m 

 
 CINQ-MARS: 
 
 A CONSPIRACY UNDER LOUIS XIII.
 
 ALFRED DE VIGNY 
 
 Caujean inv ct sc
 
 CINQ-MARS: 
 
 OR, 
 
 A CONSPIRACY UNDER Louis XIII 
 
 BY 
 
 ALFRED DE VIGNY. 
 (I 
 
 TRANSLATED 
 
 BY WILLIAM HAZLITT. 
 
 WITH DRAWINGS BY A. DAWANT, ETCHED BY GAUJEAN. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY. 
 
 1889.
 
 Copyright, 1889, 
 BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY. 
 
 (Snibttatts 
 JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE.
 
 CONTENTS TO VOL. I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 M. ALFRED DE VIGNY v 
 
 THOUGHTS ON TRUTH IN ART xix 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 I. THE ADIEU 1 
 
 II. THE STREET 29 
 
 III. THE GOOD PRIEST 44 
 
 IV. THE TRIAL 60 
 
 V. THE MARTYRDOM 74 
 
 VI. THE DREAM 87 
 
 VII. THE CABINET 99 
 
 VIII. THE INTERVIEW 128 
 
 IX. THE SIEGE . 145 
 
 X. THE REWARD 162 
 
 XL THE MISTAKES 178 
 
 XII. THE NIGHT-WATCH 192 
 
 XIII. THE SPANIARD 213 
 
 NOTES AND HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS 227
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 ALFRED DE VIGNY Frontispiece 
 
 CINQ-MARS Page 1 
 
 THE ADIEU 20 
 
 RICHELIEU AND JOSEPH 114 
 
 THE SIEGE 148 
 
 THE NIGHT-WATCH 212
 
 M. ALFKED DE VIGNT. 
 
 Je crois fermement en une vocation ineffable qui m'est donnee, et 
 j'y crois k cause de la pitie sans bornes que m'inspireut les hommes, mes 
 compagnons en misere, et aussi a cause du desir que je me sens de leur 
 tendre la main et de les clever sans cesse par des paroles de commise'ra- 
 tion et d'amour. A. DE VIGNY, Stello, p. 38. 
 
 BEYOND the Champs-Ely sees, in one of the quietest 
 streets of Paris, stands a house of modest appearance, 
 towards which, once a week, a joyous phalanx of literary 
 men and artists, young and old, illustrious and obscure, 
 set forth on a pilgrimage. This house is inhabited by the 
 most graceful, the most chaste, the most temperate of our 
 poets. That musing man with the large forehead, the 
 gentle voice, the noble and melancholy look, who lives 
 here buried in reflection, meditation, and the solitude 
 " which is holy," as the Docteur Noir says in " Stello," is 
 the Comte Alfred de Vigny. 
 
 Of all who have received the gift of poesy, none has ever 
 consecrated to his muse a more fervid and a purer worship.
 
 VI M. ALFRED DE VIGNY. 
 
 He has not dragged that muse into the street to "harness 
 her, yelling, to the car of faction ; " he has not mutilated 
 her to adapt her as food for all the appetites of the day. 
 He has not urged her on to premature production, to cold 
 transports or unfruitful caresses ; nor has he turned her 
 aside from the things of the present to impress on her a 
 puerile and egoistical contemplation. He has shown her 
 life, but he has done so from on high, and without allowing 
 her white robe to be sullied by it. He has told her to give 
 ear to the thousand sounds of the world, and to reproduce 
 them in melodious song ; and then, as the voice of the muse 
 awakened, soft and sad, in the heart of the poet, the song 
 of the poet was sad also, but of a softened, repressed, 
 modified sadness, like a distant sound, prolonging and re- 
 fining itself, passing through a double echo. 
 
 He will lose his way who should seek to construct the 
 biography of M. de Vigny by the aid of his books, or ques- 
 tion his life for the secret of that tinge of melancholy 
 which is the groundwork and charm of his inspirations. 
 The faculty of suffering in others is the privilege of lofty 
 souls, and an inexhaustible source of poetry. Sorrow im- 
 agined is sometimes more favorable to powerful description 
 than sorrow felt. The latter irritates, exaggerates itself, 
 and cries out ; the former listens intent, analyzes itself, 
 and weeps. In the works of M. de Vigny, the religion of 
 self, common enough in more than one poet who sings him- 
 self, or always loves to personify himself in his hero, is by 
 no means conspicuous. We may see, upon looking closely, 
 that he who has so well appreciated the rude trials of the 
 poet and the secret agonies of the soldier, has appropriated 
 with passion sufferings not his own ; that whether in the 
 uniform or out of it, he has gone through life more as a 
 spectator than as an actor, but as an attentive, interested,
 
 M. ALFRED DE VIGNY. vii 
 
 and silent spectator, glowing with charity, loving sorrow as 
 others love joy, giving himself heart and soul to its exami- 
 nation, dissecting it deliberately, and, still young, turning, 
 as he himself has said, all things to future profit. 
 
 M. le Comte Alfred de Vigny descends from an old mili- 
 tary race, originally of Beauce. His father, a cavalry 
 officer under Louis XV. and Louis XVI., married, in Tou- 
 raine, the daughter of Admiral Baraudin ; and it was in the 
 pretty little town of Loches that on the 27th of March, 
 1799, our poet was born. His childhood was passed in the 
 chateau of Tronchet in Beauce. While quite a boy he was 
 grave and studious. 
 
 "I always loved to listen," he said at a later period of his life; 
 " and when I was quite a child, I early acquired this taste on the 
 wounded knees of my old father. He first fed me with the history 
 of his campaigns, and on his lap, I found war seated by my side ; he 
 showed me war in his wounds, war in the parchments and blazonry 
 of his fathers, war in their great portraits in armor, hung on the walls 
 of the old chateau. I saw in the nobility a great family of hereditary 
 soldiers ; and I thought only of rising to the height of a soldier." 
 
 Towards the end of the empire the young Alfred de 
 Vigny was sent to Paris and placed in the establishment 
 of M. Hix. Here again we shall let him speak for 
 himself : 
 
 " I was," says he, " a very absent student. War in my eyes stood 
 erect in the lyceum ; the drum in my ears drowned the words of the 
 masters ; and the mysterious voice of books spoke to me but a cold 
 and pedantic language. Logarithms and tropes were in my eyes 
 merely steps to ascend to the star of the Legion of Honor, the 
 finest star in the heavens for boys." 
 
 The young scholar did not remain long in his school ; 
 his family, alarmed at his ardent passion for war, at an 
 epoch when France began to be weary of it, confided him to
 
 Vlll M. ALFRED DE VIGNY. 
 
 the cares of a private tutor, and endeavored, but in vain, 
 to divert the bent of his inclinations ; it was absolutely 
 necessary to make him a soldier. Meanwhile came the 
 Restoration ; and scarcely sixteen years of age, the young 
 De Vigny received a commission in the red household 
 musketeers. Every one knows that in the Hundred Days, 
 the red companies attended Louis XVIII. to the frontier ; 
 M. de Vigny went with them, and during fourteen years 
 service, destiny willed that this should be his first and only 
 campaign. In 1816 the red companies were disbanded, and 
 he passed into the infantry of the guard. Then began the 
 disenchantment of the warlike gentleman ; he had dreamed 
 of the field of battle ; he found the Champ de Mars. For 
 a camp, he had the barracks, and the parade instead of a 
 battle-field. As a boy, he had seen himself entering van- 
 quished towns as a conqueror ; as a soldier, he had to carry 
 an inoffensive sabre from garrison to garrison. 
 
 Not finding in the trade of arms what he sought there, 
 war, M. de Vigny turned towards poetry, or rather, he 
 felt then what he expressed at a later period, that he had 
 taken a youthful flame for an irresistible vocation ; that 
 his first career had been a mistake ; that into an entirely 
 active life he carried a wholly contemplative nature ; that 
 he was born a poet, and that he was wrong in having be- 
 come a soldier. And yet he waited a long time, not ventur- 
 ing for honor's sake to quit the sword, fearing lest the day 
 of his resignation should be the eve of a campaign. In 
 1823, he passed into the line, hoping that it would at last be 
 permitted him to burn powder in Spain. Fate denied him 
 this favor ; he was fain to accompany an expedition with 
 sheathed swords, cantoned in the Pyrenees ; and the only 
 trophies he brought back were two of his poems, 
 " Dolorida " and " Le Deluge." At last, two years after his
 
 M. ALFRED DE VIGNY. ix 
 
 marriage, which took place in 1826, he determined upon 
 ridding himself of the prosaic gorget, and forever to lay 
 aside his epaulettes of captain of infantry, so tediously 
 and painfully acquired. 
 
 During the interval, the wings of his muse had grown ; 
 poetry gained ground, and his verse ran more freely from 
 the more developed source. In the year 1822, there was 
 certainly not in the whole French army an officer of three- 
 and-twenty like him. While all that vain, smoking, gam- 
 bling, fighting youth crowded to the taverns round the 
 billiard-tables, or such places, the poet, altogether out of 
 his place, grave and thoughtful, would walk apart for a 
 portion of the day with a few old officers of the empire, 
 men of stooping backs and gray mustaches, soldiers of 
 fortune, sons of the sword, silent and cold as Trappists 
 before presumptuous sub-lieutenants, stuffed with pseudo- 
 science, but kindly open and conversive with this young 
 companion-in-arms, who venerated their manly character, 
 gave a serious and eager attention to their rough stories, 
 beautified by truth, and loved them as Desdemona loved 
 Othello, for the dangers they had faced. At night, M. de 
 Vigny would return to his solitary room, open his Bible 
 or Homer, murmur a few fragments of Andre Chenier, 
 published by M. de Chateaubriand in the " Genie du Chris- 
 tianisme ; " and in proportion as the beloved night mounted 
 the heavens, the poetic inspiration descended into his soul, 
 diffused itself in harmonious waves, and he wrote his 
 poems, strange poems for the period, and which one 
 would imagine far rather to have grown under the gown of 
 some young, fervent, simple, thoughtful Benedictine than 
 under the shako of a sub-lieutenant. 1 Not that his poems 
 
 1 I have had communicated to me a letter of M. de Vigny written 
 about this period, or rather, two years later, at the end of 1824, from
 
 x M. ALFRED DE VIGNY. 
 
 do not partake of the general movement which then began 
 to draw men's minds into the paths of idealism ; that they 
 may not, up to a certain point, be named in connection 
 with the early inspirations of Larnartine and Victor Hugo ; 
 but there is in them a certain character of strangeness in 
 the form, something elaborately negligent, a certain vague- 
 ness which leaves the soul unsatisfied, though gently moved, 
 softly lulled. With the exception of a few poems, such as 
 " Eloa," " Moise," and " Helena," which are complete and 
 finished creations, most of the pieces that form the collec- 
 tion of M. de Vigny have reference to fugitive thoughts, 
 suddenly caught, and immediately framed into a brief 
 drama. We feel that the inspiration was abundant, but that 
 the poet was unwilling to give it all its development, in 
 fear of its losing its freshness ; they are so many epopees 
 in the rudimental state, admirable sketches, but still only 
 sketches. 
 
 Let us rapidly glance over them in the order of their 
 production. "Symetha," which is dated 1815 (the poet 
 was then sixteen), is a Greek elegy in the manner of 
 Andre Chenier. It is a reminiscence of the blanche neere. 
 
 " Neere, ne va pas te confier aux flots 
 
 De peur d'etre deesse," etc, 
 said Chenier. 
 
 Pau, where he was garrisoned. At this time he had already published 
 some of his poetry. The letter I speak of is chiefly upon political 
 matters. Upon them the young officer expresses very decided Royalist 
 ideas, but it closes with a few lines far more valuable to me, inasmuch 
 as they plainly show the disposition of mind which I have mentioned 
 above. "My Bible," he here says, "and some English prints, follow 
 me about like my penates, and here, as everywhere else, I pass regu- 
 larly from my sword to my pen. I know nothing of Paris, where, I am 
 told, they have excommunicated me, as I predicted to yon, and yet I 
 work j ust the same as though I were to be read ; every one has his illu- 
 sions and his wants."
 
 M. ALFRED DE VIGNY. XI 
 
 " Je vais mourir, helas ! Symetha s'est fiee 
 Aux flots profonds ; 1'Attique est par elle oubliee," 
 
 says M. de Vigny. There is the same antique perfume in 
 the thought and form, but it is imitation. M. de Vigny is 
 not yet himself. The same may be said of " La Dryade," 
 of " Le Bain," of " La Somnambule," and some other pieces 
 which belong to this first period of the life of the poet. 
 " Moise " flows from another source of inspirations. De- 
 spite its biblical title, " Moses " is an entirely modern psycho- 
 logical study, full of daring and depth. The nothingness 
 of power, the painful isolation of genius, walking sad and 
 solitary in his glory, which can neither love nor be loved, 
 and which would " sleep the sleep of the earth," such is 
 the idea that M. de Vigny has developed in beautiful verses. 
 In this pious and precocious instinct of the secret sorrows 
 of genius struggling with itself, awaiting the time when it 
 shall appear to the poet struggling with the external world, 
 we may already see the dawn of " Stello." " La Fille de 
 Jephte," the grand and magnificent scene of " Le Deluge," 
 "La Femme Adultere," glitter with that profusion of images 
 peculiar to the biblical genius. The opening of the last 
 piece reminds me of the beautiful verses of the " Moise " 
 of M. de Chateaubriand. The similarity of ideas and form 
 is so much the more striking from its being purely fortui- 
 tous, for the " Moise," composed, I believe, at this time 
 (1819). did not appear until much later. "Dolorida" is 
 the most beautiful of all the little dramas of two hundred 
 verses, so much loved by M. de Vigny, and which he has 
 reproduced in " M. de Soubise la Neige," " Le Cor," and 
 some other pieces. Dolorida, meditated at the foot of the 
 Pyrenees, is a jealous Spaniard. Her husband deceives 
 her ; he is at the feet of another. She waits for him ; he 
 returns to implore her pardon before dying, for he feels
 
 Xll M. ALFRED DE VIGNY. 
 
 himself consumed by an unknown flame that circulates 
 through his veins. She listens to him patiently, and he 
 
 " Oh, parle ! mon cceur fuit, quitte ce dur langage. 
 Qu'uu regard Mais quel est ce blauchatre breuvage, 
 Que tu bois a longs traits et d'un air iusense' ? 
 Le reste du poisoii qu'hier je t'ai verse." 
 
 With this matter others would have composed a thick 
 book. M. de Vigny has painted a delicious miniature, 
 somewhat incomplete perhaps, for the transitions are ab- 
 rupt, but still full of life and action, pure, harmonious, 
 irreproachable as to form, with the exception of two para- 
 phrases which appear to me somewhat far-fetched, one 
 implying chemise and the other pendule. 
 
 I now come to " Eloa," M. de Vigny's poetical chef- 
 d'&uvre, which dates from the same year, 1823, and which 
 was composed in the Vosges. " Eloa " has often been com- 
 pared with the " Messiah " of Klopstock. I could never 
 myself understand what connection there could be between 
 an immense poem, brilliant in parts, but unequal, devoid of 
 unity and ensemble, sometimes spun out in incomprehen- 
 sible pathos and lost in endless prolixities, like that of 
 Klopstock, and a poem of which it is not the least merit 
 that it forms a whole, admirably finished in its minuteness, 
 modelled with exquisite art from the first verse to the last, 
 uniformly clear and harmonious in form, uniformly logical 
 in the deduction of its ideas, and so happily compounded of 
 grace, splendor, warmth, and passion. Fiissly said, and not 
 without reason, of the " Messiah " that the first ten cantos 
 are the song of a swan, and the last ten the croaking of a 
 raven. From beginning to end " Eloa " is the song of a 
 swan. The grand rock upon which poetry that is princi- 
 pally founded upon intuitive speculation strikes is obscur- 
 ity, a rock which the great Milton himself has not
 
 M. ALFRED DE VIGNY. xiii 
 
 steered clear of, and which appears more especially in the 
 descriptive portion of such poems. It is, in fact, difficult 
 to paint with perspicuity what is only seen with the eyes 
 of the mind. All ecstatic visions, beginning with the 
 Apocalypse, - the sublime of that class of composition, 
 present an eternal confusion, resulting from the mixture of 
 terrestrial reality and seraphic ideality. Man is a fallen 
 angel whose " thoughts are turned back to heaven," says a 
 poet. True, but they are turned only vaguely, as men turn 
 towards their early childhood; and when he speaks of it, 
 and more especially when he describes it in writing, his 
 language is often confused, illogical, incoherent, velut cegri 
 somnia. M. de Vigny, having to speak of heaven, has 
 availed himself greatly of earth, and he has done well. I 
 know no one who has a right to determine in what consists 
 the local coloring in the description of paradise. M. de 
 Vigny has very lightly passed over the description of the 
 abode of God and the angels, and here again he has done 
 well. On the other hand, he has dwelt on the dramatic 
 portion of his work. In being ideal, he has not entirely 
 ceased to be human. His Eloa is a woman, though a dei- 
 fied woman. By this means M. de Vigny has succeeded in 
 composing a religious poem which embraces, with beauties 
 of the highest order, all the interest of a simple and touch- 
 ing romance. I would fain quote some passages of it for 
 those who by chance may not have read it, but it would be 
 useless to quote less than all. I shall content myself with 
 analyzing the leading idea of the poem, which in the most 
 eminent degree presents that character of delicacy and 
 spiritual fervor peculiar to M. de Vigny. 
 
 Lazarus is just dead. Jesus is affected at the sight of 
 the corpse. He is about to restore to life, and drops a tear. 
 This divine tear is caught up by the seraphim. They en-
 
 Xiv M. ALFRED DE VIGNY. 
 
 close it in a diamond urn and carry it to the foot of the 
 Eternal, who fecundates it with a glance. 
 
 " On vit alors, du sein de Turne eblouissante, 
 S'elever une forme et blanche et grandissante." 
 
 This is Eloa. The virgin is so beautiful that all the in- 
 habitants of heaven press round to admire her. Born from 
 a tear of pity, Eloa will live only to console and bless. 
 She will be the guardian angel of angels. On a certain day 
 her companions relate to her the history of Lucifer, the 
 rebel banished from heaven and hurled to the lowest gulf 
 of the abyss, where he is alone, where he groans, and where 
 no one loves him. 
 
 " Et Ton crut qu'Eloa le maudirait ; mais non, 
 L'Effroi n'altera point sou paisible visage." 
 
 A tear only glittered on her eyelid. This was a tear of 
 pity, and already almost a tear of love. Pensive and sad 
 at the thought that there existed a sorrow which she could 
 not control, the virgin-archangel opened her golden wings, 
 flew apart towards unknown spheres, and there hovering 
 thoughtfully over the abyss, saw at a distance a pale and 
 beautiful youth lying voluptuously on a bed of vapor. A 
 sweet, sad voice reached her, 
 
 " D'oii viens-tu, belle archange ? ou vas-tu ? " etc. 
 
 Nothing can equal the grace with which the poet has 
 described this scene of seduction. The insinuating deceit 
 of Lucifer ; the chaste alarm of the virgin, who at first flees 
 away, like a surprised bather, mounts recoiling in her 
 starry path, and closes her golden eyelids to avoid the im- 
 pure glance that fascinates her ; the voice of the tempter 
 pursues her, more and more affecting, suppliant, broken by 
 sobs ; pity struggling in the heart of Eloa with modesty
 
 M. ALFRED DE VIGNY. XV 
 
 and fear ; the feigned remorse and ardent prayer of the 
 one, the hesitation and anguish of the other, moved by that 
 feigned sorrow, and who would fain console its despair, yet 
 trembles in face of the danger her timid innocence fore- 
 sees, descends, reascends, hovers at a distance, blushes, 
 hesitates, and weeps, all these delicate shades are admi- 
 rably touched. Similitudes and images abound ; the whole 
 poem seems a shower of diamonds. At last, Modesty is 
 conquered by Pity. 
 
 " Descends jusqu'k moi, car je ne puis monter," 
 cries the perfidious voice. 
 
 " Je 1'aime et je descends ; mais que diront les cieux ? 
 
 murmurs Eloa, falling into the arms of the seducer; and 
 then the voice rises triumphant, cruel, infernal, 
 
 " J'enleve mon esclave et je tiens ma victime. 
 
 Tu paraissais si bon ! oh ! qu'ai-je fait ? Un crime," 
 
 answers the pitiless voice. 
 
 " Seras-tu plus heureux du moins ; es-tu content ? 
 
 Plus triste que jamais. Qui done es-tu ? Satan." 
 
 The last verse but one is sublime. Those simple words 
 of Eloa, almost consoling herself in her own destruction 
 with the hope that she may mitigate the suffering of 
 another, is a perfect personification of woman in that 
 which in her is most ethereal, most divine, self-denial 
 and devotion. I have never read this verse without sub- 
 siding into revery. It seems to me that he who created it 
 must have been something more than poet, however great 
 a poet. It is one of those lines which at once fix them- 
 selves on the memory, but which nothing but the memory 
 can supply us with.
 
 xvi M. ALFRED DE VIGNY. 
 
 A critic, as elegant in his language as he is sound in his 
 judgment, whom it is dangerous to read when one desires 
 as a writer to remain at all one's self, and whom I have per- 
 haps read too attentively for the present notice to be alto- 
 gether my own in its ground-work, M. Sainte-Beuve, 
 in speaking of the curious process of crystallization to which 
 M. de Vigny subjects his thought, points out the terrestrial 
 features of the admirable poem of "Eloa." I have myself 
 observed that this faculty of idealizing the real without 
 destroying the reality is the finest characteristic of M. de 
 Vigny's poetry. In his verses, as in his romances, lie is at 
 times extremely minute, perhaps in a degree affected, but 
 always elevated and always intelligible. In description, 
 more especially, he is admirable for fertility, perspicuity, 
 and truth. Head "Eloa," " Stello," or " Laurette." In 
 well-nigh every page you will meet with a little picture, 
 full of grace in the disposition of the figures and of charm 
 in the contours. If I were a painter like Scheffer, I would 
 learn the writings of M. de Vigny by heart, and so provide 
 myself with an ample store of charming subjects for years 
 and years to come. 
 
 As a poet, we conceive that the author of " Eloa " stands 
 in the very first rank among us. How is it, then, that 
 under this head, the common run of people place him 
 rather in the second rank ? For there is no denying that 
 his poems are far from enjoying equal popularity with 
 those of Victor Hugo or Lamartine. Perhaps, indeed, it 
 was this comparative want of success in the outset that 
 chiefly served to direct to prose an intellectual organization 
 eminently rhythmical, if I may so express myself. The 
 public indifference with respect to the poems of M. de 
 Vigny arises from several causes, which it is needless here 
 to develop, and of which I will refer only to the principal.
 
 M. ALFRED DE VIGNY. xvil 
 
 In 1824, the period when most of M. de Vigny's poems 
 were published, the spiritualist and morbidly pensive ten- 
 dency had very decidedly manifested itself. Byron in 
 England, and then Lamartine, had created and encouraged 
 the movement ; but this tendency was altogether full of 
 individuality. Poetry was converted into a personal his- 
 tory, men describing themselves either directly, as did the 
 author of the " Meditations," or indirectly, like the author 
 of "Childe Harold." And it was just at the moment, when 
 the public had taken a great fancy to this analytical lyrism, 
 this poetical psychology, that M. de Vigny offered to it 
 verses whose strange and novel form partook of no other 
 poet's style, except perhaps and that only here and there 
 of Chenier's ; and the groundwork of which, though it 
 was allied to the epoch in its idealism, was visibly removed 
 from it by a very decided impress of generalization, by a 
 turn of thought, human, not individual. The poemes an- 
 tiques, bibliques, and modernes of the young officer were ac- 
 cordingly little appreciated out of a few select circles in 
 Paris, which he frequented very assiduously while in the 
 household troops, and which he visited from time to time 
 only when he had passed into the line. Even now, whether 
 it be that the prose-writer has made the world forget the 
 poet, or whether it arises from the general indifference to 
 poetry altogether, the first coolness of the public with ref- 
 erence to M. de Vigny's verses still subsists ; and that is 
 precisely the reason why I have dwelt the more upon them. 
 For I repeat that of all our age has produced fine in poetry, 
 I know nothing finer than "Eloa." 
 
 "Cinq-Mars," commenced at the foot of the Pyrenees, 
 continued from garrison to garrison, completed by means 
 of frequent journeys to Paris and long studies at the 
 Bibliotheque Royale, was published in 1826. Its success
 
 xvin Af. ALFRED DE VIGNY. 
 
 was as great as it was legitimate. Before 1829, the work 
 had already gone through four editions. There is no occa- 
 sion to analyze a book which all have judged for them- 
 selves. There is no person of any reading who has not 
 present in his memory the charming creation of Marie de 
 Gonzaga, the touching episode of Urbain Grandier, the tall 
 and 'noble figure of De Thou, the slight but genuine sketch 
 of Anne of Austria, the portrait, somewhat exaggerated, 
 but really fine, of Cinq-Mars, the mournful and feeble vis- 
 age of Louis XIII. The delineation of Kichelieu, I must 
 confess, I don't so much like, because I think it scarcely 
 just. M. de Vigny seems to have regarded the cardinal- 
 generalissimo too much with the eyes of Bassompierre. 
 
 In 1828, M. de Vigny translated Shakspeare's " Othello," 
 which was performed at the Theatre Fra^ais, on the 25th 
 of October, 1829, with no great success. The " Marechal 
 d'Ancre," played in 1830, also met with limited honors. 
 In 1832, M. de Vigny published "Stello," an episode of 
 which " Chatterton " was prepared for the stage, and 
 produced at the Theatre Fran9ais on the llth of February, 
 1835. M. de Vigny has since published "Servitude et 
 Grandeur Militaires," three charming tales, and " Le 
 Sauvage," "La Mort du Loup," and "La Flute." 
 
 M. de Vigny was elected a member of the academy in 
 1846. 1 
 
 1 He died at Paris, Sept. 17, 1863.
 
 THOUGHTS ON TRUTH IN ART. 
 
 THE study of social progress is to-day not less needed in 
 literature than is the analysis of the human heart. We 
 live in an age of universal investigation, and of exploration 
 of 'the sources of all movements. France, above all, loves 
 at the same time history and the drama, because the one 
 explores the vast destinies of humanity, the other the 
 individual lot of man. These embrace the whole of life. 
 But it is the province of religion, of philosophy, of pure 
 poetry only, to go beyond life, beyond time, into eternity. 
 
 Of late years (and it is perhaps a result of our political 
 changes), art has borrowed from history more than ever. 
 All of us have our eyes fixed on our chronicles, as though, 
 having reached manhood while going on towards greater 
 things, we had stopped a moment to cast up the account of 
 our youth and its errors. We have had to double interest 
 by adding to it recollection. 
 
 As France has carried farther than other nations this 
 love of facts, and as I had chosen a recent and well-remem- 
 bered epoch, I thought that I ought not to imitate the 
 foreigners who in their pictures barely show in the horizon
 
 xx THOUGHTS ON TRUTH IN ART. 
 
 the men who dominate their history. I placed ours in the 
 foreground of the scene; I made them the leading actors 
 in this tragedy, in which I endeavored to represent the 
 three kinds of ambition by which we are influenced, and 
 with them the beauty of self-sacrifice to a noble ideal. A 
 treatise on the fall of the feudal system, on the position, 
 at home and abroad, of France in the seventeenth century, 
 on foreign alliances, on the justice of parliaments or of 
 secret commissions, and on accusations of sorcery, would 
 not perhaps have been read. The romance was read. 
 
 I do not mean to defend this last form of historical com- 
 position, being convinced that the real greatness of a work 
 lies in the substance of the author's ideas and sentiments, 
 and not in the literary form in which they are dressed. 
 The choice of a certain epoch will necessitate a certain 
 treatment, to another epoch it would be unsuitable ; 
 these are mere secrets of the workshop of thought which 
 there is no need of disclosing. What is the use of theo- 
 rizing as to wherein lies the charm that moves us ? We 
 hear the tones of the harp, but its graceful form con 
 ceals from us its springs of iron. Nevertheless, since I 
 have been convinced that this book has in it some vitality, 
 I cannot help throwing out these reflections on the liberty 
 which the imagination should employ in weaving into its 
 woof all the leading figures of an age, and in order to give 
 more consistency to their acts, in making the reality of fact 
 give way to the idea which each of them should represent 
 in the eyes of posterity ; in short, on the difference which 
 I find between the Truth of art and the True in fact. 
 
 Just as we descend into our consciences to judge of 
 actions which our minds cannot weigh, can we not also 
 search in ourselves for the feeling which gives birth to 
 forms of thought, always vague and cloudy ? We shall
 
 THOUGHTS ON TRUTH IN ART. xxi 
 
 find in our troubled heart, where discord reigns, two needs 
 which seem to be at variance, but which mingle, as I think, 
 in a common source ; the one is love of the true, the other 
 love of the fabulous. 
 
 On the day when man told the story of his life to man, 
 history was born. But of what use is the memory of 
 facts, if not to serve as an example of good or of evil ? But 
 the examples which the slow train of events presents to us 
 are scattered and incomplete. They lack always a tangible 
 and visible coherence leading straight on to a moral con- 
 clusion. The acts of the human race on the world's stage 
 have doubtless a coherent unity, but the meaning of this 
 vast tragedy which it enacts there will be visible only to 
 the eye of God, until the end, which will reveal it perhaps 
 to the last man. All systems of philosophy have sought 
 in vain to explain it, ceaselessly rolling their rock, which, 
 never reaching the top, falls back upon them, each raising 
 its frail structure on the ruins of the others, only to see it 
 fall in its turn. 
 
 I believe, then, that man, after having satisfied his first 
 longing for facts, wanted something fuller, some grouping, 
 some adaptation to his capacity and his experience, of the 
 links of this vast chain of events which his sight could not 
 take in ; for thus he hoped to find in the historic recital 
 examples which might support the moral truths of which 
 he was conscious. Few single careers could satisfy this 
 longing, being only incomplete parts of the elusive whole 
 of the history of the world ; one was a quarter, as it were, 
 the other a half of the proof ; imagination did the rest and 
 completed them. From this, without doubt, sprang the 
 fable. Man created it true, because it was not given him 
 to see more than himself end nature, which surrounds him : 
 but he created it true with a truth all its own.
 
 XXll THOUGHTS ON TRUTH IN ART. 
 
 This Truth, so beautiful, so intellectual, which I feel, 
 which I see, and long to define, the name of which I here 
 venture to distinguish from that of the True, that I may 
 the better make myself understood, is the soul of all the 
 arts. It is the selection of the characteristic token in all 
 the beauties and the grandeurs of the visible True ; but it 
 is not the thing itself, it is something better : it is an ideal 
 combination of its principal forms, a luminous tint made 
 up of its brightest colors, an intoxicating balm of its purest 
 perfumes, a delicious elixir of its best juices, a perfect har- 
 mony of its sweetest sounds, in short, it is a concentra- 
 tion of all its good qualities. For this Truth, and nothing 
 else, should strive those works of art which are a moral 
 representation of life, dramatic works. To attain it, the 
 first step is undoubtedly to learn all that is true in fact of 
 every period, to become deeply imbued with its general 
 character and with its details ; this involves only a cheap 
 tribute of attention, of patience, and of memory. But then 
 one must fix upon some chosen centre, and group every- 
 thing around it; this is the work of imagination, and of 
 that sublime common-sense which is genius itself. 
 
 Of what use were the arts if they were only the reproduc- 
 tion and the imitation of life ? Good heavens ! we see only 
 too clearly about us the sad and disenchanting reality, the 
 insupportable lukewarmness of feeble characters, of shallow 
 virtues and vices, of irresolute loves, of tempered hates, of 
 wavering friendships, of unsettled beliefs, of constancy 
 which has its height and its depth, of opinions which 
 evaporate. Let us dream that once upon a time have lived 
 men stronger and greater, who were more determined for 
 good or for evil ; that does us good. If the paleness of 
 your True is to follow us into art, we shall close at once 
 the theatre and the book, to avoid meeting it a second time.
 
 THOUGHTS ON TRUTH IN ART. xxiii 
 
 What is wanted of works which revive the ghosts of hu- 
 man beings is, I repeat, the philosophical spectacle of man 
 deeply wrought upon by the passions of his character and 
 of his epoch ; it is, in short, the artistic Truth of that man 
 and that epoch, but both raised to a higher and ideal 
 power which concentrates all their forces. You recognize 
 this Truth in works of the imagination just as you cry out 
 at the resemblance of a portrait of which you have never 
 seen the original; for true talent paints life rather than 
 the living. 
 
 To banish finally the scruples on this point of the 
 consciences of some persons, timorous in literary matters, 
 whom I have seen affected with a personal sorrow on 
 viewing the rashness with which the imagination sports 
 with the most weighty characters of history, I will hazard 
 the assertion that, not throughout this work, I dare not 
 say that, but in many of these pages, and those perhaps 
 not of the least merit, history is a romance of which the 
 people is the author. The human mind, I believe, cares 
 for the True only in the general character of an epoch. 
 What it values most of all is the sum-total of events and 
 the advance of civilization, which carries individuals along 
 with it ; but, indifferent to details, it cares less to have 
 them real than noble, or rather, grand and complete. 
 
 Examine closely the origin of certain deeds, of certain 
 heroic expressions, which are born one knows not how ; 
 you will see them leap out ready-made from hearsay and 
 the murmurs of the crowd, without having in themselves 
 more than a shadow of truth, and, nevertheless, they will 
 remain historical forever. As if by way of pleasantry, and 
 to put a joke upon posterity, the public voice invents sub- 
 lime utterances to lend, during their lives and under their 
 very eyes, to men who, confused, disclaim them as best
 
 xxiv THOUGHTS ON TRUTH IN ART. 
 
 they may, as not deserving so much glory * and as not being 
 able to support so high renown. In vain ; their disclaimers 
 are not received. Let them cry out, let them write, let 
 them print, let them sign, they are not listened to. 
 Their utterances are inscribed in bronze ; the poor fellows 
 remain historical and sublime in spite of themselves. And 
 I do not find that all this is done in the ages of barbarism 
 alone ; it is still going on, and it moulds the history of yes- 
 terday to the taste of public opinion, a Muse tyrannical 
 and capricious, which preserves the general purport and 
 scorns detail. Which of you has not been present at its 
 transformation ? Do you not see with your own eyes the 
 chrysalis fact assume by degrees the wings of fiction ? 
 Half formed by the necessities of the time, a fact is hidden 
 in the ground, obscure and incomplete, rough, sometimes 
 badly constructed, like a block of marble not yet rough- 
 hewn. The first who unearth it, and take it in hand, would 
 wish it differently shaped, and pass it, already a little 
 rounded, into other hands ; others polish it as they pass it 
 along ; in a short time it is exhibited transformed into an 
 immortal statue. We disclaim it; witnesses who have 
 seen and heard pile refutations upon explanations ; the 
 
 1 In our time has not a Russian general denied the fire of Moscow, 
 which we have made heroic, and which will remain so ? Has not a 
 French general denied the utterance on the field of Waterloo which will 
 immortalize it ? And if I were not withheld by my respect for a sacred 
 event, I might recall that a priest has felt it to be his duty to disavow in 
 public a sublime speech which will remain the noblest that has ever been 
 pronounced on a scaffold : " Son of Saint Louis, rise to heaven ! " When 
 I learned not long ago its real author, I was overcome by the destruction 
 of my illusion, but before long I was consoled by a thought that does 
 honor to humanity in my eyes. I feel that France has consecrated this 
 speech, because she felt the need of re-establishing herself in her own 
 eyes, of blinding herself to her awful error, and of believing that then 
 and there an honest man was found who dared to speak aloud.
 
 THOUGHTS ON TRUTH IN ART. XX v 
 
 learned investigate, pore over books, and write. No one 
 listens to them any more than to the humble heroes who 
 disown it ; the torrent rolls on and bears with it the whole 
 thing under the form which it has pleased it to give to 
 these individual actions. What was needed for all this 
 work ? A nothing, a word ; sometimes the caprice of a 
 journalist out of work. And are we the losers by it ? No. 
 The adopted fact is always better composed than the real 
 one, and it is even adopted only because it is better. The 
 human race feels a need that its destinies should afford it 
 a series of lessons ; more careless than we think of the 
 reality of facts, it strives to perfect the event in order to 
 give it a great moral significance, feeling sure that the 
 succession of scenes which it plays upon earth is not a 
 comedy, and that since it advances, it marches towards an 
 end, of which the explanation must be sought beyond what 
 is visible. 
 
 For my part, I acknowledge my gratitude to the voice 
 of the people for this achievement ; for often in the finest 
 life are found strange blemishes and inconsistencies which 
 pain me when I see them. If a man seems to me a perfect 
 model of a grand and noble character, and if some one 
 comes and tells me of a mean trait which disfigures him, I 
 am saddened by it, even though I do not know him, as by a 
 misfortune which affects me in person ; and I could almost 
 wish that he had died before the change in his character. 
 
 Thus, when the Muse (and I give that name to art as a 
 whole, to everything which belongs to the domain of 
 imagination, almost in the same way as the ancients gave 
 the name of Music to all education), when the Muse has 
 related, in her impassioned manner, the adventures of a 
 character whom I know to have lived ; and when she re- 
 shapes his experiences into conformity with the strongest
 
 xxvi THOUGHTS ON TRUTH IN ART. 
 
 idea of vice or virtue which can be conceived of him, 
 filling the gaps, veiling the incongruities of his life, and 
 giving him that perfect unity of conduct which we like to 
 see represented even in evil, if in addition to this, she 
 preserves the only thing essential to the instruction of the 
 world, the spirit of the epoch, I know no reason why we 
 should be more exacting with her than with this voice of 
 the people which every day makes every fact undergo so 
 great changes. 
 
 The ancients carried this liberty even into history ; they 
 wanted to see in it only the general march, and broad 
 movements of peoples and nations ; and on these great 
 movements, brought to view in courses very distinct and 
 very clear, they placed a few colossal figures, symbols 
 of noble character and of lofty purpose. 
 
 One might almost reckon mathematically that, having 
 undergone the double composition of public opinion and 
 of the author, their history reaches us at third hand and 
 separated by two stages from the truth of fact. 
 
 It is because in their eyes history too was a work of art; 
 and in consequence of not having realized that such is its 
 real nature, the whole Christian world still lacks an his- 
 torical monument like those which dominate antiquity and 
 consecrate the memory of its destinies, as its pyramids, 
 its obelisks, its pylones, and its porticos still dominate the 
 earth which was known to them, and thereby commemorate 
 the grandeur of antiquity. 
 
 If, then, we find everywhere evidence of this inclination 
 to desert the positive, to bring the ideal even into historic 
 annals, I believe that with greater reason we should be 
 completely indifferent to historical reality in judging the 
 dramatic" works, whether poems, romances, or tragedies, 
 which borrow from history celebrated characters. Art
 
 THOUGHTS ON TRUTH IN ART. xxvii 
 
 ought never to be considered except in its relations with its 
 ideal beauty. Let it be said that what is true in fact is 
 secondary merely; it is only an illusion the more with 
 which it adorns itself, one of our prejudices which it 
 respects. It can do without it, for the Truth by which it 
 must live is the truth of observation of human nature, and 
 not authenticity of fact. The names of the characters 
 have nothing to do with the matter. The idea is every- 
 thing ; the proper name is only the example and the proof 
 of the idea. 
 
