters at several thousands; nor did the tardy edicts issued by the King produce a cessation of the custom. On the 4th of February, the Prince de Condé, conceiving himself aggrieved by some expression used by the Duc de Nevers, sent him a challenge, to which the Duke instantly responded; and he was already on the ground watching the approach of his antagonist, when a company of the King's bodyguard arrived, who, in the name of his Majesty, forbade the conflict, and escorted the two quasi-combatants to the royal presence, where, "more in sorrow than in anger," Henry reprimanded both Princes; reminding them of their disobedience to his expressed commands, of the fatal example which their want of self-government would afford to their inferiors, and of the loss which the death of either party would have inflicted upon himself. He then more particularly addressed M. de Nevers, and reproached him severely for having evinced so little respect for the Blood Royal of France as to accept, under any circumstances, a challenge from a relative of his sovereign, who should have been sacred in his eyes.[357]

Whether the arguments of the King convinced the two nobles, or their loyalty sufficed to render them conscious of their error, is unimportant. Henry had the satisfaction of removing the misunderstanding between them, and from the royal closet they proceeded to the apartments of the Queen, in order to allay an anxiety which, from her friendship and affection for Madame de Nevers who was then absent on one of her estates, had been painfully great.

The expressed displeasure of the King at these encounters did not, however, as we have already stated, suffice to prevent their frequent occurrence; and on the 22d of the same month another hostile meeting took place between the Duc de Soubise[358] and M. de Boccal, which had nearly proved fatal to the former; but it having been explained to the monarch that the antagonist of M. de Soubise had long withstood the provocation of the Duke, declaring that he dare not raise his hand against one so nearly connected with the throne, and that he had not yielded until the impetuous and intemperate violence of his antagonist had left him no other resource, Henry, with his usual clemency, forgave the crime.[359]

In addition to these occurrences, which were moreover succeeded by others of the same description during the month, the anger of the King was excited by a discovery which he made of the infidelity of Madame de Moret. Indulgent to his own profligacy to a degree which rendered him insensible to his self-abasement, Henry was peculiarly alive to the degradation of sharing with a rival the affections, or perhaps it were more fitting to say the favours, of his mistresses. He readily forgot the fact that he had himself been the first to initiate them into the rudiments of vice--to induce them to abnegate their self-respect, and to brave the opinion of the world and their own reproaches--while he could not brook that they should reduce him to a level with one of his own subjects, and that they should so far emancipate themselves as to feel a preference for younger and more attractive men when they had been honoured by his notice. The dissolute monarch did not pause to reflect that with women the national proverb, _il n'y a que le premier pas qui coûte_, is but too often realized, and that he was, in fact, the architect of his own mortification.

Madame de Moret had long been attached to the Prince de Joinville; who, young, reckless, and impetuous, returned her passion, and scarcely made any effort to conceal his rivalry with the monarch. Courtiers have, moreover, sharp eyes, and it was not long ere the King was apprised of the intrigue. Bassompierre relates that he hastened to warn the imprudent lovers of their danger, but that believing him to have some personal motive for his interference, they disregarded the caution;[360] and the fact of their mutual passion at length became so well authenticated, that Henry, whose pride rather than his heart was wounded by the levity of the Countess, reproached her in the most insulting terms with her misconduct.[361] Madame de Moret did not attempt to deny her attachment to the Prince, but excused herself by reminding the monarch that, honoured as she was by his preference, she could not forget that she was merely his mistress, and could anticipate no higher destiny, while M. de Joinville was prepared to make her his wife.

"In that case, Madame," said the King, "you are forgiven. I can permit my subjects to espouse my mistresses, but I cannot allow them to play the gallants to those ladies whom I have distinguished by my own favour. You shall not be disappointed in your expectations, and this marriage shall have my sanction without delay."

It can scarcely be doubted that this ready assent must have been no slight mortification to the vanity of Madame de Moret, while it is equally certain that it was perfectly sincere on the part of the King, although from a cause altogether independent of the Countess herself. In fact, the Prince de Joinville having previously rendered himself obnoxious to the monarch by his marked attentions to the Marquise de Verneuil, the latter was anxious to see him married, and thus to rid himself of a dangerous rival. Such an alliance must, moreover, as he at once felt, deeply wound the pride of the Guises, whom it was his interest to humble by every means in his power; and accordingly he hastened upon leaving Madame de Moret to summon the young Prince to his presence, and to insist upon the fulfilment of his promise.

Startled by so unexpected an order, M. de Joinville feigned a ready compliance, but on his dismissal from the royal closet he expressed his indignation in no measured terms, declaring that had any other than the sovereign proposed to him so disgraceful an alliance, whatever might have been his rank, he would have resented the insult upon the instant; while no sooner did the Duchess his mother become apprised of the circumstance, than she hastened to throw herself at the feet of the King, beseeching him rather to take her life than to subject her son to such dishonour.

"Rise, Madame," said Henry gravely; "yours is a petition which I cannot grant, as I never yet took the life of any woman, and have still to learn the possibility of doing so."

"A Guise, Sire," pursued the haughty Duchess, as she once more stood erect before him, "cannot marry the mistress of any man, even although that man should chance to be his monarch."

"Every man, Madame," retorted the King, "must pay the penalty of seeking to humiliate his sovereign, even although that man be a Guise."

"M. de Joinville, Sire, shall never become the husband of Jacqueline de Bueil."