 So much the better for the memory of those who are 
 chosen to represent philosophical or moral ideas ; but, once 
 again, that is not the question. The imagination can pro- 
 duce just as fine things without them ; it is a power wholly 
 creative ; the imaginary beings which it animates are en- 
 dowed with life as truly as the real beings which it brings 
 to life again. We believe in Othello as we do in Richard 
 III., whose tomb is in Westminster; in Lovelace and in 
 Clarissa as in Paul and in Virginia, whose tombs are in the 
 Isle of France. It is with the same eye that we must 
 watch the performance of its characters, and demand of 
 the Muse only her artistic Truth, more lofty than the True, 
 whether collecting the traits of a character dispersed 
 among a thousand entire individuals, she composes from 
 them a type whose name alone is imaginary; or whether 
 she goes to their tomb to seek and to touch with her gal- 
 vanic current the dead whose great deeds are known, forces 
 them to arise again, and drags them dazzled to the light of 
 day, where in the circle which this fairy has traced, they 
 retake unwillingly their passions of other days, and begin 
 again in the sight of their descendants the sad drama of 
 life.
 
 CINQ-MAES. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE ADIEU. 
 
 Fare thee well ! and if forever, 
 Still, forever, fare thee well ! 
 
 LORD BYRON. 
 
 IP in the months of summer you have traversed fair 
 Touraine, you have no doubt followed with enchantment 
 the tranquil Loire ; you have regretted the impossibility 
 of determining upon which of its banks you would choose 
 to dwell in the society of a beloved being. Upon the 
 right bank, valleys peopled with charming white houses 
 surrounded with woods, hills yellow with vines or white 
 with the blossoms of the cherry-tree, old walls covered 
 with budding honeysuckles, gardens of roses from which 
 VOL. i. 1
 
 2 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 a pointed roof suddenly rises, everything reminds you 
 either of the fertility of the land or of the antiquity of its 
 monuments ; and everything interests you in the labors 
 of its industrious inhabitants. Nothing has proved use- 
 less to them ; it seems as if in their love for so beautiful 
 a country, the only province of France never occupied 
 by the foreigner, they have desired not to lose the 
 least portion of its soil, the smallest grain of its sand. 
 You fancy that this old ruined tower is inhabited only 
 by the hideous birds of night ? No ; at the sound of 
 your horse's hoofs, the smiling face of a young girl 
 issues from the ivy, whitened with the dust from the 
 high-road. If you climb a hillside bristling with vines, 
 a light column of smoke makes you aware that there is 
 a chimney at your feet ; for the very rock is inhabited, 
 and families of vine-dressers breathe in its profound cav- 
 erns, sheltered at night by the nutritious earth which 
 they laboriously cultivate during the day. The good 
 people of Touraine are as simple as their life, gentle 
 as the air which they respire, and strong as the power- 
 ful earth whicli they dig. Their countenances, like their 
 characters, have something of the openness of the true 
 people of Saint Louis ; their chestnut locks are still long 
 and rounded about their ears, as in the stone statutes 
 of our old kings ; their language is the purest French, 
 without slowness, rapidity, or accent, the cradle 
 of the language is there, hard by the cradle of the 
 monarchy. 
 
 But the left bank of the Loire is of a more serious 
 aspect ; here in the distance you see Chambord, which, 
 with its blue domes and little cupolas, seems like some
 
 THE ADIEU. 3 
 
 great Eastern city ; there is Chanteloup, lifting its grace- 
 ful pagoda in the air. After these, however, a more 
 simple building attracts the eves of the traveller by its 
 magnificent position and imposing size; it is the chateau 
 of Chaumont. Constructed upon the highest hill of the 
 shore, it frames its broad summit with its lofty walls 
 and its enormous towers ; high steeples of slate in- 
 crease their loftiness, and confer upon the entire build- 
 ing that air of a convent, that religious form of all our 
 old chateaux, which casts a character of gravity over the 
 landscape of most of our provinces. Black and tufted 
 trees surround this ancient mansion, and resemble from 
 afar the plumes which encircled the hat of King Henri. 
 At the foot of the hill, and connected with the chateau 
 by a narrow path winding through the rock, lies a pretty 
 village, whose white houses seem to have sprung from 
 the golden sand ; a chapel stands halfway up the hill ; 
 the lords descended and the villagers ascended to its 
 altar, the realm of equality, situated like a neutral 
 city between misery and grandeur, which have been too 
 often opposed to one another in battle array. 
 
 It was here that one morning in the month of June, 
 1639, the bell of the chateau having, as usual, rung at 
 midday, the dinner hour of the family, there were pass- 
 ing, in this ancient dwelling, occurrences of an unusual 
 kind. The numerous domestics observed that in re- 
 peating the morning prayer to the assembled house, the 
 Mare'chale d'Effiat had spoken with a broken voice and 
 with tears in her eyes, and that she had appeared in a 
 deeper mourning than was customary. The people of 
 the household and the Italians of the Duchesse de Man-
 
 4 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 tua, who had at that time retired for a while to Chau- 
 raont, saw with surprise that preparations were suddenly 
 making for departure. The old domestic of the Marechal 
 d'Effiat, himself dead six months, had taken again to his 
 travelling-boots, which he had sworn before to abandon 
 forever. This brave fellow, named Grandchamp, had 
 followed the chief of the family everywhere in the wars, 
 and in his financial labors ; he had been his equerry in 
 the first, and his secretary in the last. He had recently 
 returned from Germany, to acquaint the mother and 
 the children with the death of the marechal, whose last 
 sighs he had heard at Luzzenstein. He was one of those 
 faithful servants, the like of whom are become too rare 
 in France ; who suffer with the misfortunes of the fam- 
 ily, and rejoice with their joys : who advocate the forma- 
 tion of marriages, that they may have to educate young 
 masters ; who scold the children and often the fathers ; 
 who expose themselves to death for them ; who serve 
 them without wages in revolutions ; who labor for their 
 sustenance ; and who in prosperous times follow them 
 everywhere, and exclaim at their return, " Behold our 
 vines ! " He had a severe and remarkable face, a cop- 
 per complexion, silvery-gray hair, of which, however, 
 some few threads, black as his thick eyebrows, made 
 him appear harsh at first, but a gentle countenance 
 softened this first impression. At present, the sound 
 of his voice was loud. He busied himself much that 
 day in hastening the dinner, and ordered about all the 
 people of the house, who were in mourning like himself. 
 " Come," said he, " make haste to serve the dinner, 
 while Germain, Louis, and Etienne go and saddle their
 
 THE ADIEU. 5 
 
 horses ; M. Henri and I must be far away hence by 
 eight o'clock this evening. And you, gentlemen, Ital- 
 ians, have you admonished your young princess ? I 
 wager that she is gone to read with her ladies at the 
 other end of the park, or upon the banks of the lake. 
 She always comes in after the first course, and makes 
 every one get up from the table." 
 
 " Ah, my good Grandchamp," said in a low voice a 
 young chambermaid who was passing, and paused, " do 
 not speak of the duchesse ; she is very sorrowful, and I 
 believe that she will remain in her apartment. Santa 
 Maria! what a shame to travel to-day! depart on a 
 Friday, the 13th of the month, and the day of Saint 
 Gervais and Saint Protais, the day of two martyrs ! 
 I have been telling my beads all the morning for M. de 
 Cinq-Mars ; verily, I could not help thinking of these 
 things. And my mistress thinks of them too, great lady 
 as she is ; so that you need not laugh ! " 
 
 With these words the young Italian girl glided like a 
 bird across the large dining-room, and vanished into a 
 corridor, startled at seeing the double folds of the great 
 doors of the saloon opened. 
 
 Grandchamp had scarcely attended to what she had 
 said, and seemed to have been only occupied with the pre- 
 parations for dinner; he fulfilled the important duties 
 of major-domo, and cast severe looks at the domestics, 
 to see if they were all at their posts, placing himself be- 
 hind the chair of the eldest son of the house, when all 
 the inhabitants of the mansion successively entered the 
 saloon. Eleven persons, men and women, seated them- 
 selves at table. The marechale came in last, giving
 
 6 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 her arm to a fine old man, magnificently attired, whom 
 she placed upon her left hand. She seated herself in a 
 great gilt armchair at the centre of the table, which was 
 oblong in form. Another seat, rather more ornamented, 
 was at her right, but it remained empty. The young 
 Marquis d'Effiat, seated in front of his mother, was to 
 assist her in doing the honors of the table. He was not 
 more than twenty years old, and his countenance was 
 insignificant ; much gravity and distinguished manners 
 proclaimed, however, a sociable nature, but nothing 
 more. His young sister of fourteen, two gentlemen 
 of the province, three young Italian noblemen of the 
 suite of Marie de Gonzaga (Duchesse de Mantua), a 
 lady-iii-waiting, the governess of the young daughter of 
 the marechale, and an abbe of the neighborhood, old 
 and very deaf, composed the assembly. A seat at the 
 right of the eldest sou still remained vacant. 
 
 The mare*chale, before seating herself, made the sign 
 of the cross, and repeated the B6nedicit6 aloud ; every 
 one responded by making the complete sign, or upon the 
 breast alone. This custom was preserved in many fami- 
 lies in France up to the revolution of 1789 ; some 
 still retain it, but more in the provinces than in Paris, 
 and not without some embarrassment and some prelim- 
 inary words upon the fine weather, accompanied by a 
 smile of excuse when a stranger is present, for it is 
 too true that goodness has also its blush. 
 
 The mare'chale was a woman of imposing figure, and 
 her large blue eyes were of a remarkable beauty. She 
 did not appear to have yet attained her forty-fifth year ; 
 but oppressed with sorrow, she walked slowly and spoke
 
 THE ADIEU. 1 
 
 with difficulty, closing her eyes, and suffering her head 
 to fall for a moment upon her breast, after she had been 
 obliged to raise her voice. At such times her hand 
 pressed to her bosom showed that she experienced acute 
 pain. She therefore saw with satisfaction that the per- 
 sonage who was seated at her left, having at the begin- 
 ning engrossed the conversation, without having been 
 requested to converse by any one, persisted with an im- 
 perturbable coolness in engrossing it to the end of the 
 repast. This was the old Marechal de Bassoinpierre ; 
 he had preserved beneath his white hairs an air of youth 
 and vivacity curious to see. His noble and polished man- 
 ners had somewhat of a gallantry antiquated like his 
 costume, for he wore a ruff in the fashion of Henri 
 IV., and slashed sleeves in that of the former reign, an 
 absurdity which was unpardonable in the eyes of the 
 beaux of the court. This would not have appeared more 
 singular than anything else at present ; but it is ad- 
 mitted that in every age we laugh at the costume of our 
 fathers, and, save the Eastern people, I know of none 
 who are -not affected with this evil. 
 
 One of the Italian gentlemen had scarcely finished ask- 
 ing the mare'chal what he thought of the way in which 
 the cardinal treated the daughter of the Due de Mantua, 
 than he exclaimed in his familiar language, 
 
 " Zounds, sir ! what are you talking about ? what can 
 I comprehend of this new system under which France is 
 living ? We old companions in arms of the late king can 
 ill understand the language which is spoken by the new 
 court, and that in its turn does not comprehend ours. 
 But what do I say ? We speak no language in this
 
 8 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 mournful country, for all the world is silent before the 
 cardinal ; this haughty little vassal looks upon us as old 
 family portraits, which every now and then he abridges 
 by the head, but happily the motto always remains. Is 
 it not so, my dear Puy-Laurens ? " 
 
 This guest was about the same age as the marechal, 
 but being more grave and cautious than he, answered 
 in vague and few words, and made a sign to his contem- 
 porary in order to induce him to observe the unpleasant 
 emotions which he had caused to the mistress of the 
 house by reminding her of the recent death of her hus- 
 band and speaking thus of the minister, his friend. But 
 it was in vain, for Bassompierre, contented with the sign 
 of semi-approbation, emptied at one draught a great gob- 
 let of wine, a remedy which he lauds in his memoirs 
 as infallible against the plague and against reserve ; and 
 leaning back to receive another from his esquire, he es- 
 tablished himself more firmly than ever upon his chair, 
 and in his favorite ideas. 
 
 " Yes, we are in the way here ; I said so the other 
 day to my dear Due de Guise, whom they have ruined. 
 They number the minutes that we have to live, and 
 shake the sand to hasten its descent. When M. le 
 Cardinal-Due beholds in a corner three or four of our 
 tall figures, who never quitted the side of the late king, 
 he feels that he is unable to stir those statues of iron, 
 and that to do it would require the hand of a great 
 man ; he passes quickly by, and dares not meddle with 
 us, who fear him not. He believes that we are always 
 conspiring ; and at this very moment they say that there 
 is talk of putting me in the Bastille."
 
 THE ADIEU. 9 
 
 " Eh ! M. le Mare'chal, why do you delay your de- 
 parture ? " said the Italian. " I know nowhere, save 
 Flanders, where you can find shelter." 
 
 " Ah, sir ! you do not know me. So far from flying, I 
 sought out the king before his departure, and I told him 
 that I did so in order to save people the trouble of look- 
 ing for me ; and that if I knew when he wished to send 
 me, I would go myself without being taken. He was as 
 good as I expected that he would be, and said to me, 
 * How, my old friend, could you have thought that I 
 desired to send you there ? You know well that I love 
 you.' " 
 
 " Ah, my dear mare'chal, let me compliment you,'' 
 said Madame d'Effiat, in a soft voice. " I recognize the 
 benevolence of the king in these words ; he remembers 
 the affection which the king, his father, had towards 
 you. It appears to me that he ever accorded to you all 
 that you desired for your friends," added she, with 
 animation, in order to put him into the track of praise, 
 and to draw him from the discontent which he had so 
 loudly declared. 
 
 " Assuredly, Madame," answered he ; " no one is more 
 willing to recognize his virtues than Frangois de Bassom- 
 pierre. I will be faithful to him to the end, because I 
 gave myself, body and goods, to his father at a ball ; and 
 I swear that with my consent at least, none of my fam- 
 ily shall ever fail in their duties towards the King of 
 France. Although the Besteins are foreigners and Lor- 
 rains, a shake of the hand from Henri IV. gained us for- 
 ever. My greatest grief has been to see my brother die 
 in the service of Spain ; and I have just written to my
 
 10 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 nephew to say that I will disinherit him if he passes over 
 to the emperor, as report speaks of his doing." 
 
 One of the gentlemen who had as yet said nothing, and 
 who was remarkable for the profusion of knots, ribbons, 
 and tags which covered his dress, and for the black cor- 
 don of the order of Saint Michael which adorned his 
 neck, bowed, observing that it was thus that all faithful 
 subjects ought to speak. 
 
 " I' faith, M. de Launay, you deceive yourself very 
 much," said the mare'chal, to whom the recollection of 
 his ancestors now occurred ; " persons of our blood are 
 subjects in heart, for God has caused us to be born as 
 much lords of our lands as the king is of his. When 
 I came into France, it was that I might take my ease, 
 accompanied by my gentlemen and pages. I perceive, 
 however, that the farther we go, the more we lose sight of 
 this idea, especialty at the court. But here comes a young 
 man who arrives very opportunely to hear me." 
 
 The door indeed opened, and there entered a young 
 man of fine form. He was pale ; his hair was brown, 
 his eyes black, his expression sorrowful and careless. It 
 was Henri d'Effiat, Marquis de Cinq-Mars (a name taken 
 from an estate of his family). His dress and his short 
 cloak were black ; a collar of lace fell from his neck half- 
 way down his breast ; his stout, small, and very wide 
 boots and his spurs made so much noise upon the flags 
 of the saloon that his approach was heard at a distance. 
 He walked right up to the mare'chale, bowing low, and 
 kissing her hand. 
 
 " Well, Henri," said she, " are your horses ready ? 
 At what hour do you depart ? "
 
 THE ADIEU. 11 
 
 " Immediately after dinner, Madame, if you will allow 
 me " said he to his mother, with the ceremonious respect 
 of the times ; and passing behind her, he saluted M. de 
 Bassompierre before seating himself upon the left hand 
 of his eldest brother. 
 
 " Well, then," said the mare'chal, continuing to eat 
 with an excellent appetite, " you are about to depart, my 
 son ; you are going to the court, a slippery place nowa- 
 days. I am sorry for your sake that it is not now what 
 it used to be. In former times, the court was simply 
 the drawing-room of the king, in which he received his 
 natural friends ; nobles of great family, his peers, who 
 visited him to show their devotion and their friendship, 
 lost their money with him, and accompanied him in his 
 pleasure parties, but never received anything of him, 
 except permission to bring their vassals with themselves 
 to break their heads in his service. The honors which 
 a man of quality received did not enrich him, for he paid 
 for them out of his purse. I sold an estate for every 
 grade I ascended ; the title of colonel-general of the 
 Swiss cost me four hundred thousand crowns, and at 
 the baptism of the present king I had to buy a costume 
 which cost me a hundred thousand francs." 
 
 " Ah ! " said the mistress of the house, smiling, " you 
 must acknowledge for once that you were not obliged to 
 do that. We have all heard of your splendid dress of 
 pearls ; but I should be much vexed if it were still the 
 custom to wear such." 
 
 " Oh, Madame la Marquise, do not fear, those times of 
 magnificence will never return. We committed follies, 
 no doubt, but they proved our independence ; it is clear
 
 12 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 that it would then have been hard to seduce from their 
 allegiance to the king servants who were attached to 
 him by love alone, and whose coronets contained as 
 many diamonds as his own locked-up crown. It is also 
 manifest that ambition could not then attack all classes, 
 since such expenses could only come from rich hands, 
 and since gold comes only from mines. Those great 
 houses which are being so furiously assailed were not 
 ambitious, and frequently desiring no employment from 
 the Government, maintained their places at court by 
 their own weight, existed upon their own foundation, and 
 might say, as one of them did say, ' The prince conde- 
 scends not ; I am Rohan.' It was the same with every 
 noble family, to which its own nobility sufficed ; the king 
 himself expressed it in writing to one of my friends, 
 ' Money is not common goods between gentlemen like 
 you and me.' " 
 
 " But, M. le Mardchal," coldly and with extreme po- 
 liteness interrupted M. de Launay, who perhaps in- 
 tended to anger him, " this independence has pro- 
 duced many civil wars and revolts, as those of M. de 
 Montmorency." 
 
 " Zounds, sir ! I cannot consent to hear these things 
 spoken," said the fiery mare'chal, leaping up in his arm- 
 chair. " Those revolts and wars, sir, had nothing to do 
 with the fundamental laws of the State, and could no 
 more have overturned the throne than a duel could have 
 done so. Of all the great party-chiefs, there was not 
 one who would not have laid his victory at the feet of 
 the king, had he succeeded, knowing well that all the 
 other lords who were as great as himself would have
 
 THE ADIEU. 13 
 
 abandoned the enemy of the legitimate sovereign. Arms 
 were taken against a faction, and not against the sover- 
 eign authority ; and, this destroyed, all things went on 
 again in their old course. But what have you done in 
 crushing us ? You have crushed the arm of the throne, 
 and have not put anything in its place. Yes, I no 
 longer doubt but that the cardinal-due will wholly ac- 
 complish his design ; the great nobility will leave and 
 lose their lands, and ceasing to be great proprietors, they 
 will cease to be a great power. The court is already 
 no more than a palace where people beg ; by-and-by it 
 will become an antechamber, when it will be only com- 
 posed of those who constitute the suite of the king. 
 Great names will begin by ennobling vile offices ; but 
 by a terrible reaction, those offices will end by render- 
 ing great names vile. Estranged from their homes, 
 the nobility will be dependent upon the employments 
 which they shall have received ; and if the people, over 
 whom they will no longer have any influence, choose 
 to revolt " 
 
 " How dismal you are to-day, Mare'chal ! " interrupted 
 the marquise ; " I hope that neither I nor my children 
 will ever see that time. I no longer perceive your 
 cheerful character, now that you assume the politician ; 
 I expected to hear you give advice to my son. Henri, 
 what is the matter with you ? You seem very absent." 
 
 Cinq-Mars, with eyes fixed upon the great bay-window 
 of the dining-room, looked sorrowfully upon the mag- 
 nificent landscape which stretched beyond. The sun 
 was in all its splendor, and colored the sands of the 
 Loire, the trees, and the lawns with gold and emerald.
 
 14 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 The sky was azure, the waves of a transparent yellow, 
 the isles of a brilliant green; behind their rounded 
 forms rose the great sails of the merchant vessels like 
 a fleet in ambuscade. 
 
 " Nature, Nature ! " mused he ; " beautiful Nature, 
 adieu ! Soon will my heart have ceased to be of sim- 
 plicity enough to feel you ; soon you will no longer 
 charm my eyes. This heart is already burned by a deep 
 passion ; and the mention of the interests of men casts 
 into it hitherto unknown agitation. I must, however, 
 enter this labyrinth ; I may, haply, lose myself there, 
 but for Marie 
 
 At this moment, aroused by the words of his mother, 
 and fearing to exhibit a childish regret at leaving his 
 beautiful country and his family, he said, 
 
 " I am thinking, Madame, of the road which I shall 
 take to Perpignan, and also of that which shall lead me 
 back to you." 
 
 " Do not forget to take that of Poitiers, and to go to 
 Loudun to see your old tutor, our good Abb6 Quillet ; 
 he will give you serviceable advice touching the court. 
 He is on very good terms with the Due de Bouillon ; 
 and besides, though he may not be very necessary to 
 you, it is a mark of deference which you owe him." 
 
 "Is it, then, to the siege of Perpignan that you are 
 going?" asked the old mare'chal, who began to think 
 that he had been silent a long time. " Ah ! it is well 
 for you. Plague upon it ! a siege ! 't is an excellent 
 opening. I would have given much to have assisted the 
 late king at a siege, upon my arrival in his court ; it 
 would have been better to have been disembowelled then
 
 THE ADIEU. 15 
 
 than at a tourney, as I was. But we were at peace ; 
 and I was compelled to go and pistol the Turks with the 
 Rosworm of the Hungarians, in order that I might not 
 afflict my family by my idleness. For the rest, may his 
 Majesty receive you as amiably as his father received 
 me ! It is true that the king is brave and good ; but 
 they have unfortunately taught him that old Spanish eti- 
 quette which arrests all the impulses of the heart. He 
 restrains himself and others by an immovable presence 
 and look of ice ; as for me, I confess that I am always 
 waiting for the moment of thaw, but in vain. We were 
 accustomed to other manners from the witty and simple- 
 hearted Henri ; and we had at least the liberty to tell 
 him that we loved him." 
 
 Cinq-Mars, with eyes fixed upon those of Bassom- 
 pierre as if to force himself to attend to his discourse, 
 asked him what was the manner of the late king in 
 talking. 
 
 " Lively and frank," said he. " Some time after my 
 arrival in France, I played with him and with the 
 Duchesse de Beaufort at Fontainebleau ; for he wished, 
 he said, to win my gold-pieces, my fine Portugal bits. 
 He asked me why I came into this country. ' I' faith, 
 Sire,' said I, frankly, ' I came with no intention of en- 
 listing myself in your service, but only with a mind to 
 pass some time at your court, and afterwards at that of 
 Spain ; but you have charmed me so much that instead 
 of going farther, if you desire my service, I will devote 
 myself to it till death.' Then he embraced me, and as- 
 sured me that I could not find a better master, or one 
 who would love me more. Alas ! I have found it so.
 
 16 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 And for my part, I sacrificed all to him, even my love ; 
 and I would have done more, had it been possible to do 
 more than renounce Mademoiselle de Montmorency." 
 
 The good inare'chal had tears in his eyes ; but the 
 young Marquis d'Effiat and the Italians, looking at 
 each other, could not help smiling at thinking that at 
 present the Princesse de Cond^ was very far from young 
 and pretty. Cinq-Mars remarked this interchange of 
 looks, and also smiled, but bitterly. 
 
 " Is it then true," said he to himself, " that the affec- 
 tions have the same destiny with the fashions, and that 
 a few years can cast the same ridicule upon a costume 
 and upon love ? Happy is he who does not survive his 
 youth and his illusions, and who carries his treasure 
 . with him to the grave ! " 
 
 But again with effort breaking the melancholy course 
 of his thoughts, and wishing that the good mare'chal 
 should read nothing unpleasant upon the countenance 
 of his hosts, he said, 
 
 " People spoke, then, with much freedom to King 
 Henri ? Perhaps, though, lie had need to assume that 
 tone at the beginning of his reign ; but when he was 
 master did he alter it?" 
 
 " Never ; no, never, to his last day, did our great king 
 cease to be the same. He did not blush at being a man, 
 and spoke to men with vigor and sensibility. Ah ! I 
 fancy I see him now, embracing the Due de Guise in 
 his carriage, the very day of his death ; he had hit off 
 one of his lively pleasantries to me, and the due said 
 to him, ' You are, to my taste, one of the most agree- 
 able men in the world, and our destiny ordained us for
 
 THE ADIEU. 17 
 
 each other. For if you had been but an ordinary man, I 
 should have taken you into my service at whatever 
 price ; but since Heaven ordained that you should be 
 born a great king, it has necessarily happened that I 
 belong to you.' Oh, great man ! " cried Bassompierre, 
 with tears in his eyes, and perhaps a little excited by 
 the frequent bumpers he had drunk, " you said well, 
 ' When you have lost me you will learn my value.' " 
 
 During this sally, the different persons at the table 
 had assumed various attitudes, according to their posi- 
 tion in public affairs. One of the Italians pretended to 
 chat and laugh in a subdued manner with the young 
 daughter of the marechale ; the other took care of the 
 deaf old abbe", who, putting his hand behind his ear 
 that he might hear, was the only one who seemed at- 
 tentive. Cinq-Mars had sunk back into his melancholy 
 abstraction, after having cast a glance at the mare'chal, 
 as one looks aside after having thrown a tennis-ball 
 until its return ; his eldest brother did the honors of the 
 table with the same calm. Puy-Laurens watched the 
 mistress of the house with attention ; he was devoted to 
 the Due d'Orleans, and dreaded the cardinal. As for 
 the mare'chale, she had an anxious and afflicted air. 
 Inconsiderate words had often recalled the death of her 
 husband or the departure of her son ; and oftener still, 
 she feared lest Bassompierre should compromise him- 
 self. And she had many times touched him, looking at 
 the same time towards M. de Launay, whom she knew 
 little of, and whom she had reason to believe devoted to 
 the prime minister ; but to a man of his character, such 
 warnings were useless. He appeared not to perceive 
 
 VOL. I. 2
 
 18 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 them ; and on the contrary, crushing that gentleman with 
 his bold looks and the sound of his voice, he affected 
 to turn himself towards and to direct all his conversa- 
 tion to him. As for the latter, he assumed an air of 
 indifference and of assenting politeness, which he never 
 abandoned until the moment when the folding-doors 
 opened, and " Mademoiselle la Duchesse de Mantua " 
 was announced. 
 
 The conversation which we have transcribed so length- 
 ily passed, however, rapidly ; and the dinner was but 
 half over when the arrival of Marie de Gonzaga caused 
 everybody to rise. She was small, but very well made, 
 and although her eyes and her hair were black, her com- 
 plexion was as dazzling as the beauty of her skin. The 
 mare'chale arose to acknowledge her rank, and kissed 
 her on the forehead, in recognition of her goodness and 
 lovely age. 
 
 " We have waited long for you to-day, dear Marie," 
 said she, placing her beside her ; " fortunately you re- 
 main with me to replace one of my children, who is 
 about to depart." 
 
 The young duchesse blushed, dropped her head and 
 her eyes, in order that no one might see their redness, 
 and said in a timid voice, 
 
 " Madame, that may well be, since you are to me in 
 the place of a mother." 
 
 And a glance made Cinq-Mars, at the other end of 
 the table, turn pale. 
 
 This arrival changed the conversation ; it ceased to 
 be general, and each conversed in a low voice with 
 the person next him. The mare'chal alone continued to
 
 THE ADIEU. 19 
 
 utter a few sentences concerning the magnificence of 
 the old court, his wars in Turkey, the tournaments, 
 and the avarice of the new court ; but to his great 're- 
 gret, no one took up his words, and the company were 
 leaving the table, when the clock having struck two, 
 five horses appeared in the courtyard. Four only were 
 mounted by domestics, cloaked and armed ; the other 
 horse, black and very spirited, was held by old Grand- 
 champ, it was the steed of his master. 
 
 " Ah, ah ! " exclaimed Bassompierre ; " see, there, our 
 battle-horses saddled and bridled. Come, young man, 
 we must say, with our old Marot, 
 
 
 
 " ' Adieu la cour, adieu les dames ! 
 Adieu les filles et les femmes ! 
 Adieu vous dy pour quelque temps ; 
 Adieu vos plaisants passe-temps ! 
 Adieu le bal, adieu la dance ; 
 Adieu rnesure, adieu cadance, 
 Tabourins, hautbois, violons, 
 Puisqu'ii. la guerre nous aliens ! ' " 
 
 These old verses and the air of the mare'chal made all 
 the table laugh, save three persons. 
 
 " Heavens ! " continued he, " it seems to me as if, like 
 him, I were but seventeen years old ; he will return to 
 us all embroidered. Madame, we must leave a chair 
 vacant for him." 
 
 Here the marechale grew suddenly pale, left the table 
 suffused with tears, and every one rose with her ; she 
 could only take two steps, and sank into another chair. 
 Her sons and her daughter and the young duchesse 
 came anxiously around her, and made out the follow-
 
 20 CINQ- MARS. 
 
 ing words, amid the sighs and tears which she strove 
 to restrain : - 
 
 " Pardon, my friends ! it is foolish of me childish; 
 but 1 am weak at present, and am not mistress of my- 
 self. We were thirteen at table ; and you, my dear 
 duchesse, were the cause of it. But it is very wrong of 
 me to show so much weakness before him. Farewell, my 
 child ; give me your forehead to kiss, and may God con- 
 duct you ! Be worthy of your name* and of your father." 
 
 Then, as Homer says, smiling under tears, she raised 
 herself, pushed him from her, and said : 
 
 " Come, let us see you on horseback, fair sir." 
 
 The silent traveller kissed the hand of his mother, and 
 afterwards made a low bow to her ; he also bowed to the 
 duchesse, without raising his eyes. Then, embracing his 
 elder brother, pressing the hand of the marechal, and 
 kissing the forehead of his young sister almost simulta- 
 neously, he went forth, and was on horseback in an 
 instant. Every one went to the windows which over- 
 looked the court, except Madame d'Effiat, who was 
 still seated and suffering. 
 
 " He departs at full gallop. That is a good sign," 
 said the mare'chal, laughing. 
 
 " Oh, God ! " cried the young princess, retiring from 
 the bay-window. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " said the mother. 
 
 " Nothing, nothing ! " said M. de Launay. " Your son's 
 horse stumbled under the gateway ; but he soon pulled 
 him up. See, he salutes us from the road." 
 
 " Another ominous presage ! " said the marquise, upon 
 retiring to her apartments.
 
 THE ADIEU
 
 THE ADIEU. 21 
 
 Every one imitated her by being silent or speaking 
 low. 
 
 The day was mournful and the supper in the evening 
 silent at the chateau of Cb.au mont. 
 
 At ten o'clock in the evening, the old mare'chal, con- 
 ducted by his valet, retired to the northern tower near 
 the gateway, and opposite to the river. The heat was 
 extreme ; he opened the window, and enveloping himself 
 in his great silk robe, placed a heavy candlestick upon 
 the table, and desired to be left alone. His window 
 looked out upon the plain, which the moon, in her first 
 quarter, indistinctly lighted ; the sky was charged with 
 heavy clouds, and all things disposed the mind to mel- 
 ancholy. Although Bassompierre had nothing of the 
 dreamer in his character, the turn which the conversa- 
 tion had taken at dinner came to his memory, and he 
 began to reconsider the course of his life, the mournful 
 changes which the new reign had wrought in it, a reign 
 which seemed to have breathed upon him a wind of mis- 
 fortune, the death of a cherished sister ; the irregular- 
 ities of the heir of his name ; the loss of his lands and 
 of his favor at court ; the recent end of his friend, the 
 Mare'chal d'Effiat, whose chambers he now occupied. 
 All these thoughts drew from him an involuntary sigh, 
 and he placed himself at the window to breathe. 
 
 At this moment he thought he heard the tramp of a 
 troop of horse at the side of the wood ; but the wind, 
 which was rising, made him conclude that he had been 
 mistaken, and the noise suddenly ceasing, he forgot it. 
 He still watched for some time all the lights of the 
 chateau, which became successively extinguished, after
 
 22 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 having wound among the windows of the staircases and 
 rambled about the courtyards and the stables ; after- 
 wards, falling back in his great tapestried armchair, his 
 elbow resting on the table, he abandoned himself to his 
 reflections. And after a while, drawing from his breast 
 a medallion which hung concealed, suspended by a black 
 ribbon, he said, 
 
 u Come, my good old master, talk with me as you have 
 so often done ; come, great king, forget your court for 
 the smile of a true friend ; come, great man, consult me 
 concerning ambitious Austria ; come, inconstant cheva- 
 lier, speak to me of the lightness of thy love, and of the 
 fidelity of thine inconstancy ; come, heroic soldier, com- 
 plain to me again that I balk you in the combat. Ah, 
 have I not done it in Paris ? Why did I not receive thy 
 wound ? With thy blood the world has lost the benefits 
 of thine interrupted reign " 
 
 The tears of the mardchal obscured the glass which 
 covered the large medallion, and he was effacing them 
 with respectful kisses, when, his door being roughly 
 opened, he seized upon his sword. 
 
 " Who goes there ? " cried he, in his surprise, which 
 was much increased when he saw M. de Lauriay, who, 
 hat in hand, advanced towards him, and said to him 
 with embarrassment, 
 
 " Sir, it is with a heart pierced with grief that I am 
 forced to tell you that the king has commanded me to 
 arrest you. A carriage awaits you at the gate, attended 
 by thirty of the cardinal-due's musketeers." 
 
 Bassompierre had not risen ; and he still held the 
 medallion in his right hand, and the sword in the other.
 
 THE ADIEU. 23 
 
 He tendered it disdainfully to this man, and said to 
 him, 
 
 " Sir, I know that I have lived too long, and it is that 
 of which I was thinking ; it is in the name of the great 
 Henri that I restore this sword peacefully to his son. 
 Follow me." 
 
 He accompanied these words with a look so firm that 
 De Launay was depressed, and followed him with droop- 
 ing head, as if he had himself been arrested by the noble 
 old man, who, seizing a, flambeau, issued from the court 
 and found all the doors opened by horse-guards, who 
 had terrified the people of the chateau in the name of 
 the king, and commanded silence. The carriage was 
 ready, and departed rapidly, followed by many horses. 
 The inarechal, seated beside M. de Launay, began to 
 sleep, rocked by the movement of the vehicle, when a 
 voice cried to the driver, " Stop ! " and as he continued, 
 a pistol-shot followed. The horses stopped. 
 
 " I declare, sir, that this is done without my participa- 
 tion," said Bassompierre. Then putting his head out at 
 the door, he saw that they were in a little wood, and a 
 road too narrow to allow of the horses passing to the 
 right or to the left of the carriage, a great advantage 
 for the aggressors, since the musketeers could not ad- 
 vance ; he tried to see what was going on when a cavalier, 
 having in his hand a long sword, with which he parried 
 the strokes of the guard, approached the door, crying, 
 
 " Come, come, M. le Mare'chal ! " 
 
 " What ! is that you, you madcap, Henri, who are 
 playing these pranks? Sirs, sirs, let him alone; he 
 is a mere bov."
 
 24 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 And De Launay, having culled to the musketeers to 
 cease, had time to look about him. 
 
 " And how the devil came you here ? " cried Bassom- 
 pierre. " 1 thought you were at Tours, or even farther, 
 if you had done your duty ; but here you are returned 
 to make a fool of yourself." 
 
 " Truly, it was not for you I returned, but for a secret 
 affair," said Cinq-Mars, in a lower tone ; " but as I take 
 it, they are going to introduce you to the Bastille, I 'in 
 sure you will not betray me, for that delightful edifice is 
 the very Temple of Discretion. Yet had you thought 
 fit," he continued, aloud. ;t I would have released you 
 from these gentlemen in the wood here, which is so thick 
 that their horses would not have been able to stir. A 
 peasant informed me of the insult passed upon us, more 
 than upon you, by this violation of my father's house." 
 
 " It is the king's order, my son, and we must respect 
 his will ; reserve this ardor for his service, though I 
 thank you with all my heart. Now adieu, and let me 
 proceed on my agreeable journey." 
 
 De Launay interposed, " I may inform you, M. de 
 Cinq-Mars, that I have been desired by the king himself 
 to assure M. le Mardchal that he is deeply afflicted at the 
 step he has found it necessary thus to take, and that it 
 is solely from an apprehension that M. le Mare'chal may 
 be led into evil that his Majesty requests him to reside 
 for a few days in the Bastille." 1 
 
 Bassompierre turned his head with a hearty laugh to 
 Cinq-Mars. " You see, my friends, how we young folks 
 are placed under guardianship ; so take care of yourself." 
 
 1 He remained there twelve years.
 
 THE ADIEU. 25 
 
 " I will go, then," said Henri ; u this is the last time 
 I shall play the knight-errant for people against their 
 will ; " and re-entering the wood as the carriage dashed 
 off at full speed, he proceeded along by by-paths towards 
 the castle, followed at a short distance by Grandchamp 
 and his small escort. 
 
 On reaching the foot of the western tower, he pulled 
 in his horse. He did not alight, but approaching so near 
 the wall that he could rest his foot upon an abutment, he 
 stood up, and raised the blind of a window on the ground- 
 floor. 
 
 It was now past midnight, and the moon was hidden 
 behind the clouds. No one but a member of the family 
 could have found his way through so profound an obscu- 
 rity. The towers and the roof formed one dark mass, 
 which stood out in but indistinct relief upon the sky, 
 scarcely less dark ; no light shone throughout the cha- 
 teau, all whose inmates seemed buried in slumber. Cinq- 
 Mars, enveloped in a large cloak, and his face hidden 
 under the broad brim of his hat, awaited in suspense a 
 reply to his signal. 
 
 It came ; a soft voice was heard from within, 
 
 " Is that you, M. de Cinq-Mars ? " 
 
 " Alas, who else should it be ? Who else would return 
 like a malefactor to his paternal house, without entering 
 it, without bidding one more adieu to his mother ? Who 
 else would return to complain of the present, without a 
 hope from the future, but I ? " 
 
 The gentle voice replied, but its tones were agitated, 
 and perceptibly accompanied with tears, " Alas, Henri, 
 of what do you complain ? Have I not already done
 
 26 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 more, far more than I ought to have done ? It is not my 
 fault, but my misfortune, that my father was a sovereign 
 prince. One cannot choose one's birthplace or one's 
 rank. Yet how miserable is the lot of princesses ! From 
 the cradle, the sentiments of the heart are prohibited to 
 them ; and when they have advanced beyond childhood, 
 they are ceded like a town, and must not even weep. 
 Since I have known you, what have I not done to bring 
 my future life within the reach of happiness, in removing 
 it far from a throne ? For two years I have struggled in 
 vain, at once against my evil fortune, that separates me 
 from you, and against you, who estrange me from the 
 duty I owe to my family. I have sought to diffuse a be- 
 lief that I was dead ; I have almost sighed for revolu- 
 tions. I should have blessed a change which deprived 
 me of my rank, as I thanked Heaven when my father 
 was dethroned ; but the court wonders at my absence ; 
 the queen requires me to attend her. Our dreams are at 
 an end, Henri ; we have already slumbered too long. Let 
 us awake, and courageously think no more of those dear 
 two years, forget all in the one recollection of our great 
 resolve. Have but one thought ; be ambitious for be 
 ambitious for my sake." 
 