"Neither, Madame," said the King angrily, "shall he ever become her gallant. This is not the first occasion upon which he has had the insolence to interpose between me and my favourites. I have not yet forgotten his intrigue with Madame de Verneuil; and if I pardoned him upon that occasion, it was not on his own account, but from respect for the relationship which exists between us. Neither, Madame, has it escaped my memory that the House of Guise endeavoured to wrest from me the crown of France; and, in short, finding myself so ill-requited for my indulgence, I am weary of exercising a lenity which has degenerated into weakness. Your son is at perfect liberty to marry my mistress, since he has seen fit to desire it, and he shall do so, or repent his obduracy in the Bastille, where he will have time and leisure to learn the respect which he owes to his sovereign."

"It is your Majesty who is wanting in respect to yourself," said the Duchess haughtily.

"Madame!" exclaimed the King; "do not give me cause to forget that you are my aunt. I can hear no more until you assume a tone better suited to our relative positions. You have heard my resolve, and may retire."

Thus abruptly dismissed, Madame de Guise withdrew, and hastened to apprise her son of the impending peril, upon which he escaped from the capital before the order issued for his arrest could be put into execution; while his relatives endeavoured by humility and submission to obtain his forgiveness. Henry, however, had been too deeply wounded, alike by the levity of the son and the overbearing haughtiness of the mother, to yield to their entreaties, and the only concession which he could be induced to make was a conditional pardon involving the perpetual exile of the culprit.[362]

Nor was the King, who at once discovered that he had been duped, less inclined to visit upon Madame de Moret the consequences of her falsehood, and he openly declared that she should also have been compelled to quit the country had she not been on the eve of becoming a mother.[363]

This event shortly afterwards took place, but, although during the following year Henry legitimated her son,[364] he ever afterwards treated her with the greatest coldness; nor did the birth of the child in any way affect her position, as had been the case with the Duchesse de Beaufort and the Marquise de Verneuil, the King contenting himself by sending to her a present of money and jewels, but evincing no disposition to raise her rank.

It would appear, moreover, that the indifference was mutual, as only a short time subsequently she encouraged the assiduities of the Comte de Sommerive, from whom, according to Sully, there could be no doubt that she did actually obtain a written promise of marriage; and the King was no sooner apprised of the circumstance than he expressed, as he had previously done in the case of the Prince de Joinville, his perfect willingness to consent to the alliance, merely desiring M. de Balagny,[365] a gentleman of his household upon whom he could rely, to watch the proceedings of the lovers, and to acquaint him with every particular, should he have cause to suspect that the intentions of the Count were equivocal. M. de Sommerive, however, who soon discovered that he was an object of _espionnage_, became so much exasperated that, having on one occasion encountered the royal confidant at a convenient moment for the purpose, he drew his sword and attacked him so vigorously that his intended victim was compelled to save himself by flight.

In this instance Henry, who had ceased to feel any interest in Madame de Moret, contented himself by reprimanding the culprit, branding him with the name of assassin, and finally exiling him to Lorraine, with strict orders not to leave that province without his express permission.

We will here terminate the history of the ex-favourite, who has already occupied only too much space. After this last adventure she ceased to make any figure at Court, her influence over the monarch having entirely ceased; and seven years subsequent to his death she became the wife of Réné du Bec, Marquis de Vardes, and the mother of two sons, the elder of whom, François Réné, Comte de Moret, was afterwards famous during the reign of Louis XIV under the title of Marquis de Vardes.[366]

The estrangement of the monarch from Madame de Moret, coupled with his increasing coldness towards the Marquise de Verneuil, once more at this period restored the unhappy Queen to a comparative peace of mind, which she was not, however, long fated to enjoy; as at the close of the year a new candidate for the royal favour presented herself in the person of Mademoiselle des Essarts.[367] This lady, who was a member of the household of the Comtesse de Beaumont-Harlay, had accompanied her mistress to England, whither M. de Beaumont-Harlay[368] had been accredited as ambassador; and on the return of her patroness to France she appeared in her suite at Court, where she instantly attracted the attention of the dissolute King. Her reign was happily a short one, and at the close of two years she retired with the title of Comtesse de Romorantin, having previously been privately married to the Archbishop of Rheims.[369]

We shall pass over in silence the other _liaisons_ of the monarch, as they were too transitory greatly to affect the tranquillity of the Queen, until we are once more compelled to return to them in order to record his unhappy passion for the beautiful Princesse de Condé--a passion which at one period threatened to involve a European war.

On the 6th of April Marie de Medicis gave birth to her second son, who received the title of Duc d'Orléans, that duchy having always since the time of Philip VI been the appanage of a Prince of the Blood, or one of the first nobles of the kingdom. The public rejoicings were universal, and the satisfaction of the King without bounds. The little Prince was privately baptized by the Cardinal de Gondy, until the state ceremonies of his christening could take place; and on the 22d of the month he was invested by the sovereign with the insignia of St. Michael and the Holy Ghost, in the presence of the Cardinals, and the Commanders and Knights of those Orders, with great pomp; after which a banquet was given by the King in the great hall at Fontainebleau, and at nightfall the park was illuminated in all directions by immense bonfires, and a pyrotechnic display, which was witnessed by admiring and exulting thousands.

The intelligence which reached Paris on the following day that peace had been restored between the Pope and the Venetians, through the intervention of the French monarch; that the Papal excommunication which had been fulminated against that republic had been repealed, and a general absolution accorded, excited the enthusiasm of the French people to its greatest height. They augured from this fact a brilliant future for the little Prince, who had come into the world at the very moment when the great work had been achieved; and this feeling was shared by the august parents of the royal infant. So little can human foresight fathom the designs of the Almighty Disposer of all things! Men congratulated each other in the public street; and, forgetting the Huguenot origin of Henry, considered him only as the champion of the Romish faith; while they coupled his name and that of the Queen with every endearing epithet of which they were susceptible.

The remainder of the summer was occupied by the monarch in the embellishment of the capital, in high play,[370] and in his rapidly-waning passion for Madame de Verneuil; while the Court resided alternately at Fontainebleau and St. Germain; the Queen confining herself more and more to the society of her children and her immediate favourites, listening with jealous avidity to every rumour of infidelity on the part of her royal consort, and occasionally renewing those unhappy differences by which the whole of their married life had been embittered.

The kingdom was at peace, but anarchy still reigned within the walls of the palace. It is true that the advancing age of the monarch appeared to offer a sufficient guarantee for his moral reformation, but the daily experience of the Queen sufficed to convince her that she must never hope for domestic happiness; and this conviction doubtless tended to place her more thoroughly in the power of those treacherous advisers who, in order to strengthen their own influence, did not hesitate to exaggerate (where exaggeration was possible) the painful errors of her husband. She saw herself idolized by the people, who regarded her with earnest affection as the mother of two Princes whom they looked upon as pledges for the safety and prosperity of France, while she found herself at the same time an object of indifference to the monarch whom they were destined to succeed; and who, while he lavished upon his children incessant tokens of tenderness, sacrificed her personal happiness to every passing fancy, even at the time when he affected to reproach her with a coldness of which he was himself the cause.

Again we fearlessly repeat that the historians of the time have not done Marie de Medicis justice. They expatiate upon her faults, they enlarge upon her weaknesses, they descant upon her errors; but they touch lightly and carelessly upon the primary influences which governed her after-life. She arrived in her new kingdom young, hopeful, and happy--young, and her youth was blighted by neglect; hopeful, and her hopes were crushed by unkindness; happy, and her happiness was marred by inconstancy and insult. Her woman-nature, plastic as it might have been under more fortunate circumstances, became indurated to harshness; and it is not they who strive to work upon the most solid marble who should complain if the chisel with which they pursue their purpose become blunted in the process.

On the 5th of September of this year died M. de Bellièvre, the Chancellor of France, whose probity and justice had rendered him dear to the people, in whose eyes the withdrawal of his Court favour only tended to enhance his valuable qualities. He was, as a natural consequence, succeeded by Brulart de Sillery, who had already superseded him as Keeper of the Seals; and his body was attended to the church of St. Germain-l'Auxerrois by a vast concourse of the citizens.

His demise was, in November, followed by that of the Cardinal de Lorraine,[371] who, with the usual superstition of the age, was declared to have been bewitched because his malady had baffled the skill of his physicians; while that which renders the circumstance the more melancholy, is the fact that the individual accused of his destruction was burned alive at Nancy, after having been previously subjected to a course of lingering torture.[372]

The Court meanwhile, according to Sully,[373] was more dissipated than it had been during any previous winter since the arrival of Marie de Medicis in France; while the account given of the state of morals throughout the capital by L'Etoile, is one which will not bear transcription. The new year (1608) commenced in the same manner. Ballets were danced both at the Louvre and at the residences of the great nobles. The ex-Queen Marguerite gave an entertainment in honour of the birth of the young Prince, which terminated with a running at the ring, where the prizes were distributed by herself and her successor; and, finally, the King commanded that an especial ballet for the amusement of the Duc de Montpensier, to whose daughter he was about to affiance the infant Duc d'Orléans, should be executed by the Duc de Vendôme, the Marquis de Bassompierre, the Baron de Thermes, and M. de Carmail, the four nobles of the Court who were distinguished by the appellation of "les Dangereux." The august party accordingly proceeded to the hotel of that Prince, who was then nearly at the point of death, having languished throughout two years in a low decline which had gradually sapped his existence; but notwithstanding the state of debility to which he was reduced, the Duke left his bed, and received his royal and noble guests in the hall wherein the ballet was performed.[374] It may be doubted, however, whether M. de Montpensier did not make this supreme effort in consequence of the proposed alliance, and his anxiety to evince to their Majesties his sense of the honour which was about to be conferred upon himself and his family, rather than from any amusement which he could hope to derive from such an exhibition. Be that, however, as it may, the most magnificent preparations had been made for the reception of Henry and his Queen, who were met at the foot of the great staircase by the Duchess, followed by her women, and escorted by a score of pages bearing lighted tapers, and thus conducted to the canopied dais beneath which their ponderous chairs, covered with cloth of gold, had been placed, with low stools behind and on either side of the throne, for the use of such of the other guests as were privileged to seat themselves in the presence of the sovereign.

The ballet, save as regarded the dying condition of the ducal host, was executed under the happiest auspices. The King, to whom the proposed marriage of the two children was agreeable under every aspect, was in one of his most condescending and complacent moods; while Marie de Medicis, whose affection for all her offspring amounted to passion, was radiant with delight as she remembered that by the will of the Duke all his property and estates devolved upon the young Prince, even should his betrothed bride[375] not live to become his wife.[376]

On the following day the affiancing, of which this entertainment had been the prelude, took place with great solemnity. The most costly presents were exchanged, not only by the betrothed children, but also by their royal and noble relatives. This ceremony, owing to the failing health of the Duke, was also performed at the Hôtel Montpensier, and was succeeded by amusements of every description; among which those prepared for the occasion at the Arsenal by Sully afforded the most marked gratification to their Majesties. The minister had caused a spacious theatre to be constructed, in which the Italian actors who had been summoned to France by the Queen gave their representations. This pit or _salle de spectacle_ was, as he himself informs us, arranged amphitheatrically, while above were galleries divided into separate boxes, each approached by a different staircase and entered by a different door. Two of these galleries were reserved entirely for the ladies who were admitted to the performance, and no man, upon any pretext whatever, was permitted to enter them; an arrangement which appears to be strikingly at variance with the lax morality of the time. So resolved, nevertheless, was Sully to enforce this restriction, that he adds with a gravity curious enough upon such a subject: "This was one of my regulations which I would not suffer to be violated, and of which I did not consider it beneath me personally to compel the observance." [377]