 " Must we, then, indeed, forget all, Marie ? " murmured 
 Cinq-Mars. 
 
 She hesitated. 
 
 " Yes, forget all that I myself have forgotten." 
 Then after a moment's pause she resumed with earnest- 
 ness, "Yes, forget our happy days together, our long 
 evenings, even our walks by the lake and through the 
 wood ; but keep in mind the future. Go, Henri ; your
 
 THE ADIEU. 21 
 
 father was marechal. Be you more ; be you constable, 
 prince. Go; you are young, noble, rich, brave, be- 
 loved " 
 
 " Beloved forever ? " said Henri. 
 
 " Forever, here and hereafter." 
 
 Cinq-Mars, tremulously extending his hand to the 
 window, exclaimed, 
 
 " Well, then, I swear, Marie, by the Virgin, whose 
 name you bear, that you shall be mine, or my head 
 shall fall on the scaffold!" 
 
 " Oh, Heaven ! what is't you say ?" she cried, taking 
 his hand in her own. " Swear to me that you will share 
 in no guilty efforts ; that you will never forget that the 
 King of France is your master. Ever love him next to 
 her who will sacrifice all for you, who will await you 
 amid suffering and sorrow. Take this little gold cross 
 and wear it upon your heart ; it has often been wet with 
 my tears, and those tears will flow still more bitterly 
 if ever you are culpable towards the king. Give me the 
 ring I see on your finger. Oh, heavens, my hand and 
 yours are red with blood ! " 
 
 " Oh, a scratch. Did you hear nothing, some hour 
 ago?" 
 
 " No ; but listen. Hear you nothing now ? " 
 
 " No, Marie, nothing but some bird of night on the 
 tower." 
 
 " I heard whispering near us, I am sure. But whence 
 this blood ? Tell me and then depart." 
 
 " Yes, I will go, while the clouds are still dark above 
 us. Farewell, celestial creature ; in my hour of danger 
 I will invoke thee as a guardian angel. Love has in-
 
 28 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 fused the poison of ambition into my soul, and for the 
 first time I feel that ambition may be ennobled by its 
 aim. Farewell ! I go to accomplish my destiny." 
 
 " And forget not mine." 
 
 " Can they ever be separated ? " 
 
 " Never," exclaimed Marie, passionately, " but by 
 death." 
 
 " Alas, I fear absence still more," said Cinq-Mars. 
 
 " Farewell ! 1 tremble ; farewell ! " repeated the be- 
 loved voice, and the window was slowly drawn down, 
 the joined hands not .parting till the latest instant. 
 
 The black courser had all the while been pawing the 
 earth, and tossing back his noble head with impatience. 
 Cinq-Mars, as agitated and restless as his horse, gave it 
 the rein ; and the whole party was speedily under the 
 walls of Tours. To the infinite discomfiture of old 
 Grandehamp, Cinq-Mars would not enter the town, but 
 proceeded on his way, and five days after entered with 
 his escort the old city of Loudun in Poitou, after a 
 journey without incident.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE STREET. 
 
 Je m'avan^ais d'un pas penible et mal assure vers le but de ce 
 convoi tragique. NODIER, Smarra. 
 
 THE reign a few years of which we are about to paint 
 a reign of feebleness, which was, as it were, an eclipse 
 of the crown between Henri IV. and Louis le Grand 
 afflicts the eyes which contemplate it with more than 
 one dark stain of blood, and these not all the work of 
 one man, but participated in by great and grave bodies. 
 It is melancholy to observe in this age, still full of dis- 
 order, that the clergy, like a nation, had its populace, as 
 it had its nobility, its ignorant and its criminal prelates, 
 as well as its learned and virtuous prelates. Since that 
 period, its remnant of barbarism has been refined away 
 by the long reign of Louis XIV., and its corruptions 
 washed out in the blood of the martyrs whom it offered 
 up to the revolution of 1793. 
 
 We felt it necessary to pause for a moment to ex-
 
 30 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 press this reflection ere we entered upon the recital of 
 the facts presented by the history of the period, and 
 to intimate that notwithstanding this consolatory re- 
 flection, we have found it incumbent upon us to pass 
 over many details too odious to occupy a place in our 
 pages, groaning but too heavily in spirit at those guilty 
 acts which it was necessary to give, as in relating the 
 life of a virtuous old man, we should lament over the 
 impetuosities of his passion-led youth, or over the cor- 
 rupt tendencies of his riper age. 
 
 When the cavalcade entered the narrow streets of 
 Loudun, they heard unusual noises all around them. 
 The streets themselves were filled with agitated masses ; 
 the bells of the church and of the convent were ringing 
 furiously, as though they were warning one-half the 
 town that the other half was in flames ; and the whole 
 population, without paying the least attention to the 
 travellers, was pressing tumultuously towards a large 
 edifice that adjoined the church. Here and there large 
 crowds were collected together, listening in silence to 
 some voice that seemed raised in exhortation, or engaged 
 in emphatic reading ; anon, furious cries, mingled with 
 pious exclamations, would arise from the crowd, which, 
 then dispersing, showed the travellers that the orator 
 was some Capuchin or Franciscan friar, who, a wooden 
 crucifix in one hand, with the other pointed to the 
 large building which was attracting such universal 
 interest. 
 
 " Jesu Maria ! " exclaimed an old woman, ' who could 
 ever have thought that the Evil Spirit would choose our 
 old town for his abode ? "
 
 THE STREET. 31 
 
 "Ay, or that the pious Ursulines should be pos- 
 sessed ? " said another. 
 
 " They say that the demon who torments the superior 
 is called Legion," cried a third. 
 
 " One, say you ? " interrupted a nun ; " there were 
 seven in her poor body, whereunto, doubtless, she had 
 attached too much importance, by reason of its great 
 beauty, though now 't is but the receptacle of evil spirits. 
 The prior of the Carmelites yesterday expelled the demon 
 Eazas through her mouth ; and the reverend Father 
 Lactantius has driven out in like manner the demon 
 Beherit. But the other five have refused to stir, and 
 when the holy exorcists, (whom Heaven support !) sum- 
 moned them in Latin to withdraw, they replied inso- 
 lently that they would not go till they had thoroughly 
 given proof of their power, to the conviction even of 
 the Huguenots and heretics, who, misbelieving wretches, 
 seem to doubt it. The demon Elimi, the worst of them 
 all, as you know, has threatened to take off M. de Lau- 
 bardemont's calotte to-day, and dangle it in the air at 
 Miserere" 
 
 " Holy Virgin ! " rejoined the first speaker, " I'm all 
 of a tremble as it is ! And to think that I've over 
 and over again got this magician Urbain to say 
 masses for me ! " 
 
 "Ay," exclaimed a girl, crossing herself; " and I who 
 confessed to him ten months ago! No doubt in the 
 world I should have been possessed myself, but for 
 the relic of Saint Genevieve I luckily had about me, 
 and " 
 
 " Luckily, indeed, Martine," interposed a fat gossip ;
 
 32 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 " for, no offence, you, as I remember, were long enough 
 with the handsome sorcerer." 
 
 " Pshaw ! " laughingly said a young soldier, who had 
 joined the group, smoking his pipe, " there was no luck 
 in the matter ; only, you see, pretty Martine was dis- 
 possessed a month ago." 
 
 The girl hlushed, and drew the hood of her black 
 cloak over her face. The elder gossips cast a glance of 
 indignation at the reckless trooper, and finding them- 
 selves now close to the door of the building, and thus 
 sure of making their way in among the first when it 
 should be thrown open, sat down upon the stone bench at 
 the side, and by an interchange of the latest wonders, 
 raised the expectations of all as to the delight they 
 were about to have in being spectators of something 
 marvellous, an apparition, perhaps, but at the very 
 least, an administration of the torture. 
 
 " Is it true, Aunt," asked Martine of the eldest gossip, 
 " that you have heard the demons speak ? " 
 
 " Ay, child, true as I see you ; there are many and 
 many can say the same ; and 't was to convince you 
 of it I brought you with me here, that you may see the 
 power of the Evil One, and be edified." 
 
 "What voice has he?" continued the girl, glad to 
 encourage a conversation which diverted from herself 
 the invidious attention procured her by the soldier's 
 raillery. 
 
 " Oh, he speaks with the voice of the superior herself, 
 to whom our Lady be gracious ! Poor young woman ! 
 I was with her yesterday a long time ; 't was wretched 
 to see her writhing about and tearing herself and turn-
 
 THE STREET. 33 
 
 ing her arms and her legs first one way and then an- 
 other, and then, all of a sudden, twisting them together 
 behind her back. When the holy Father Lactantius 
 pronounced the name of Urbain Grandier, the foam 
 came out of her mouth, and she talked Latin for all the 
 world as though she were reading the Bible. Of course, 
 I did not understand what she said, and all I can re- 
 member of it now is, ' Urbanus Magicus rosas diabolica,' 
 which they tell me means that the magician Urbain had 
 bewitched her with some roses the Devil had given 
 him ; and so it must have been, for while Father Lac- 
 tantius spoke, there came out of her ears and neck a 
 quantity of flame-colored roses, all smelling of sulphur 
 so strongly that the judge-advocate called out for every 
 one present to stop their noses and eyes, for that the 
 demons were about to come out." 
 
 " Ah, look ye there now ! " exclaimed with shrill 
 voices and a triumphant air the whole bevy of assem- 
 bled women, turning towards the crowd, and more 
 particularly towards a group of men attired in black, 
 among whom was standing the young soldier who had 
 just before so unceremoniously jested with Martine. 
 
 " Hear the noisy old idiots ! " exclaimed the soldier. 
 " They think they 're at the Sabbat ; but I don't see their 
 broomsticks." 
 
 " Young man, young man ! " said a citizen, with a 
 mournful air, " jest not upon such subjects in the open 
 air, or in such a time as this, the wind of Heaven may 
 become gushing flames and devour you." 
 
 " Bah ! a fig for your exorcists ! " returned the soldier ; 
 " my name 's Grand-Ferre", and I 've got here a 
 
 VOL. I. 3
 
 34 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 better spirit-sprinkler than the whole set of you can 
 produce." 
 
 And significantly grasping the handle of his rapier in 
 one hand, with the other he turned up his light-brown 
 mustache, as he looked fiercely around ; but meeting 
 no glance which returned the defiance of his own, he 
 slowly withdrew, left foot foremost, and sauntered along 
 the dark narrow streets with all the reckless noncha- 
 lance of a young soldier who has just donned his uni- 
 form, and true military contempt for all who wear not 
 the cloth. 
 
 Meantime some eight or ten of the more considerable 
 and more rational inhabitants of the town traversed in 
 a body, slowly and silently, the agitated throng ; they 
 seemed overwhelmed with painful amazement at the agi- 
 tation and excitement they witnessed in every direction, 
 and as each new instance of the popular frenzy pre- 
 sented itself, they interchanged glances of wonder and 
 apprehension. Their mute depression communicated its 
 uneasiness to the working people, and to the peasants 
 who had flocked in crowds from the adjacent country, 
 and who all sought a direction for their opinions in the 
 countenances of the principal townsmen, also for the 
 most part proprietors of the surrounding districts; they 
 saw there that something calamitous was on foot, and 
 resorted accordingly to the only remedy open to the 
 ignorant and the beguiled, apathetic resignation. 
 
 Yet there is in the character of the French peasant a 
 certain scoffing finesse of which he makes effective use, 
 sometimes with his equals, and almost invariably with 
 his superiors. He puts questions to power as embar-
 
 THE STREET. 35 
 
 rassing as are those which infancy puts to mature age. 
 He affects the very excess of humility, in order to con- 
 fuse him whom he addresses with the very height of his 
 isolated elevation. He aggravates the awkwardness of 
 his manner and the rudeness of his expressions, as a 
 means of covering his real thoughts under the appear- 
 ance of mere uncouthness ; yet, despite all his self- 
 command, there is something in his air, certain fierce 
 contortions of countenance, which betray him to the 
 close observer, who discerns in his sardonic smile, and 
 the marked emphasis with which he leans on his long 
 staff, the hopes that secretly nourish his soul, and the 
 aid upon which he ultimately relies. 
 
 One of the most venerable of the peasants whom we 
 have indicated came vigorously on, followed by ten or 
 twelve young men, his sons and nephews, all wearing 
 the broad-brimmed hat and the blue frock or blouse of 
 the ancient Gauls, which the peasants of France still 
 wear over their other garments, as peculiarly adapted to 
 their humid climate and their laborious habits. 
 
 When the old man had made his way to the group of 
 personages of whom we have just spoken, he took off his 
 hat, an example immediately followed by his whole 
 family, and showed a face darkened with exposure to 
 the weather, a forehead bald and wrinkled with age, and 
 long white hair hanging behind. His shoulders were 
 bent with years and labor, but he was still a hale and 
 sturdy man. He was received with an air of welcome 
 and even of respect by one of the gravest of the grave 
 group he had approached, who, without, however, un- 
 covering, extended to him his hand.
 
 36 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 " What ! good Father Guillaume Leroux ! " said he, 
 " and have you too left our farm of La Chena'ie to visit 
 the town, when it 's not market day ? Why, 't is as 
 though your oxen were to unharness themselves and go 
 a hunting, quitting their work to see a poor hare run 
 down ! " 
 
 "Faith, M. le Comte du Lude," replied the farmer, 
 " for that matter, sometimes the hare runs into our way 
 of itself ; but, in truth, I 've got a notion that some of 
 the people here want to make fools of us, and so I 've 
 come to see the rights of it." 
 
 " Enough of that, my friend," returned the comte ; 
 " here is M. Fournier, the advocate, who assuredly will 
 not deceive you, for he resigned his office of attorney- 
 general last night that he might henceforth devote his 
 eloquence to the service of his own noble thoughts. You 
 will hear him, perhaps, to-day, though truly, I dread his 
 appearing for his own sake as much as I desire it for 
 that of the accused." 
 
 " I care not for myself," said Fournier ; " truth is with 
 me a passion, and I would have it inculcated in all times 
 and all places." 
 
 He that spoke was a young man, whose face, pallid in 
 the extreme, was full of the noblest expression. His 
 blond hair, his light-blue eyes, his thinness, the delicacy 
 of his frame made him at first sight seem younger 
 than he was; but his thoughtful and earnest counte- 
 nance indicated that mental superiority and that preco- 
 cious maturity of the soul which are developed by deep 
 study in youth, combined with natural energy of char- 
 acter. He was attired wholly in black, with a short
 
 THE STREET. 37 
 
 cloak in the fashion of the times, and carried under his 
 left arm a roll of papers, which, when speaking, he would 
 take in the right hand and grasp convulsively, as a war- 
 rior in his anger grasps the pommel of his sword. At 
 one moment it seemed as though he were about to un- 
 furl the scroll, and from it hurl lightning upon those 
 whom he pursued with looks of fiery indignation, three 
 Capuchins and a Franciscan, who had passed by. 
 
 "Pere Guillaume," pursued M. du Lude, "how is it 
 you have brought with you only your sons, and they 
 armed with their staves ? " 
 
 "Faith, sir, I have no desire that our girls should 
 learn to dance of the nuns ; and, moreover, just now the 
 lads with their staves may bestir themselves to better 
 purpose than their sisters would." 
 
 " Take my advice, my old friend," said the comte, 
 " and don't bestir yourselves at all ; rather stand quietly 
 aside to view the procession which you see approaching, 
 and remember that you are seventy." 
 
 " Ah, ah ! " murmured the old man, drawing up his 
 twelve sons in double rank, soldier-fashion, " I fought 
 under good King Henriot, and can play at sword and 
 pistol as well as the worthy ligueurs ; " and shaking 
 his head he leaned against a post, his knotty staff be- 
 tween his crossed legs, his hands clasped on its thick 
 butt-end, and his white bearded chin resting on his 
 hands. Then, half closing his eyes, he seemed ab- 
 sorbed in recollections of his early life. 
 
 The bystanders observed with interest his dress, 
 striped in the fashion of Henri IV., and his resemblance 
 to the Be*arnese monarch in the latter years of his life,
 
 38 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 though the king's hair had been prevented by the assas- 
 sin's stroke from acquiring the whiteness which that of 
 the old peasant had placidly attained. A furious peal- 
 ing of the bells, however, attracted the general attention 
 to the end of the great street, down which was seen filing 
 a long procession, whose banners and glittering pikes 
 rose above the heads of the crowd, which successively 
 and in silence opened a way for the at once absurd and 
 awful train. 
 
 First, two and two, came a body of archers, with 
 pointed beards and large plumed hats, armed with long 
 halberds, who, ranging in a single file on each side of 
 the centre of the street, formed an avenue along which 
 marched in solemn order a procession of Gray Peni- 
 tents, men attired in a long gray robe, the hood of 
 which entirely covered the head, a mask of the same 
 stuff terminating below the chin in a point, like a beard, 
 having merely three holes in it for the eyes and nose. 
 Even at the present day we see these costumes at fu- 
 nerals, more especially in the Pyrenees. The Penitents 
 of Loudun carried enormous wax candles, and their 
 slow, uniform movement, and their eyes, which seemed 
 to glitter under their masks, gave them the appearance 
 of phantoms. 
 
 The people expressed their various feelings in an 
 undertone : 
 
 u There 's many a knave hid under those masks," said 
 a citizen. 
 
 " Ay, and with a face uglier than the mask itself," 
 added a young man. 
 
 " They make me afraid," tremulously exclaimed a girl.
 
 THE STREET. 39 
 
 " I 'm only afraid for my purse," said the first speaker. 
 
 " Ah, Jesu ! there are our holy brethren, the Peni- 
 tents," cried an old woman, throwing back her hood, the 
 better to look at them. " See you the banner they bear ? 
 Ah, neighbors, 't is a joyful thing to have it among us ! 
 Beyond a doubt it will save us; see, it shows the Devil 
 in flames, and a monk fastening a chain round his neck 
 to keep him there. Ah, here come the judges, - worthy 
 gentlemen ! dear gentlemen ! Look at their red robes ; 
 how beautiful ! Blessed be the Virgin, they 've been 
 well chosen ! " 
 
 " Every man of them a personal enemy of the cure," 
 whispered the Comte du Lude to the advocate Fournier, 
 who took a note of the information. 
 
 "Don't you know them, neighbors?" pursued the 
 shrill, sharp voice of the old woman, as she cuffed one 
 and pinched another of those about her to attract their 
 attention to the objects of her admiration ; " see, there's 
 excellent M. Mignon, whispering to Messieurs the Coun- 
 sellors of the court of Poitiers ; Heaven's blessings on 
 them all, say I ! " 
 
 " Ay, there are Roatin, Richard, and Chevalier, 
 the very men who tried to have him dismissed a year 
 ago," continued M. du Lude, in undertones, to the 
 young advocate, who, surrounded and hidden from pub- 
 lic observation by the group of dark -clad citizens, was 
 writing down his observations in a note-book under 
 his cloak. 
 
 " Here ; look, look ! " screamed the old woman. 
 " Make way ! here 's M. Barre, the Cure" of St. Jacques 
 at Chinon."
 
 40 CIA'Q-MARS. 
 
 " A saint ! " murmured one bystander. 
 
 " A hypocrite ! " exclaimed a manly voice. 
 
 " See how thin he is with fasting ! " 
 
 " Sec how pale he is with remorse ! " 
 
 " He 's the man to drive away devils ! " 
 
 " Ay, but not till he 's quite done with them for his 
 own purposes." 
 
 The dialogue was interrupted by the general exclama- 
 tion, " How beautiful she is ! " 
 
 The superior of the Ursulines advanced, followed by 
 all her nuns. Her white veil was raised ; in order that 
 the people might witness the features of the possessed 
 ones, it had been ordered that it should be thus with her 
 and six of the sisterhood. Her attire had no distin- 
 guishing feature, except an immense rosary extending 
 from her neck nearly to her feet, and from which hung 
 a gold cross ; but the dazzling pallor of her face, ren- 
 dered still more conspicuous by the dark hue of her 
 capuchon, at once fixed the general regard upon her. 
 Her brilliant dark eyes, which bore the impress of some 
 deep and burning passion, were crowned with brows so 
 perfectly arched that Nature herself seemed to have 
 taken as much pains to form them as the Circassian 
 women to mark out theirs with artistic pencilling ; but 
 between them a slight fold revealed the powerful agita- 
 tion within. In her movements, however, and through- 
 out her whole bearing, she affected an entire calm; her 
 steps were slow and cadenced, and her beautiful hands 
 were crossed on her bosom, as white and motionless as 
 those of the marble statues joined in eternal prayer in 
 monumental sculptures.
 
 THE STREET. 41 
 
 " See, Aunt," ejaculated Martine ; " see how Sister 
 Agnes and Sister Claire are weeping, next to the 
 superior ! " 
 
 " Ay, Niece, they weep because they are the prey of 
 the demon." 
 
 " Or rather," interposed the same manly voice we have 
 already heard, " because they repent them of having 
 mocked Heaven." 
 
 A profound silence now pervaded the assembled mul- 
 titude ; riot a word was heard, not a movement, scarcely 
 a breath. Every one seemed paralyzed by some sudden 
 enchantment, when, following the nuns, between four 
 Penitents who held him in chains, appeared the cure* of 
 the church of Ste. Croix, attired in his pastor's robe. 
 His was a noble, fine face, with grandeur of mind in its 
 whole expression, and gentleness in every feature ; af- 
 fecting no scornful indifference to his position, he looked 
 calmly and kindly around, as though he sought on his 
 dark way the affectionate glances of those who loved 
 him. Nor did he seek in vain ; ever and anon he en- 
 countered those glances, and joyfully returned them. 
 Nay, more, he heard sobs, and he saw hands extended 
 towards him, hands, many of which grasped weapons. 
 But no gesture of his encouraged these mute offers of 
 physical aid ; he would lower his eyes to the ground, 
 and wend on, careful not to compromise those who so 
 trusted in him, or to involve them in the contagion of 
 his own misfortunes. This was Urbain Grandier. 
 
 Suddenly the procession stopped, at a signal from the 
 man who brought up its van, and who seemed to com- 
 mand its movements. He was tall, meagre, pale ; his
 
 42 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 dross was a long black robe, with a cap of the same 
 material and color ; he had the face of a Don Basilio, 
 with the eye of Nero. He motioned the guards to 
 surround him more closely, when he saw with affright 
 the dark group we have mentioned, and the strong- 
 limbed and resolute peasants who seemed in attendance 
 upon them. Then placing himself somewhat in advance 
 of the canons and Capuchins who were with him, he 
 pronounced in a shrill voice this singular decree : 
 
 " We, Sieur de Laubardemont, referendan', being dele- 
 gated and invested with discretionary power in the matter of 
 the trial of the magician Urbain Grandier upon the various 
 articles of accusation brought against him, assisted herein 
 by the reverend Fathers Mignon, canon, Barre, cure of St. 
 Jacques at Chinon, Father Lactantius, and all the other 
 judges appointed to try the said magician, have preliminarily 
 decreed as follows : Primo, the factitious assembly of pro- 
 prietors, noble-citizens of this town and its environs, is dis- 
 solved, as tending to a popular sedition ; its proceedings are 
 declared null, and its letter to the king, against us the 
 judges, which has been intercepted, shall be publicly burned 
 in the market-place as calumniating the good Ursulines and 
 the reverend fathers and judges. Secundo, it is forbidden to 
 say, publicly or in private, that the said nuns are not pos- 
 sessed by the Evil Spirit, or to doubt of the power of the 
 exorcists, under pain of a fine of twenty thousand livres, and 
 corporal punishment. 
 
 " Let the bailiffs and sheriffs obe} r this. Given the 18th 
 of June, in the year of grace 1639." 
 
 Ere he had well finished reading the decree, the 
 discordant clang of trumpets, bursting forth at a pre- 
 concerted signal, drowned, to a certain extent, the
 
 THE STREET. 43 
 
 murmurs that followed its proclamation, and amid 
 which Laubardemorit urged forward the procession, 
 which precipitately entered the great building already 
 referred to, an ancient convent, whose interior having 
 crumbled away, its walls now formed one vast hall, 
 well adapted for the purpose to which it was about to 
 be applied. Laubardemont did not deem himself safe 
 until he was within the building and had heard the 
 heavy double doors creak on their hinges as, closing, 
 they excluded the furious crowd without.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE GOOD PRIEST. 
 L'homme de paix me parla ainsi. VICAIRE SAVOYARD. 
 
 Now that the diabolical procession is in the arena des- 
 tined for its spectacle, and is arranging its gloomy and 
 sanguinary representation, let us" inquire what Cinq- 
 Mars had been doing amid the agitated crowd. He 
 was endowed by nature with great tact, and felt that 
 it would be no easy matter for him to attain the object 
 he had in view, of seeing the Abbe Quillet, at a time 
 when the excitement of men's minds was at its height. 
 He therefore remained on horseback with his four 
 domestics in a small and very dark street that led 
 into the main street, from which he could easily see all 
 that passed. No one at first paid any attention to him; 
 but when public curiosity had no other aliment, he 
 became an object of general observation. Weary of so 
 many scenes of excitement, the inhabitants looked upon 
 him with some exasperation, and half aloud inquired
 
 THE GOOD PRIEST. 45 
 
 of one another whether this was another exorcist come 
 among them. Feeling that it was time to take a decided 
 course, he advanced with his attendants, hat in hand, 
 towards the group in black of whom we have spoken, 
 and addressing him who appeared its most distinguished 
 member, said, " Sir, where can I find M. l'Abb<$ Quillet?" 
 
 At this name, all around regarded him with an air 
 of terror, as though he had pronounced that of Lucifer. 
 Yet no anger was exhibited ; on the contrary, it seemed 
 that the question had operated a favorable change for 
 him in the minds of all who heard him. Moreover, 
 chance had served him well in his choice ; the Comte 
 du Lude came up to his horse, and saluting him, said, 
 " Dismount, sir, and I will give you some useful infor- 
 mation regarding him." 
 
 After having spoken a while in whispers, the two gen- 
 tlemen separated with all the ceremonious politeness of 
 the period. Cinq-Mars remounted his black horse, and 
 passing through numerous narrow streets, was soon out 
 of the crowd with his retinue. 
 
 " How happy I am ! " he soliloquized, as he proceeded 
 on his way ; " I shall, at all events, for a moment see 
 the good and kind minister who brought me up ; even 
 now I seem to have before me his features, his calm air, 
 his voice so full of benevolence." 
 
 As these thoughts ran through his mind, he found 
 himself in the small and very dark street which had 
 been indicated to him ; it was so narrow that the knee- 
 pieces of his boots touched the wall on either side. At 
 the end of the street he came to a wooden house of one 
 story, and in his eagerness knocked with repeated strokes.
 
 46 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 " Who is there ? " cried a furious voice within ; and at 
 the same moment, the door opening exhibited a little 
 man, very short, very stout, and with a very red face, 
 attired in a black suit, with an immense white ruff and 
 riding-boots which engulfed his short legs in their vast 
 depths. In his hands were a pair of horse pistols. 
 
 " I will sell my life dearly ! " he cried ; " and " 
 
 " Softly, Abbe", softly," said his pupil, taking his arm ; 
 " we are friends." 
 
 " Ah, my son, is it you ? " said the worthy man, let- 
 ting fall his pistols, which were picked up by a domes- 
 tic, also armed to the teeth. " What do you here ? 
 The abomination has entered the town, and I only await 
 the night to depart hence. Make haste in, my dear 
 boy, with your people ; I took you for the archers of 
 Laubardemont, and, i' faith, I was going to take a part 
 somewhat out of my line. You see the horses in the 
 courtyard there ; they will convey me to Italy, where 
 I shall rejoin our friend, the Due de Bouillon. Jean ! 
 Jean ! hasten and close the great gate after these brave 
 domestics, and recommend them not to make too much 
 noise, although for that matter we have no habitation 
 near us." 
 
 Grandchamp obeyed the intrepid little abbe, who then 
 embraced Cinq-Mars four consecutive times, raising him- 
 self on the points of his boots, so as to attain the middle 
 of his pupil's breast. He then hurried him into a small 
 room, which looked like a deserted granary ; and seat- 
 ing him beside himself upon a black leather trunk, he 
 said with earnestness, 
 
 " Well, my son, whither go you ? How came Madame
 
 THE GOOD PRIEST. 47 
 
 la Mare'chale to let you come here ? See you not what 
 they are doing against an unhappy man, whose death 
 alone will content them ? Alas, merciful Heaven ! was 
 this the first spectacle my dear pupil was to have before 
 him ? And you at that delightful period of life when 
 friendship, love, confidence, should alone encompass 
 you ; when all around you should be of a nature to give 
 you a favorable opinion of your species, at your very 
 entry into the great world ! How unfortunate ! alas, 
 why are you come ? " 
 
 When the good abbe had followed up this lamenta- 
 tion by affectionately pressing both hands of the young 
 traveller in his own, so red and wrinkled, the latter at 
 length answered, 
 
 " Can you not guess, my dear abbe, that I came to 
 Loudun because you were here ? As to the spectacle 
 you speak of, it appears to me simply ridiculous ; and 1 
 vow to you that I do not a whit the less on its account 
 love that human race of which your virtues and your 
 good lessons have given me an excellent idea. As to the 
 five or six mad women who " 
 
 " Let us not lose time ; I will tell you all about that 
 matter ; but answer me, whither go you, and for what ? " 
 
 " I am going to Perpignan, where the cardinal-due is 
 to present me to the king." 
 
 At this the worthy but hasty abbe* rose from his box, 
 and walked, or rather ran, up and down the room, stamp- 
 ing. " The cardinal ! the cardinal ! " he repeated, 
 almost choking, his face becoming scarlet, and the 
 tears rising to his eyes ; " poor child ! they will destroy 
 him! Ah, mon Dieu! what part would they have him
 
 48 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 play there. What would they with him ? Ah, who will 
 protect thee, my son, in that dangerous place?" con- 
 tinued he, reseating himself, and again taking his 
 pupil's hands in his own with a paternal solicitude, as 
 he endeavored to read his thoughts in his countenance. 
 
 " Why, I do not exactly know," said Cinq-Mars, look- 
 ing up at the ceiling; "but I suppose it will be the 
 Cardinal de Richelieu, who was the friend of my father." 
 
 " Ah, my dear Henri, you make me tremble ; he will 
 ruin you unless you become his docile instrument. 
 Alas, why cannot I go with you ? Why must I act the 
 young man of twenty in this unfortunate affair ? Alas, 
 I should be perilous to you ; I must, on the contrary, 
 conceal myself. But you will have M. de Thou near 
 you, my son, will you not ? " said he, trying to reas- 
 sure himself ; " he was your friend in childhood, though 
 somewhat older than yourself. Heed his counsels, my 
 child, he is a wise young man ; he is a man of mature 
 reflection, and of solid ideas." 
 
 " Oh, yes, my dear abbe", you may depend upon my 
 tender attachment for him ; I have never ceased to love 
 him." 
 
 " But you have ceased to write to him, have you not?" 
 asked the good abbe", half smilingly. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, my dear abbe*, I wrote to him 
 once, and again yesterday, to inform him that the car- 
 dinal has invited me to court." 
 
 " How ! has he himself desired your presence ?" 
 
 Cinq-Mars hereupon showed the letter of the cardinal- 
 due to his mother, and his old tutor grew gradually 
 more tranquil.
 
 THE GOOD PRIEST. 49 
 
 " Come, come ! " said he to himself, " this is not so 
 bad, perhaps, after all. It looks promising; a captain 
 of the guards at twenty, that sounds well ! " and the 
 worthy abba's face actually became all smiles. 
 
 The young man, delighted to see these smiles, which 
 so harmonized with his own thoughts, fell upon the neck 
 of the abb and embraced him, as though he had thus 
 assured to him a futurity of pleasure, glory, and love. 
 
 But the good abbe", with difficulty disengaging himself 
 from this warm embrace, resumed his walk and his re- 
 flections and his gravity. He often hemmed and shook 
 his head ; and Cinq-Mars, not venturing to pursue the 
 conversation, followed him with his eyes, and became 
 sad as he saw him become serious. 
 
 The old man at last sat down, and in a mournful tone 
 addressed his pupil thus : 
 
 " My friend, my son, I have for a moment yielded like 
 a father to your hopes ; but I must tell you, and it is 
 not to afflict you, that they appear to me excessive and 
 unnatural. If the cardinal's sole aim were to show at- 
 tachment and gratitude towards your family, he would 
 not have carried his favors so far ; no, the extreme prob- 
 ability is that he has designs upon you. From what 
 has been told him he thinks you adapted to play some 
 part, as yet impossible for us to divine, but which he 
 himself has traced out in the deepest recesses of his 
 mind. He would educate you up for this ; he would drill 
 you into it. Allow me the expression in consideration 
 of its accuracy, and think seriously of it when the time 
 shall come. But still I am inclined to believe that as 
 matters are you had better follow up this vein in the 
 
 VOL. I. 4
 
 50 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 great mine of State ; it is thus that high fortunes have 
 begun. You must only take heed not to be blinded and 
 led at will. Let not favors make you giddy, my poor 
 child, and let not elevation turn your head. Be not so 
 indignant at the suggestion ; the thing has happened to 
 older men than yourself. Write to me often, as well as 
 to your mother ; see M. de Thou, and we will together 
 try to keep you in good counsel. Now, my son, be good 
 enough to close that window through which the wind 
 comes upon my head, and I will tell you what has been 
 going on here." 
 
 Henri, trusting that the moral part of the discourse 
 was over, and anticipating nothing in the second part 
 but a narrative more or less interesting, closed the old 
 casement, festooned with cobwebs, and resumed his seat 
 without speaking. 
 
 " Now that I reflect further," continued the abbe*, " I 
 think it will not perhaps be unprofitable for you to have 
 passed through this place, although it be a sad expe- 
 rience you shall have acquired ; but it will supply what 
 I may not have formerly told you of the wickedness of 
 men. I hope, moreover, that the result will not be fatal, 
 and that the letter we have written to the king will 
 arrive in time." 
 
 " I heard that it had been intercepted," interposed 
 Cinq-Mars. 
 
 " Then all is over," said the Abb6 Quillet ; " the cur 
 is lost. But listen. God forbid, my son, that I, your 
 old tutor, should seek to assail my own work, and at- 
 tempt to weaken your faith ! Preserve ever and every- 
 where that simple creed of which your noble family has
 
 THE GOOD PRIEST. 51 
 
 given you the example, which our fathers possessed in a 
 still higher degree than we, and of which the greatest 
 captains of our time are not ashamed. Always while 
 you wear a sword, remember that you hold it for the 
 service of God. But at the same time, when you are 
 among men, avoid being deceived by the hypocrite. He 
 will encompass you, my son; he will assail you on the 
 vulnerable side of your ingenuous heart, in addressing 
 your religion ; and seeing the extravagancy of his af- 
 fected zeal, you will fancy yourself lukewarm as com- 
 pared with him. You will think that your conscience 
 cries out against you ; but it will not be the voice of 
 conscience that you hear. And what cries would not 
 that conscience send forth, how fiercely would it not 
 rise upon you, did you contribute to the destruction of 
 innocence by invoking Heaven itself as a false witness 
 against it?" 
 
 " Oh, my father ! can such things be possible ? " 
 exclaimed Henri d'Effiat, clasping his hands. 
 
 " It is but too true," continued the abbd ; " you saw 
 the execution of it in part this morning. God grant 
 you may not witness still greater horrors ! But listen ; 
 whatever you may see here, whatever crime they dare 
 to commit, I conjure you, in the name of your mother 
 and of all that you hold dear, utter not a word; make 
 not a gesture that may indicate any opinion whatever 
 upon the affair. I know the impetuous character that 
 you derive from the mare'chal your father; curb it, 
 or you are lost. These little ebullitions of passion pro- 
 cure but slight satisfaction, and bring about great mis- 
 fortunes. I have observed you give way to them too
 
 52 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 much. Oh, did you but know the advantage that a calm 
 temper gives one over men ! The ancients stamped it 
 on the forehead of the divinity as his finest attribute, 
 since it shows that he is superior to our fears and to our 
 hopes, to our pleasures and to our pains. Therefore, my 
 dear child, remain passive in the scenes you are about 
 to witness ; but see them you must. Be present at this 
 sad trial ; for me, I must suffer the consequences of my 
 school-boy folly. I will relate it to you ; it will prove to 
 you that with a bald head one may be as much a child 
 as with your fine chestnut curls." 
 And the excellent old abbe", taking his pupil's head 
 affectionately between his hands, continued as follows : 
 
 " Like other people, my dear son, I was curious to see 
 the devils of the Ursulines ; and knowing that they pro- 
 fessed to speak all languages, I had the imprudence to 
 leave the Latin tongue and question them in Greek. The 
 superior is very pretty, but she does not know Greek. 
 Duncan, the physician, observed aloud that it was sur- 
 prising that the demon, who knew everything, should 
 commit barbarisms and solecisms in Latin, and not be 
 able to answer in Greek. The young superior, who was 
 then upon her show-bed, turned towards the wall to 
 weep and said in an undertone to Father Barre", 'I can- 
 not go on with this, sir.' I repeated these words aloud, 
 and infuriated all the exorcists ; they cried out that I 
 ought to know that there are demons more ignorant 
 than peasants, and said that as to their power and physi- 
 cal strength, it could not be doubted, since the spirits 
 named Gre"sil des Trones, Aman des Puissance, and 
 Asmodeus, had promised to carry off the calotte of M.
 
 THE GOOD PRIEST. 53 
 
 de Laubardemont. They were preparing for this, when 
 the physician Duncan, a learned and upright man, but 
 somewhat of a scoffer, took it into his head to pull 
 a cord he discovered fastened to a column like a bell- 
 rope, and which hung down just close to the referen- 
 dary's head ; hereupon they called him Huguenot, and 
 I am satisfied that if Mare"chal de Bre'ze' were not his 
 protector, it would have gone ill with him. The Comte 
 du Lude then came forward with his customary sang- 
 froid, and begged the exorcists to perform before him. 
 Father Lactantius, the Capuchin with the dark visage and 
 hard look, proceeded with Sister Agnes and Sister Claire ; 
 he raised both his hands, looking at them as a serpent 
 would look at two doves, and cried in a terrible voice, 
 ' Quis te misit, Diabole?' and the two sisters answered, 
 as with one voice, 'Urbanus.' He was about to continue, 
 when M. du Lude, taking out of his pocket with an air 
 of veneration a small gold box, said that he had in it a 
 relic left by his ancestors, and that though not doubting 
 the fact of the possession, he wished to test it. Father 
 Lactantius seized the box with delight, and scarcely had 
 he touched the foreheads of the two sisters with it than 
 the} 7 made immense leaps and twisted about their hands 
 and feet. Lactantius shouted forth his exorcisms ; Barre 
 threw himself upon his knees with all the old women ; 
 and Mignon and the judges applauded. The impassible 
 Laubardemont made the sign of the cross (without being 
 struck dead for it!). When M. du Lude took back his 
 box the nuns became still. ' I think,' said Lactantius, 
 insolently, ' that you will not question your relics now.' 
 'No more than I do the possession,' answered M. du
 
 54 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 Ludc, opening his box and showing that it was empty. 
 ' Sir, you mock us,' said Lactantius. I was indignant at 
 these mummeries, and said to him, * Yes, sir, as you 
 mock God and men.' And this, my dear friend, is why 
 you see me in my seven-league boots, so heavy and so 
 big that they hurt my legs, and with long pistols ; for 
 our friend Laubardemont has ordered my person to be 
 seized, and I don't choose it to be seized, old as it is." 
 
 " What, is he so powerful, then ? " cried Cinq-Mars. 
 
 " More so than is supposed, more so than could 
 be believed. I know that the possessed abbess is his 
 niece, and that he is provided with an order in council 
 directing him to judge, without being deterred by any 
 appeals lodged in parliament, the cardinal having pro- 
 hibited the latter from taking cognizance of the matter 
 of Urbain Grandier." 
 
 " And what are his offences ? " asked the young man, 
 already deeply interested. 
 
 " Those of a strong mind and of a superior genius, an 
 inflexible will which has irritated power against him, 
 and a profound passion which has driven his heart and 
 him to commit the only mortal sin with which I believe 
 he can be reproached ; and it was only by violating the 
 sanctity of his private papers, which they tore from 
 Jeanne d'Estie~vre, his mother, an old woman of eighty, 
 that they discovered his love for the beautiful Madeleine 
 de Brou. This girl had refused to marry, and wished to 
 take the veil. May that veil have concealed from her 
 the spectacle of this day ! The eloquence of Grandier 
 and his angelic beauty drove the women half mad ; 
 they came miles and miles to hear him. I have seen
 
 THE GOOD PRIEST. 55 
 
 them faint during his sermons; they declared him an 
 angel, and touched his garment and kissed his hands 
 when he descended from the pulpit. It is certain that 
 unless it be his beauty, nothing could equal the sub- 
 limity of his discourses, ever full of inspiration. The 
 pure honey of the gospel combined on his lips with the 
 flashing flame of the prophecies ; and one recognized in 
 the sound of his voice a heart overflowing with holy 
 pity for the evils to which mankind are subject, and 
 swollen with tears, ready to flow forth for us." 
 
 The good priest paused, for he himself had his voice 
 and his eyes swollen with tears ; his round and naturally 
 joyous face was more touching than a graver one under 
 the same circumstances, for it seemed as though it bade 
 defiance to sadness. Cinq-Mars, even still more moved, 
 pressed his hand without speaking, fearful of interrupt- 
 ing him. The abbe took out a red handkerchief, wiped 
 his eyes, and continued, 
 
 " This is the second attack upon Urbain by his com- 
 bined foes. He had already been accused of bewitching 
 the nuns ; but examined by holy prelates, by enlight- 
 ened magistrates, and learned physicians, he was imme- 
 diately acquitted, and the judges indignantly imposed si- 
 lence upon these demons of human construction. The 
 good and pious Archbishop of Bordeaux, who had him- 
 self chosen the examiners of these pretended exor- 
 cists, drove the prophets away and shut up their hell. 
 But humiliated by the publicity of the result, annoyed 
 at seeing Grandier well received by our good king when 
 he cast himself at his feet at Paris, they saw that if 
 he triumphed they were lost, and would be universally
 
 56 CINQ-MARS, 
 
 regarded as impostors ; already the convent of the Ursu- 
 lines was looked upon only as a theatre for disgraceful 
 comedies, and the nuns themselves as shameless actresses. 
 More than a hundred persons, furious against the curd, 
 had compromised themselves in the hope of destroying 
 him. Their plot, instead of being abandoned, has gained 
 strength by its first check ; and here are the means that 
 have been set to work by his implacable enemies. 
 
 " Do you know a man called L 'Eminence Grrise, that 
 formidable Capuchin whom the cardinal employs in all 
 things, consults upon some, and despises invariably ? It 
 was to him that the Capuchins of Loudun addressed 
 themselves. A woman of this place, of low birth, 
 named Hamon, having been so fortunate as to please 
 the queen when she passed through Loudun, was taken 
 into her service. You know the hatred that separates 
 her court from that of the cardinal ; you know that 
 Anne of Austria and M. de Richelieu have for some 
 time disputed for the king's favor, and that, of her two 
 suns, France never knew in the evening which would 
 rise next morning. During a momentary eclipse of 
 the cardinal, -a satire appeared, issuing from the plan- 
 etary system of the queen ; it was called, La cordon- 
 niere de 'la reine-mere. Its tone and language were 
 vulgar; but it contained things so insulting about the 
 birth and person of the cardinal that the enemies of 
 the minister took it up and gave it a publicity which 
 irritated him. There were revealed in it, it is said, 
 many intrigues and mysteries which he had deemed im- 
 penetrable. He read this anonymous work, and de- 
 sired to know its author. It was just at this time that
 
 THE GOOD PRIEST. 57 
 
 the Capuchins of this town wrote to Father Joseph 
 that a constant correspondence between Grandier and 
 La Hamon left no doubt in their minds as to his being 
 the author of this diatribe. It was in vain that he had 
 previously published religious books, prayers, and medi- 
 tations, the style of which alone ought to have absolved 
 him from having put his hand to a libel written in the 
 language of the market-place ; the cardinal, long since 
 prejudiced against Urbain, was determined to fix him as 
 the culprit. He was reminded that when he was only 
 prior of Coussay, Grandier disputed precedence with him 
 and gained it ; I fear this achievement of precedence in 
 life will make poor Grandier precede the cardinal in 
 death also." 
 
 A melancholy smile played upon the lips of the good 
 abb as he uttered this involuntary pun. 
 
 " What ! do you think this matter will go so far as 
 death ? " 
 
 " Ay, my son, even to death ; they have already taken 
 away all the documents connected with his former abso- 
 lution that might have served for his defence, despite 
 the opposition of his poor mother, who preserved them 
 as her son's license to live. Even now they affect to 
 regard a work against the celibacy of priests, found 
 among his papers, as destined to propagate schism. 
 It is a culpable production, doubtless, and the love 
 which dictated it, however pure it may be, is an enor- 
 mous sin in a man consecrated to God alone ; but this 
 poor priest was far from wishing to encourage heresy, 
 and it was simply, they say, to appease the remorse of 
 Mademoiselle de Brou that he composed the work. It
 
 58 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 was so evident that his real faults would not suffice 
 to condemn him to death that they have revived the 
 accusation of sorcery, long since disposed of ; but feign- 
 ing to believe which, the cardinal has established a new 
 tribunal in this town, and has placed Laubardcmont at 
 its head, a sure sign of death. Heaven grant that you 
 never become acquainted with what the corruption of 
 governments call coups-d'etat ! " 
 
 At this moment a terrible shriek sounded from beyond 
 the wall of the courtyard ; the abb6 arose in terror, as 
 did Cinq-Mars. 
 
 " It is the cry of a woman," said the old man. 
 
 "Tis heart-rending!" exclaimed Cinq-Mars. "What 
 hear you ?" he asked his people, who had all rushed out 
 into the courtyard. 
 
 They answered that they heard nothing further. 
 
 " Well, well," said the abbe", " make no noise." He 
 then shut the window, and put his hands before his 
 eyes. 
 
 " Ah, what a cry was that, my son ! " he said, with 
 his face of an ashy paleness, " what a cry ! It pierced 
 my very soul ; some calamity has happened. Ah, holy 
 Virgin ! it has so agitated me that I can talk with you 
 no more. Why did I hear it, just as I was speaking to 
 you of your future career ? My dear child, may God 
 bless you ! Kneel." 
 
 Cinq-Mars did as he was desired, and knew by a kiss 
 upon his head he had been blessed by the old man, who 
 then raised him up, saying, 
 
 " Go, my son, the time is advancing ; they might find 
 you with me. Go, leave your people and horses here ;
 
 THE GOOD PRIEST. 59 
 
 wrap yourself in a cloak, and go. I have much to write 
 ere the hour when darkness shall allow me to depart for 
 Italy." 
 
 They embraced once more, promising to write to each 
 other, and Henri quitted the house. The abbs', still fol- 
 lowing him with his eyes from the window, cried, 
 
 " Be prudent, whatever may happen," and sent him 
 with his hands one more paternal blessing, saying, 
 " Poor child ! poor child ! "
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE TRIAL. 
 
 1 11 speak to it, though hell itself should gape. 
 
 SHAKSPEAEE. 
 
 NOTWITHSTANDING the usage of secret trials, then freely 
 countenanced by Richelieu, the judges of the Cure* of 
 Loudun had resolved that the court should be open to 
 the public ; but they soon repented this measure. They 
 were all interested in the destruction of Urbain Gran- 
 dier ; but they desired that the indignation of the country 
 should in some degree sanction the sentence of death 
 they had received orders to pass and to carry into effect. 
 Laubardemont was a kind of bird of prey, whom the 
 cardinal always let loose when he required a prompt 
 and sure agent for his vengeance ; and on this occasion 
 he fully justified the choice that had been made of him. 
 He committed but one error, that of allowing a pub- 
 lic trial, contrary to the prevalent usage ; his object had 
 been to intimidate and to dismay. He dismayed, indeed, 
 but he also created a feeling of indignant horror.
 
 THE TRIAL. 61 
 
 The crowd whom we left outside the gates had waited 
 there for two hours, during which time the sound of 
 hammers indicated that within the great hall they were 
 hastily completing their mysterious preparations. At 
 length the archers laboriously turned the heavy gates 
 opening into the street upon their hinges, and the crowd 
 eagerly rushed in. The young Cinq-Mars was carried 
 in with the second enormous wave, and, placed behind 
 a thick column, stood there, so as to be able to see with- 
 out being seen. He observed with vexation that the 
 dark group of citizens was near him ; but the great 
 gates, closing, left the part of the court where the people 
 stood in such darkness that there was no likelihood of 
 his being recognized. Although it was only midday, the 
 hall was lighted with flambeaux ; but they were nearly 
 all placed at the farther end, where rose the judges' 
 bench behind a long table. The chairs, tables, steps, 
 were all covered with black cloth, and cast a livid hue 
 over the faces of those near them. A seat reserved 
 for the prisoner was placed upon the left, and on the 
 crape robe which covered him flames were represented 
 in gold embroidery to indicate the nature of the offence. 
 Here sat the accused, surrounded by archers and his 
 hands still bound in chains, held by two monks, who, 
 with simulated terror, affected to start from him at his 
 slightest motion, as though they held in bonds a tiger 
 or enraged wolf, or as though the flames depicted on 
 his robe could communicate themselves to their cloth- 
 ing. They also carefully kept his face from .being seen 
 by the people. 
 
 The impassible countenance of M. de Laubardemont
 
 62 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 was there to dominate the judges of his choice ; almost 
 a head taller than any of them, he was placed upon a 
 scat more elevated than theirs, and each of his glassy 
 and uneasy glances seemed to convey an order to them. 
 He wore a long, full scarlet robe, and a black cap cov- 
 ered his head ; he seemed occupied in arranging papers, 
 which he then passed to the judges. The accusers, all 
 of them ecclesiastics, sat on the right hand of the 
 judges ; they wore their albs and stoles. Father Lac- 
 tantius was distinguishable among them by his simple 
 Capuchin habit, his tonsure, and the extreme hardness 
 of his features. In a side gallery sat the Bishop of Poi- 
 tiers, hidden from view ; other galleries were filled with 
 veiled women. Below the bench of judges, a number of 
 men and women, the dregs of the populace, stood behind 
 six young Ursuline nuns, who seemed full of disgust at 
 their proximity ; these were the witnesses. 
 
 The rest of the hall was occupied with an immense 
 crowd of people, gloomy and silent, clinging to the 
 arches, the gates, and the beams, and full of a terror 
 which communicated itself to the judges, for it arose 
 from an interest in the accused. Numerous archers, 
 armed with long pikes, formed, as it were, the frame 
 a worthy one of this lugubrious picture. 
 
 At a sign from the president, the witnesses withdrew 
 through a narrow door opened for them by an usher. 
 As she passed M. de Laubardemont, the superior of the 
 Ursulines was seen to advance, and heard to say to him, 
 " You have deceived me, sir." He remained immov- 
 able, and she went on. A profound silence reigned 
 throughout the whole assembly.
 
 THE TRIAL, 63 
 
 Rising with all the gravity he could assume, but still 
 with visible agitation, one of the judges, named Hou- 
 main, judge-advocate of Orleans, read a sort of indict- 
 ment in a voice so low and so hoarse that it was 
 impossible to follow it. He only made himself heard 
 when what he had to say was calculated to impose upon 
 the minds of the people. He divided the evidence into 
 two classes, one, the depositions of seventy -two wit- 
 nesses ; the other, more convincing, that resulting from 
 " the exorcisms of the reverend fathers here present," 
 said he, crossing himself. 
 
 Fathers Lactantius, Barre", and Mignon bowed low, 
 repeating the sacred sign. 
 
 . " Yes, my lords," said Houmain, addressing the 
 judges, " this bouquet of white -roses and this manu- 
 script, signed with the blood of the magician, a counter- 
 part of the contract he has made with Lucifer, and which 
 he was obliged to carry about him in order to preserve 
 his power, have been recognized and brought before you. 
 We read with horror these words written at the bottom 
 of the parchment, ' The original is in hell, in Lucifer's 
 private cabinet.'' " 
 
 A burst of laughter, which seemed to emanate from 
 stentorian lungs, was heard in the crowd. The presi- 
 dent reddened, and made a sign to the archers, who in 
 vain endeavored to discover the perturbator. The judge- 
 advocate continued : 
 
 " The demons have been forced to declare theirnames 
 by the mouths of their victims. Their names and deeds 
 are deposited upon this table : they are called Astaroth, 
 of the order of Seraphim ; Eazas, Celsus, Acaos, Cedron,
 
 64 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 Asmodeus, of the order of Thrones ; Alex, Zebulon, 
 Cham, Uriel, and Achas, of the order of Principali- 
 ties, and so on, for their number is infinite. For their 
 actions, who among us has not been a witness of 
 them?" 
 
 A lengthened murmur arose from the assembly, but 
 upon some halberdiers advancing, all became silent. 
 
 " We have seen with grief the young and respectable 
 superior of the Ursulines tear her bosom with her own 
 hands and grovel in the dust ; we have seen the sisters, 
 Agnes, Claire, and others, deviate from the modesty of 
 their sex by impassioned gestures and unseemly laugh- 
 ter. When impious men have inclined to doubt the 
 presence of the demons, and we ourselves felt our con- 
 victions shaken, because they refused to answer to 
 unknown questions in Greek or Arabic, the reverend 
 fathers have, to establish our belief, deigned to explain 
 to us that the malignity of evil spirits being extreme, it 
 was not surprising that they should feign this ignorance 
 in order that they might be less pressed with questions ; 
 and that in their answers they had committed various 
 solecisms and other grammatical faults in order to 
 bring contempt upon themselves, so that out of this dis- 
 dain the holy doctors might leave them in quiet. Their 
 hatred is so inveterate that just before performing one 
 of their miraculous feats, they suspended a rope from a 
 beam in order to involve the reverend personages in a 
 suspicion of fraud, whereas it has been deposed on oath 
 by credible people that there had never been a cord in 
 that place. 
 
 " But, my Lords, while Heaven was thus miraculously
 
 THE TRIAL. 65 
 
 explaining itself by the mouths of its holy interpreters, 
 another light has just been thrown upon us. At the very 
 time the judges were absorbed in profound meditation, 
 a loud cry was heard near the hall of council ; and upon 
 going to the spot, we found the body of a young lady 
 of high birth. She had just sent forth her last breath 
 in the public street, in the arms of the reverend Father 
 Mignon, canon ; and we have learned from the said 
 father here present, and from several other grave per- 
 sonages, that suspecting the young lady to be possessed, 
 by reason of the rumor for some time past current of 
 the admiration Urbain Grandier had for her, an idea of 
 testing it happily occurred to the canon, who suddenly 
 said, approaching her, ' Grandier has just been put to 
 death,' whereat she uttered one loud scream and fell 
 dead, deprived by the demon of the time necessary for 
 giving her the assistance of our holy Mother, the 
 Catholic Church." 
 
 A murmur of indignation arose from the crowd, 
 among whom the word " assassin " was loudly re-echoed ; 
 the halberdiers commanded silence with a loud voice, 
 but it was obtained rather by the judge resuming his 
 address, the general curiosity triumphing. 
 
 " Oh, infamy ! " he continued, seeking to fortify him- 
 self by exclamations ; " upon her person was found 
 this work, written by the hand of Urbain Grandier," 
 and he took from among his papers a book bound in 
 parchment. 
 
 " Heavens ! " cried Urbain, from his seat. 
 
 " Look to your prisoner," cried the judge to the 
 archers who surrounded him. 
 
 VOL. I. 5
 
 66 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 " The demon doubtless is about to manifest himself," 
 said Father Lactantius, in a sombre voice ; " tighten 
 his bonds." He was obeyed. 
 
 The judge-advocate continued. " Her name was Ma- 
 deleine de Brou, aged nineteen." 
 
 " God ! this is too much ! " cried the accused, as he 
 fell senseless on the ground. 
 
 The assembly was deeply agitated ; for a moment 
 there was an absolute tumult. 
 
 " Poor fellow ! he loved her," said some. 
 
 " So good a lady ! " cried the women. 
 
 Pity began to predominate. Cold water was thrown 
 upon Grandier, without his being taken from the court, 
 and he was tied to his seat. The judge-advocate went 
 on, 
 
 " We are directed to read the beginning of this book 
 to the court," and he read as follows : 
 
 " ' It is for thee, dear and gentle Madeleine, it is to set at 
 rest thy troubled conscience that I have described in this 
 book one thought of my soul. All those thoughts tend to 
 thee, celestial creature, because in thee they return to the 
 aim and object of my whole existence ; but the thought I 
 send thee, as 't were a flower, conies from thee, exists only 
 in thee, and returns to thee alone. 
 
 " ' Be not sad because thou lovest me ; be not afflicted 
 because I adore thee. The angels of heaven, what is it that 
 they do? The souls of the blessed, what is it that is prom- 
 ised them? Are we less pure than the angels? Are our 
 souls less separated from the earth than they will be after 
 death? Oh, Madeleine, what is there in us wherewith the 
 Lord can be displeased? Can it be that we pra}' together, 
 that with faces prostrate in the dust before his altars, we
 
 THE TRIAL. 67 
 
 ask for early death to take us while yet youth and love are 
 ours ? Or that, musing together beneath the funereal trees 
 of the churchyard, we yearned for one grave, smiling at the 
 idea of death, and weeping at life? Or that, when thou 
 kneelest before me at the tribunal of penitence, and speaking 
 in the presence of God, thou canst find nought of evil to 
 reveal to me, so wholly have I kept thy soul in the pure 
 reo-ions of heaven? What then could offend our Creator? 
 
 O 
 
 Perhaps 3*es ! perhaps some spirit of heaven may have 
 envied me my happiness when on Easter day I saw thee 
 kneeling before me, purified by long austerities from the 
 slight stain which the original sin had left in thee ! Beau- 
 tiful, indeed, wert thou! Thy glance sought thy God in 
 heaven, and my trembling hand held his image to thy pure 
 lips, which human lip had never dared to breathe upon. 
 Angelic being ! I alone participated in the secret of the 
 Lord, in the one secret of the entire purity of thy soul ; I it 
 was united thee to thy Creator, who at that moment de- 
 scended also into my bosom. Ineffable espousals, of which 
 the Eternal himself was the priest, you alone were per- 
 mitted between the virgin and her pastor ! the sole joy of 
 each was to see eternal happiness commencing for the other, 
 to inhale together the perfumes of heaven, to drink in already 
 the harmony of the spheres, and to feel assured that our 
 souls, unveiled to God and to ourselves alone, were worthy 
 together to adore him. 
 
 " ' What scruple still weighs upon thy soul, O my sister? 
 Dost thou think I have offered too high a worship to thy 
 virtue? Fearest thou so pure an admiration should deter 
 me from that of the Lord?'" 
 
 Houmain had reached this point when the door 
 through which the witnesses had withdrawn suddenly 
 opened. The judges anxiously whispered together. 
 Laubardemont, uncertain as to the meaning of this,
 
 68 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 signed to the fathers to let him know whether this was 
 some scene executed by their orders ; but seated at 
 some distance from him, and themselves taken by sur- 
 prise, they could not make him understand that they 
 had not prepared this interruption. Besides, ere they 
 could exchange looks, to the stupefaction of the assem- 
 bly, three women, en chemise, with naked feet, each 
 with a cord round her neck and a wax taper in her 
 hand, came through the door and advanced to the 
 middle of the platform. It was the superior of the 
 Ursulines, followed by Sisters Agnes and Claire. Both 
 the latter were weeping ; the superior was very pale, 
 but her bearing was firm, and her eyes fixed and tear- 
 less. She knelt ; her companions followed her example. 
 Everything was in such utter confusion that no one 
 thought of checking them ; and in a clear, firm voice 
 she pronounced these words, which resounded in every 
 corner of the hall : 
 
 " In the name of the Holy Trinity, I, Jeanne de 
 Belfiel, daughter of the Baron de Cose, I, the unworthy 
 superior of the convent of the Ursulines of Loudun, ask 
 pardon of God and man for the crime I have committed 
 in accusing the innocent Urbain Grandier. My posses- 
 sion was feigned, my words dictated ; remorse over- 
 whelms me." 
 
 " Bravo ! " cried the spectators, clapping their hands. 
 The judges arose ; the archers, in doubt, looked at the 
 president ; he shook in every limb, but did not change 
 countenance. 
 
 " Let all be silent," he said in a sharp voice ; " arch- 
 ers, do your duty."
 
 THE TRIAL. 69 
 
 This man felt himself supported by so a strong hand 
 that nothing could affright him, for no thought of 
 Heaven ever visited him. 
 
 "What think you, my fathers 2" said he, making a 
 sign to the monks. 
 
 " That the demon seeks to save his friend. Obmu- 
 tesce, Satanas ! " cried Father Lactantius, in a terrible 
 voice, affecting to exorcise the superior. 
 
 Never did fire applied to gunpowder produce an effect 
 more instantaneous than did these two words. Jeanne 
 de Belfiel started up in all the beauty of twenty, which 
 her awful nudity served to augment ; she seemed a soul 
 escaped from hell appearing to her seducer. With her 
 dark eyes she cast fierce glances upon the monks ; 
 Lactantius lowered his beneath that look. She took 
 two steps towards him with her bare feet, beneath which 
 the scaffolding rung, so energetic was her movement ; 
 her taper seemed, in her hand, the sword of the aveng- 
 ing angel. 
 
 " Silence, impostor ! " she cried with warmth ; " the 
 demon who possessed me was yourself. You deceived 
 me ; you said he was not to be tried. To-day, for the first 
 time, I know that he is to be tried ; to-day, for the first 
 time, I know that he is to be murdered. And I will 
 speak ! " 
 
 " Woman, the demon bewilders thee." 
 
 " Say, rather, that repentance enlightens me. Daugh- 
 ters, miserable as myself, arise ; is he not innocent ? " 
 
 " We swear he is," said the two young lay sisters, 
 still kneeling and weeping, for they were not animated 
 with so strong a resolution as that of the superior.
 
 70 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 Agnes indeed had scarcely uttered these words than, 
 turning towards the people, she cried, " Help me ! they 
 will punish me ; they will kill me ! " And hurrying 
 away her companion, she threw herself into the crowd, 
 who affectionately received them. A thousand voices 
 swore to protect them. Imprecations arose ; the men 
 struck their staves against the floor ; the officials dared 
 not prevent the people from passing the sisters on from 
 arm to arm into the street. 
 
 During this strange scene the amazed and panic- 
 struck judges whispered, M. Laubardemont looked at 
 the archers, indicating to them the points they were es- 
 pecially to watch, among which, more particularly, was 
 that occupied by the group in black. The accusers 
 looked towards the gallery of the Bishop of Poitiers, but 
 discovered no expression in his apathetic countenance. 
 He was one of those old men whom death appears to 
 take possession of ten years before all motion entirely 
 ceases in them. His eyes seemed veiled by a half sleep ; 
 his gaping mouth mumbled a few vague and habitual 
 words of prayer without meaning or application ; the 
 entire amount of intelligence he retained was the dis- 
 tinguishing the man who had most power, and him 
 he obeyed, regardless at what price. He had accord- 
 ingly signed the sentence of the doctors of the Sorbonne 
 which declared the nuns possessed, without even deduc- 
 ing thence the consequence of the death of Urbain ; the 
 rest seemed to him one of those more or less lengthy 
 ceremonies, to which he paid not the slightest attention, 
 accustomed as he was to see and live among them, 
 himself an indispensable part and parcel of them. He
 
 THE TRIAL. 71 
 
 therefore gave no sign of life on this occasion, merely 
 preserving an air at once perfectly noble and null. 
 
 Meanwhile Father Lactantius, Ijaving had a moment 
 to recover from the sudden attack made upon him, 
 turned towards the president and said. 
 
 " Here is a clear proof, sent us by Heaven of the pos- 
 session, for the superior has never before forgotten the 
 modesty and severity of her order." 
 
 " Would that all the world were here to see me ! " said 
 Jeanne de Belfiel, firm as ever. " I cannot be suffi- 
 ciently humiliated upon earth, and Heaven will reject 
 me, for I have been your accomplice." 
 
 The perspiration rolled down the forehead of Lau- 
 bardemont, but he essayed to recover his composure. 
 " What absurd tale is this, my sister ; what has influ- 
 enced you herein?" 
 
 The voice of the girl became sepulchral ; she collected 
 all her strength, pressed her hand upon her heart as 
 though she desired to stay its throbbing, and looking at 
 Urbain Grandier, answered, " Love." 
 
 A shudder ran through the assembly. Urbain, who 
 since he had fainted had remained with his head hang- 
 ing down as if dead, slowly raised his eyes towards 
 her, and returned entirely to life only to undergo a fresh 
 sorrow. The young penitent continued, 
 
 " Yes, the love which he rejected, which he never fully 
 knew, which I have breathed in his discourses, which 
 my eyes drew in from his celestial countenance, which 
 his very counsels against it have increased. Yes, Urbain 
 is pure as an angel, but good as a man who has loved. 
 I knew not that he had loved ! It is you," she said,
 
 72 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 more energetically, pointing to Lactantius, Barre*, and 
 Mignon, and changing her passionate accents for those of 
 indignation, "it is you who told me that he loved; 
 you, who this morning have too cruelly avenged me by 
 killing my rival with a word. Alas, I only sought to 
 separate them ! It was a crime ; but by my mother I 
 am an Italian. I burned with love, with jealousy ; you 
 allowed me to see Urbain, to have him as a friend, to 
 see him daily." She was silent for a moment, then ex- 
 claimed, " People, he is innocent ! Martyr, pardon me, 
 I embrace thy feet ! " 
 
 She prostrated herself before Urbain and burst into 
 a torrent of tears. 
 
 Urbain raised his closely-bound hands, and giving her 
 his benediction, said gently, 
 
 " Go, my sister ; I pardon thee in the name of him 
 whom I shall soon see. I have before said to you, and 
 you now see, the passions work much evil, unless we 
 seek to turn them towards heaven." 
 
 The color a second time rose to Laubardemont's fore- 
 head. " Miscreant ! " he exclaimed, " darest thou pro- 
 nounce the words of the Church ? " 
 
 " I have not quitted her bosom," said Urbain. 
 
 " Remove the girl," said the president. 
 
 When the archers went to obey, they found that she 
 had tightened the cord round her neck with such force 
 that she was of a livid hue and almost lifeless. Fear 
 had driven all the women from the assembly ; many 
 had been carried out fainting, but the hall was no less 
 crowded. The ranks thickened, for the men out of the 
 street poured in.
 
 THE TRIAL. 73 
 
 The judges arose in terror, and the president at- 
 tempted to have the hall cleared ; but the people, putting 
 on their hats, stood in alarming immobility. The archers 
 were not numerous enough to repel them. It became 
 necessary to give way; and accordingly Laubardemont 
 in an agitated voice announced that the council would 
 retire for half an hour. He broke up the sitting ; the 
 people gloomily remained, each man firmly fixed to his 
 place.
 
 .CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE MARTYRDOM. 
 
 La torture iiiterroge, et la donleur repond. 
 
 RAYNOUARD, Les Templiers. 
 
 THE continuous interest of this half-trial, the solemnity 
 of its preparations, its interruptions, everything had held 
 the minds of the people in such attention that no pri- 
 vate conversation had taken place. When, however, the 
 people were left to themselves, there was, as it were, an 
 explosion of clamorous sentences. 
 
 There was at this epoch enough of primitive simplic- 
 ity among the lower classes for them to be persuaded 
 by the mysterious tales of the political agents who were 
 playing upon them ; so that a large portion of the crowd 
 present in the hall of trial, not venturing to revise their 
 judgment, though upon the manifest evidence just af- 
 forded them, awaited in painful suspense the return of 
 the judges, interchanging with an air of mystery and 
 inane importance the usual remarks dictated on such 
 occasions by imbecility.
 
 THE MARTYRDOM. 75 
 
 " One does not know what to think, sir ?" 
 
 " Truly, Madame, most extraordinary things." 
 
 " We live in strange times ! " 
 
 " I guessed as much ; but, i' faith, it does not do to 
 say what one thinks." 
 
 " We shall see what we shall see," and so on, the 
 unmeaningnesses of the crowd, which merely serve to 
 show that it is at the command of the first who lays 
 a strong hand upon it. Much more emphatic things 
 were heard from the group in black. 
 
 " What ! shall we let them do as they please, in this 
 manner ? What ! dare to burn our letter to the king ! " 
 
 " If the king knew it ! " 
 
 " The barbarian impostors ! how skilfully is their plot 
 contrived. What ! shall murder be committed under our 
 very eyes? Shall we be afraid of these archers ?" 
 
 " No, no, no ! " 
 
 Attention was turned towards the young advocate, 
 who, standing on a bench, began by tearing to pieces a 
 roll of paper ; then raising his voice, he cried, 
 
 " Yes, I tear and scatter to the winds the defence I 
 had prepared for the accused. They have suppressed 
 discussion ; I am not allowed to speak for him. I can 
 only speak to you, people ; I rejoice that I can do so. 
 You heard these infamous judges. Which of them can 
 hear the truth. Which of them is worthy to listen to an 
 honest man ? Which of them will dare to look him in 
 the face ? Yet what do I say ? They all know the truth. 
 They carry it in their guilty breasts ; it preys upon their 
 hearts like a serpent. They tremble in their den, where 
 doubtless they are devouring their prey ; they tremble
 
 T6 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 because they have heard the cries of three misled women. 
 What was I about to do ? I was about to speak for 
 Urbain Grandier ! What eloquence could equal that 
 of these unfortunates ? What words could better have 
 shown you his innocence ? Heaven has taken up arms 
 for him in bringing these to repentance and to devotion ; 
 Heaven will finish its work " 
 
 "Vade retro, Satanas," was heard through a high 
 window in the hall. 
 
 Fournier stopped for a moment, and then 
 
 " You hear these voices parodying the divine language ? 
 If I mistake not, these instruments of an infernal power 
 are, by this song of theirs, preparing some new spell." 
 
 " But," cried those who surrounded him, " what shall 
 we do ? What have they done with him ? " 
 
 " Remain here ; be immovable, be silent," replied the 
 young advocate. " The inertia of a people is all-power- 
 ful ; that is its true wisdom, that its strength. Look 
 on closely, and in silence; and you will make them 
 tremble." 
 
 " They surely will not dare to show themselves again," 
 said the Comte du Lude. 
 
 " I should like to have another look at the tall scoun- 
 drel in red," said Grand-Ferre*, who had lost nothing of 
 what passed. 
 
 " And that good gentleman, the curd," murmured old 
 Father Guillaume Leroux, looking at all his indignant 
 children, who were talking together in a low tone, meas- 
 uring and counting the archers, ridiculing their dress, 
 and beginning to point them out to the observation of 
 the other spectators.
 
 THE MARTYRDOM. 77 
 
 Cinq-Mars, still leaning with his back to the pillar 
 behind which he had first placed himself, still enveloped 
 in his black cloak, eagerly watched all that passed, lost 
 not a word of what was said, and filled his heart with 
 hate and bitterness. Violent desires for slaughter and 
 revenge, an indefinite desire to strike, took possession of 
 him, despite himself ; this is the first impression which 
 evil produces on the soul of a young man. Afterwards 
 sadness takes the place of fury, then indifference and 
 scorn, later still, a selfish admiration for the great vil- 
 lains who have been successful ; but this is only when 
 of the two elements which constitute man, earth gains 
 the day over the spirit. Meanwhile, on the right of the 
 hall near the judges' platform, a group of women were 
 attentively regarding a child of about eight years old, 
 who had taken it into his head to climb up to a cornice 
 by the aid of his sister Martine, whom we have seen 
 jested with in such unmeasured terms by the young 
 soldier, Grand-Ferre*. The child, having nothing to look 
 at after the court had left the hall, had mounted by 
 means of his hands and feet to a small window which 
 admitted a faint light, and which he imagined to contain 
 a swallow's nest or some other boyish treasure ; but 
 when he was well established with his feet on the cor- 
 nice of the wall, and his hands holding on by the bars of 
 an old shrine of Saint Jerome, he wished himself any- 
 where else, and cried out, 
 
 " Oh, Sister, Sister, lend me your hand to get down ! " 
 
 " What is it you see there ? " asked Martine. 
 
 " Oh, I dare not tell ; but I want to get down ; " and 
 he began to cry.
 
 78 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 " Stay there, my child ; stay there ! " said all the 
 women. " Don't be afraid ; tell us all that you see." 
 
 " Well, then, they 've put the curd between two great 
 boards that squeeze his legs, and there are cords round 
 the boards." 
 
 " Ah ! that is the rack," said one of the townsmen. 
 "Look, my little friend, what do you see now?" 
 
 The child, more confident, looked again through the 
 window, and then withdrawing his head, said, 
 
 " I cannot see the cure* now, because all the judges 
 stand round him, and are looking at him, and their 
 great robes prevent me from seeing. There are also 
 some Capuchins, stooping down to speak to him in a 
 low voice." 
 
 Curiosity brought more people under the boy's feet ; 
 every one was silent, awaiting anxiously to catch his 
 words, as though all their lives depended on them. 
 
 " I see," he went on, " the executioner driving four 
 little pieces of wood between the cords, after the 
 Capuchins have blessed the hammer and nails. Ah, 
 heavens ! Sister, how enraged they seem with him, be- 
 cause he will not speak. Mother ! Mother ! give me 
 yonr hand, I want to come down!" 
 
 Instead of his mother, the child, upon turning 
 round, saw only male faces, looking up to him with a 
 mournful eagerness, and signing him to proceed. He 
 dared not descend, and looked again through the win- 
 dow, trembling. 
 
 " Oh ! I see Father Lactantius and Father Barre* 
 themselves forcing in more pieces of wood, which 
 squeeze his legs. Oh, how pale he is ! he seems pray-
 
 THE MARTYRDOM, 79 
 
 ing. There, his head falls back, as if he were dying ! 
 Oh, take me away ! " 
 
 And he fell into the arms of the young advocate, of 
 M. du Lude, and of Cinq-Mars, who had come to support 
 him. 
 
 " Deus stetit in synagoga deorum : in medio autem 
 Deus dijudicat " chanted strong and nasal voices, 
 issuing from the small window, which continued in full 
 chorus one of the psalms, interrupted by blows of the 
 hammer, an infernal deed beating time to celestial 
 songs. One might have supposed one's self near a 
 smith's shop, but that the blows were dull, and mani- 
 fested to the ear that the anvil was a man's body. 
 
 " Silence ! " said Fournier, " he speaks. The chanting 
 and the blows stop." 
 
 A weak voice within said with difficulty, " Oh, my 
 fathers, mitigate the rigor of your torments, for you will 
 reduce my soul to despair, and I might seek to destroy 
 myself!" 
 
 At this, the fury of the people burst forth like an ex- 
 plosion, echoing along the vaulted roofs ; the men 
 fiercely sprang upon the platform, thrust aside the 
 surprised and hesitating archers ; the unarmed crowd 
 drove them back, pressed them, almost suffocated them 
 against the walls, and held them fast, then dashed 
 against the doors which led to the question-chamber, 
 and making them shake beneath their blows, threatened 
 to drive them in ; imprecations resounded from a thou- 
 sand menacing voices and terrified the judges within. 
 
 " They are gone ; they have taken him away ! " cried a 
 man, who had climbed to the little window.
 
 80 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 The multitude at once stopped short, and changing 
 the direction of their steps, fled from this detestable 
 place and rapidly spread through the streets. There 
 an extraordinary confusion prevailed. 
 
 Night had come on during the long sitting, and the 
 rain was pouring down in torrents. The darkness was 
 fearful. The cries of women slipping on the pavement 
 or driven back by the horses of the guards ; the shout 
 of the assembled and furious men ; the incessant toll- 
 ing of the bells which had been keeping time with the 
 strokes of the question ; the roll of distant thunder, all 
 combined to increase the disorder. If the ear was as- 
 tonished, the eyes were no less so. A few dismal torches 
 lighted up the corners of the streets, and casting flitting 
 gleams showed soldiers, armed and mounted, dashing 
 along, regardless of the crowd, to assemble in the Place 
 de St. Pierre le Marche" ; tiles were sometimes thrown 
 at them on their way, but missing the distant culprit, 
 fell upon some unoffending neighbor. The confusion 
 was bewildering, and became still more so, when, hurry- 
 ing through all the streets towards the Place de St. 
 Pierre, the people found it barricaded on all sides, and 
 filled with mounted guards and archers. Carts, fastened 
 to the posts at each corner, closed each entrance, and 
 sentinels, armed with arquebuses, were stationed close 
 to the carts. In the midst of the Place, arose a pile 
 composed of enormous beams placed crosswise upon one 
 another, so as to form a perfect square ; these were cov- 
 ered with a whiter and lighter wood ; an immense stake 
 arose from the centre of the scaffold. A man clothed 
 in red and holding a lowered torch stood near this sort
 
 THE MARTYRDOM. 81 
 
 of mast, which was visible from a distance. An enor- 
 mous chafing-dish, covered on account of the rain, was 
 at his feet. 
 
 At this spectacle, terror everywhere inspired a pro- 
 found silence ; for an instant nothing was heard hut the 
 sound of the rain, which fell in torrents, and of the 
 thunder, which came nearer and nearer. 
 
 Meanwhile Cinq-Mars, accompanied by MM. du Lude 
 and Fournier and all the more important personages 
 of the town, had taken shelter from the storm under 
 the peristyle of the church of Ste. Croix, raised upon 
 twenty stone steps. The pile was in front, and from 
 this height they could see the whole of the square. The 
 centre was entirely clear, large streams of water alone 
 traversed it; but all the windows of the houses were 
 gradually lighted up, and showed the heads of the men 
 and women who thronged them. 
 
 The young D'Effiat sorrowfully contemplated this 
 lugubrious preparation ; brought up in sentiments of 
 honor, and far removed from the black thoughts which 
 hatred and ambition arouse in the heart of man, he 
 could not conceive that such wrong could be done with- 
 out some powerful and secret motive. The daring of 
 such a condemnation seemed to him so enormous that 
 its very cruelty began to justify it in his eyes ; a secret 
 horror crept into his soul, the same that silenced the 
 people. He almost forgot the interest with which the 
 unhappy Urbain had inspired him, in thinking whether 
 it were not possible that some secret correspondence 
 with the infernal powers had justly provoked such ex- 
 cessive severity ; and the public revelations of the nuns, 
 VOL. i. 6
 
 82 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 and the statement of his respected tutor, faded from his 
 memory, so powerful is success, even in the eyes of su- 
 perior men ! so strongly does force impose upon men, 
 despite the voice of conscience ! 
 