To impress, moreover, upon his readers the strength of this determination, he relates an anecdote of which we cannot resist the transcription:

"One day," he says, "when a very fine ballet was represented in this hall, I perceived a man leading a lady by the hand, with whom he was about to enter the women's gallery. He was a foreigner, and I moreover easily recognized by his sallow complexion to what country he belonged. 'Monsieur,' I said to him, 'you will be good enough to look for another door; for I do not think that with your skin you can hope to pass for a lady.' 'My lord,' replied he in very bad French, 'when you ascertain who I am, you will not, I can assure you, refuse to have the politeness of permitting me to enter with these fair and lovely ladies, however dark I may be. My name is Pimentello; I am well received by his Majesty, and have frequently the honour of playing with him.' This was true, and too true. This foreigner, of whom I had frequently heard, had won immense sums from the King. 'How, _ventre de ma vie!_ I exclaimed, affecting extreme anger; 'you are then, I perceive, that great glutton of a Portuguese who daily wins the money of the King. _Pardieu_, you are by no means welcome here, as I neither affect nor will receive such guests.' He was about to reply, but I thrust him back, saying at the same time, 'Go, go; find another entrance, for your jargon will fail to make any impression upon me.' The King having subsequently inquired of him if he had not thought the ballet magnificent and admirably executed, Pimentello replied that he was anxious to have witnessed it, but that he had been encountered at the door by his finance minister, who had met him with a negative and shut him out; an adventure which so much amused the monarch that he not only laughed heartily himself, but made the whole Court participators in his amusement." [378]

Banquets, running at the ring, and balls in which the Queen occasionally condescended to join, varied the entertainments; which were, however, suddenly terminated by the death of the Duc de Montpensier, which occurred on the 28th of the month; and so much was the King affected by his demise, that he forbade all the customary diversions during the ensuing Carnival.

Nothing could exceed, save in the case of a sovereign, the splendour of the funeral ceremonies observed after the Duke's decease. He had no sooner expired than his body was carried into a hall richly hung with tapestry, and surrounded by seats and benches covered with cloth of gold, elaborately embroidered with _fleurs-de-lis,_ intended for the accommodation of the prelates, nobles, knights, and gentlemen of the Duke's household who were appointed to watch beside the corpse. The body lay upon a state bed covered with cloth of gold which swept the floor, and was bordered with ermine. He wore his ducal robes, with a coronet, and the great collar of St. Michael; and had his white-gloved hands crossed upon his breast. At the foot of the bier stood a small table upon which was a massive silver crucifix; and near it a second supporting a vase of holy water. In this state the deceased Duke remained during eight days; the officers of his household waiting upon him in the same manner, and with the same ceremonies as when he was alive. A prelate said the grace; the water, in which while in existence the Prince had been accustomed to lave his hands previously to commencing a meal, was presented to his vacant chair; the different courses were placed upon the table by the proper officers; a silver goblet was prepared at the same moment in which he had formerly been in the habit of taking his first draught; and, finally, the same prelate uttered a thanksgiving, to which he added a "De profundis," and the prayer for the dead; when the food that had been served up was distributed to the poor.

At the termination of the eight days the funeral service was performed at Notre Dame, in the presence of the Knights of the Holy Ghost, all wearing their collars. The chief mourners were the Prince de Condé and the Comte de Soissons, the cousins of the deceased Duke; and his funeral oration was delivered by M. de Fenouillet, Bishop of Montpellier. The body was then conveyed to Champigny in Poitou, where the Duke was laid to rest with his ancestors.[379]

Having strictly forbidden all public festivities, Henry removed the Court to Fontainebleau; and Marguerite, whose unblushing libertinism was a byword in Paris, seized the moment to erect an almshouse and convent upon a portion of the grounds of her hotel. It was stated that the ex-Queen during her residence at Usson, where, as we have already seen, her career was one of the most degrading profligacy, had made a vow that should she ever be permitted to revisit Paris, she would support a certain number of monks who should daily sing the praises of the Deity; and she accordingly gave to the chapel attached to the convent the name of the Chapel of Praise, while the house itself was designated the Monastery of the Holy Trinity. It was no sooner built than it was given by the foundress to the reformed and bare-footed Fathers of St. Augustine; but after having solicited in their favour various privileges which were accorded by the Sovereign-Pontiff, she dispossessed them in the year 1613, and established in their place the Augustine Fathers of the Congregation of Bourges.

Meanwhile the influence of Concini and his wife over the mind of the Queen unhappily increased with time, until the arrogance of the former became so great that he had the insolence to enter the lists at a grand tilting at the ring which was publicly held in the Rue St. Antoine in the presence of the monarch and his Court; a piece of presumption which was rendered still more unpalatable to Henry by the fact that the Italian, who was well skilled in such exercises, bore away the prize for which the whole of his own nobility had contended.

So arrogant, indeed, had he become, and so inflated with the consciousness of wealth--Marie de Medicis having been lavish even beyond her means both to his wife and himself--that he entered into a negotiation for the purchase of La Ferté, a property estimated at between two and three hundred thousand crowns; and he no sooner ascertained that the Duchesse de Sully had waited upon the Queen to entreat of her Majesty to forbid the transfer, as such an acquisition made by an individual who was generally known to be penniless only a few years previously would necessarily excite the public disaffection towards herself, than he had the audacity to proceed to the Arsenal and to upbraid that lady for her interference in the most unmeasured and insulting terms, declaring that he was independent both of the King of France and of his subjects, whatever might be their sex and rank; and that whoever thwarted him in his projects might live to rue the day in which they braved his anger.