 The young traveller was asking himself if it were 
 not probable that the torture had forced some mon- 
 strous confession from the accused, when the obscurity 
 which surrounded the church suddenly ceased. Its two 
 great doors were thrown open ; and by the light of an 
 infinite number of flambeaux, appeared all the judges 
 and ecclesiastics, surrounded by guards. In the midst 
 of them was Urbain, supported or rather carried by six 
 men clothed as Black Penitents, for his limbs, bound 
 with bandages saturated with blood, seemed broken and 
 incapable of supporting him. It was at most two hours 
 since Cinq-Mars had seen him, and yet he could scarcely 
 recognize the face he had so closely observed at the 
 trial. All color, all roundness of form had disappeared 
 from it ; a livid pallor covered a skin yellow and shin- 
 ing like ivory ; the blood seemed to have left his veins ; 
 all the life that remained within him shone from his 
 dark eyes, which appeared to have grown twice as large 
 as before, as he cast them languidly around him ; his 
 long chestnut hair hung loosely down his neck and 
 over a white shirt, which entirely covered him, or rather 
 a sort of robe with large sleeves, and of a yellowish tint, 
 with an odor of sulphur about it ; a long, thick cord 
 encircled his neck and fell upon his breast. He looked 
 like an apparition ; but it was the apparition of a 
 martyr. 
 
 Urbain stopped, or rather was set down upon the peri-
 
 THE MARTYRDOM. 83 
 
 style of the church ; the Capuchin Lactantius placed a 
 lighted torch in his right hand, and held it there, as he 
 said to him with his hard inflexibility, 
 
 " Do penance, and ask pardon of God for thy crime 
 of magic." 
 
 The unhappy man raised his voice with great diffi- 
 culty, and with his eyes to heaven said, 
 
 " In the name of the living God, I cite thee, Laubarde- 
 mont, false judge, to appear before him in three years. 
 They have taken away my confessor, and I have been 
 fain to pour out my faults into the bosom of God him- 
 self, for my enemies surround me ; I call that God of 
 mercy to witness I have never dealt in magic. I have 
 known no mysteries but those of the Catholic religion, 
 apostolic and Roman, in which I die ; I have sinned 
 much against myself, but never against God and our 
 Lord " 
 
 " Proceed not ! " cried the Capuchin, affecting to close 
 his mouth ere he could pronounce the name of the 
 Saviour. " Obdurate wretch, return to the demon who 
 sent thee ! " 
 
 He signed to four priests, who, approaching with 
 sprinklers in their hands, exorcised with holy water the 
 air the magician breathed, the earth he touched, the 
 wood that was to burn him. During this ceremony, 
 the judge-advocate hastily read the decree, dated the 
 18th of August, 1639, declaring Urbain Grrandier duly 
 attainted and convicted of the crime of sorcery, witch- 
 craft, and possession, in the persons of sundry Ursuline 
 nuns of Loudun, and others, laymen, etc. 
 
 The reader, dazzled by a flash of lightning, stopped
 
 84 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 for an instant, and, turning to M. dc Laubardemont, 
 asked whether, considering the awful weather, the 
 execution could not be deterred till the next day. 
 
 " The decree," coldly answered Laubardemont, " com- 
 mands execution within twenty-four hours. Fear not the 
 incredulous people ; they will soon be convinced." 
 
 All the most considerable persons of the town and 
 many strangers were under the peristyle, and now 
 advanced, Cinq-Mars among them. 
 
 " The magician has never been able to pronounce the 
 name of the Saviour, and repels his image." 
 
 Lactantius at this moment issued from the midst of 
 the Penitents, with an enormous iron crucifix in his hand, 
 which he seemed to hold with precaution and respect ; 
 he extended it to the lips of the sufferer, who indeed 
 threw back his head, and collecting all his strength, 
 made a gesture with his arm, which threw the cross 
 from the hands of the Capuchin. 
 
 "You see," cried the latter, "he has thrown down the 
 cross ! " 
 
 A murmur arose, the meaning of which was dubious. 
 
 " Profanation ! " cried the priests. 
 
 The procession moved on towards the pile. 
 
 Meanwhile, Cinq-Mars, gliding behind a pillar, had 
 eagerly watched all that passed ; he saw with astonish- 
 ment that the cross, in falling upon the steps, which 
 were more exposed to the rain than the platform, smoked 
 and made a noise like molten lead when thrown into 
 water. While the public attention was elsewhere en- 
 gaged, he advanced and touched it lightly with his hand, 
 which was immediately scorched. Seized with indigna-
 
 THE MARTYRDOM. 85 
 
 tiou, with all the fury of a true heart he took up the 
 cross with the folds of his cloak, stepped up to Lau- 
 bardemont, and striking him with it on the fore- 
 head, cried, 
 
 " Villain, bear the mark of this red-hot iron ! " 
 
 The crowd heard these words, and rushed forward. 
 
 " Arrest this madman ! " cried the unworthy magis- 
 trate. 
 
 He was himself seized by the hands of men who 
 cried, 
 
 " Justice ! justice, in the name of the king ! " 
 
 " We are lost ! " said Lactantius ; " to the pile, to 
 the pile ! " 
 
 The Penitents dragged Urbain towards the Place, 
 while the judges and archers re-entered the church, 
 struggling with the furious citizens ; the executioner, 
 having no time to tie up the victim, hastened to lay him 
 on the wood, and to set fire to it. But the rain still 
 fell in torrents, and each piece of wood had no sooner 
 caught the flame than it became extinguished. In vain 
 did Lactantius and the other canons themselves seek 
 to stir up the fire ; nothing could overcome the water 
 which fell from heaven. 
 
 Meanwhile the tumult which had commenced in the 
 peristyle of the church extended throughout the square. 
 The cry of " Justice ! " was repeated and circulated, with 
 the information of what had been discovered ; two 
 barricades were forced, and despite three volleys of 
 musketry, the archers were gradually driven back 
 towards the centre of the square. They in vain spurred 
 their horses against the crowd ; it overwhelmed them
 
 86 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 with its swelling waves. Half an hour passed in this 
 struggle, the guards still receding towards the pile, 
 which they concealed as they pressed closer upon it. 
 
 " On ! on ! " cried a man ; " we will deliver him ; do 
 not strike the soldiers, but let them fall back. See, 
 Heaven will not permit him to die ! The fire is out ; 
 now, friend, one effort more ! That is well ! Throw 
 down that horse ! Forward ! on ! " 
 
 The guard was broken and dispersed on all sides. 
 The crowd rushed to the pile, but there was no longer 
 any light there : all had disappeared, even the execu- 
 tioner. They tore up and threw aside the beams ; ohe 
 of them was still burning, and its light showed 
 under a mass of ashes and ensanguined mire a black- 
 ened hand, preserved from the fire by a large iron 
 bracelet and chain. A woman had the courage to 
 open it ; the fingers clasped a small ivory cross and 
 an image of Saint Magdalen. 
 
 " These are his remains," she said, weeping. 
 
 " Say, the relics of a martyr," exclaimed a citizen, 
 uncovering.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE DREAM. 
 
 Nous sommes au printemps, et nos bois sont deserts, 
 Et le printemps ii'a pas, ramenant ses concerts, 
 Reveille les oiseaux eudormis sous les branches ; 
 L'aubepine est en deuil, et les faibles pervenches 
 De leurs boutons fle'tris s'e'chappent sans couleurs. 
 Les vergers languissauts alte're's de chaleurs, 
 Au lieu de nous donuer'des flours et de 1'ombrage, 
 Balancent des rameaux de'pourvus de feuillages ; 
 II semble que 1'hiver ue quitte pas les cieux. 
 
 JULES LEFEVRE, Maria. 
 
 MEANWHILE, Cinq-Mars, amid the fray which his out- 
 break had provoked, felt his left arm seized by a hand 
 as hard as iron, which, drawing him from the crowd to 
 the bottom of the steps, pushed him behind the wall of 
 the church, and he then saw the dark face of old Grand- 
 champ, who said to him in a sharp voice, 
 
 " Sir, your attacking thirty musketeers in a wood 
 at Chaumont was nothing, because we were near you, 
 though you knew it not, and, moreover, you had to do 
 with men of honor ; but here 't is another thing. Your 
 horses and people are at the end of the street ; I re-
 
 88 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 i 
 
 quest you to mount and leave the town, or to send me 
 back to Madame la Mardchale, for I am responsible 
 for your limbs, which you expose so freely." 
 
 Cinq-Mars, though somewhat confounded at this rough 
 mode of having a service done him, was not sorry to 
 extricate himself thus from the affair, having had time 
 to reflect how very awkward it might be for him to be 
 recognized, after having struck the head of the judicial 
 authority and the agent of the very cardinal who was to 
 present him to the king. He observed also that there 
 was assembled around him a crowd of the lowest class 
 of people, among whom he blushed to find himself. He 
 therefore followed his old domestic without arguing the 
 matter with him, and found the other three servants 
 waiting for him. Despite the rain and wind he mounted, 
 and was soon upon the high-road with his escort, having 
 put his horse to a gallop to avoid pursuit. 
 
 He had, however, no sooner got out of Loudun than 
 the sandy road, furrowed by deep ruts completely filled 
 with water, obliged him to slacken his pace. The rain 
 continued to fall in torrents, and his cloak was almost 
 saturated. He felt a thicker one thrown over his shoul- 
 ders ; it was his old valet-de-chambre who had approached 
 him, and thus exhibited for him a maternal solicitude. 
 
 " Well, Grandchamp," said Cinq-Mars, " now that we 
 are clear of the scuffle, tell me how you came to be there 
 when I had ordered you to remain at the abba's." 
 
 " Parbleu, Monsieur ! " answered the old servant, in a 
 grumbling tone, " do you suppose that I should obey you 
 more than I did M. le Mardchal ? When my late master, 
 after telling me to remain in his tent, found me behind
 
 THE DREAM. 89 
 
 him in the cannon's smoke, he made no complaint, be- 
 cause he had a fresh horse ready when his own was 
 killed, and he only scolded me for a moment in his 
 thoughts; but truly, during the forty years I served him, 
 I never saw him act as you have done in the fortnight 
 I have been with you. Ah ! " he added with a sigh, 
 "we are going on at a fine rate; and if it continues, 
 there 's no knowing what will be the end of it." 
 
 " But knowest thou, Grandchamp, that these scoun- 
 drels had made the crucifix red hot ? a thing at which 
 there 's no honest man but would have been as much 
 enraged as I was." 
 
 " Except M. le Marshal, your father, who would not 
 have done at all what you have done, sir." 
 
 " What, then, would he have done ? " 
 
 " He would very quietly have let this cure" be burned 
 by the other cure's, and would have said to me, ' Grand- 
 champ, see that my horses have oats, and let no one 
 steal them ; ' or, ' Grandchamp, take care that the rain 
 does not rust my sword or wet the priming of my pis- 
 tols ; ' for M. le Marshal thought of everything, and 
 never interfered in what did not concern him. That 
 was his great principle ; and as he was, thank Heaven, 
 alike good soldier and good general, he was always as 
 careful of his arms as a recruit, and would not have stood 
 up against thirty young gallants with a dress rapier." 
 
 Cinq-Mars felt the force of the worthy servitor's epi- 
 grammatic scolding, and feared that he had followed 
 him beyond the wood of Chaumont ; but he would not 
 ask, lest he should have to give explanations or to tell 
 a falsehood or to command silence, which would at once
 
 90 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 have been taking him into confidence on the subject. 
 As the only alternative, he spurred his horse and got 
 before his old domestic ; but the latter had not yet had 
 his say, and instead of keeping behind his master, rode 
 up to his left and continued the conversation. 
 
 " Do you suppose, sir, that I should allow you to go 
 where you please ? No, sir, I ain too deeply impressed 
 with the respect I owe to Madame la Marquise, to give 
 her an opportunity of saying to me : ' Grandchamp, my 
 son has been killed with a shot or with a sword ; why 
 were you not before him ? ' Or, ' he has received a stab 
 from the stiletto of an Italian, because he went at night 
 beneath the window of a great princess ; why did you 
 not seize the assassin ? ' This would be very disagree- 
 able to me, sir, for I have never been reproached with 
 anything of the kind. Once M. le Mare"chal lent me to 
 his nephew, M. le Comte, to make a campaign in the 
 Netherlands, because I know Spanish ; well, I fulfilled 
 the duty with honor, as I always do. When M. le Comte 
 received a bullet in his heart, I myself brought back his 
 horses, his mules, his tent, and all his equipment, with- 
 out so much as a pocket-handkerchief being missed ; and 
 I can assure you that the horses were as well dressed 
 and harnessed when we re-entered Chaumont as if 
 M. le Comte had been about to go a-hunting. And 
 accordingly I received nothing but compliments and 
 agreeable things from the whole family, just in the 
 way- 1 like." 
 
 " Well, well, my friend," said Henri d'Effiat, " I may 
 some day, perhaps, have these horses to take back ; but 
 in the mean time take this great purse of gold, which I
 
 THE DREAM. 91 
 
 have well-nigh lost two or three times, and thou shalt 
 pay for me everywhere. The money wearies me." 
 
 " M. le Mare'chal did not so, sir. He had been super- 
 intendent of finances, and he counted every farthing he 
 paid out of his own hand. I do not think your estates 
 would have been in such good condition, or that you 
 would have had so much money to count yourself, had 
 he done otherwise ; have the goodness therefore to keep 
 your purse, whose contents, I dare swear, you do not 
 know." 
 
 " Faith, not I." 
 
 Grandchamp sent forth a profound sigh at his master's 
 disdainful exclamation. 
 
 " Ah, M. le Marquis ! M. le Marquis ! When I think 
 that the great King Henri, before my eyes, put his 
 chamois gloves into his pocket to keep the rain from 
 spoiling them ; when I think that M. de Rosni refused 
 him money when he had spent too much ; when I 
 think " 
 
 " When thou dost think, thou art egregiously tedious, 
 my old friend," interrupted his master ; " and thou wilt 
 do better in telling me what that black figure is that I 
 think I see walking in the mire behind us." 
 
 " It looks like some poor peasant woman who wants 
 alms of us ; she may easily follow us, for we do not go 
 at much of a pace in this sand, wherein our horses sink 
 up to the hams. We shall go to the Landes perhaps 
 some day, sir, and you will there see a country all the 
 same as this sandy road, and great black firs all the 
 way along. It looks like a churchyard ; this is an exact 
 specimen of it. Look, now the rain has ceased and we
 
 92 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 can see a little ; there is nothing but furze-bushes on 
 this great plain, without a village or a house. I don't 
 know where we can pass the night ; but if you will take 
 my advice, you will let us cut some boughs and bivouac 
 where we are. You shall see how I can make a hut 
 with a little earth as warm as a bed." 
 
 " I would rather go on to the light I see in the 
 horizon," said Cinq-Mars ; " for I fancy I feel rather 
 feverish, and I am thirsty. But fall back, I would ride 
 alone ; rejoin the others and follow." 
 
 Grandchamp obeyed; he consoled himself by giving 
 Germain, Louis, and Etienne lessons in the art of re- 
 connoitring a country by night. 
 
 Meanwhile, his young master was overcome with fa- 
 tigue. The violent emotions of the day had profoundly 
 affected his mind ; and the long journey on horseback, 
 the last two days passed almost without nourishment, 
 owing to the hurried course of events, the heat of the 
 sun by day, the icy coldness of the night, all contributed 
 to increase his indisposition and to weary his delicate 
 frame. For three hours he journeyed on in silence be- 
 fore his people, yet the light he had seen in the horizon 
 seemed no nearer; at last he ceased to follow it with 
 his eyes, and his head, feeling heavier and heavier, sank 
 upon his breast. He gave the reins to his tired horse, 
 which of its own accord followed the high-road, and 
 crossing his arms, allowed himself to be rocked by the 
 monotonous motion of his fellow-traveller, which fre- 
 quently stumbled against the large stones that strewed 
 the road. The rain had ceased, as had the voices of his 
 domestics, whose horses followed in the track of their
 
 THE DREAM. 93 
 
 master's. The young man abandoned himself to the 
 bitterness of his thoughts; he asked himself whether the 
 bright object of his hopes would not flee from him day by 
 day, as that phosphoric light fled from him in the horizon, 
 step by step. Was it probable that the young princess, 
 almost forcibly recalled to the gallant court of Anne of 
 Austria, would always refuse the hands, perhaps royal 
 ones, that would be offered to her ? What chance that 
 she would resign herself to renounce a present throne, in 
 order to wait till some caprice of fortune should realize 
 romantic hopes, or take a youth almost in the lowest 
 rank of the army and lift him to the elevation she spoke 
 of, till the age of love should be passed ? How could he 
 be certain that even the vows of Marie de Gonzaga were 
 sincere ? " Alas," he soliloquized, " perhaps she has 
 blinded herself as to her own sentiments ; the solitude 
 of the country had prepared her soul to receive deep 
 impressions. I came ; she thought I was he of whom 
 she had dreamed. Our age and my love did the rest. 
 But when at court, she, the companion of the queen, 
 has learned to contemplate from an exalted position the 
 greatness to which I aspire, and which I as yet only see 
 from a very humble distance ; when she shall suddenly 
 find herself in actual possession of the future she aims 
 at, and measures with a more correct eye the long road 
 I have to journey over ; when she shall hear around her 
 vows like mine, pronounced by lips which could undo 
 me with a word, with a word destroy him whom she 
 awaits as her husband, her lord, oh, madman that I 
 have been ! she will see all her folly, and will be in- 
 censed at mine."
 
 94 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 Thus did doubt, the greatest misery of love, begin to 
 rack his sick heart ; he felt his hot blood rush to his 
 head and oppress it. Ever and anon he fell forward 
 upon the neck of his horse, and a half sleep weighed 
 down his eyes ; the dark firs that bordered the road 
 seemed to him gigantic corpses journeying by his side. 
 He saw, or thought he saw, the same woman clothed in 
 black, whom he had pointed out to Grandchamp, ap- 
 proach so near as to touch his horse's mane, pull his 
 cloak, and then run off with a jeering laugh ; the sand 
 of the road seemed to him a river running beneath him, 
 with opposing current, back towards its source. This 
 strange sight dazzled his worn eyes ; he closed them 
 and fell asleep on his horse. 
 
 Ere long, he felt himself stopped, but he was numbed 
 with cold and could not move. He saw peasants, 
 lights, a house, a great room into which they carried 
 him, a vast bed, whose heavy curtains were closed by 
 Grandchamp ; and he fell asleep again, stunned by the 
 fever that whirred in his ears. 
 
 Dreams, that followed one another more rapidly than 
 grains of sand before the wind, dashed through his 
 brain ; he could not catch them, and moved restlessly 
 on his bed. Urbain Grandier on the rack, his mother 
 in tears, his tutor armed, Bassompierre loaded with 
 chains, passed before him, making signs of farewell ; 
 at last, as he slept, he instinctively put his hand to his 
 head to fix the just passing dream, which then seemed 
 to unfold itself before his eyes like a quicksand. 
 
 There was a public square crowded with a foreign 
 people, a northern people, who sent forth cries of joy,
 
 THE DREAM. 95 
 
 but they were savage cries ; there was a line of guards, 
 ferocious soldiers, these were Frenchmen. " Come 
 with me," said the soft voice of Marie de Gonzaga, 
 taking his hand. " See, I have a diadem ; here is thy 
 throne, come with me." And she hurried him on, 
 the people still shouting. He went on, on, on, a long 
 way. " Why, then, are you sad, if you are a queen ? " 
 he said, trembling. But she was pale, and smiled and 
 spoke not. She ascended, step after step, up to a 
 throne, and seated herself. " Mount," said she, forci- 
 bly pulling his hand. But, at every movement, the 
 massive stairs crumbled beneath his feet, so that he 
 could not ascend. " Give thanks to love," she con- 
 tinued ; and the hand, now more powerful, raised him 
 to the summit. The people still shouted. He bowed 
 low to kiss that helping hand, that adored hand; it 
 was the hand of the executioner ! 
 
 " Oh, heavens ! " exclaimed Cinq-Mars, as, sending 
 forth a deep sigh, he opened his eyes. A flickering 
 lamp lighted the ruinous chamber of the inn ; he again 
 closed his eyes, for he had seen, seated on his bed, a 
 woman, a nun, so young, so beautiful ! He thought 
 he was still dreaming, but she grasped his hand 
 tightly. He opened his burning eyes, and fixed them 
 upon her. 
 
 " Is it you, Jeanne de Belfiel ? How the rain has 
 drenched your veil and your black hair! What do 
 you here, unhappy woman ? " 
 
 " Hark ! awake not my Urbain ; he sleeps there in 
 the next chamber. Ay, my hair is indeed wet, and my 
 feet sec, my feet that were once so white, see how
 
 96 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 the mud has soiled them. But I have made a vow, I 
 will not wash them till I have seen the king, and lie 
 has granted me Urbain's pardon. I am going to the 
 army to find him ; I will speak to him as G randier 
 taught me to speak, and he will pardon him. And 
 listen, I will also ask thy pardon, for I read it in thy 
 face that thou too art condemned to death. Poor 
 youth ! thou art too young to die, thy curling hair is 
 beautiful ; but yet thou art condemned, for thou hast 
 on thy brow a line that never deceives. The man 
 thou hast struck will kill thee. Thou hast made too 
 much use of the cross ; it is that will bring evil upon 
 thee. Thou hast struck with it, and thou wearest it 
 round thy neck by a hair chain. Nay, hide not thy 
 face ; have I said aught to afflict the, or is it that 
 thou lovest, young man ? Ah, reassure thyself, I will 
 not tell all this to thy love. I am mad, but I am gentle, 
 very gentle ; and three days since I was beautiful. Is 
 she also beautiful ? Ah ! she will weep some day ! 
 Yet, if she can weep, she will be happy ! " 
 
 And then all at once Jeanne began to recite the 
 service for the dead in a monotonous voice, but with 
 incredible volubility, still seated on the bed, and turning 
 the beads of a long rosary. 
 
 Suddenly the door opened ; she looked up, and fled 
 through a door in the partition. 
 
 " What the devil's that, an imp or an angel, saying 
 the funeral service over you, and you under the clothes, 
 as in a shroud ? " 
 
 This abrupt exclamation came from the rough voice 
 of Grandchamp, who was so astonished at what he had
 
 THE DREAM. 97 
 
 seen that he dropped the glass of lemonade he was bring- 
 ing in. Finding that his master did not answer, he 
 became still more alarmed, and raised the bed-clothes. 
 Cinq-Mars was crimson in the face, and seemed asleep, 
 but his old domestic saw that the blood rushing to his 
 head had almost suffocated him ; and seizing a pitcher 
 full of cold water, he dashed the whole of it in his face. 
 This military remedy rarely fails to effect its purpose, 
 and Cinq-Mars returned to himself with a start. 
 
 "Ah! it is thou, Grandchamp; what frightful dreams 
 I have had!" 
 
 " Peste! M. le Marquis, your dreams, on the contrary, 
 are very pretty ones. I saw the tail of the last as I 
 came in ; your choice is not bad." 
 
 " What dost mean, blockhead?" 
 
 " Nay, not a blockhead, sir ; I have good eyes, and 
 I have seen what I have seen. But, really, ill as you 
 are, M. le Mare*chal would never " 
 
 " Thou art utterly doting, my friend, give me some 
 drink, I am parched with thirst. Oh, heavens ! what 
 a night! I still see all those women." 
 
 " All those women, sir ? Why, how many are here ?" 
 
 " I am speaking to thee of a dream, blockhead. Why 
 standest there like a post, instead of giving me some 
 drink?" 
 
 " Enough, sir ; I will get more lemonade." And go- 
 ing to the door he called over the staircase, " Germain ! 
 Etienne ! Louis ! " 
 
 The innkeeper answered from below, " Coming, sir, 
 coming ; they have been helping me to catch the mad- 
 woman." 
 VOL. i. 7
 
 98 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 " What mad-woman ? " said Cinq-Mars, getting up in bed. 
 
 The host entered, and taking off his cotton cap, said 
 respectfully, "Oh, nothing, M. le Marquis, only a 
 mad-woman that came here last night on foot, and 
 whom we put in the next chamber ; but she has escaped, 
 and we have not been able to catch her." 
 
 " Ah !" exclaimed Cinq-Mars, returning to himself and 
 putting his hand to his eyes, " it was not a dream, then. 
 And my mother, where is she ? and the mare'chal, and 
 Ah ! and yet it is but a fearful dream ! Leave me." 
 
 As he said this, he turned towards the wall, and again 
 pulled the clothes over his head. 
 
 The innkeeper, in amazement, touched his forehead 
 three times with his finger, looking at Grandchamp as 
 though to ask him whether his master were also mad. 
 
 Grandchamp signed him away in silence, and in order 
 to watch the rest of the night by the side of Cinq-Mars, 
 who was in a deep sleep, he seated himself in a large 
 armchair, covered with carpet-work, and began to squeeze 
 lemons into a glass of water with an air as grave and 
 severe as Archimedes calculating the inflammatory 
 power of his mirrors.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE CABINET. 
 
 Men have rarely the courage to be wholly good or wholly bad. 
 
 MACCHIAVELLI. 
 
 Ne cherchez point ailleurs un arbitre supreme. C. DE PQNS. 
 
 LET us leave our young traveller sleeping ; he will soon 
 pursue a long and beautiful route. Since we are at lib- 
 erty to turn to all points of the map, we will fix our eyes 
 upon the city of Narbonne. 
 
 See the Mediterranean, not far distant, washing with 
 its blue waters the sandy shores. Enter that city re- 
 sembling Athens ; and to find him who reigns there, 
 follow that dark and irregular street. Mount the steps 
 of the old archiepiscopal palace, and enter the first and 
 largest of its apartments. 
 
 It was a very long saloon, lighted by a series of high 
 ogee windows, of which the upper part only have re- 
 tained the blue, yellow, and red panes that diffuse a 
 mysterious light through the apartment. An immense
 
 100 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 round table occupied its entire breadth, near the great 
 fireplace ; around this table, covered with a colored 
 cloth and laden with papers and portfolios, were seated, 
 bending over their pens, eight secretaries, busied in 
 copying letters which were passed to them from a 
 smaller table. Other men, cautiously walking to and 
 fro on the carpeted floor, arranged the completed papers 
 in the shelves of a bookcase, partly filled with books 
 bound in black. 
 
 Notwithstanding the number of persons assembled in 
 the room, you might have heard the wings of a fly move. 
 The only interruption to the otherwise dead silence was 
 the sound of pens rapidly gliding over paper, and a 
 shrill voice dictating, stopping every now and then to 
 cough. This voice proceeded from a vast armchair 
 placed by the side of the fire, which was blazing, not- 
 withstanding the heat of the season and of the country. 
 It was one of those armchairs that you still see in old 
 castles, and which seem made to read you to sleep in, 
 whatever the book may be, so easy is every part of it. 
 You are received into a circular cushion of down ; if the 
 head leans back, the cheeks sink into pillows covered 
 with silk, and the seat juts out so far beyond the elbows 
 that you may believe the provident upholsterers of our 
 forefathers sought to provide that the book should make 
 no noise in falling so as to awaken the sleeper. 
 
 But to quit this digression, and proceed to the man 
 who occupied the chair, and was very far from sleeping. 
 He had a broad forehead, bordered with very white thin 
 hair, large mild eyes, a wan, thin face, to which a small 
 pointed white beard gave that air of subtlety and finesse
 
 THE CABINET. 101 
 
 observable in all the portraits of the age of Louis XIII. ; 
 a mouth almost without lips, which Lavater deems an 
 indubitable sign of an evil mind, was framed, as it were, 
 in a pair of slight gray mustaches and a royale, an or- 
 nament then in fashion, and which somewhat resembled 
 a comma in its form. The old man wore a red close cap, 
 a large robe-de-chambre, and stockings of purple silk ; 
 he was no less a personage than Armand Duplessis, 
 Cardinal de Richelieu. 
 
 Near him, round the small table of which we have 
 spoken, were four youths of from fifteen to twenty ; 
 these were pages, or domestics, according to the term 
 then in use, which signified familiars, friends of the 
 house. This custom was a remnant of feudal patronage, 
 which still existed in our manners. The younger mem- 
 bers of high families received wages from the great 
 lords, and were devoted to their service in all things, 
 challenging the first comer at a nod from their patron. 
 The pages we speak of drew up letters from the outline 
 previously given them by the cardinal, and after their 
 master had thrown a glance over them, passed them to 
 the secretaries, who made fair copies of them. The old 
 due, for his part, wrote on his knee private notes upon 
 small slips of paper, that he inserted in almost all the 
 packets before sealing them, which he did with his own 
 hand. 
 
 He had been writing for some moments, when, in a 
 mirror before him, he saw the youngest of his pages 
 writing something on a sheet of paper much smaller 
 than the official sheet. He hastily wrote a few words 
 and then slipped it under the large sheet which, much
 
 102 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 against his inclination, lie had to fill ; but, seated behind 
 the cardinal, he hoped that the difficulty with which the 
 latter turned round would prevent him from seeing the 
 little manoeuvre he seemed to exercise with much dex- 
 terity. Suddenly Richelieu said to him dryly, " Come 
 hither, M. Olivier." 
 
 These words came like a thunder-clap on the poor boy, 
 who seemed about sixteen. He however rose at once, 
 and stood before the minister, his arms dependent at 
 his side, and his head down. 
 
 The other pages and the secretaries stirred no more 
 than soldiers when a comrade is struck down by a ball, 
 so accustomed were they to this kind of summons. The 
 present one, however, was delivered in a more energetic 
 tone than usual. 
 
 " What were you writing ? " 
 
 " My Lord, what your Eminence dictated." 
 
 "How!" 
 
 " My Lord, the letter to Don Juan de Braganza." 
 
 " No evasions, sir ; you were doing something else." 
 
 " My Lord," said the page, with tears in his eyes, " it 
 was a letter to one of my cousins." 
 
 " Let me see it." 
 
 The page trembled in every limb and was obliged to 
 lean against the chimney-piece, as he said in a scarcely 
 audible tone, " It is impossible." 
 
 " M. le Vicomte Olivier d'Entraigues," said the min- 
 ister, without showing the least emotion, " you are no 
 longer in my service." The page withdrew. He knew 
 that there was no reply ; so slipping his letter into his 
 pocket, and opening the folding-doors just wide enough
 
 THE CABINET. 103 
 
 to admit of his exit, he glided out like a bird escaped 
 from his cage. 
 
 The minister went on writing his note upon his knee. 
 
 The secretaries were redoubling their zeal and silence, 
 when the two wings of the door suddenly thrown back 
 showed, standing in the opening, a Capuchin, who bow- 
 ing, with his arms crossed over his breast, seemed wait- 
 ing for alms or for an order to retire. He had a dark 
 complexion, and was deeply pitted with the small-pox ; 
 his eyes mild, but somewhat squinting, were almost 
 hidden by his thick eyebrows, which met in the middle 
 of his forehead ; on his mouth played a crafty, mis- 
 chievous, and sinister smile ; his beard was straight 
 and red, and his costume that of the order of Saint 
 Francis in all its disgusting details, with sandals on 
 his bare feet, that looked altogether unworthy to tread 
 upon carpet. 
 
 Such as he was, however, this personage seemed to 
 create a great sensation throughout the room ; for with- 
 out finishing the phrase, the line, or even the word com- 
 menced, every person rose and went out by the door 
 where he was still standing, some saluting him as they 
 passed, others turning away their heads, and the young 
 pages holding their fingers to their noses, but not till 
 they were behind him, for they seemed to have a secret 
 fear of him. When they had all passed out, he entered, 
 making a profound reverence, because the door was still 
 open ; but as soon as it was shut, unceremoniously ad- 
 vancing, he seated himself near the cardinal, who, hav- 
 ing recognized him by the general movement he created, 
 saluted him with a dry and silent inclination of the head,
 
 104 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 regarding him fixedly, as if awaiting some intelligence, 
 and unable to avoid knitting his brows, as at the aspect 
 of a spider or some other disagreeable creature. 
 
 The cardinal had been unable to resist this movement 
 of displeasure, because he felt himself obliged, by the 
 presence of his agent, to resume those profound and 
 painful conversations from which he had for some days 
 been free, in a country whose pure air, favorable to him, 
 had somewhat mitigated the pain of his malady ; that 
 malady had changed to a slow fever, but its intervals 
 were long enough to enable him to forget during its 
 absence that it must return. Giving, therefore, a little 
 rest to his hitherto indefatigable mind, he had been 
 awaiting, for the first time in his life perhaps, without 
 impatience, the return of the couriers he had sent in all 
 directions, as the rays of a sun which alone gave life 
 and movement to France. He had not expected the 
 visit he now received, and the sight of one of those 
 men whom, to use his own expression, he steeped in 
 crime, rendered all the habitual disquietudes of his 
 life more present to him, without entirely dissipating 
 the cloud of melancholy which just then obscured his 
 thoughts. 
 
 The beginning of his conversation was overcast with 
 the gloomy hue of his late reveries ; but he soon issued 
 from them more animated and vigorous than ever, 
 when his powerful mind had perforce re-entered the 
 real world. 
 
 His confidant, seeing that he was to break the silence, 
 did so in this abrupt fashion, 
 
 " Well, my Lord, of what are you thinking ? "
 
 THE CABINET. 105 
 
 "Alas, Joseph, of what should we all think, whoever 
 we be, but upon our future happiness in a better life ? 
 For many days past I have been reflecting that human 
 interests have too much diverted me from this great 
 thought; and I repent me of having spent some 
 moments of my leisure in profane works, such as my 
 tragedies of ' Europe ' and of ' Mirame,' despite the 
 glory they have already gained me among our greatest 
 wits, a glory which will extend unto futurity." 
 
 Father Joseph, full of what he had to say, was at 
 first surprised at this opening ; but he knew his master 
 too well to manifest his feelings, and well skilled how 
 to change the direction of his ideas, replied, 
 
 " Yes, their merit is very great, and France will see 
 with regret that these immortal works are not followed 
 by others like them." 
 
 " Yes, my dear Joseph ; but it is in vain that such 
 men as Boisrobert, Claveret, Colletet, Corneille, and, 
 above all, the celebrated Mairet, have proclaimed these 
 tragedies the finest that the present or any past age has 
 produced ; I reproach myself for them, I swear to you, 
 as for a mortal sin, and I now, in my hours of repose, 
 only occupy myself with my ' Methode des Contro- 
 verses,' and my book on the ' Perfection du Chretien.' 
 I bear in mind that I am fifty-six years old, and that 
 1 have an incurable malady." 
 
 " These are calculations which your enemies make 
 as closely as your Eminence," said the priest, who began 
 to be annoyed with this conversation, and was eager to 
 proceed to other matters. 
 
 The color mounted to the cardinal's face.
 
 106 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 " I know it ! 1 know it well ! " he said ; " I know all 
 their black villany, and 1 am prepared for it. But what 
 then is there new ? " 
 
 "According to our arrangement, my Lord, we have 
 removed Mademoiselle d'Hautefort, as Mademoiselle de 
 la Fayette before her. So far it is well ; but her place is 
 not supplied, and the king " 
 
 " Well ! " 
 
 " The king has ideas which he never had before." 
 
 " Hah ! and which proceed not from me ? 'T is well, 
 truly," said the minister, with an angry sneer. 
 
 " Why, then, my Lord, leave the place of the favorite 
 vacant for six whole days ? It is not prudent ; pardon 
 me for saying so." 
 
 " He has ideas, ideas ! " repeated Richelieu, with a 
 kind of terror ; " and what are they ? " 
 
 " He talks of recalling the queen-mother," said the 
 Capuchin, in a low voice ; " of recalling her from 
 Cologne." 
 
 " Marie de Mddicis ! " cried the cardinal, striking the 
 arms of his chair with his two hands. " No, by Heaven, 
 she shall not again set her foot upon the soil of France, 
 whence I drove her, step by step ! England has not 
 dared to receive her, exiled by me ; Holland fears to 
 be crushed by her ; and my kingdom to receive her ! 
 No, no, such an idea could not have originated with 
 himself ! Recall my enemy ! recall his mother ! what 
 perfidy ! he would not have dared to think of it." 
 
 Then, having mused for a moment, he added, fixing 
 a penetrating look still full of fiery anger upon Father 
 Joseph,
 
 THE CABINET. 107 
 
 " But iii what terms did he express this desire ? 
 Tell me the exact words." 
 
 " He said publicly, and in the presence of Monsieur, 
 ' I feel that one of the first duties of a Christian is to 
 be a good son, and I will not resist the murmurs of 
 my conscience.'" 
 
 " Christian ! conscience ! these are not his expres- 
 sions. It is Father Caussin ; it is his confessor who is 
 betraying me," cried the cardinal. " Perfidious Jesuit ! 
 I pardoned thee thy intrigue with La Fayette ; but 1 
 will not pass over thy secret counsels. I will have this 
 confessor dismissed, Joseph ; he is an enemy to the 
 State, I see it clearly. But I myself have acted with 
 negligence for some days past; I have not sufficiently 
 hastened the arrival of the young D'Effiat, who will 
 doubtless succeed. He is handsome and intellectual, 
 they say. What a blunder ! I myself merit disgrace. 
 To leave that fox of a Jesuit with the king, without 
 having given him my secret instructions, without a 
 hostage, a pledge for his fidelity to my orders ! What 
 neglect ! Joseph, take a pen, and write what I shall 
 dictate for the other confessor, whom we will choose 
 better. I think of Father Sirmond." 
 
 Father Joseph sat down at the large table, ready to 
 write, and the cardinal dictated to him those duties of a 
 new kind, which shortly afterwards he dared to have 
 given to the king, who received them, respected them, 
 and learned them by heart as the commandments of 
 the Church. They have come down to us, a painful 
 monument of the empire that a man may seize upon 
 by means of circumstances, intrigues, and audacity:
 
 108 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 "LA prince should have a prime minister, and that min- 
 ister three qualities : (1) He should have no passion but for 
 his prince ; (2) He should be able and faithful ; (3) He 
 should be an ecclesiastic. 
 
 "II. A prince ought perfectly to love his prime minister. 
 
 " III. Ought never to change his prime minister. 
 
 " IV. Ought to tell him all things. 
 
 " V. To give him free access to his person. 
 
 " VI. To give him sovereign authority over his people. 
 
 " VII. Great honors and large possessions. 
 
 " VIII. A prince has no treasure more precious than his 
 prime minister. 
 
 "IX. A prince should not put faith in what people sa}- 
 against his prime minister, nor listen to any such slanders. 
 
 " X. A prince should reveal to his prime minister all that 
 is said against him, even though he has been bound to keep 
 it secret. 
 
 "XI. A prince should prefer not only the well-being of 
 the State, but also his prime minister, to all his relations." 
 
 Such were the commandments of the god of France, 
 even less astonishing in themselves than the terrible 
 naivet which made him bequeath them to posterity, 
 as if posterity also were to believe in him. 
 
 While he dictated his instructions, reading them 
 from a small piece of paper, written with his own hand, 
 a profound melancholy seemed to gain possession of 
 him more and more at each successive word ; and when 
 he had ended, he fell back in his chair, his arms crossed, 
 and his head sunk on his breast. 
 
 Father Joseph, quitting his pen, arose and was inquir- 
 ing whether he were ill, when he heard issue from the 
 depths of his chest these mournful and memorable 
 words,
 
 THE CABINET. 109 
 
 " What utter weariness ! what endless disgust ! If 
 the ambitious man could see me, he would flee to a 
 desert. What is my power? A miserable reflection 
 of the royal power; and what labors to fix upon my 
 star that incessantly wavering ray ! For twenty years 
 I have been in vain attempting it. I cannot compre- 
 hend that man. He dare not flee me ; but they take 
 him from me, he glides through my fingers. What 
 things could I not have done with his hereditary rights, 
 had I possessed them ? But employing such infinite 
 calculation in merely keeping one's balance, what of 
 genius remains for high enterprises ? I hold Europe 
 in my hand, and I myself am suspended by a trembling 
 hair. What is it to me that I can cast my eyes confi- 
 dently over the map of Europe, when all my interests 
 are concentred in his narrow cabinet, and its few feet 
 of space give me more trouble to govern than the whole 
 country besides ? See then what is a prime minister ! 
 Envy me my guards, if ye can." 
 
 His features were so contorted as to give reason to 
 fear some accident; and at the same moment he was 
 seized with a long and violent fit of coughing, which 
 ended in a slight expectoration of blood. He saw that 
 Father Joseph, alarmed, was going to seize a gold bell 
 that stood on the table, and suddenly rising with all 
 the vigor of a young man, he stopped him, saying, 
 
 " 'T is nothing, Joseph ; I sometimes give way to these 
 fits of depression ; but they do not last long, and I quit 
 them stronger than before they came on. As for my 
 health, I know perfectly how I stand ; but that is not 
 the business in hand. What have you done at Paris ?
 
 110 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 I am glad to find the king has arrived in Be'arn, as I 
 wished him ; we shall be able to keep a closer eye upon 
 him. By what inducement did you get him away ?" 
 
 " A battle at Perpignan." 
 
 " Come, that is not bad. Well, we can arrange that 
 for him ; the occupation will do as well as another just 
 now. But the young queen, the young queen, what says 
 she?" 
 
 " She is still furious against you ; her correspondence 
 discovered, the questioning to which you had subjected 
 her " 
 
 " Bah ! a madrigal and a momentary submission will 
 make her forget that I have separated her from her 
 house of Austria and from the country of her Bucking- 
 ham. But what does she occupy herself with ? " 
 
 " Machinations with Monsieur. But as we have his 
 entire confidence, here are the daily accounts of their 
 interviews." 
 
 " I shall not trouble myself to read them ; while the 
 Due de Bouillon remains in Italy, I have nothing to 
 fear in that quarter. She may have as many petty plots 
 with Gaston in the chimney corner as she pleases ; he 
 never got beyond his excellent intentions, forsooth. He 
 carries nothing into effect but his withdrawal from the 
 kingdom. He has had his third now, I will manage a 
 fourth for him whenever he pleases; he is not worth 
 the pistol-shot you had the Comte de Soissons settled 
 with, and yet the poor comte had scarce more energy 
 than he." 
 
 And the cardinal, reseating himself in his chair, began 
 to laugh gayly enough for a statesman.
 
 THE CABINET. Ill 
 
 " I always laugh when I think of their expedition to 
 Amiens. They had me between them. Each had full 
 five hundred gentlemen with him, armed to the teeth, 
 and all going to despatch me, like Concini ; but the big 
 Vitry was not there. They very quietly let me talk for 
 an hour with them about the hunt and the Fete Dieu, 
 and neither of them dared make a sign to their cut- 
 throats. I have since learned from Chavigny that for two 
 long months had they been waiting that happy moment. 
 For myself, indeed, I observed nothing of it, except that 
 little villain, the Abbe" de Gondi, 1 who prowled near me, 
 and seemed to have something hidden under his sleeve ; 
 it was he that made me get into the coach." 
 
 " Apropos of the abbe*, my Lord, the queen insists upon 
 making him coadjutor." 
 
 " She 's mad ! he will ruin her if she connects herself 
 with him ; he 's a musketeer in canonicals, the Devil in 
 a cassock. Read his * Histoire de Fiesque ; ' you may 
 see himself in it. He will be nothing while I live." 
 
 " How is it that with a judgment like yours you 
 bring another ambitious man of his age to court ? " 
 
 " It is an entirely different matter. This young Cinq- 
 Mars, my friend, will be a puppet, a mere puppet. He 
 will think of nothing but his ruff and his shoulder- 
 knots ; his handsome figure assures me of this. I know 
 that he is gentle and infirm of purpose ; it was for this 
 reason I preferred him to his elder brother. He will do 
 all we wish." 
 
 " Ah, my Lord," said the monk, with an expression of 
 doubt, "I never place much reliance on people whose 
 
 1 Afterwards the Cardinal de Retz.
 
 112 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 exterior is so calm ; the flame within is often all the 
 more dangerous. Recollect the Marechal d'Effiat, his 
 father." 
 
 " But I tell you he is a boy, and I shall bring him up ; 
 while Gondi is already an accomplished conspirator, an 
 ambitious knave who sticks at nothing. He has dared to 
 dispute Madame de la Meilleraie with me. Can you con- 
 ceive it ? He dispute with me ! A petty priestling, who 
 has no other merit than a little lively tittle-tattle and 
 a cavalier air. Fortunately, the husband himself took 
 care to get rid of him." 
 
 Father Joseph, who listened with equal impatience to 
 his master when he spoke of his bonnes fortunes and 
 when he talked of his verses, made, however, a grimace 
 which he meant to be very sly and insinuating, but 
 which was simply unsightly and awkward ; he fancied 
 that the expression of his mouth, twisted about like a 
 monkey's, conveyed, " Ah ! who can resist your Emi- 
 nence ? " But his Eminence only read there, " I am a 
 clownish pedant who knows nothing of the great world.; " 
 and without changing his voice, he suddenly said, taking 
 up a despatch from the table, 
 
 " The Due de Rohan is dead, that is good news ; the 
 Huguenots are ruined. He 's a lucky man. 1 had him 
 condemned by the parliament of Toulouse to be torn in 
 pieces by four horses, and here he dies quietly on the 
 battle-field of Rhinfeld. But what matters ? The result 
 is the same. There's another great head laid low! 
 How they have fallen since that of Montmorency ! 1 
 now scarcely see any that do not bow before me. We 
 have already punished almost all our dupes of Versailles ;
 
 THE CABINET. 113 
 
 assuredly they have nothing wherewith to reproach ine. 
 I simply exercise against them the law of retaliation, 
 treating them as they would have treated me in the 
 council of the queen-mother. The old dotard Bassom- 
 pierre shall he quit for perpetual imprisonment, and so 
 shall the assassin Marechal de Vitry, for that was the 
 punishment they voted me. As for Marillac, who coun- 
 selled death, I reserve death for him at the first false step 
 he makes, and I beg thee, Joseph, to remind me of him ; 
 we must be just to all. There 's the Due de Bouillon still 
 keeps up his head proudly on account of his Sedan, but 
 I '11 make him give wav. Their blindness is trulv mar- 
 
 o / / 
 
 vellous ! They think themselves all free to conspire, 
 not perceiving that they are merely fluttering at the 
 end of the threads that J hold in my hand, and which 
 I lengthen now and then to give them air and space. 
 Did the Huguenots yell as one man at the death of 
 their dear due ? " 
 
 " Less so than at the affair of Loudun, which is 
 happily concluded." 
 
 " How ! happily ? I hope that Grandier is dead ? " 
 
 " Yes ; that is what I meant. Your Eminence may 
 be fully satisfied. All was settled in twenty-four hours, 
 he is no longer thought of. Only Laubardemont com- 
 mitted a slight blunder in making the sitting public. 
 This caused a little tumult ; but we have a description of 
 the rioters, and measures are taken to seek them out." 
 
 " This is well, very well. Urbain was too superior a 
 man to be left there ; he was turning Protestant. I 
 would bet that he would have ended by abjuring. His 
 work against the celibacy of priests made me conjecture 
 
 VOL. I. 8
 
 114 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 this ; and in cases of dcubt, remember, Joseph, it is 
 always best to cut the tree before the fruit is gathered. 
 These Huguenots, you see, are a regular republic in the 
 State. If once they had a majority in France, the mon- 
 archy would be lost ; they would establish some popular 
 government which might be durable." 
 
 " And what deep pain do they daily cause our holy 
 Father the Pope!" said Joseph. 
 
 " Ah," interrupted the cardinal, " I see ; thou wouldst 
 remind me of his obstinacy in not giving thee the hat. 
 Be tranquil ; I will speak to-day on the subject to the 
 new ambassador we are sending, the Mare*chal d'Estre'es, 
 and he will, on his arrival, doubtless obtain that which 
 has been in train these two years, thy nomination to the 
 cardinalate. t myself begin to think that the purple 
 would become thee well, for it does not show blood- 
 stains." 
 
 And both burst into laughter, the -one as a master, 
 overwhelming the assassin whom he pays with his utter 
 scorn, the other as a slave resigned to all the humilia- 
 tions by which he rises. 
 
 The laughter which the ferocious pleasantry of the 
 old minister had excited had scarce subsided, when the 
 door of the cabinet opened, and a page announced several 
 couriers who had arrived simultaneously from different 
 points ; Father Joseph arose, and standing, his back 
 leaning against the wall like an Egyptian mummy, 
 allowed nothing to appear upon his face but a stolid 
 contemplation. Twelve messengers entered successively, 
 attired in various disguises ; one seemed a Swiss soldier, 
 another a sutler, a third a master-mason. They were
 
 RICHELIEU AND JOSEPH
 
 THE CABINET. 115 
 
 introduced into the palace by a secret staircase and 
 corridor, and left the cabinet by a door opposite that at 
 which they had entered, without any opportunity of 
 meeting one another or communicating aught of their 
 despatches. Each laid a rolled or folded packet of pa- 
 pers on the large table, spoke for a moment with the 
 cardinal in the embrasure of a window, and withdrew. 
 Richelieu had risen on the entrance of the first mes- 
 senger, and, careful to do all himself, had received them 
 all, listened to all, and with his own hand closed the 
 door upon all. When the last was gone, he signed to 
 Father Joseph, and without speaking, both proceeded to 
 open, or rather to tear open, the packets of despatches, 
 and in a few words communicated to one another the 
 substance of the letters. 
 
 " The Due de Weimar pursues his advantage ; the 
 Due Charles is defeated. Our general is in good spirits ; 
 here are some of his exhilarant remarks at table. 
 Good ! " 
 
 " Monseigneur le Vicomte de Turenne has retaken 
 the towns of Lorraine ; and here are his private con- 
 versations " 
 
 " Oh ! pass over them ; they cannot be dangerous. He 
 is ever a good and honest man, in no way mixing him- 
 self up with politics : so that he be given a little army 
 to play at chess with, no matter against whom, he is 
 content. We shall always be very good friends." 
 
 " The Long Parliament still endures in England. The 
 Commons pursue their project ; here are massacres in 
 Ireland. The Earl of Straff ord is condemned to 
 death."
 
 116 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 " To death ! horrible ! " 
 
 " I will read : ' His Majesty Charles I. has not had the 
 courage to sign the sentence, but he has appointed four 
 commissioners.' " 
 
 . " Weak king, I abandon thee. Thou shalt have no 
 more of our money. Fall, since thou art ungrateful ! 
 Unhappy Wentworth ! " 
 
 A tear rose in the eyes of Richelieu as he said this ; 
 the man who had but just played with the lives of so 
 many others wept for a minister abandoned by his 
 prince. The relation between that position and his own 
 affected him, and it was himself he wept in the person 
 of the foreign minister. He ceased to read aloud the 
 despatches that he opened, and his confidant followed 
 his example. He examined with scrupulous attention 
 the detailed accounts of the most minute and most secret 
 actions of each person of any importance, accounts 
 which he always required to be added to the official 
 despatches, by his able spies. The despatches to the 
 king all passed through his hands, and were carefully 
 revised so as to reach the king amended to the state in 
 which he wished him to read them. The private notes 
 were all carefully burned by the morik when the car- 
 dinal had ascertained their contents. The latter, how- 
 ever, seemed by no means satisfied, and he was walking 
 quickly up and down the apartment with gestures ex- 
 pressive of anxiety, when the door opened, and a thir- 
 teenth courier entered. This one seemed a boy of 
 scarce fourteen ; he held under his arm a packet sealed 
 with black for the king, and gave to the cardinal only a 
 small letter, of which a stolen glance from Joseph could
 
 THE CABINET. 117 
 
 collect but four words. The due started, tore the billet 
 into a thousand pieces, and bending down to the ear of 
 the boy, spoke to him for a long time ; all that Joseph 
 heard was, as the messenger went out : 
 
 " Take good heed to this ; not until twelve hours from 
 this time" 
 
 During this aside of the cardinal, Joseph was occupied 
 in concealing an infinite number of libels from Flanders 
 and Germany, which the minister ever insisted upon 
 seeing, however bitter they might be to him. In this 
 respect, he affected a philosophy which he was far from 
 possessing, and to deceive those around him he would 
 sometimes pretend that his enemies were not wholly 
 wrong, and would outwardly laugh at their pleasantries ; 
 but those who knew his character better detected bitter 
 rage lurking under this apparent moderation, and knew 
 that he was never satisfied until he had got the hostile 
 book condemned by the parliament to be burned in the 
 Place de Greve, as " injurious to the king, in the person 
 of his minister, the most illustrious cardinal," as we 
 read in the decrees of the time, and that his only regret 
 was that the author was not in the place of his book, 
 a satisfaction he gave himself whenever he could, as in 
 the case of Urbain Grandier. 
 
 It was his colossal pride which he thus avenged, without 
 avowing it even to himself, nay, laboring for a length 
 of time, sometimes for a whole twelvemonth together, to 
 persuade himself that the interest of the State was con- 
 cerned in the matter. Ingenious in connecting his pri- 
 vate affairs with the affairs of France, he had convinced 
 himself that she bled from the wounds which he re-
 
 118 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 ceived. Joseph, careful not to irritate his ill temper at 
 this moment, put aside and concealed a book, entitled, 
 "Mysteries Politiques du Cardinal de la Rochelle;" 
 also another, attributed to a monk of Munich, entitled, 
 " Questions quolibetiques, ajuste'es au temps present, et 
 Impie'td Sanglante du dicu Mars." The worthy advocate 
 Aubery, who has given us one of the most faithful his- 
 tories of the most eminent cardinal, is transported with 
 rage at the mere title of the first of these books, and 
 
 D ' 
 
 exclaims that " the great minister had good reason to 
 glorify himself that his enemies, inspired against their 
 will with the same enthusiasm which conferred the gift 
 of rendering oracles upon the ass of Balaam, upon Caia- 
 phas and others, who seemed most unworthy of the gift 
 of prophecy, called him with good reason Cardinal de 
 la Rochelle, since three years after their writing he re- 
 duced that town ; thus Scipio was called Africanus for 
 having subjugated that PROVINCE ! " Very little was 
 wanting to make Father Joseph, who had necessarily 
 the same feelings, express his indignation in the same 
 terms ; for he remembered with bitterness the ridicu- 
 lous part he had played in the siege of Rochelle, which, 
 though not a province like Africa, had ventured to resist 
 the most eminent cardinal, and into which Father Joseph, 
 piquing himself on his military skill, had proposed to 
 introduce the troops through a sewer. However, he re- 
 strained himself, and had time to Conceal the libel in 
 the pocket of his brown robe ere the minister had dis- 
 missed his young courier, and returned to the table. 
 
 " And now to depart, Joseph," he said. " Open the 
 doors to all that court which besieges me, and let us go
 
 THE CABINET. 119 
 
 to the king, who awaits me at Perpignan ; this time I 
 have him for good." 
 
 The Capuchin drew back, and immediately the pages, 
 throwing open the gilded doors, announced in succession 
 the greatest lords of the period, who had obtained per- 
 mission from the king to come and salute the minister. 
 Some, even, under the pretext of sickness or business 
 had departed secretly, in order not to be among the last 
 at Richelieu's levee ; and the unhappy monarch found 
 himself almost as alone as other kings find themselves 
 on their death-beds. But with him, the throne seemed, 
 in the eyes of the court, his dying couch, his reign a 
 continual last agony, and his minister a threatening- 
 successor. 
 
 Two pages, of the first families of France, stood at the 
 door, where the ushers announced each of the persons 
 whom Father Joseph had found in the anteroom. The 
 cardinal, still seated in his great armchair, remained 
 motionless as the common courtiers entered, inclined 
 his head to the most distinguished, and to princes alone 
 put his hands on the elbows of his chair and slightly 
 rose ; each person, having profoundly saluted him, stood 
 before him near the fireplace, waited till he had spoken 
 to him, and then, at the motion of his hand, completed 
 the circle of the room, and went out by the same door 
 at which he had entered, paused for a moment to salute 
 Father Joseph, who aped his master, and who for that 
 reason had been named his Gray Eminence, and at last 
 quitted the palace, unless, indeed, he remained standing 
 behind the chair, at the minister's intimation to that 
 effect, which was considered a token of very great favor.
 
 1-0 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 He let pass several insignificant persons, and many 
 whose merits were useless to him ; the first whom he 
 stopped in the procession was the Mardchal d'Estre"es, 
 who, then about to set out on an embassy to Rome, came 
 to make his adieux ; all behind him stopped short. This 
 circumstance gave notice to the anteroom that a longer 
 conversation than usual was on foot, and Father Joseph, 
 advancing to the threshold, exchanged with the cardinal 
 a glance which seemed to say, on the one side, " Re- 
 member the promise you just made me," on the other, 
 " Set your mind at rest." At the same time, the expert 
 Capuchin let his master see that he held upon his arm 
 one of his victims, whom he was forming into a docile 
 instrument ; this was a young gentleman who wore a 
 very short green cloak, a pourpoint of the same color, 
 close-fitting red breeches, with glittering gold garters 
 below the knee, the costume of the pages of Mon- 
 sieur. Father Joseph, indeed, spoke to him secretly, 
 but not in the way the cardinal imagined ; for he con- 
 templated being his equal, and was preparing other 
 connections, in case of defection on the part of the 
 prime minister. 
 
 " Tell Monsieur not to trust in appearances, and that 
 he has no servant more faithful than I. The cardinal 
 is on the decline, and my conscience tells me to warn 
 against his faults him who may inherit the royal power 
 during the minority. To give your, great prince a proof 
 of my faith, tell him that it is intended to arrest his 
 friend, Puy-Laurens, and that he had better be kept 
 out of the way, or the cardinal will put him in the 
 Bastille."
 
 THE CABINET. 121 
 
 While the servant was thus betraying his master, 
 the master, not to be behindhand with him, betrayed 
 his servant. His self-love, and some remnant of re- 
 spect to the Church, made him shudder at the idea of 
 seeing a contemptible agent invested with the same 
 hat which he himself wore as a crown, and seated as 
 high as himself, except as to the precarious position 
 of minister. Speaking, therefore, in an undertone to 
 the Mare"chal d'Estrees, he said, 
 
 "It is not necessary to importune Urban VIII. any 
 further in favor of the Capuchin you see yonder ; it is 
 enough that his Majesty has deigned to name him for 
 the cardinalate. One can readily conceive the repug- 
 nance, of his Holiness to clothe this mendicant in the 
 Roman purple.'* 
 
 Then passing on to general matters, he continued, 
 
 " Truly, I know not what can have cooled the holy 
 Father towards us ; what have we done that was not for 
 the glory of our holy Mother, the Catholic Church ? I 
 myself said the first mass at Rochelle, and you see for 
 yourself, M. le Mare'chal, that our habit is everywhere ; 
 and even in your armies, the Cardinal de la Vallette 
 has commanded gloriously in the palatinate." 
 
 "And has just made a very fine retreat" said the 
 marechal, laying a slight emphasis upon the word. 
 
 The minister continued, without paying any attention 
 to this little ebullition of professional jealousy, and 
 raising his voice, said, 
 
 " God has proved that he did not scorn to send the 
 spirit of victory upon his Levites, for the Due de 
 Weimar did not more powerfully aid in the conquest
 
 122 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 of Lorraine than did this pious cardinal, and never was 
 a naval army better commanded than by our Archbishop 
 of Bordeaux at Rochelle." 
 
 It was well known that at this very moment the minis- 
 ter was incensed against this prelate, whose haughtiness 
 was so overbearing, and whose impertinent ebullitions 
 were so frequent as to have involved him in two very 
 disagreeable affairs at Bordeaux. Four years before, 
 the Due d'Epernon, then governor of Guyenne, fol- 
 lowed by all his train and by his troops, meeting him 
 in the midst of his clergy in a procession, called him 
 an insolent fellow, and gave him two smart blows with 
 his cane; whereupon the archbishop excommunicated 
 him. And again, recently, despite this lesson, he had 
 quarrelled with the Mare'chal de Vitry, from whom he 
 had received " twenty blows with a cane or stick, which 
 you please" wrote the cardinal-due to the Cardinal de 
 la Vallette, " and I think he would like to excommunicate 
 all France." In fact, he did excommunicate the mare*- 
 chal's baton, remembering that in the former case the 
 pope had obliged the Due d'Epernon to ask his pardon ; 
 but M. Vitry, who had caused the Mare'chal d'Ancre to 
 be assassinated, stood too well at court for that, and the 
 archbishop, in addition to his beating, got well scolded 
 by the minister. 
 
 M. d'Estre'es thought, therefore, with tact, that there 
 might be some irony in the cardinal's manner of re- 
 ferring to the warlike talents of the archbishop, and 
 he answered with perfect sang-froid, 
 
 " It is true, my Lord, no one can say that 't was upon 
 the sea he was beaten."
 
 THE CABINET. 123 
 
 His Eminence could not restrain a smile at this ; but 
 seeing that the electrical effect of that smile had created 
 others in the hall, as well as whisperings and conjec- 
 tures, he immediately resumed his gravity, and familiarly 
 taking the marshal's arm, said , 
 
 " Come, come, M. 1'Ambassadeur, you are ready at 
 repartee. With you I should not fear Cardinal 
 Albornos, or all the Borgias in the world, or all the 
 efforts of their Spain with the holy Father." 
 
 Then, raising his voice, and looking round him, as 
 if addressing himself to the silent, and, so to speak, 
 captive assembly, he continued, 
 
 " I hope that we shall no more be reproached, as 
 formerly, for having formed an alliance with one of the 
 greatest men of our day ; but as Gustavus Adolphus is 
 dead, the Catholic king will no longer have any pretext 
 for soliciting the excommunication of the most Christian 
 king. How say you, my dear Lord ? " addressing himself 
 to the Cardinal de la Yallette, who now approached, 
 fortunately without having heard the late allusion to 
 himself. " M. d'Estre'es, remain near our chair ; we 
 have still many things to say to you, and you are not 
 one too many in our conversations, for we have no 
 secrets. Our policy is frank, and open to all men ; the 
 interest of his Majesty and of the State, nothing 
 more." 
 
 The mare'chal made a profound bow, fell back behind 
 the chair of the minister, and gave place to the Cardinal 
 de la Vallette, who, incessantly bowing and flattering and 
 swearing devotion and entire obedience to the cardinal, 
 as if to expiate the obduracy of his father the Due
 
 124 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 d'Epernon, received in return a few vague words, to no 
 meaning or purpose, the cardinal all the while looking 
 towards the door, to see who should follow. He had 
 even the mortification to find himself abruptly inter- 
 rupted by the minister, who cried at the most flattering 
 period of his honeyed discourse, 
 
 " Ah ! is that you at last, my dear Fabert ? How I 
 have longed to see you, to talk of the siege ! " 
 
 The general, with a brusque and awkward manner, 
 saluted the cardinal-generalissimo, and presented to him 
 the officers who had come from the camp with him. 
 He talked some time of the operations of the siege, and 
 the cardinal seemed, as it were, to be paying him court 
 now, in order to prepare him afterwards for receiving 
 his orders even on the field of battle ; he spoke to the 
 officers who accompanied him, calling them by their 
 names, and questioning them about the camp. 
 
 They all stood aside to make way for the Due d'An- 
 goul(;nie, that Valois, who, after having struggled 
 against Henri IV., now prostrated himself before 
 Richelieu. He solicited a command, having been only 
 third in rank at the siege of Rochelle. After him 
 came young Mazarin, ever supple and insinuating, but 
 already confident in his fortune. 
 
 The Due d'Halluin came after them ; the cardinal 
 broke off the compliments he was addressing to the 
 others, to utter in a loud voic^, 
 
 " M. le Due, I inform you with pleasure that the 
 king has made you a marshal of France ; you will 
 sign yourself Schomberg, will you not, at Leucate, 
 delivered, as we hope, by you ? But pardon me, here
 
 THE CABINET. 125 
 
 is M. de Montauron, who has doubtless something 
 important to communicate." 
 
 " Oh, no, my Lord, I would only say that the poor 
 young man whom you deigned to consider in your 
 service is dying of hunger." 
 
 " Pshaw ! at such a moment to speak of things like 
 this ! Your little Corneille will not write anything 
 good ; we have only seen the ' Cid ' and ' Les Horaces' 
 as yet. Let him work, let him work ; it is known that 
 he is in my service, and that is disagreeable. However, 
 since you interest yourself in the matter, I give him a 
 pension of five hundred crowns on my privy purse." 
 
 And the chancellor of the exchequer retired, charmed 
 with the liberality of the minister, and went home to 
 receive with great affability the dedication of " Cinna," 
 wherein the great Corneille compares his soul to that of 
 Augustus, and thanks him for having given alms a 
 quelques Muses. 
 
 The cardinal, vexed by this importunity, rose, ob- 
 serving that the day was advancing, and that it was 
 time to set out to visit the king. 
 
 At this moment, and as the greatest noblemen present 
 were offering their arms to aid him in walking, a man 
 in the robe of a referendary advanced towards him, 
 saluting him with a complacent and confident smile 
 which astonished all the people there, accustomed to 
 the great world, seeming as it did to say, " "We have 
 secret affairs together ; you shall see how agreeable he 
 makes himself to me. I am at home in his cabinet." 
 His heavy and awkward manner, however, betrayed a 
 very inferior being; it was Laubardemont.
 
 126 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 Richelieu knit his brows when he saw him before him, 
 and cast a glance at Joseph ; then turning towards those 
 who surrounded him, he said with bitter scorn, 
 
 " Is there some criminal about us to be apprehended ? 
 
 Then turning his back upon the utterly discomfited 
 Laubardemont, the cardinal left him redder than his 
 robe, and preceded by the crowd of personages who were 
 to escort him in carriages or on horseback, he descended 
 the great staircase of the palace. 
 
 All the people and authorities of Narbonne viewed 
 this royal departure with stupefaction. 
 
 The cardinal entered alone a spacious litter of a 
 square form, in which he was to travel to Perpignan, 
 his infirmities not permitting him to go in a coach, or to 
 perform the journey on horseback. This kind of moving 
 chamber contained a bed, a table, and a small chair for 
 the page who wrote or read for him. This machine, 
 covered with purple damask, was carried by eighteen 
 men, who were relieved at intervals of a league ; they 
 were selected from among his guards, and always per- 
 formed this service of honor with uncovered heads, 
 however hot or wet the weather might be. The Due 
 d'Angouleme, the Marshals de Schomberg and d'Estrees, 
 Fabert and other dignitaries, were on horseback beside 
 the litter ; after them, among the most forward were 
 observed Cardinal de la Vallette and Mazarin, with Cha- 
 vigny, and the Mare'chal de Vitry, anxious to avoid the 
 Bastille, with which it was said he was threatened. 
 
 Two coaches followed for the cardinal's secretaries, 
 physicians, and confessor ; then eight others, each with 
 four horses, for his gentlemen, and twenty-four mules for
 
 THE CABINET. 
 
 127 
 
 his luggage. Two hundred musketeers on foot marched 
 close after him, and his company of men-at-arms of the 
 guard and his light-horse, all of them gentlemen, rode 
 before and behind him on splendid horses. 
 
 Such was the equipage in which the prime minister 
 proceeded to Perpignan; the size of the litter often made 
 it necessary to enlarge the roads, and knock down the 
 walls of some of the towns and villages on the way, into 
 which it could not otherwise enter, " so that," say the 
 authors and manuscripts of the time, full of a sincere 
 admiration for all this luxury, " so that he seemed a 
 conqueror entering by the breach." We have sought in 
 vain with great care, in these manuscripts, for any ac- 
 count of proprietors or inhabitants of these houses so 
 making room for his passage who participated in this 
 admiration; but we have been unable to find any 
 mention of such.
 
 CHAPTER VIE. 
 
 THE INTERVIEW. 
 " Mon genie etonne tremble devant le sien." 
 
 THE pompous cortege of the cardinal stopped at the 
 entrance to the camp. All the troops under arms were 
 drawn up in the finest order ; and it was amid the sound 
 of cannon and the music of each regiment that the litter 
 traversed a long line of cavalry and infantry, formed 
 from the outermost tent to that of the minister, pitched 
 at some distance from the royal quarters, and which 
 its purple covering distinguished at a distance. Each 
 general of division obtained a nod or a word from the 
 cardinal, who at length reaching his tent and dismissing 
 his train shut himself in, waiting for the time to present 
 himself to the king. But, before him, every person of 
 his escort had repaired thither individually, and without 
 entering the royal abode, collected in the long galleries 
 covered with striped stuff, and arranged as became ave- 
 nues leading to the prince. The courtiers, walking in
 
 THE INTERVIEW. 129 
 
 groups, saluted one another and shook hands, regarding 
 each other haughtily, according to their connections or 
 the lords to whom they belonged. Others whispered to- 
 gether and gave signs of astonishment, pleasure, or anger, 
 which showed that something extraordinary had taken 
 place. Among a thousand others, one singular dialogue 
 occurred in a corner of the principal gallery. 
 
 " May I ask, M. TAbbe", why you look at me so 
 fixedly?" 
 
 "Parbleu! M. de Launay, 'tis because I'm curious to 
 see what you will do. All the world abandons your 
 cardinal-due since your journey into Touraine ; if you 
 do not believe it, go and ask the people of Monsieur or 
 of the queen. You are behindhand ten minutes by the 
 watch with the Cardinal de la Vallette, who has just 
 shaken hands with Rochefort and the gentlemen of the 
 late Comte de Soissons, whom I shall regret as long as 
 I live." . 
 
 "Well, M. de Gondi, I understand you; 'tis a chal- 
 lenge with which you honor me ? " 
 
 " Yes, M. le Comte," answered the young abbe, salut- 
 ing him with all the gravity of the time ; " I sought an 
 occasion to challenge you in the name of M. d'Attichi, 
 my friend, with whom you had something to do at 
 Paris." 
 
 " M. I'Abbe", I am at your command. I will seek my 
 seconds ; do you the same." 
 
 " On horseback, with sword and pistol, I suppose ? " 
 added Gondi, with the air of a man arranging a party 
 of pleasure, brushing the sleeve of his cassock with his 
 finger. 
 
 VOL. r. 9
 
 130 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 "If you please," replied the other. And they sepa- 
 rated for a time, saluting one another with the greatest 
 politeness, and with profound bows. 
 
 A brilliant crowd of gentlemen circulated around them 
 in the gallery. They mixed in it to procure friends for 
 the occasion. All the elegance of the costumes of the 
 day were displayed by the court that morning, small 
 cloaks of every color, in velvet or in satin, embroidered 
 with gold or silver ; crosses of Saint Michael and of the 
 Holy Ghost ; the ruffs, the infinite hat-plumes, the gold 
 shoulder-knots, the chains by which the long swords 
 hung: all glittered and sparkled, yet not so brilliantly 
 as did the fiery glances of those warlike youths, or their 
 sprightly conversation, or their intellectual laughter. 
 Amid the assembly, grave personages and great lords 
 passed on, followed by their numerous gentlemen. 
 
 The little Abbe" de Gondi, who was very short-sighted, 
 made his way through the crowd, knitting his brows 
 and half shutting his eyes, that he might see the better, 
 and twisting his mustache, for ecclesiastics wore them 
 in those days. He looked closely at every one in order 
 to recognize his friends, and at last stopped before a 
 young man, very tall and dressed in black from head to 
 foot ; his sword, even, was of quite dark bronzed steel. 
 He was talking with a captain of the guards, when the 
 Abb de Gondi took him aside. 
 
 " M. de Thou," said he, " I need you as my second in 
 an hour, on horseback, with sword and pistol, if you will 
 do me that honor." 
 
 " Sir, you know I am entirely at your service on all 
 occasions. Where shall we meet?"
 
 THE INTERVIEW. 131 
 
 " In front of the Spanish bastion, if you please." 
 
 "Pardon me for returning to a conversation that 
 greatly interests me. I will be punctual to the 
 rendezvous." 
 
 And De Thou quitted him to rejoin the captain. He 
 had said all this in the gentlest of voices with unalter- 
 able coolness, and even with somewhat of an abstracted 
 manner. 
 
 The little abb6 squeezed his hand with warm satisfac- 
 tion, and continued his search. 
 
 He did not so easily effect an agreement with the 
 young lords to whom he addressed himself; for they 
 knew him better than did De Thou, and when they saw 
 him coming at a distance, they tried to avoid him, or 
 laughed at him to his face, and would not engage to 
 serve him. 
 
 " Ah, Abbe* ! there you are hunting again ; I '11 engage 
 it's a second you want," said the Due de Beaufort. 
 
 " And I wager,'' added M. de la Rochefoucauld, " that 
 it 's against one of the cardinal-due's people." 
 
 " You are both right, gentlemen ; but since when 
 laugh you at affairs of honor?" 
 
 " The saints forbid I should," said M. de Beaufort. 
 " Men of the sword like us ever reverence tierce, quarte, 
 and octave ; but as for the folds of the cassock, I know 
 nothing of them." 
 
 " Pardieu ! sir, you know well enough that it does not 
 embarrass my wrist, as I will prove to him who choose ; 
 as to the gown itself, I should like to throw it into the 
 gutter." 
 
 "Is it then to tear it you fight so often?" asked
 
 132 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 La Rochefoucauld. "But remember, my dear abbe*, 
 that you are inside it." 
 
 Gondi turned round to look at the clock, anxious to 
 lose no more time in such sorry jests ; but he had no 
 better success elsewhere. Having stopped two gentlemen 
 in the service of the young queen, whom he thought 
 ill-affected towards the cardinal, and consequently glad 
 to measure swords with his creatures, one of them said 
 to him very gravely, 
 
 " M. de Gondi, you know what has just happened ; 
 the king has said aloud, ' Whether our imperious cardi- 
 nal please or no, the widow of Henri le Grand shall no 
 longer remain in exile.' Imperious ! the king never 
 before said anything so strong as that, M. PAbbe', mark 
 that. Imperious ! it is a clear disgrace. Assuredly no 
 one will venture to speak to him ; he will quit the court 
 this very day." 
 
 " I have heard this, sir, but I have an affair " 
 " It is lucky for you he stopped short in the middle of 
 your career." 
 
 " An affair of honor " 
 
 " Whereas Mazarin is quite a friend of yours." 
 " But will you, or will you not, listen to me ? " 
 " Ay, a friend indeed ! your adventures are always run- 
 ning in his head. Your fine duel with M. de Coutenan 
 about the pretty little pin-seller, he even spoke of it to' 
 the king. Adieu, my dear abbe*, we are in a great 
 hurry ; adieu, adieu ! " And taking his friend's arm, 
 the young banterer, without listening to another word, 
 rapidly walked down the gallery and disappeared in the 
 crowd.
 
 THE INTERVIEW. 133 
 
 The poor abb6 was standing very mortified at only 
 being -able to get one second, and watching grievously 
 the departure of the hour and of the crowd, when he 
 perceived a young gentleman whom he did not know, 
 seated at a table, leaning on his elbow with a melan- 
 choly air ; he wore mourning which indicated no con- 
 nection with any great house or party, and seeming to 
 await, without any impatience, the time for attending the 
 king, looked with a heedless air at those who surrounded 
 him, seeming not to notice or to know any of them. 
 
 Gondi accosted him without hesitation : 
 
 "Faith, sir, I have not the honor of your acquain- 
 tance, but a fencing party can never be unpleasant to a 
 man of honor ; and if you will be my second, in a quar- 
 ter of an hour we shall be on the ground. I am Paul de 
 Gondi ; and I have challenged M. de Launay, one of the 
 cardinal's faction, but in other respects a very gallant 
 fellow." 
 
 The unknown, seeming in no way surprised at this 
 address, answered without altering his position, " And 
 who are his seconds ? " 
 
 "Faith, I don't know; but what matters it who sec- 
 onds him ? We stand no worse with our friends for 
 having exchanged a thrust with them." 
 
 The stranger smiled carelessly, paused for an instant 
 to pass his hand through his long chestnut hair, and 
 then said, drowsily looking at a large round watch which 
 hung at his girdle, 
 
 " Well, sir, as I have nothing better to do, and as I 
 have no friends here, I am with you ; 't will pass the 
 time as well as anything else."
 
 134 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 And taking his large black plumed hat off the table, 
 he followed the warlike abbe", who hurried on before 
 him, ever and anon running back to hasten him on, like 
 a child running before his father, or a young dog that 
 goes backwards and forwards twenty times before it gets 
 to the end of a lane. 
 
 Meanwhile, two ushers, clothed in the royal livery, 
 opened the great curtains which separated the gallery 
 from the king's tent, and silence became universal. The 
 courtiers began to enter slowly, and in succession, the 
 temporary dwelling of the prince. He received them all 
 gracefully, and himself first met the view of each person 
 introduced. 
 
 Before a very small table surrounded with gilt arm- 
 chairs stood Louis XIIL, encircled by the great officers 
 of the crown. His dress was very elegant : a kind of 
 fawn-colored vest, with open sleeves, ornamented with 
 shoulder-knots and blue ribbons, covered him down to 
 the waist. Wide breeches reached only to above the 
 knee, and the yellow and red striped stuff of which they 
 were composed was ornamented below with blue ribbons. 
 His boots a VScuyere, reaching scarcely more than three 
 inches above his ankle, were turned down with such a 
 profusion of lace that they seemed to hold it as a vase 
 holds flowers. A small mantle of blue velvet, on which 
 was embroidered the cross of the Holy Ghost, covered 
 the king's left arm, which rested on the hilt of his 
 sword. 
 
 His head was uncovered, and his pale and noble face 
 was perfectly visible, lighted up by the sun, which pene- 
 trated through the top of the tent. The small pointed
 
 THE INTERVIEW. 135 
 
 beard then worn aggravated the thinness of his face, 
 while it added to its melancholy expression ; by his lofty 
 brow, his classical profile, his aquiline nose, was at once 
 recognized a prince of the great race of Bourbon. He 
 had all the characteristic traits of his ancestors except 
 their potent glance ; his eyes seemed red with tears, and 
 veiled with a perpetual sleep ; and the weakness of his 
 sight gave him a somewhat vacant look. 
 
 On this occasion, he ostentatiously called around him 
 and was attentive to the greatest enemies of the cardinal, 
 whom he expected every moment ; and balancing himself 
 with one foot over the other, an hereditary habit of his 
 family, he spoke quickly, but stopping from time to time 
 to make a gracious inclination of the head, or a gesture 
 of the hand, to those who passed before him with low 
 bows. 
 