This intemperance having come to the ears of the King, his indignation was excessive; but, as on previous occasions, he lacked the moral courage to assert his dignity; and satisfied himself by bitter complaints to Sully of the fatal hold which her two Italian attendants had secured upon the affections of the Queen, and by replying to the reproaches of Marie upon the subject of his new attachment for Charlotte des Essarts, and the continued insolence of Madame de Verneuil, with vehement upbraidings on the vassalage in which she lived to the indecent caprices and shameless extortions of a waiting-woman and her husband.

Marie de Medicis, who had hoped that the rank in her household which had been conceded to Leonora would protect her for the future against allusions to the obscurity of her origin, was greatly incensed by the tone of contempt still maintained by the King whenever he made any allusion either to Leonora or Concini; and eventually these recriminations attained to such a height that Henry abruptly quitted the Louvre (where the delicate health of his royal consort had induced him to establish his temporary residence), and proceeded to Chantilly, without taking leave of her. On his way, however, he alighted at the Arsenal, where he informed Sully of the reason of his sudden departure; and the minister became so much alarmed at this unequivocal demonstration of displeasure on the part of the monarch, that he resolved not to lose a moment in advising the Queen to some concession which might cause the King to return to the capital. After the mid-day meal he accordingly repaired to the Louvre, accompanied only by a secretary who was to await him in an antechamber, and made his way to the apartments of Marie. On reaching the saloon adjoining the private closet of the Queen, he found Madame Concini seated at the door with her head buried in her hands, evidently absorbed in thought. She started up, however, when he addressed her; and in reply to his request that she would announce him to her royal mistress, she replied that she would do so willingly, although she apprehended that her Majesty would not receive him, as she had refused entrance to herself. She had, however, no sooner raised the tapestry, and scratched upon the door, than Marie, on learning who was without, desired that M. de Sully should be instantly admitted. When the Duke entered he found the Queen seated at a table, busily engaged in writing; and as he approached her with the customary obeisance, she hastily motioned to him to place himself upon a stool immediately in front of her.

"You are right welcome, M. le Ministre," she said in a tone that was not altogether steady, although she struggled to suppress all outward emotion. "You are doubtless already apprised that the King has withdrawn from the capital in anger, but you have yet to learn that he has left me no whit more satisfied than himself. I was unprepared for so abrupt a departure; and as I had still much to say to him on the subject of our disagreement, I find myself compelled to the exercise of my clerkly skill, and am now occupied in telling him in writing all that I had left unsaid. There is the letter," she continued with a bitter smile, as she threw the ample scroll across the table; "read it, and tell me if I have not more than sufficient cause to consider myself both aggrieved and outraged."

"Madame," said the incorruptible minister, when he had perused the document thus submitted to him, "you must pardon me if I venture to declare that you must never suffer that letter to meet the eye of your royal consort: it contains matter to induce your eternal separation."

"Can you deny one assertion which I have made?" demanded the Queen impatiently.

"I sympathize in all the trials and troubles of your Majesty," was the evasive reply. "I would leave no effort untried to terminate them; a fact of which you have long, I trust, Madame, felt convinced; and thus I cannot see you about to wilfully destroy every chance of happiness, without imploring of you to reflect deeply and calmly before you take so extreme a measure as that which you now contemplate. The King is already incensed against you; and if spoken words have thus angered him, I dare not contemplate the consequences of such as these before me, written hours after your contention. I therefore beseech you to suppress this letter; and both for your own sake, and for that of the French nation, rather to seek a reconciliation with His Grace your husband than to increase the ill-feeling which so unhappily exists."

"You make no allowance for me, Monsieur, as a woman and a wife; you only argue with the Queen."

"Madame," persisted Sully, "in this instance it is rather to the woman and the wife that I address myself than to the Queen. As a woman, the bitterness and invective of this missive," and he laid his spread hand emphatically upon the paper, "would suffice to cover you with blame and to deprive you of sympathy, while as a mother it would authorize your separation from your children. Let me entreat of you therefore to forego your purpose."

Marie de Medicis sat silent for a few moments, and then making a violent effort over herself, she said slowly: "I will in so far follow your counsel, M. le Duc, that I will destroy this letter, although the saints bear witness that it has cost me both time and care to prepare it, but I will yield no further. I am weary of being made the puppet of an unfaithful husband and his band of unblushing favourites, who receive, each in succession, some high-sounding title by which they are enabled to thrust themselves and their shame upon me in the very halls of the palace. I must and will tell the King this."

"Then, Madame, if such be unfortunately your decision," said her listener, "at least let me urge you to do it in gentler terms."

"I am in no humour to temporize."

Sully made no reply.

"Do not wrap yourself up in silence, Monsieur," exclaimed the Queen after waiting in vain for his reply. "I believe that you wish to serve me, and you cannot better do so than by putting these unpalatable truths into a less repulsive form. Here are the means at hand, but, mark me, I will not suffer one particular to be omitted."