 The court had been thus paying its respects to the 
 king for two hours ere the cardinal appeared ; the whole 
 court was collected in close ranks behind the prince, 
 and in the long galleries which extended from his tent. 
 Already a longer interval began to elapse between the 
 names of the courtiers who were announced. 
 
 " Shall we not see our cousin the cardinal ? " said 
 the king, turning round, and looking at Montresor, 
 one of Monsieur's gentlemen, as if to encourage him 
 to answer. 
 
 " He is said to be very ill just now, Sire," was the 
 answer. 
 
 " And yet I do not see how any but your Majesty can 
 cure him," said the Due de Beaufort. 
 
 " We cure nothing but the evil," replied Louis ; " and
 
 136 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 the complaints of the cardinal are always so mysterious 
 that we own we cannot at all understand them." 
 
 The prince thus essayed to brave his minister before- 
 hand, gaining strength in jests, the better to break his 
 yoke, so insupportable but so difficult to remove. He 
 almost thought he had succeeded in this, and, supported 
 by the joyous air of all who surrounded him, he already 
 inwardly congratulated himself on having been able to 
 assume the supreme empire, and for the moment enjoyed 
 all the power he thought himself possessed of. An in- 
 voluntary agitation in the depth of his heart had warned 
 him indeed that, the hour passed, all the weight of the 
 State would fall upon himself alone ; but he talked in 
 order to divert the troublesome thought, and concealing 
 from himself the firm assurance he had of his own in- 
 ability to reign, he set his imagination to work upon the 
 result of his enterprises, thus forcing himself to forget 
 the tedious roads which led to them. Rapid sentences 
 succeeded one another on his lips. 
 
 " We shall soon take Perpignan," he said to Fabert, 
 who stood at some distance. 
 
 " Well, Cardinal, Lorraine is ours," he added to La 
 Vallette. Then touching Mazarin's arm, 
 
 " It is not so difficult to conduct a State as is sup- 
 posed, eh?" 
 
 The Italian, who was not so sure as most of the cour- 
 tiers of the cardinal's disgrace, answered without com- 
 promising himself, 
 
 " Ah, Sire, the late successes of your Majesty at home 
 and abroad manifest your skill in choosing your instru- 
 ments and in directing them, and "
 
 THE INTERVIEW. 137 
 
 But the Due de Beaufort, interrupting him with that 
 self-sufficiency, that loud voice and air, which subse- 
 quently procured him the surname of Important, cried 
 out vehemently, 
 
 " Pardieu ! Sire, it needs only to will. A nation is 
 driven like a horse, with spur and bridle ; and as we 
 are all good horsemen, there are plenty to choose 
 among." 
 
 This fine sally of the coxcomb due had not time to 
 take effect, for two ushers cried at the same moment, 
 " His Eminence ! " 
 
 The king reddened involuntarily, as if surprised en 
 flagrant delit. But immediately resuming confidence, 
 he put on an air of resolute haughtiness, which was not 
 lost upon the minister. 
 
 The latter, attired in all the pomp of a cardinal, lean- 
 ing upon two young pages, and followed by his captain 
 of the guards and more than five hundred gentlemen at- 
 tached to his house, advanced towards the king slowly 
 and stopping at each step, as if forcibly arrested by his 
 sufferings, but in reality to observe the faces before 
 him. A glance sufficed. 
 
 His suite remained at the entrance of the royal tent ; 
 of all those within it, not one was bold enough to salute 
 him, or to look towards him. Even La Vallette feigned 
 to be deeply occupied in a conversation with Montre'sor ; 
 and the king, who desired to give him an unfavorable re- 
 ception, greeted him lightly and continued a conversation 
 aside in a low voice with the Due de Beaufort. 
 
 The cardinal was therefore forced, after the first 
 salute, to stop and pass to the side of the crowd of
 
 138 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 courtiers, as though he wished to mix with them, but 
 in reality to test them more closely ; they all recoiled as 
 at the sight of a leper. Fabert alone advanced towards 
 him with the frank and blunt air habitual with him, 
 and making use of the terms belonging to his profession, 
 said, 
 
 " Well, my Lord, you make a breach in the midst of 
 them like a cannon-ball ; I ask pardon in their name." 
 
 "And you stand firm before me as before the enemy," 
 said the cardinal ; " you will have no cause to regret it 
 in the end, my dear Fabert." 
 
 Mazarin also approached the cardinal, but with cau- 
 tion, and giving to his flexible features an expression of 
 profound sadness, made him five or six very low bows, 
 turning his back to the group gathered round the king, 
 so that in the latter quarter they might be taken for 
 those cold and hasty salutations which are made to a 
 person one desires to be rid of, and, on the part of the 
 due, for tokens of respect, blended with a discreet and 
 silent sorrow. 
 
 The minister, ever calm, smiled in disdain ; and as- 
 suming that firm look and that air of grandeur which 
 he wore so perfectly in the hour of danger, he again 
 leaned upon his pages, and without waiting for a word 
 or glance from his sovereign, he suddenly resolved upon 
 his line of conduct, and walked directly towards him, 
 traversing the whole length of the tent. No one had 
 lost sight of him, although affecting not to observe him. 
 Every one now became silent, even those who were 
 talking to the king; all the courtiers bent forward to 
 see and to hear.
 
 THE INTERVIEW. 139 
 
 Louis XIII. turned round in astonishment, and all 
 presence of mind totally failing him, remained motion- 
 less, and waited with an icy glance, his sole force, but 
 a vis inertia} very effectual in a prince. 
 
 The cardinal, on coming close to the prince, did not 
 bow; and without changing his position, his eyes 
 lowered and his hands placed on the shoulders of the 
 two boys half bending, he said, 
 
 " Sire, I come to implore your Majesty at length to 
 grant me the retirement for which I have long sighed. 
 My health is failing; I feel that my life will soon be 
 ended. Eternity approaches me, and before rendering an 
 account to the eternal King, I would render one to my 
 temporal sovereign. It is eighteen years, Sire, since you 
 placed in my hands a weak and divided kingdom ; I 
 return it to you united and powerful. Your enemies 
 are overthrown and humiliated. My work is accom- 
 plished. I ask your Majesty's permission to retire to 
 Citeaux, of which 1 am abbot, and where I may end my 
 days in prayer and meditation." 
 
 The king, irritated with some haughty expressions in 
 this address, showed none of the signs of weakness 
 which the cardinal 'had expected, and which he had 
 always seen in him when he had threatened to resign 
 the management of affairs. On the contrary, feeling 
 that he had the eyes of the whole court upon him, Louis 
 looked upon him with the air of a king, and coldly 
 replied, 
 
 " We thank you, then, for your services, M. le 
 Cardinal, and wish you the repose you desire." 
 
 Richelieu was deeply angered, but no indication of his
 
 140 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 rage appeared upon his countenance. " Such was the 
 coldness with which you left Montmorency to die," 
 he said to himself ; " but you shall not escape me 
 thus." He then continued aloud, bowing at the same 
 time, 
 
 " The only recompense I ask for my services is that 
 your Majesty will deign to accept from me, as a gift, the 
 Palais-Cardinal \ have lately erected at my own cost in 
 Paris." 
 
 The king, astonished, bowed in token of assent. A 
 murmur of surprise for a moment agitated the attentive 
 court. 
 
 " I also petition your Majesty to grant me the revo- 
 cation of an act of rigor, which I solicited (I publicly 
 confess it), and which I perhaps regarded as too bene- 
 ficial to the repose of the State. Yes, when I was of 
 this world, I was too forgetful of my old sentiments of 
 personal respect and attachment, in my eagerness for 
 the public welfare ; now that I already enjoy the enlight- 
 enment of solitude, I see that I have been wrong, and I 
 repent." 
 
 The attention of the spectators was redoubled, and 
 the uneasiness of the king became visible. 
 
 " Yes, there is one person, Sire, whom I have always 
 loved, despite her wrongs towards you, and the banish- 
 ment which the affairs of the kingdom forced me to pro- 
 cure for her ; a person to whom I have owed much, and 
 who should be very dear to you, notwithstanding her 
 armed attempts against you ; a person, in a word, whom 
 I implore you to recall from exile, the queen Marie de 
 Me*dicis, your mother."
 
 THE INTERVIEW. 141 
 
 The king sent forth an involuntary exclamation, so 
 far was he from expecting to hear that name. A 
 repressed agitation suddenly appeared upon every face. 
 All awaited in silence the king's reply. Louis XIII. 
 looked for a long time at his old minister without speak- 
 ing, and this look decided the fate of France ; in that 
 instant, he called to mind all the indefatigable services 
 of Richelieu, his unbounded devotion, his wonderful 
 capacity, and was surprised at himself for having wished 
 to part with him. He felt deeply affected at this request, 
 which hunted out, as it were, the exact cause of his 
 anger at the bottom of his heart, rooted it up, and took 
 from his hands the only weapon he had against his old 
 servant; filial love brought the words of pardon to his 
 lips and tears into his eyes. Delighted to grant what he 
 desired most of all things in the world, he extended his 
 hand to the due with all the nobleness and kindliness of 
 a Bourbon. The cardinal bowed, and respectfully kissed 
 it ; and his heart, which should have burst with remorse, 
 only swelled in the joy of a haughty triumph. 
 
 The prince, much moved, abandoning his hand to 
 him, turned gracefully towards his court and said with 
 a tremulous voice, 
 
 " We often deceive ourselves, gentlemen, and espe- 
 cially in our knowledge of so great a politician as this ; 
 I hope he will never leave us, since his heart is as good 
 as his head." 
 
 Cardinal de la Vallette on the instant seized the arm 
 of the king's mantle, and kissed it with all the ardor 
 of a lover, and the young Mazarin did much the same 
 with Richelieu himself, assuming with admirable Italian
 
 142 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 suppleness an expression radiant with joyful emotion. 
 Two streams of flatterers hastened, one towards the 
 king, the other towards the minister ; the former group, 
 not less adroit than the second, although less direct, 
 addressed to the prince thanks which could be heard by 
 the minister, and burned at the feet of the one incense 
 which was destined for the other. As for Kichelieu, 
 bestowing a bow on the right and a smile on the left, 
 he stepped forward, and stood on the right hand of the 
 king, as his natural place. A stranger entering would 
 rather have thought, indeed, that it was the king who 
 was on the cardinal's left hand. The Mare'chal d'Es- 
 tre*es, all the ambassadors, the Due d'Angouleme, the 
 Due d'Halluin (Schomberg), the Marechal de Ch 3, till on, 
 and all the great officers of the crown, surrounded him, 
 each waiting impatiently for the compliments of the 
 others to be finished, in order to pay his own, fearing 
 lest some one else should anticipate him with the flatter- 
 ing epigram he had just improvised, or the turn of 
 adulation he was inventing. As for Fabert, he had 
 retired to a corner of the tent, and seemed to have paid 
 no particular attention to the scene. He was chatting 
 with Montre'sor and the gentlemen of Monsieur, all 
 sworn enemies of the cardinal, because, out of the crowd 
 he avoided, he had found none but these to speak to. 
 This conduct would have seemed extremely unskilful in 
 one less known ; but he was a man who, though living 
 in the midst of the court, was ever ignorant of its in- 
 trigues. It was said of him that he returned from a 
 battle he had gained, like the king's hunting horse, 
 leaving the dogs to caress their master and divide the
 
 THE INTERVIEW. 143 
 
 quarry, without seeking even to remember the part he 
 had had in the triumph. 
 
 The storm, then, seemed entirely appeased, and to 
 the violent agitations of the morning there succeeded a 
 gentle calm ; a respectful murmur, varied with pleasant 
 laughter and protestations of attachment, was all that 
 was heard in the tent. The voice of the cardinal arose 
 from time to time : " The dear queen ! We shall, then, 
 soon again see her ! I had never dared to hope such 
 happiness while I lived ! " The king listened to him 
 with full confidence, and did not attempt to conceal his 
 satisfaction. "It was assuredly an idea sent to him 
 from on high," he said ; " this good cardinal, against 
 whom they had so incensed me, was thinking only of 
 the union of my family. Since the birth of the dauphin 
 I have not tasted greater joy than at this moment. 
 The protection of the holy Virgin is manifested over 
 the kingdom." 
 
 At this moment, a captain of the guards came up and 
 whispered in the king's ear. 
 
 " A courier from Cologne ? " said the king ; " let him 
 wait in my cabinet." 
 
 Then, unable to restrain his impatience, " I come ! I 
 come ! " he said, and entered alone a small square tent 
 attached to the great one. In it was observed a young 
 courier holding a black portfolio, and the curtains closed 
 upon the king. 
 
 The cardinal, left sole master of the court, concen- 
 trated all its homage ; but it was observed that he no 
 longer received it with his former presence o mind. He 
 frequently inquired what time it was, and exhibited an
 
 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 anxiety clearly unfeigned ; his hard, unquiet glances 
 were cast towards the closet. It suddenly opened ; the 
 king appeared alone, and stopped on the threshold. He 
 was paler than usual, and trembled in every limb ; he 
 held in his hand a large letter with five black seals. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said he, with a loud but broken voice, 
 "the queen has just died at Cologne; and I perhaps am 
 not the first who have heard of it," he added, casting a 
 severe look towards the impassible cardinal, " but God 
 knows all. To horse in an hour, and attack the lines ! 
 Marshals, follow me." And he turned his back ab- 
 ruptly, and re-entered his cabinet with them. 
 
 The court retired after the minister, who, without 
 giving any sign of sorrow or annoyance, went forth as 
 gravely as he had entered, but now a victor. 
 
 *
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE SIEGE. 
 
 II papa, alzato le mane c fattomi un patente crocione sopra la mia 
 figura, mi disse, che mi benediva e che mi perdonava tutti gli omicidii 
 che io avevo mai fatti, et tutti quelli che mai io farei in servizio della 
 Chiesa apostolica. BENVENUTO CELLINI. 
 
 THERE are moments in our life when we long for vigor- 
 ous excitement to drown our petty griefs, times when 
 the soul, like the lion in the fable, wearied with the con- 
 tinual attacks of the gnat, earnestly desires a mightier 
 enemy and real dangers. Cinq-Mars experienced this 
 condition of mind, which always results from a morbid 
 sensibility in the organic constitution and a perpetual 
 agitation of the heart. Weary of constantly turning over 
 in his thoughts a combination of the events which he 
 desired, and of those which he dreaded ; of calculating 
 his chances to the best of his power ; of summoning to 
 his assistance all that his education had taught him con- 
 cerning the lives of illustrious men, in order to parallel 
 it with his present situation ; oppressed by his regrets, 
 
 VOL. I. 10
 
 146 CINQ-MARS, 
 
 his dreams, predictions, fancies, and all that imaginary 
 world in which he had existed during his solitary jour- 
 ney, he breathed freely upon finding himself thrown 
 into a real world almost as full of agitation; and the 
 sensation of two actual dangers restored circulation to 
 his blood, and youth to all his being. 
 
 Since the nocturnal scene at the inn near Loudun, he 
 had not been able to resume sufficient empire over his 
 mind to occupy himself with anything save his beloved 
 though mournful reflections ; and consumption was al- 
 ready threatening his frame, when happily he arrived at 
 the camp of Perpignan, and happily also had the oppor- 
 tunity of accepting the proposition of the Abbe" de Gondi, 
 for the reader has no doubt recognized Cinq-Mars 
 in the person of that young stranger in mourning, so 
 indifferent and so melancholy, whom the duellist in the 
 cassock took for his second. 
 
 He had ordered his tent to be pitched as a volunteer 
 in the street of the camp assigned to the young noble- 
 men who were to be presented to the king and were to 
 serve as aides-de-camp to the generals ; he soon repaired 
 thither, and was quickly armed, horsed, and cuirassed, 
 according to the custom of the time, and proceeded alone 
 to the Spanish bastion, the place of rendezvous. He 
 was there first, and found that a small plot of turf, 
 hidden among the works of the besieged place, had been 
 well chosen by the little abbe" for his homicidal purposes ; 
 for besides that no one would have suspected officers of 
 going to fight one another immediately beneath the town 
 which they were attacking, the body of the bastion sepa- 
 rated them from the French camp, and would conceal
 
 THE SIEGE. 147 
 
 them like an immense screen. It was well to take these 
 precautions, for at that time it cost a man his head to 
 give himself the satisfaction of hazarding his body. 
 
 While waiting for his friends and adversaries, Cinq- 
 Mars had time to examine the south side of Perpignan, 
 before which he stood. He had heard that these works 
 were not those which were to be attacked, and he tried 
 in vain to account for the besiegers' projects. Between 
 this southern face of the town, the mountains of Albe"re, 
 and the Col du Perthus, there might have been advanta- 
 geous lines of attack, and redoubts against the accessible 
 point ; but not a single soldier was stationed there. All 
 the forces seemed directed upon the north of Perpignan, 
 upon the most difficult side, against a brick fort called 
 the Castillet, which surmounted the gate of Notre-Dame. 
 He discovered that a piece of ground apparently marshy, 
 but really very solid, led up to the very foot of the Span- 
 ish bastion ; that this post was guarded with true Castil- 
 ian negligence, although its sole strength lay entirely in 
 its defenders, for its battlements, almost in ruin, were 
 furnished with four pieces of cannon of enormous calibre, 
 embedded in the turf, and thus rendered immovable, 
 and impo'&Sible to be directed against a troop advancing 
 rapidly to the foot of the wall. 
 
 It was easy to perceive that these enormous pieces 
 had discouraged the besiegers from attacking this point, 
 and kept the besieged from any idea of addition to its 
 means of defence. Thus, on the one side, the vedettes 
 and advanced posts were at a distance, and on the other, 
 the sentinels were few and ill supported. A young 
 Spaniard, carrying a long gun, with its rest suspended
 
 148 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 at his side and the burning match in his right hand, 
 who was walking with nonchalance upon the rampart, 
 stopped to look at Cinq-Mars, who was riding about the 
 ditches and moats. 
 
 " Senor caballero" said he, " are you going to take 
 the bastion by yourself on horseback, like Don Quixote, 
 Quixada de la Mancha ? " 
 
 And at the same time he detached from his side the 
 iron rest, planted it in the ground, and supported upon 
 it the barrel of his gun in order to take aim, when a 
 grave and older Spaniard, enveloped in a dirty brown 
 cloak, said to him in his own tongue, 
 
 "Ambrosio de Demonic, don't you know very well that 
 it is forbidden to throw away powder uselessly, before 
 sallies or attacks are made, merely to have the pleasure 
 of killing a child not worth your match ? It was in this 
 very place that Charles V. threw the sleeping sentinel 
 into the ditch and drowned him. Do your duty, or I will 
 follow his example." 
 
 Ambrosio replaced his gun upon his shoulder, his rest 
 at his side, and continued his walk upon the rampart. 
 
 Cinq-Mars had been little moved by this menacing 
 gesture, contenting himself with tightening the reins of 
 his horse and approaching the spurs to his sides, knowing 
 that with a single leap of the nimble animal he should 
 be carried behind the wall of a cabin which stood hard 
 by, and should then be sheltered from the Spanish fusil, 
 before the operation of the fork and match could be 
 completed. He knew too that a tacit convention be- 
 tween the two armies prohibited marksmen from firing 
 upon the sentinels ; each party would have regarded it as
 
 THE SIEGE
 
 THE SIEGE. 149 
 
 assassination. The soldier who had thus prepared him- 
 self for attacking Cinq-Mars must have been ignorant of 
 the understanding in this respect. Young P'Effiat there- 
 fore made no visible movement ; and when the sentinel 
 resumed his walk upon the rampart, he again betook 
 himself to his ride upon the turf, and presently saw five 
 cavaliers directing their course towards him. The two 
 first, who came on at full gallop, did not salute him, but 
 stopping close to him, leaped to the ground ; and he 
 found himself in the arms of the Counsellor de Thou, 
 who embraced him tender!}', while the little Abb de 
 Gondi, laughing with all his heart, cried, 
 
 " Behold another Orestes recovering his Pylades, and 
 at the moment of immolating a rogue who is not of the 
 family of the king of kings, I can tell you." 
 
 " What ! is it you, my dear Cinq-Mars ? " cried De 
 Thou ; " and I knew not of your arrival in the camp ! 
 Yes, it is indeed you ; I recognize you, although indeed 
 you are very pale. Have you been ill, my dear friend ? 
 I have often written to you j for my boyish friendship 
 has remained deep in my heart." 
 
 " And I," answered Henri d'Effiat, " I have been very 
 culpable towards you ; but I will relate to you all the 
 causes of my neglect. I can speak of them, but I was 
 ashamed to write them. But how good you are ! Your 
 friendship has never relaxed." 
 
 " I knew you too well." replied De Thou ; " I knew 
 that there could be no coldness between us, and that my 
 soul had its echo in yours." 
 
 With these words they embraced once more, their 
 eyes moist with those sweet tears which so seldom flow
 
 150 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 ill one's life, but with which it seems, nevertheless, that 
 the heart is always charged, so much ease do they give 
 in flowing. 
 
 This moment was short ; and during these few words, 
 Gondi had been constantly pulling them by the cloak, 
 saying, 
 
 " To horse ! to horse, gentlemen ! Pardieu ! you will 
 have time enough to embrace, if you are so affectionate ; 
 but do not delay. Let our first thought be to have done 
 with our good friends who are now coming. We are 
 in a precious position, with those three gaillards there 
 before us, the archers close by, and the Spaniards up 
 yonder ; we shall be under three fires." 
 
 He was still speaking, when De Launay, finding him- 
 self at about sixty paces from his opponents, with his 
 seconds, who were chosen from his own friends rather 
 than from among the partisans of the cardinal, put his 
 horse to a canter, advanced gracefully towards his young 
 adversaries, and gravely saluted them. 
 
 " Gentlemen, I think that we shall do well to select 
 our men, and to take the field; for there is talk of 
 attacking the lines, and I must be at my post." 
 
 " We are ready, sir," said Cinq-Mars ; " and as for 
 selecting opponents, I shall be very glad to become 
 yours, for I have not forgotten the Mare'chal de 
 Bassompierre and the wood of Chaumont. You 
 know my opinion concerning your insolent visit to 
 my mother." 
 
 " You are young, sir ; you are young. In regard 
 to Madame, your mother, I fulfilled the duties of a man 
 of the world ; towards the mare'chal, those of a captain
 
 THE SIEGE. 151 
 
 of the guard ; here, those of a gentleman towards M. 
 1'Abbe, who has challenged me ; afterwards I will 
 have that honor with you." 
 
 " If I allow you," said the abbe", who was already on 
 horseback. 
 
 They took sixty paces of ground, all that was af- 
 forded them by the extent of the meadow which enclosed 
 them. The Abbe de Gondi was stationed between De 
 Thou and his friend, who sat nearest the ramparts, upon 
 which two Spanish officers and a score of soldiers stood, 
 as in a balcony, to witness this combat of six persons, 
 a spectacle common enough to them. They exhibited 
 the same signs of joy as at their bull-fights, and laughed 
 with that savage and bitter laugh which their physiog- 
 nomy derives from their Arab blood. 
 
 At a sign from Gondi, the six horses set off at full 
 gallop, and met, without coming in contact, in the 
 middle of the arena ; at that instant, six pistol-shots 
 were heard almost together, and the smoke covered the 
 combatants. 
 
 When it dispersed, of the six cavaliers and six horses 
 there were but three men and three animals on their 
 legs. Cinq-Mars was on horseback, giving his hand to 
 his adversary, as calm as himself ; at the other end of 
 the field, De Thou stood by his opponent, whose horse 
 he had killed, and whom he was helping to rise. As for 
 Gondi and De Launay, neither of them was to be seen. 
 Cinq-Mars, looking about for them anxiously, perceived 
 the abbess horse, which, caracoling and curvetting, was 
 dragging after him the future cardinal, whose foot was 
 engaged in the stirrup, and who was swearing as if he
 
 152 
 
 CINQ-MARS, 
 
 had never studied anything but the language of the 
 camp. His nose and hands were bloody with his fall and 
 with his efforts to seize the grass ; and he was regard- 
 ing with considerable dissatisfaction his horse, which in 
 spite of himself he irritated with his spurs, making its 
 way to the fosse, filled with water, which surrounded 
 the bastion, when, happily, Cinq-Mars, passing between 
 the edge of the swamp and the animal, seized its bridle 
 and stopped its career. 
 
 " Well, my dear abbe", I see that no great harm is 
 come to you, for you speak with decided energy." 
 
 " Corbleu!" cried Gondi, wiping the dust out of his 
 eyes, " to fire a pistol in the face of that giant I had to 
 lean forward and rise in my stirrups, and thus I lost 
 my balance ; but I fancy that he is down too." 
 
 " You are right, sir," said De Thou, coming up ; 
 " there is his horse swimming in the fosse with its mas- 
 ter, whose brains are blown out. We must think now 
 of escaping." 
 
 " Escaping ! that, gentlemen, will be rather difficult," 
 said the adversary of Cinq-Mars, approaching. " Hark ! 
 there 's the cannon-shot, the signal for the attack ; I did 
 not expect it would have been given so soon. If we re- 
 turn we shall meet the Swiss and the lansquenets, who 
 are engaged in this direction." 
 
 " M. de Fontrailles says well," said De Thou ; " but 
 if we do not return, here are these Spaniards, who are 
 running to arms, and whose balls we shall presently 
 have whistling about our heads." 
 
 " Well, let us hold a council," said Gondi ; " summon 
 M. de Montre'sor, who is uselessly occupied in searching
 
 THE SIEGE. 153 
 
 for the body of poor De Launay. You have not wounded 
 him, M. de Thou ? " 
 
 " No, M. PAbb ; every one has not so good an aim as 
 you," said Montre*sor, bitterly, limping from his fall. 
 " We shall not have time to continue with the sword." 
 
 " As to continuing, I will not hear of it, gentlemen," 
 said Fontrailles ; " M. de Cinq-Mars has behaved too 
 nobly towards me. My pistol went off too soon, and his 
 was at my very cheek, I feel the coldness of it now, 
 but he had the generosity to withdraw it and fire in the 
 air. I shall not forget it ; and I am his in life and in 
 death." 
 
 " We must think of other things now," interrupted 
 Cinq-Mars ; " a ball has just whistled past my ear. The 
 attack has begun on all sides ; and we are surrounded 
 by friends and enemies." 
 
 In fact, the cannonade was general ; the citadel, the 
 town, and the army were covered with smoke. The bas- 
 tion before them was unassailed, and its guards seemed 
 less intent on defending it than on observing the fate of 
 the other fortifications. 
 
 " I believe that the enemy has made a sally," said 
 Montre*sor, " for the smoke has subsided in the plain, 
 and I see masses of cavalry charging under the protec- 
 tion of the batteries." 
 
 " Gentlemen," said Cinq-Mars, who had never ceased 
 to observe the walls, " there is a very decided part which 
 we could take, to enter this ill-guarded bastion." 
 
 " An excellent idea, sir," said Fontrailles ; " but we 
 are but five against at least thirty, and are open to view 
 and easily counted."
 
 154 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 *' I' faith, the notion is not a bad one," said Gondi ; 
 " it is better to be shot up there than hanged down here, 
 as we shall be if we are found, for De Launay must be 
 already missed by his company, and all the court is aware 
 of our quarrel." 
 
 ** Parbleu ! gentlemen," said Montrdsor, " there is help 
 coming." 
 
 A troop of horse, numerous, but greatly in disorder, 
 advanced towards them at full gallop ; their red uniform 
 made them visible far off. It seemed to be their inten- 
 tion to stop upon the very ground on which were our 
 embarrassed duellists, for scarcely had the first cavalier 
 reached it than cries of " Halt ! " were repeated and pro- 
 longed by the voices of the chiefs who were mingled 
 with their cavaliers. 
 
 " Let us go to them ; these are the men-at-arms of 
 the king's guard," said Fontrailles. " I recognize them 
 by their black cockades. I also see many of the light- 
 horse with them; let us mingle in the disorder, for I 
 fancy they are ramengs" 
 
 This is a polite phrase signifying in military lan- 
 guage "put to the rout." All five advanced towards 
 the animated and noisy troops, and found that this 
 conjecture was right. But in place of the consterna- 
 tion which one might have expected in such a case, 
 they found nothing but a youthful and rattling gayety, 
 and heard nothing but shouts of laughter in the two 
 companies. 
 
 " Ah, pardieu ! Cahuzac," said one, " thy horse runs 
 better than mine ; I suppose thou 'st exercised it in the 
 king's hunts ! "
 
 THE SIEGE. 155 
 
 " Ah, I see, 'twas that we might be the sooner rallied 
 that thou got'st here first," answered the other. 
 
 " I think the Marquis de Coislin must, be mad, to make 
 four hundred of us charge eight Spanish regiments." 
 
 " Ah, ah, ah ! Locmaria, your plume is in fine trim ; 
 it looks like a weeping willow. If we follow that,, it 
 will be to our burial." 
 
 " Ah, gentlemen, I told you before," angrily replied 
 the young officer, " I was sure that that Capuchin 
 Joseph, who meddles in everything, was mistaken in 
 telling us to charge, upon the part of the cardinal. But 
 would you have been satisfied if those who have the 
 honor of commanding you had refused to " 
 
 " No, no, no ! " answered all the young men, at the 
 same time forming themselves quickly into ranks. 
 
 " I said," interposed the old Marquis de Coislin, who, 
 with a white head, had all the fire of youth in his eyes, 
 " that if you were commanded to mount to the assault 
 on horseback, you would do it." 
 
 " Bravo ! bravo ! " cried all the men-at-arms, clapping 
 their hands. 
 
 " Well, M. le Marquis," said Cinq-Mars, approaching, 
 " here is an opportunity of executing what you have 
 promised. I am merely a volunteer ; but an instant 
 ago these gentlemen and I examined this bastion, and 
 I believe that it is possible to take it." 
 
 " Sir, in the first place, we must examine the ditch to 
 see " 
 
 At this moment a ball from the rampart of which 
 they were speaking struck the horse of the old officer, 
 and it fell.
 
 156 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 " Locmaria, De Mouy, take the command, and to the 
 assault ! " cried the two noble companies, believing their 
 leader dead. 
 
 " Stop a moment, gentlemen," said old Coislin, rising, 
 " I will lead you, if you please. Guide us, sir volunteer, 
 for the Spaniards invite us to this ball, and we must 
 reply politely." 
 
 Scarcely had the old man mounted another horse, 
 which one of his men brought him, and drawn his 
 sword than, without awaiting his order, all these ardent 
 youth, preceded by Cinq-Mars and his friends, whose 
 horses were urged on by the squadrons behind, had 
 thrown themselves into the morass, wherein, to their 
 great astonishment and to that of the Spaniards, who 
 counted too much upon its depth in that place, the 
 horses were only in the water up to their hams ; and in 
 spite of a discharge of grape-shot from the two largest 
 pieces, all reached pell-mell a slip of ground at the foot 
 of the half-ruined ramparts. In the ardor of the onset, 
 Cinq-Mars and Fontrailles, with the young Locmaria, 
 forced their horses on to the rampart itself ; but a brisk 
 fusillade killed the three animals, which rolled over 
 their masters. 
 
 " Dismount all, gentlemen ! " cried the old Coislin ; 
 " forward with pistol and sword ! Abandon your 
 horses ! " 
 
 All obeyed instantly, and threw themselves in a 
 crowd upon the breach. 
 
 Meantime De Thou, whose coolness never quitted him 
 any more than his friendship, had not lost sight of the 
 young Henri, and had received him in his arms when
 
 THE SIEGE. 157 
 
 his horse fell. He placed him on his feet, restored to 
 him his sword, which had escaped from his hand, and 
 said to him with the greatest calmness, notwithstanding 
 the balls which rained on all sides, 
 
 " My friend, don't I seem very ridiculous amid 
 all this skirmish, with my costume of counsellor in 
 parliament?" 
 
 " Parbleu ! " said Montre"sor, advancing, " here 's the 
 abbe", who quite justifies you." 
 
 And, in fact, the little Gondi, pushing on among the 
 light-horsemen, was bawling with all his might, " Three 
 duels and an assault ! There 's hopes of getting rid of 
 my cassock at last ! " 
 
 So saying, he cut and thrust at a tall Spaniard. 
 
 The defence was not long. The Castilian soldiers 
 were no match for the French officers, and not one of 
 them had time or courage to recharge his carbine. 
 
 " Gentlemen, we will relate this to our mistresses in 
 Paris," said Locmaria, throwing his hat up in the air ; 
 and Cinq-Mars, De Thou, Coislin, De Mouy, Londigny, 
 officers of the red companies, and all the young noble- 
 men, with swords in their right hands and pistols in 
 their left, dashing, jostling, and doing each other by 
 their eagerness as much harm as they did the enemy, 
 finally dashed upon the platform of the bastion, as 
 water poured from a vase, of which the opening is too 
 narrow, leaps out by intermitted torrents. 
 
 Disdaining to occupy themselves with the vanquished 
 soldiers who cast themselves at their feet, they left 
 them to look about the fort, without even disarming 
 them, and set off examining their conquest, like school-
 
 158 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 boys in their holidays, laughing with all their hearts, as 
 if it had been a party of pleasure. 
 
 A Spanish officer, enveloped in his brown cloak, 
 watched them with a sombre air. 
 
 " What demons are these, Ambrosio V " said he to a 
 soldier. " I have never met with any such before in 
 France. If Louis XIII. has an entire army thus com- 
 posed, it is very good of him not to conquer Europe." 
 
 " Oh, I do not believe that they are very numerous , 
 they must be some poor adventurers, who have nothing 
 to lose, and all to gain by pillage." 
 
 " You are right," said the officer ; " I will go and try 
 to get one of them to let me escape." 
 
 And slowly approaching, he accosted a young light- 
 horseman, of about eighteen, who was sitting apart from 
 his comrades upon the parapet. He had the white and 
 red complexion of a young girl ; his delicate hand held 
 an embroidered handkerchief, with which he wiped his 
 forehead and his golden locks. He was looking at a 
 great round watch set with rubies and suspended from 
 his girdle by a knot of ribbons. 
 
 The astonished Spaniard paused. If he had not seen 
 him overthrow his soldiers, he would not have believed 
 him capable of anything beyond singing a romance, 
 reclined upon a couch. But filled with the suggestion 
 of Ambrosio, he thought that he might have stolen 
 these objects of luxury in the pillage of the apartments 
 of a woman ; so, going abruptly up to him, he said, 
 
 " Hombre ! I am an officer ; will you restore me to 
 liberty, that I may once more see my country ? " 
 
 The young Frenchman looked at him with the gentle
 
 THE SIEGE. 159 
 
 air of his age, and thinking of his own family, he 
 said, 
 
 " Sir, I will present you to the Marquis de Coislin, 
 who will, I doubt not, grant your request ; is your fam- 
 ily of Castile or of Aragon ? " 
 
 " Your Coislin will ask the permission of somebody 
 else, and will make me wait a year. I will give you 
 four thousand ducats if you will afford me the means 
 of escape." 
 
 That gentle face, those girlish features, became in- 
 fused with the purple of fury ; those blue eyes shot 
 forth lightning ; and exclaiming, " Money to me ! away, 
 fool ! " the young man gave the Spaniard a ringing box 
 on the ear. The latter, without hesitating, drew a long 
 poniard from his breast, and seizing the arm of the 
 Frenchman, thought to plunge it readily into his heart ; 
 but, nimble and vigorous, the youth took him by the 
 right arm, and lifting it with force above his head, sent 
 it back with the weapon it held upon the head of the 
 Spaniard, who was furious with passion. 
 
 " Eh ! eh ! Softly, Olivier ! " cried his comrades, run- 
 ning from all directions ; " there are Spaniards enough 
 on the ground already." 
 
 And they disarmed the hostile officer. 
 
 " What shall we do with this madman ? " 
 
 " I should not like to have him for my valet-de- 
 chambre" returned another^ 
 
 " He deserves to be hanged," said a third ; " but, 
 i' faith, gentlemen, we don't know how to hang. Send 
 him to that battalion of Swiss which is now passing on 
 the plain."
 
 160 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 And that calm and sombre man, enveloping himself 
 anew in his cloak, began his march of his own accord, 
 followed by Ambrosio, to join the battalion, pushed by 
 the shoulders and urged on by five or six of these young 
 madcaps. 
 
 Meantime, the first troop of the besiegers, astonished 
 at their success, had followed it out to the end ; Cinq- 
 Mars, so advised by the aged Coislin, had made with him 
 the circuit of the bastion, and found to their vexation 
 that it was completely separated from the city, and that 
 they could not follow up their advantage. They there- 
 fore returned slowly to the platform, talking by the way, 
 to rejoin De Thou and the Abbe" de Gondi, whom they 
 found laughing with the young light-horsemen. 
 
 " We have Religion and Justice with us, gentlemen ; 
 we could not fail to triumph." 
 
 " Yes, for they struck as hard as we." 
 
 There was silence at the approach of Cinq-Mars, and 
 they remained for an instant whispering and asking his 
 name ; then all surrounded him, and took his hand with 
 transport. 
 
 "Gentlemen, you are right," said their old captain; 
 " he is, as our fathers used to say, the lest doer of the 
 day. He is a volunteer, who is to be presented to-day 
 to the king by the cardinal." 
 
 " By the cardinal ! we will present him ourselves. 
 Ah, don't let him be a Cardinalist ; he is too good a 
 fellow for that!" exclaimed all the young men, with 
 vivacity. 
 
 " Sir, I will disgust you with him," said Olivier 
 d'Entraigues, approaching Cinq-Mars, " for I have been
 
 THE SIEGE. 161 
 
 his page. Rather serve in the red companies ; come, 
 you will have good comrades there." 
 
 The old marquis saved Cinq-Mars the embarrassment 
 of answering by causing the trumpets to sound and 
 rally his brilliant companies. The cannon was no longer 
 heard, and a soldier announced that the king and the 
 cardinal were traversing the lines to examine the results 
 of the day ; he made all the horses pass through the 
 breach, which was tolerably wide, and ranged the two 
 companies in battle order, upon a spot whither it seemed 
 impossible for any but infantry to penetrate. 
 
 VOL. i. 11
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE REWARD. 
 
 Ah ! comme du butin ces guerriers trop jaloux 
 Courent bride abattue au-devant des mes coups, 
 Agitez tous leurs sens d'une rage insensee, 
 Tambour, fifre, trompette, otez-leur la pensee. 
 
 N. LEMERCIEH, Panhypocrisiade. 
 
 RICHELIEU had said within himself, " To assuage the 
 first paroxysm of the royal grief, to open a source of 
 emotions which shall withdraw this wavering soul from 
 its sorrow, let this city be besieged ; I consent. Let 
 Louis go ; I will allow him to strike a few poor soldiers 
 with the blows which he would, but dare not, inflict on 
 me. Let his anger quench itself in this obscure blood ; 
 I agree. But this caprice of glory shall not derange my 
 immutable designs ; this city shall not fall yet. It shall 
 not be French forever until two years have past ; it shall 
 come into my nets only on the day which I have deter- 
 mined in my own mind. Thunder, bombs and cannons ; 
 meditate your operations, skilful captains ; hurry on, 
 young warriors. I will silence your noise, I will dissi-
 
 THE REWARD. 163 
 
 pate your projects, and make your efforts abortive ; all 
 shall end in empty smoke, for I will conduct in order 
 to mislead you." 
 