Under this somewhat difficult restriction the minister proceeded to obey her command, but she argued upon every sentence, and cavilled at every paragraph, which tended to soften the harsher features of the letter. At length, however, the task was completed, and nothing remained to be effected save its transcription by the Queen. The letter was long and elaborate, as Sully had skilfully contrived to terminate every reproach by some reasoning which could not fail to touch the feelings of the King. Thus, after upbraiding her husband with his perpetual infidelities, Marie was made to say that if she complained, it was less for herself, than because, in addition to her anxiety to be the sole possessor of his heart, she could not coldly contemplate the injury which he inflicted upon his person and dignity by becoming the rival of his own subjects, and thus compromising his kingly character; and that if she insisted with vehemence upon the exile of Madame de Verneuil, her excuse must be found in the fact that in no other way could her peace and honour be secured, or the welfare of her children be rendered sure--those children of whom he was the father as well as the sovereign, and whom she would cause to fall at his feet to implore compassion for their mother. She then reminded him of the numerous promises which he had made to her that he would cease to give her cause of complaint, and terminated the missive by calling God to witness that should he still be willing to fulfil them, she would, on her side, renounce all desire for vengeance upon those by whom she had been so deeply, wronged.

Certain, however, it is that, even with these modifications, the letter gave serious offence to Henry, who, shortly after its receipt, wrote to apprise Sully of what he denominated the _impertinence_ of his wife, but declared that he was less incensed against her than against the individual by whom the epistle had been dictated, as the style was not hers, and that he had consequently discovered the agency of a third person, whose identity he left it to Sully to ascertain, as he had resolved never again either to serve or even to see him, be he whom he might, so long as he had life.

With a truth and frankness which did him honour, the finance minister, despite this threat, did not hesitate when subsequently urged upon the subject by the King to admit the authorship of the obnoxious document, and in support of his assertion to place in the hands of Henry the original draft which he had retained. On comparing this with the autograph letter of the Queen, however, Sully at once perceived that she had been unable to repress her anger sufficiently to adhere to his advice, and that the interpolations were by no means calculated to advance her interests.[380] It was evident, nevertheless, that much of the King's indignation had subsided, and that the delicate health of his royal consort was not without its influence over his mind. Sully adroitly profited by this circumstance to impress upon Henry the danger of any agitation to the Queen, whose impressionable nature occasioned constant solicitude to her physicians, and reminded him that her late violence had been principally induced by the rumours which had reached her of a _liaison_ between Madame de Verneuil and the Duc de Guise, an indignity to his own person which she had declared herself unable to brook with patience. In short, so zealously and so successfully did Sully exert himself, that he at length induced the monarch to return to the Louvre, and the Queen to disclaim all intention of exciting his displeasure, in which latter attempt he was greatly aided by being enabled to confide to her that instant measures were to be taken for the disgrace of the Marquise, could it be proved that her friendship with the Duc de Guise had exceeded the limits of propriety.

In the beginning of March the Court removed to Fontainebleau, where, while awaiting the accouchement of the Queen, Henry indulged in the most reckless gaming; nor did he pursue this vice in a kingly spirit, for even his devoted panegyrist Péréfixe informs us that at this period he knew not how to answer those who reproached his royal pupil with too great a love for cards and dice, of itself a taste little suited to a great and powerful sovereign; and that, moreover, he was an unpleasant player, eager for gain, timid when the stake was a high one, and ill-tempered when he was a loser.[381] In support of this reluctant testimony, Bassompierre relates that, being anxious to assist at the opening of the States of Lorraine in compliance with the invitation of the Duke, he solicited the permission of Henry to that effect on two or three different occasions, but as he always played on the side of the King, and universally with great success, he was constantly refused.

Resolved to carry his point, however, the spoiled courtier at length set forth without any leave-taking; a fact which was no sooner ascertained by the monarch than he despatched two of the _exempts_ of his guard to arrest him and bring him back. This they did without difficulty, as Bassompierre did not travel at night; but as the gallant Marquis had no ambition to be conveyed to Fontainebleau in the guise of a prisoner, he despatched a letter to M. de Villeroy requesting to be liberated from the presence of his captors, and pledging himself to return instantly to Court. On his arrival the King laughed heartily at the idea of his disappointment, which he, however, lightened by pledging himself that in ten days he should be left at liberty to depart.[382]

On the 25th of April Marie de Medicis became the mother of a third son, upon whom, after some contestation between his illustrious parents, was bestowed the title of Duc d'Anjou. The Queen was desirous that he should be called Prince of Navarre, but Henry preferred the former designation, from the fact that it had been that of many of the French Princes who had been sovereigns of Jerusalem and Sicily.[383] The birth of another Prince to their beloved sovereign filled up the measure of joy in France; the citizens of Paris made costly gifts to the Queen, and the circumstance of the infant having come into the world on the anniversary of St. Louis increased the general enthusiasm.[384] As the convalescence of the royal invalid was less rapid upon this than on previous occasions, the Court remained during the spring and a portion of the summer at Fontainebleau, where every species of amusement was exhausted by the courtiers. Once only, at the beginning of May, the King resided for a few days in the capital, and on his return Marie manifested such undisguised satisfaction that he accorded to her the sum of twelve thousand crowns for the embellishment of her château at Monceaux.

So early as the year 1598, during the journey of the sovereign to Brittany, a marriage had been arranged between his' son, the Duc de Vendôme, and Mademoiselle de Mercoeur,[385] but the mother and grandmother of the young lady had succeeded in inspiring her with such a hatred of the legitimated Prince, that she would not allow his name to be mentioned in her presence; and when she ascertained that the monarch had resolved upon the fulfilment of the contract, she withdrew to the Capuchin Convent, declaring that sooner than become the wife of M. de Vendôme she would take the veil. The Duchesse de Mercoeur and her mother had been anxious to marry the young heiress to the Prince de Condé, or failing in this project, to some relative of their own, in order to retain her large possessions in the family; but the King had resolved upon securing them to his son by enforcing the promise made by the deceased Duke. He accordingly adopted conciliatory measures by which he succeeded in effecting his object, and before the conclusion of the rejoicings on the birth of the infant Prince, the marriage was finally celebrated in the chapel of Fontainebleau with all the pomp and magnificence of which the ceremony was susceptible, while the King appeared beside his son at the altar blazing with jewels of inestimable price, and joined in the festivities consequent upon the alliance with a zest and enjoyment which were the theme of general comment.

The arrival of Don Pedro de Toledo,[386] the ambassador of Philip III of Spain, at this precise juncture gave further occasion for that display of splendour in which Henry had latterly delighted, and after his public reception at Fontainebleau the Court removed to Paris, where the ambassador had been sumptuously lodged at the Hôtel de Gondy. His arrogance, however, soon disgusted the French King; nor did he hesitate to exhibit the same unbecoming hauteur towards his kinswoman the Queen, who having despatched a nobleman of her household to welcome him to France in that character, was informed by her envoy that the only answer which he returned to the compliment was conveyed in the remark that crowned heads had no relatives; they had only subjects.

The sole occasion upon which he laid aside his _morgue_, and then to all appearance involuntarily, was while driving through the streets of the capital in the carriage of the King. He had previously visited Paris, and as he contrasted its present magnificence with the squalor, filth, and disorder which it had formerly exhibited, he could not suppress an exclamation of astonishment. "Why should you be surprised, Monsieur?" demanded Henry; "when you last saw my good city of Paris, the father of the family did not inhabit it; and now that he is here to watch over his children, they prosper as you see." [387]

The object of this embassy was kept a profound secret; some historians assert that it was undertaken with a view to effect a marriage between the Dauphin and the Infanta of Spain, while others lean to the belief that Philip had instructed Don Pedro to endeavour to prevail upon Henry to abandon his alliance with the Dutch. Whatever were its motive, the ambassador, who had reached Paris on the 7th of July, quitted the capital on the 22nd of the same month, having only succeeded in irritating the King by his overbearing and supercilious demeanour.[388]

It would appear that during the present year Henri IV indulged his passion for field sports to such an excess as tended seriously to alarm those who were anxious for his preservation; and it indeed seems as though, at this period, his leisure hours were nearly divided between his two favourite diversions of hunting and high play. Sully informs us, however, that the King busied himself with the embellishments of Fontainebleau, and in erecting the Place Dauphine at Paris; but adds that these great works, which were necessary to the convenience of the people, might have been carried much further if the monarch would have followed his advice and been less profuse in his personal expenditure, particularly as regarded his gambling transactions. He advances, as a proof of this assertion, that he was called upon on one occasion to deliver to Eduardo Fernandez, a Portuguese banker (who, according to Bassompierre, had made a visit of speculation to the French Court, and who unhesitatingly provided the nobles with large sums, either on security or at immense interest), the enormous amount of thirty-four thousand pistoles, for which the reckless monarch had become his debtor. "I frequently received similar orders," he proceeds to say, "for two or three thousand pistoles, and a great many others for less considerable sums." [389]

It is scarcely doubtful that the _ennui_ occasioned by the waning passion of Henri IV for Madame de Verneuil at this period induced him, even more than formerly, to seek amusement and occupation at the gaming-table, where he was emulated by his profuse and licentious nobles, while even his Queen and the ladies of the Court entered with avidity into the exciting pastime. We have frequent record of the habitual high play of Marie de Medicis, who found in it a solace for her sick-room and a diversion from her domestic annoyances, and thus the dangerous propensity of the monarch was heightened by the presence of the loveliest women of the land and the charm and fascination of wit and intellect.

Madame de Verneuil was in despair; the coveted sceptre was sliding from within her grasp, and with the ill-judged hope of regaining the affections of her royal lover by exciting his jealousy, she encouraged the attention of the Duc de Guise, who, undismayed by the previous attempt of his brother to divert the affections of another of the royal favourites and its unfortunate result, at length openly avowed himself the suitor of the brilliant Marquise, and even promised to make her his wife; while the scandalous chroniclers of the time do not hesitate to affirm that the Prince de Joinville himself had previously done the same, but that his proverbial fickleness had protected him from so gross a _mésalliance_.

In the case of the Duke, however, the affair wore a more serious aspect; and so earnest did he appear in his professions that Madame de Verneuil, anxious at once to secure an illustrious alliance and to revenge herself upon the monarch, caused the banns of marriage between the Prince and herself to be published with some slight alteration in their respective names, which did not, however, suffice to deceive those who had an interest in subverting her project; and the fact was accordingly communicated to the King, upon whom it produced an effect entirely opposite to that which had been contemplated by the vanity of the lady, who had been clever enough to procure from M. de Guise a written promise similar to that which she had formerly extorted from the monarch. Four years previously the knowledge of such a perfidy on her part would have overwhelmed Henry with anxiety, jealousy, and grief, but his passion for the Marquise had, as we have seen, long been on the decline, and his only feeling was one of indignation and displeasure. To the Marquise herself he simply expressed his determined and unalterable opposition to the alliance, but to the Duke he was far less lenient, reminding him of the former offences of himself and his family, and forbidding him to pursue a purpose so distasteful to all those who had his honour at heart This was a fatal blow to Madame de Verneuil, and one which she was never destined to overcome. Clever as she was, she had suffered herself to forget that youth is not eternal, and that passion is even more evanescent than time; and thus, by a last impotent effort to assert a supremacy to which she could no longer advance any claim, she only succeeded in extinguishing in the heart of the King the last embers of a latent and expiring attachment.[390]

FOOTNOTES:

[356] The _carême-prenant_ includes the three days which precede Ash-Wednesday.

[357] L'Etoile, vol. iii. pp. 411, 412.

[358] Benjamin de Rohan, Duc de Soubise, was the grandson of Jean de Parthenay-Soubise, and the son of Réné-Rohan. He was a zealous supporter of the reformed faith, and was present at several sieges; but becoming dissatisfied with the citizens of La Rochelle, with whom he took refuge in 1622, he passed over to England, to solicit assistance; a proceeding which compelled the French Court to declare him guilty of _lèse-majesté_, and he subsequently refused to return to his own country when a general amnesty was proclaimed.

[359] L'Etoile, vol. iii. pp. 414, 415.

[360] _Mémoires_, p. 57.

[361] Saint-Edmé, vol. ii. p. 238.

[362] Saint-Edmé, vol. ii. pp. 239, 240. L'Etoile, vol. iii. p. 360. _Amours du Grand Alcandre_, p. 49.

[363] Bassompierre, _Mém_. p. 51.

[364] Antoine de Bourbon, Comte de Moret, the son of Henri IV and Madame de Moret, was legitimated in 1608, and was killed during the subsequent reign at the battle of Castelnaudary, while serving under the Duc de Montmorency.

[365] Damin de Montluc, Seigneur de Balagny, son of Jean, Prince de Cambray, and of Rénée de Clermont de Bussy d'Amboise. He was one of the most confidential friends of the King.

[366] Saint-Edmé, vol. ii. pp. 241, 242.

[367] Charlotte, daughter of François des Essarts, Seigneur de Sautour, Equerry of the King's Stable, and of his second wife, Charlotte de Harlay de Chanvallon.

[368] The Comte Christophe de Beaumont-Harlay, Governor of Orleans. He died in 1615.

[369] Louis de Lorraine, Cardinal de Guise, son of Henri, Duc de Guise, who was killed at the States of Blois. He obtained a dispensation from the Pope to effect his marriage with Mademoiselle des Essarts. He was a warlike prelate; and his death, which took place at Saintes in 1621, was caused by the extreme fatigue that he underwent during the campaign of Guienne, and at the siege of Saint-Jean-d'Angély, whither he accompanied Louis XIII.

[370] Bassompierre, _Mém_. p. 50.

[371] Charles, Cardinal de Lorraine, Bishop of Metz and Strasbourg, and Abbot of St. Victor-lès-Paris. The Cardinal de Givry succeeded him in the see of Metz, having the Marquis de Verneuil as his coadjutor, and Leopold of Austria replaced him as Bishop of Strasbourg, having been elected to that dignity by the chapter; while the Protestants named George, Margrave of Brandenburg, administrator to that see, which caused great dissension between the two concurrents, until a conciliation was effected through the good offices of Duke Frederic of Würtemberg, who induced them to enter into a truce for fifteen years, during which period they divided between them the revenues of the benefice, Leopold of Austria retaining the title of bishop.

[372] _Mercure Français,_ 1607, P-228. L'Etoile, vol. iii. pp. 437, 438.

[373] _Mémoires,_ vol. vii. p. 7. L'Etoile, vol. iii. pp. 417, 418.

[374] Bassompierre, _Mém_. p. 51.

[375] Marie de Bourbon, Mademoiselle de Montpensier, who, after the decease of the Duc d'Orléans, married (in 1626) Gaston Jean Baptiste de France.

[376] Bassompierre, _Mém_. p. 51.

[377] Sully, _Mém_. vol. vii. p. 8.

[378] Sully, _Mém_. vol. vii. pp. 8, 9.

[379] _Mercure Français_, 1608, p. 231. L'Etoile, vol. iii. pp. 444, 445.

[380] Sully, _Mém_. vol. vii. pp. 25-28.

[381] Péréfixe, vol. ii. pp. 463, 464.

[382] Bassompierre, _Mém_. pp. 50, 51.

[383] Gaston Jean Baptiste de France, originally named Duc d'Anjou, and subsequently Duc d'Orléans, died in 1660. Before his birth, Henri IV declared his intention of making him a churchman, and causing him to be entitled Cardinal de France.

[384] _Mercure Français,_ 1608, p. 231. Sully, _Mém_. vol. vii. p. 37. L'Etoile, vol. iii. p. 471.

[385] Mademoiselle de Mercocur was the only daughter and heiress of Philippe Emmanuel de Lorraine, Duc de Mercocur, the brother of Louise de Lorraine, Queen of Henri III. By that monarch he was appointed Governor of Brittany, but in 1589 he revolted against him, and persisted in his rebellion until 1598, when he entered into a treaty with Henri IV, by which he bound himself to bestow the hand of his daughter, and the reversion of his government, upon César de Vendôme, a condescension by which he subsequently felt himself so much disgraced that he withdrew from the Court and engaged in the war of Hungary. Pining, however, to see once more his wife and daughter, he was on his way to France for that purpose, when he was attacked by fever at Nuremberg, where he expired in March 1602, at the age of forty-three years.

[386] Don Pedro de Toledo, Constable of Castile, and general of the galleys of Naples, was a relative of Marie de Medicis, whose grandfather, the Comte de Medicis, had married Eleonora de Toledo, the daughter of the Viceroy of Naples. He was, moreover, a grandee of Spain, and one of the most confidential friends of Philip III.

[387] Bonnechose, vol. i. p. 445. Péréfixe, vol. ii. p. 564.

[388] L'Etoile, vol. iii. pp. 474-477. _Mercure Français,_ 1608, p. 232. Daniel, vol. vii. p. 488.

[389] _Mémoires,_ vol. vii. pp. 72-74.

[390] Dreux du Radier, vol. vi, p. 104.