 Such is pretty nearly what passed in the bald head 
 of the old cardinal before the attack of which we have 
 witnessed a portion. He was stationed on horseback, to 
 the north of the city, upon one of the mountains of Salces; 
 from this point he could see the plain of Roussillon be- 
 fore him, sloping to the Mediterranean. Perpignan, with 
 its ramparts of brick, its bastions, its citadel, and its 
 spire, formed upon this plain an oval and sombre mass 
 amid broad and verdant meads ; and the vast mountains 
 surrounded it and the valley like an enormous bow bent 
 from north to south, while, stretching its white line in 
 the east, the sea seemed its silver cord. On his right 
 rose that immense mountain which is called the Canigou, 
 whose sides send forth two rivers into the plain below. 
 The French line extended to the foot of this western 
 barrier. A crowd of generals and of great lords were 
 on horseback behind the minister, but at twenty paces' 
 distance and profoundly silent. He had at first slowly 
 followed the line of operations, but afterwards returned 
 and stationed himself upon this height, whence his eye 
 and his thought hovered over the destinies of besieg- 
 ers and besieged. The army had its eyes upon him, 
 and could see him from every point. The whole of the 
 troops looked upon him as their immediate chief, and 
 awaited the direction of his gesture before they acted. 
 For a long time France had bent beneath his yoke ; and 
 admiration shielded all his actions from the ridicule to 
 which another would have been often subjected. At this
 
 164 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 moment, for instance, no one thought of smiling, or of 
 feeling surprised even, that the cuirass should clothe the 
 priest ; and the severity of his character and aspect sup- 
 pressed every thought of ironical comparisons or imper- 
 tinent conjectures. This day the cardinal appeared in 
 a costume entirely warlike : he wore a coat of a reddish- 
 brown, embroidered with gold, a water-colored cuirass, a 
 sword at his side, pistols at his saddle-bow, and he had 
 a plumed hat ; but this he rarely placed upon his head, 
 which was still covered with the red cap. Two pages 
 were behind him; one carried his gauntlets, the other 
 his casque, and the captain of his guards was at his 
 side. 
 
 As the king had recently named him generalissimo of 
 his troops, it was to him that the generals sent for their 
 orders ; but he, knowing full well the secret motives of 
 his master's present anger, ostentatiously referred to that 
 prince all who sought a decision from his own mouth. 
 It happened as he had foreseen; for he regulated and 
 calculated the movements of that heart as those of a 
 watch, and could have told with precision through what 
 sensations it had passed. Louis XIII. came and placed 
 himself at his side ; but he came as a pupil, forced to 
 acknowledge that his master is in the right. His air 
 was haughty and dissatisfied, his language brusque and 
 dry. The cardinal displayed no emotion. It was re- 
 marked that the king, in consulting him, employed the 
 words of command, thus reconciling his weakness and 
 his power of place, his irresolution and his pride, his 
 ignorance and his pretensions, while his minister dictated 
 laws to him in a tone of the most profound obedience.
 
 THE REWARD. 165 
 
 " I will have them attack immediately, Cardinal," said 
 the prince, on coming up ; " that is to say," added he, 
 with an air of carelessness, " when all your preparations 
 are made, and you have determined with our generals 
 upon the hour." 
 
 " Sire, if I might venture to express my judgment, I 
 should be glad did your Majesty think fit to commence 
 the attack in a quarter of an hour, for that will give 
 time enough to advance the third line." 
 
 " Yes, yes ; right, M. le Cardinal ! I think so too. I will 
 go and give my orders myself ; I wish to do everything 
 myself. Schomberg, Schomberg ! in a quarter of an 
 hour let me hear the signal gun ; I will have it so." 
 
 And Schomberg, proceeding to take the command of 
 the right wing, gave the order, and the signal was made. 
 
 The batteries, arranged long since by the Mare'chal de 
 la Meilleraie, began to batter a breach, but slackly, be- 
 cause the artillerymen felt that they had been directed to 
 attack two impregnable points , and because with their 
 experience, and above all with the straightforward sense 
 and rapid perception of French soldiers, any one of them 
 could at once have indicated the point against which 
 the attack ought to have been directed. The king was 
 surprised at the slowness of the firing. 
 
 " La Meilleraie," said he, impatiently, " these batteries 
 do not play ; your cannoneers are asleep." 
 
 With the mare'chal the principal artillery officers 
 were present ; but no one answered a syllable. They 
 had looked towards the cardinal, who remained as im- 
 movable as an equestrian statue, and they imitated his 
 example. The answer must have been that the fault
 
 166 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 was not with the soldiers, but with him who had ordered 
 this false disposition of the batteries ; and this was 
 Richelieu himself, who, pretending to believe them more 
 useful as they were, had at once stopped the remarks 
 of the chiefs. 
 
 The king was astonished at this silence, and fearing 
 that he had committed some gross military blunder by 
 his question, slightly blushed, and approaching the group 
 of princes who had accompanied him, said, in order to 
 reassure himself, 
 
 " D'Angouleme, Beaufort, it is very tiresome, is it 
 not? We stand here like mummies." 
 
 Charles de Yalois drew near, and said, 
 
 " It seems to me, Sire, that they are not employing 
 here the machines of the engineer Pompe"e-Targon." 
 
 " Parbleu ! " said the Due de Beaufort, fixedly regard- 
 ing Richelieu, " that is because we had more desire to 
 take Rochelle than Perpignan at the time that Italian 
 came. Here we have not an engine ready, not a mine, 
 not a petard beneath these walls ; and the Marechal de 
 la Meilleraie told me this morning that he had proposed 
 to bring up some to open the breach with. It was 
 neither the Castillet, nor the six great bastions which 
 surround it, nor the half-moon, we ought to have 
 attacked. If we go on in this way, the great stone 
 arm of the citadel will show us its fist long enough 
 yet." 
 
 The cardinal, still motionless, said not a single word ; 
 he only beckoned to him Fabert, who left the group in 
 attendance, and ranged his horse behind that of the car- 
 dinal, close to the captain of the guards.
 
 THE REWARD. 167 
 
 The Due de la Rochefoucauld, drawing near the king, 
 said, 
 
 " I believe, Sire, that our inactivity makes the enemy 
 insolent, for see, here 's a numerous sally, directing it- 
 self right towards your Majesty ; the regiments of Biron 
 and De Fonts fall back after firing." 
 
 " Well ! " said the king, drawing his sword, " let us 
 charge, and force those vagabonds back again. Set 
 on the cavalry with me, D'Angouleme. Where is it, 
 Cardinal?" 
 
 " Behind that hill, Sire, there are in column six regi- 
 ments of dragoons, and the carabineers of La Roque ; 
 below you are my men-at-arms and my light-horse, 
 whom I pray your Majesty to employ, for those of your 
 Majesty's guard are ill guided by the Marquis de Coislin, 
 ever too zealous. Joseph, go tell him to return." 
 
 He whispered to the Capuchin, who had accompanied 
 him, huddled up in a military dress which he wore awk- 
 wardly, and who immediately advanced into the plain. 
 
 In the mean time, the compact columns of the old 
 Spanish infantry issued from the gate of Notre-Dame 
 like a dark and moving forest, while from another gate 
 came forth the heavy cavalry, which drew up upon the 
 plain. The French army, in battle-array at the foot of 
 the hill where the king stood, behind fortifications of 
 earth, behind redoubts and fascines of turf, perceived 
 with alarm the men-at-arms and the light-horse pressed 
 between these two forces, ten times their superiors in 
 numbers. 
 
 " Sound the charge ! " cried Louis XIII. ; " or my old 
 Coislin is lost."
 
 168 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 And he descended the hill, with all his suite as ardent 
 as himself ; but before he was on the plain and at the 
 head of his musketeers, the two companies had taken 
 their course, dashing off with the rapidity of lightning, 
 and to the cry of " Vive le roi ! " fell upon the long 
 column of the enemy's cavalry like two vultures upon 
 the sides of a serpent ; and making a large and bloody 
 gap, they passed beyond, and rallied behind the Spanish 
 bastion, as we have seen, leaving the enemy's cavalry 
 so astonished that they thought only of re-forming them- 
 selves, and not of pursuing. 
 
 The French army sent forth one shout of applause ; 
 the king paused in amazement. He looked around him, 
 and saw a burning desire for attack in all eyes ; the 
 valor of his race shone in his own. He paused yet an- 
 other instant in suspense, listening with intoxication to 
 the roar of the cannon, respiring and snuffing up the 
 odor of the powder ; he seemed to receive another life, 
 and to become once more a Bourbon. All who looked 
 on him felt as though they were commanded by another 
 man, when, raising his sword and his eyes towards the 
 sun, he cried, 
 
 " Follow me, brave friends ! here I am King of 
 France ! " 
 
 His cavalry, deploying, dashed off with an ardor which 
 devoured space, and raising billows of dust from the 
 ground, which trembled beneath them, they were in an 
 instant mingled with the Spanish cavalry, and both were 
 swallowed up in an immense and fluctuating cloud. 
 
 " Now ! now ! " cried the cardinal, in a voice of 
 thunder, from his elevation, " now remove the guns
 
 THE REWARD. 169 
 
 from their useless position ! Fabert, give your orders ; 
 let them be all directed upon the infantry which slowly 
 approaches to surround the king. Haste, save the 
 king!" 
 
 Immediately the cardinal's suite, hitherto sitting erect 
 as so many statues, were in motion. The generals gave 
 their orders ; the aides-de-camp galloped off into the 
 plain, where, leaping over the ditches, barriers, and pali- 
 sades, they arrived at their destination almost as rapidly 
 as the thoughts that directed them and the glances that 
 followed them. 
 
 Suddenly the few and interrupted flashes which had 
 shone from the before discouraged batteries became a 
 continual and immense flame, leaving no room for the 
 smoke, which rose to the sky in an infinite number of 
 light and floating wreaths ; the volleys of cannon, which 
 seemed of late like far and feeble echoes, changed into 
 a formidable thunder whose roll was as unintermitted 
 as that of drums beating the charge ; while from three 
 opposite points large red flashes from fiery mouths fell 
 upon the dark columns which issued from the besieged 
 city. 
 
 Meantime, without changing his position, but with 
 ardent eyes and imperative gestures, Richelieu ceased 
 not to multiply his orders, casting upon those who re- 
 ceived them a look which implied a sentence of death if 
 he was not at once obeyed. 
 
 " The king has overthrown the cavalry ; but the foot 
 still resist. Our batteries have only killed, they have 
 not conquered. Forward with three regiments of in- 
 fantry instantly, Gassion, La Meilleraie, and Lesdi-
 
 170 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 guiores ! Take the enemy's columns in flank. Order 
 the rest of the army to cease from the attack, and to 
 remain motionless throughout the whole line. Some 
 paper! I will write myself to Schomberg." 
 
 A page alighted and advanced, holding a pencil and 
 paper. The minister, supported by four men of his 
 suite, also alighted with difficulty, sending forth a cry, 
 wrested from him by pain; but he quelled it by an ef- 
 fort, and seated himself upon the carriage of a cannon. 
 The page presented his shoulder as a desk ; and the car- 
 dinal hastily penned that order which contemporary 
 manuscripts have transmitted to us, and which might 
 well be imitated by the diplomatists of our day, who are, 
 it would seem, more anxious to maintain themselves in 
 perfect balance between two ideas than to wield those 
 combinations which decide the destinies of the world, 
 regarding the clear and obvious dictates of true genius 
 as beneath their profound subtlety. 
 
 " M. le Marechal, do not risk anything, and think well be- 
 fore you attack. When you are thus told that the king 
 desires you not to risk anything, you are not to understand 
 that his Majestj" forbids you to fight at all ; but his inten- 
 tion is that you do not engage in a general battle unless it 
 be with a notable hope of gain from the advantage which a 
 favorable situation may present, the responsibility of the 
 battle naturally falling upon you." 
 
 These orders given, the old minister, still seated upon 
 the carriage of the gun, his arms resting upon the touch- 
 hole, and his chin upon his arms, in the attitude of one 
 who adjusts and points a cannon, continued in silence 
 to watch the battle, like an old wolf, which, sated with
 
 THE REWARD. 171 
 
 victims and torpid with age, contemplates in the plain 
 the ravages of a lion among a herd of cattle, which he 
 dares not himself attack. From time to time his eye 
 glares ; the smell of blood rejoices him ; and, full of the 
 recollection of past feasts, he passes his burning tongue 
 over his toothless jaw. 
 
 Upon that day, it was remarked by his servants or 
 in other words, by all around him that from the time 
 of his rising till night he took no nourishment, and so 
 fixed all the application of his soul upon the events 
 which he had to conduct that he triumphed over his 
 physical pains, seeming in forgetting to have destroyed 
 them. It was this power of attention, this constant 
 presence of mind, that raised him almost to genius. He 
 would have attained it quite, had he not wanted native 
 elevation of soul and generous sensibility of heart. 
 
 Everything passed upon the field of battle as he had 
 planned, fortune attending him alike there and in the 
 cabinet. Louis XIII. appropriated with -eager hand the 
 victory which his minister had procured for him ; he 
 had contributed personally, however, only that grandeur 
 which consists in personal valor. 
 
 The cannon had ceased to roar when the broken 
 columns of infantry fell back into Perpignan.; the 
 Spanish cavalry, greatly cut up, was already within 
 the walls, and no living man was to be seen on the 
 plain, save the glittering squadrons of the king, who 
 followed him, forming their ranks as they went. 
 
 He returned at -a walking pace, and contemplated 
 with satisfaction the battle-field swept clear of enemies ; 
 he passed haughtily under the very fire of the Spanish
 
 172 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 pieces, which, whether from unskilfulness, or by a secret 
 agreement with the prime minister, or from very shame 
 to kill a king of France, only sent after him a few balls, 
 which, passing two feet above his head, fell in front 
 of the lines, and merely served to increase the royal 
 reputation for courage. 
 
 At every step, however, that he made towards the 
 place where Richelieu awaited him, his countenance 
 changed and visibly fell ; he lost all the flush of combat ; 
 the noble sweat of triumph died upon his brow. In 
 proportion as he approached, his accustomed paleness 
 returned to his face, as if having the right to sit alone 
 on a royal head ; his look lost its transient fire, and 
 at last, when he joined him, a profound melancholy 
 entirely possessed him. He found the cardinal as he 
 had left him, on horseback ; the latter, still coldly re- 
 spectful, bowed, and after a few words of compliment, 
 placed himself near Louis to traverse the lines and 
 examine the results of the day, while the princes and 
 great lords, riding at some distance before and behind, 
 formed, as it were, a crowd around them. 
 
 The skilful minister was careful not to say a word or 
 make a gesture that could suggest the idea that he had 
 the slightest share in the events of the day ; and it was 
 remarkable that of all those who came up to give in 
 their reports, each seemed to divine his thoughts, to be 
 careful not to compromise his occult power by open 
 obedience. Every report was made to the king. The 
 cardinal then traversed, by the side of the prince, the 
 right of the camp, which had not been under his view 
 from the height where he had placed himself; and he
 
 THE REWARD. 173 
 
 saw with satisfaction that Schomberg, who knew him 
 well, had acted precisely as he had directed, bringing 
 into action only a few of the light troops, and fighting 
 just enough not to incur reproach for inaction, and 
 not enough to obtain any distinct result. This line 
 of conduct delighted the minister, and in no way dis- 
 pleased the king, whose vanity cherished the idea of 
 having been the sole conqueror that day. He even 
 wished to persuade himself, and to have it supposed, 
 that all the efforts of Schomberg had been ineffectual, 
 telling him that he was not angry with him, that he 
 had himself just had proof that the enemy before him 
 was less despicable than had been supposed. 
 
 " To show you that you have lost nothing in our esti- 
 mation," he added, "we name you a knight of our order, 
 and we give you public and private access to our person." 
 
 The cardinal affectionately pressed his hand as he 
 passed him, and the mare'chal, astonished at this deluge 
 of favors, followed the prince with his head down, like 
 a culprit, recalling, to console himself, all the brilliant 
 actions of his career which had remained unnoticed, 
 and mentally attributing to them these unmerited re- 
 wards, as a salvo to his conscience. 
 
 The king was about to retrace his steps, when the 
 Due de Beaufort, with an amazed air, exclaimed, 
 
 " But, Sire, have I still the powder in my eyes, or 
 have I been struck mad with the sun? It appears to 
 me that I see upon yonder bastion cavaliers in a red 
 uniform who monstrously resemble your light-horse 
 whom we thought to be killed." 
 
 The cardinal knitted his brows.
 
 174 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 " Impossible, Monsieur," he said ; " the imprudence of 
 M. de Coislin has destroyed his Majesty's men-at-arms 
 and those cavaliers. It is for that reason I ventured 
 just now to say to the king that if the useless corps 
 were suppressed, it might be very advantageous in a 
 military point of view." 
 
 " Pardieu! your Eminence will pardon me," answered 
 the Due de Beaufort ; " but I do not deceive myself, and 
 there are seven or eight of them driving prisoners be- 
 fore them." 
 
 " Well ! let us go to the point," said the king ; " I 
 shall be very glad to find my old Coislin there." 
 
 It was with great caution that the horses of the king 
 and his suite passed across the marsh, and with infinite 
 astonishment that their riders saw on the ramparts the 
 two red companies in battalia as on parade. 
 
 " Vive Dieu ! " cried Louis ; " I don't think there's 
 one of them missing. Well, -Marquis, you keep your 
 word, you take walls on horseback." 
 
 " The place taken was well selected," said Richelieu, 
 contemptuously ; " it in no way advances the taking of 
 Perpignan, and must have cost many lives." 
 
 " I' faith, there you are right," said the king, for the 
 first time since the intelligence of the queen's death 
 addressing the cardinal without coldness or asperity ; 
 " I regret the blood which must have been spilled 
 here." 
 
 " There have only been two of our young people 
 wounded in the attack, Sire," said old Coislin ; " and 
 we have gained new companions in arms, in the volun- 
 teers who guided us."
 
 THE REWARD. 175 
 
 " Who are they ? " said the prince. 
 
 "Three of them have modestly retired, Sire ; but the 
 youngest, whom you see, was the firs't who. proposed the 
 assault, and the first to venture his body in making it. 
 The two companies claim the honor of presenting him 
 to your Majesty." 
 
 Cinq-Mars, who was on horseback behind the old 
 captain, took off his hat and showed his pale face, his 
 large dark eyes, and his long chestnut hair. 
 
 " Those features remind me of some one," said the 
 king ; " what say you, Cardinal ? " 
 
 The latter, who had already cast a penetrating glance 
 at the new-comer, replied, 
 
 " Unless I am mistaken, this young man is " 
 . " Henri d'Effiat," said the volunteer, bowing. 
 
 " Sire, it is the same whom I had announced to your 
 Majesty, and who was to have been presented to you 
 by me ; the second son of the mare'chal." 
 
 " Ah ! " said Louis, warmly, " I am glad to see the 
 son of my old friend presented by this bastion. 'T is a 
 suitable introduction, my boy, for one bearing your 
 name. You will follow us to the camp, where we have 
 much to say to you. But what ! you here, M. de Thou ? 
 Whom came you to judge ? " 
 
 " Sire," answered Coislin, " he has condemned to 
 death, without judging, sundry Spaniards, for he was 
 the second to enter the place." 
 
 " I struck no one, sir," interrupted De Thou, red- 
 dening ; " 't is not my business. Herein I have no 
 merit; I merely accompanied my friend, M. de Cinq- 
 Mars."
 
 176 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 " We love your modesty alike with your bravery, and 
 we will not forget this. Cardinal, is there not some 
 presidency vacant ? " 
 
 Richelieu did not like De Thou. And as the source 
 of his dislike was always mysterious, it was difficult to 
 guess the cause of this animosity ; it revealed itself in a 
 heartless expression that escaped him. The motive 
 was a passage in the history of the President De 
 Thou, the father of the young man now in ques- 
 tion, wherein he stigmatized in the eyes of posterity 
 a grand-uncle of the cardinal, an apostate monk, sul- 
 lied with every human vice. 
 
 Richelieu, bending his head to the ear of Joseph, 
 whispered, 
 
 " You see that man ; his father put my name into his 
 history. Well, I will put his into mine." And, truly 
 enough, he subsequently wrote it in blood. At this 
 moment, to avoid answering the king, he feigned not 
 to have heard his question, and to be wholly intent upon 
 the merit of Cinq-Mars and the desire to see him well 
 placed at court. 
 
 " I promised you beforehand to make him a captain 
 in my guards," said the prince ; " let him be nominated 
 to-morrow. I would know more of him, and raise him 
 to a higher fortune, if he pleases me. Let us now 
 retire ; the sun has set, and we are far from our army. 
 Tell my two good companies to follow us." 
 
 The minister, after repeating the order, omitting the 
 implied praise, placed himself on the king's right hand, 
 and the whole escort quitted the bastion, now confided 
 to the care of the Swiss, and returned to the camp.
 
 THE REWARD. 177 
 
 The two red companies slowly defiled through the 
 breach which they had effected with such promptitude ; 
 their countenances were grave and silent. 
 
 Cinq-Mars went up to his friend. 
 
 " These are heroes but ill recompensed," said he ; 
 " not a favor, not a compliment." 
 
 " I, on the other hand," said the simple De Thou, 
 "I, who came somewhat against my will, receive one. 
 Such are courts, such is life ; but the true Judge is on 
 high, whom men cannot blind." 
 
 "This will not prevent us from meeting death to- 
 morrow, if necessary," said the young Olivier, laughing. 
 
 VOL. I. 12
 
 *2^iM'* 
 
 . 
 
 ..,*<.. 9. 
 . ..'" .Tr 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE MISTAKES. 
 
 Quand vint le tour de saint Guilin, 
 II jeta trois des sur la table. 
 Ensuite il regarda le diable, 
 Et lui dit d'un air tres-malin : 
 Jouons doiic cette vieille femme ! 
 Qui de nous deux aura son ame ! 
 
 Ancienne Leqende. 
 
 IN order to appear before the king, Cinq-Mars had been 
 fain to mount the charger of one of the light-horse, 
 wounded in the affair, having lost his own at the foot 
 of the rampart. As the two companies were marching 
 out, he felt some one touch his shoulder, and turning 
 round, saw old Grandchamp holding a very beautiful 
 gray horse. 
 
 "Will M. le Marquis mount a horse of his own?" 
 said he. " I have put on the saddle and housings of 
 velvet embroidered in gold that remained in the trench. 
 Alas, when I think that a Spaniard might have taken 
 it, or even a Frenchman ! For just now there are so 
 many people who take all they find, as though it were
 
 THE MISTAKES. 179 
 
 their own ; and then, as the proverb says, ' What falls 
 in the ditch is for the soldier.' They might also have 
 taken the four hundred gold crowns that M. le Marquis, 
 be it said without reproach, forgot to take out of the 
 holsters. And the pistols ! Oh, what pistols ! I bought 
 them in Germany ; and here they are as good, and with 
 the locks as perfect as ever. It was quite enough to kill 
 the poor little black horse, that was born in England 
 as sure as I was at Tours in Touraine, without also 
 exposing these valuables to pass into the hands of the 
 enemy." 
 
 While making his lamentation, the worthy man fin- 
 ished saddling the gray horse. The column was long 
 enough filing out to give him time to pay a scrupulous 
 attention to the length of the stirrups and of the bands, 
 all the while continuing his harangue. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir, for being somewhat long 
 about this ; but I slightly sprained my arm in getting 
 up M. de Thou, who himself raised M. le Marquis during 
 the grand scuffle." 
 
 " How earnest thou there at all, blockhead ? " said 
 Cinq-Mars. " 'T is not thy trade. I told thee to remain 
 in the camp." 
 
 " Oh, as to remaining in the camp, that is out of the 
 question. I can't keep there ; when I hear a musket- 
 shot, I should be ill if I did not see the flash. As for 
 my trade, my trade is to take care of your horses, and 
 you are on them. Sir, think you I should not have 
 saved the life of the poor black if I could ? Ah, how I 
 loved him, a horse that has gained three races in his 
 time, a time too short for those who loved him as I
 
 180 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 did ! He would never take his corn but from his dear 
 Grandchamp ; and then he would caress me with his 
 head. The end of my left ear that he carried away one 
 day, poor fellow, proves it, for it was not out of ill-will 
 he bit it off, quite the contrary. You should have heard 
 how he neighed with rage when any one else came near 
 him ; that was why he broke Jean's leg. Good creature, 
 I loved him so! When he fell. I held him on one side 
 with one hand and M. de Locmaria with the other. 1 
 thought at first that both he and that gentleman would 
 recover ; but unhappily only one of them returned to 
 life, and this was he whom I least knew. You seem to 
 be laughing at what I say about your horse, sir; you 
 forget that in times of war the horse is the soul of the 
 cavalier. Yes, sir, his soul ; for what is it that intimi- 
 dates the infantry ? 'T is the horse ! It certainly is not 
 the man, who, once seated, is little more than a bundle 
 of hay. Who is it that performs the fine deeds that 
 men admire ? The horse. There are times when his 
 master, who but just before would fain have been far 
 away, finds himself victorious and rewarded for his 
 horse's valor, while the poor beast gets nothing but 
 blows. Who is it gains the prize in the race ? The 
 horse, that scarcely sups better than usual, while the 
 master pockets the gold, and is envied by his friends 
 and admired by all the lords as though he had run him- 
 self. Who is ft that hunts the roebuck, yet puts but a 
 morsel in his own mouth ? Again, the horse ; sometimes 
 the horse is even eaten himself, poor animal ! I remem- 
 ber in a campaign with M. le Mare*chal, it happened 
 that But what is the matter, sir, you grow pale ?"
 
 THE MISTAKES. 181 
 
 " Bind up my leg with something, a handkerchief, a 
 strap, or what thou wilt. I feel a burning pain there ; I 
 know not what." 
 
 " Your boot is cut, sir. It may be some ball ; however, 
 lead is the friend of man" 
 
 " It is no friend of mine, at all events." 
 
 "Ah, tvho loves, chastens! Oh, lead, lead must not be 
 ill spoken of ! What is that 
 
 While occupied in binding his master's leg below the 
 knee, the worthy Grandchamp was about to hold forth 
 in praise of lead as absurdly as he had done in praise 
 of the horse, when he was fain, in common with Cinq- 
 Mars, to lend an ear to a warm and clamorous dispute 
 among some Swiss soldiers who had remained behind 
 the other troops. They were talking with much gestic- 
 ulation, and seemed busied with two men who were 
 in the midst of about thirty soldiers. 
 
 D'Effiat, still holding out his leg to his servant, and 
 leaning on the saddle of his horse, tried, by listening 
 attentively, to learn the subject of the controversy ; but 
 he knew nothing of German, and could not comprehend 
 the dispute. Grandchamp, who, still holding the boot, 
 had also been listening very seriously, suddenly burst 
 into loud laughter. 
 
 "Ha, ha, ha! sir, here are two sergeants disputing 
 which they ought to hang of the two Spaniards there ; 
 for your red comrades did not take the trouble to tell 
 them. One of the Swiss says that it 's the officer, the 
 other that it's the soldier; a third has just made a 
 proposition for meeting the difficulty." 
 
 " And what says he ? "
 
 182 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 " He suggests 'the hanging them both." 
 
 " Stop ! stop ! " cried Cinq-Mars to the soldiers, at- 
 tempting to walk ; but his leg would not support him. 
 
 " Put me on my horse, Grandchamp." 
 
 " You forget, sir, your wound." 
 
 " Do as I bid thee, and then mount thyself." 
 
 The old servant grumblingly obeyed, and then gal- 
 loped off, in fulfilment of another imperative order, to 
 stop the Swiss, who were on the point of hanging their 
 two prisoners to a tree, or rather of letting them hang 
 themselves ; for the officer, with the sang-froid of his 
 nation, had himself passed the running noose of a rope 
 round his own neck, and without being told, had as- 
 cended a small ladder placed against the tree, in order 
 to tie the other end of the rope to one of its branches. 
 The soldier, with the same indifferent tranquillity, was 
 looking on at the Swiss disputing around him, while 
 holding the ladder. 
 
 Cinq-Mars arrived in time to save them, gave his 
 name to the Swiss sergeant, and employing Grandchamp 
 as interpreter, said that the two prisoners were his, and 
 that he would take them to his tent; that he was a 
 captain in the guards, and would be responsible for 
 them. The Germans, ever exact in discipline, made no 
 reply ; the only resistance was on the part of the pris- 
 oner. The officer, still on the top of the ladder, turned 
 round, and speaking thence as from a pulpit, said with a 
 sardonic laugh,- 
 
 " I should much like to know what you do here ? 
 Who told you I wanted to live ? " 
 
 " I don't want to know anything about that," said
 
 THE MISTAKES. 183 
 
 Cinq-Mars ; " it matters not to me what becomes of 
 you afterwards. All I propose now is to prevent an 
 act which seenis to me unjust and cruel. You are quite 
 welcome to kill yourself afterwards, if you like." 
 
 " Well said," returned the ferocious Spaniard ; " you 
 please me. I thought at first you meant to affect the 
 generous in order to oblige me to be grateful, which is 
 what I detest. Well, I consent to come down ; but I 
 shall hate you as much as ever, for you are a French- 
 man. Nor do I thank you, for you only discharge a debt 
 you owe me, since it was I who this morning kept you 
 from being shot by this young soldier while he was 
 taking aim at you ; and he 's a man who never missed 
 a chamois in the mountains of Leon." 
 
 " Be it as you will," said Cinq-Mars ; " come down." 
 
 It was his character ever to assume with others the 
 mien they wore towards him ; and the savage ferocity 
 of the Spaniard made him hard as iron towards him. 
 
 " A singularly pleasant person, that, sir," said Grand- 
 champ ; " in your place M. le Mardchal would certainly 
 have left him on his ladder. Come, Louis, Etienne, 
 Germain, escort Monsieur's prisoners, a fine acquisi- 
 tion, truly ! if you don't regret it one of these days, I 
 shall be very much surprised." 
 
 Cinq-Mars, suffering from the motion of his horse, 
 rode only at the pace of his prisoners on foot, and was 
 accordingly at a distance behind the red companies, who 
 followed close upon the king. He meditated on his way 
 what it could be that the prince desired to say to him. 
 A ray of hope presented to his mind's eye the figure of 
 Marie de Mantua in the distance ; and for a moment his
 
 184 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 thoughts were tranquil. But all his future lay in that 
 brief sentence, " please the king ; " and he began to 
 reflect upon all the bitterness in which this task might 
 involve him. 
 
 Ere long he saw approaching his friend, De Thou, 
 who, anxious at his remaining behind, had sought him 
 in the plain, eager to aid him if necessary. 
 
 " 'T is late, my friend ; night approaches. You have 
 been long on your way ; I feared for you. Whom bring 
 you here ? What has detained you ? The king will 
 soon be asking for you." 
 
 Such were the rapid inquiries of the young counsellor, 
 whose anxiety, more potent herein than the battle itself, 
 had made quit his accustomed serenity. 
 
 " I was slightly wounded ; I bring a prisoner, and I 
 was thinking of the king. What can he want me for, 
 my friend ? What must I do if he proposes to place me 
 about his person ? I must please him ; and at this 
 thought shall I own it ? I am tempted to fly. But I 
 trust that I shall not have that fatal honor. ' To please,' 
 how humiliating the word ! ' to obey,' how much more 
 endurable ! A soldier runs the chance of death, and 
 there 's an end. But what base compliances, what sac- 
 rifices of himself, what compositions with his conscience, 
 what degradation of his own thought, may not a courtier 
 be involved in ! Ah, De Thou, my dear De Thou ! I 
 am not made for the court ; I feel it, though I have seen 
 it but for a moment. There is in my temperament 
 a certain, so to speak, savageness, which education has 
 only polished on the surface. At a distance, I thought 
 myself adapted to live in this all-powerful world ; I even
 
 THE MISTAKES. 185 
 
 desired it, led by a cherished hope of my heart. But I 
 shuddered at the first step; I shuddered at the mere 
 aspect of the cardinal. The recollection of the last of his 
 crimes, at which I was present, kept me from addressing 
 him. He horrified me ; I never can speak to him. The 
 king's favor, too, has that about it which dismays me, 
 as though I knew it would be fatal to me." 
 
 " I am glad to perceive this apprehension in you ; it 
 may be most salutary," said De Thou, as they rode on. 
 " You are about to enter into contact with power. Be- 
 fore, you did not even conceive it ; now you will touch 
 it with your very hand. You will see what it is, and 
 what it is hurls the lightning. Heaven grant that light- 
 ning may never strike you ! You will probably be 
 present in those councils which regulate the destiny of 
 nations ; you will see, you will perchance originate, those 
 caprices whence are born sanguinary wars, conquests, 
 and treaties ; you will hold in your hand the drop of 
 water that proves the source of mighty torrents. It is 
 from the high places of the world that men justly view 
 human affairs ; you must look from the mountain-top 
 ere you can appreciate the littleness of those things 
 which from below appear to us great." 
 
 " Ay, if I were on those heights, I should at least have 
 the lesson you speak of ; but this cardinal, this man to 
 whom I must be under an obligation, this man whom I 
 know too well by his works, what will he be to me ? " 
 
 " A friend, a protector, no doubt," answered De Thou. 
 
 " Death were a thousand times preferable to his friend- 
 ship ! I hate his whole being, his very name ; he spills 
 the blood of men with the cross of the Redeemer."
 
 186 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 " What horrors are you saying, my friend ? You will 
 ruin yourself if you exhibit your sentiments respecting 
 the cardinal to the king." 
 
 " Never mind ; in the midst of these tortuous ways, I 
 desire to take a new one, the right line. My whole opin- 
 ion, the opinion of a just man, shall be unveiled to the 
 king himself, if he interrogate me, even should it cost 
 me my head. I have at last seen this king, who has 
 been described as so weak to me ; I have seen him, and 
 his aspect has touched me to the heart in spite of my- 
 self. Certainly, he is very unfortunate, but he cannot 
 be cruel ; he will listen to the truth." 
 
 " Yes ; but he will not dare to make it triumph," an- 
 swered the sage De Thou. " Beware of this warmth of 
 heart, which often draws you by sudden and dangerous 
 movements. Do not attack a colossus like Richelieu 
 without having measured him." 
 
 " That is just like my tutor, the Abb Quillet. My 
 dear and prudent friend, neither one nor the other of 
 you know me ; you do not know how weary I am of my- 
 self, and whither I have cast my gaze. I must mount 
 or die." 
 
 " What ! already ambitious ? " exclaimed De Thou, 
 with an extreme surprise. 
 
 His friend inclined his head upon his hands, 
 abandoning the reins of his horse, and did not 
 answer. 
 
 " What ! has this selfish passion of a riper age ob- 
 tained possession of you at twenty, Henri ? Ambition 
 is the most sorrowful of hopes." 
 
 " And nevertheless, it possesses me entirely at pres-
 
 THE MISTAKES. 187 
 
 ent, for I see but by it, and by it my whole heart is 
 penetrated." 
 
 "Ah, Cinq-Mars, I no longer recognize you! how 
 different you were formerly ! I do not conceal from you 
 that you appear to me to have much deteriorated. In 
 those walks of our childhood, when the life, and, above 
 all, the death of Socrates, caused tears of admiration 
 and envy to run from our eyes ; when, raising ourselves 
 to the ideal of the highest virtue, we wished that those 
 illustrious sorrows, those sublime misfortunes, which 
 create great men, might in the future come upon us; 
 when we constructed for ourselves imaginary occasions 
 of sacrifices and devotion, if the voice of a man had 
 pronounced, between us two, the* single word, ' ambi- 
 tion,' we should have believed that we were touching a 
 serpent." 
 
 De Thou spoke with the heat of enthusiasm and of 
 reproach. Cinq-Mars went on without answering, and 
 with his face in his hands. After an instant of silence 
 he removed them, and allowed his eyes to be seen, full 
 of generous tears. He strongly pressed the hand of his 
 friend, and said to him with a penetrating accent, 
 
 " M. de Thou, you have recalled to me the most beau- 
 tiful thoughts of my earliest youth. Believe that I have 
 not fallen ; I am consumed by a secret hope which I can- 
 not confide even to you. I despise, as much as you, the 
 ambition which will seem to possess me. All the world 
 will believe it ; but what do I care for the world ? As for 
 you, my noble friend, promise me that you will not cease 
 to esteem me, whatever you may see me do. I swear by 
 heaven that my thoughts are pure as it!"
 
 188 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 " Well," said De Thou, " I swear by it that I believe 
 you blindly ; you give me back my life ! " 
 
 They shook hands again with effusion of heart, and 
 then perceived that they were arrived almost before the 
 tent of the king. 
 
 Day was nearly over ; but one might have believed 
 that a softer day was rising, for the moon issued from 
 the sea in all her splendor. The transparent sky of the 
 south was not charged with a single cloud, and it seemed 
 like a veil of pale blue sprinkled with silver spangles ; 
 the air, still inflamed, was agitated only by the rare pas- 
 sage of some breezes from the Mediterranean ; and all 
 sounds had ceased upon the earth. The fatigued army 
 reposed beneath their tents, the line of which was 
 marked by the fires, and the besieged city seemed op- 
 pressed by the same slumber ; upon its ramparts noth- 
 ing was to be seen but the arms of the sentinels, which 
 shone in the rays of the moon, or the wandering fire 
 of the night-rounds. Nothing was to be heard but the 
 gloomy and prolonged cries of its guards, who warned 
 each other not to sleep. 
 
 It was only around the king that all things waked, 
 but at a great distance from him. This prince had dis- 
 missed all his suite ; he walked alone before his tent, 
 and stopping sometimes to contemplate the beauty of 
 the heavens, he appeared plunged in a melancholy medi- 
 tation. No one dared to interrupt him ; and those of 
 the nobility who had remained in the royal quarters had 
 gathered about the cardinal, who, at twenty paces from 
 the king, was seated upon a little hillock of turf, fash- 
 ioned into a seat by the soldiers. There he wiped his
 
 THE MISTAKES. 189 
 
 pale forehead, fatigued with the cares of the day and 
 with the unaccustomed weight of a suit of armor; he 
 bade adieu in a few hurried but always attentive and 
 polite words to those who came to salute him as they 
 retired. He had now no one near except Joseph, who was 
 talking with Laubardemont. The cardinal was looking 
 at the king, to see if, before re-entering, this prince 
 would not speak to him, when the sound of the horses 
 of Cinq-Mars was heard. The guards of the cardinal 
 questioned him, and allowed him to advance without 
 followers, and only with De Thou. 
 
 " You are come too late, young man, to speak with 
 the king," said the cardinal-due, with a sharp voice. 
 " One cannot make his Majesty wait." 
 
 The two friends were going to retire, when the voice 
 of Louis XIII. himself made itself heard. This prince 
 was at that moment in one of those false positions which 
 constituted the misfortune of his entire life. Profoundly 
 irritated against his minister, but not concealing from 
 himself that he owed the success of the day to him, 
 desiring, moreover, to announce to him his intention to 
 quit the army and to raise the siege of Perpignan, he was 
 tossed between the desire of speaking to the cardinal 
 and the fear lest his anger might be weakened. The 
 minister, upon his part, dared not be the first to speak, 
 being uncertain as to the thoughts which occupied the 
 head of his master, and fearing to choose his time ill, 
 but yet not able to decide upon retiring. Both found 
 themselves precisely in the position of two lovers who 
 had quarrelled and desired to have an explanation, when 
 the king seized with joy the first opportunity of extri-
 
 190 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 eating himself. The chance was fatal to the minister. 
 See upon what trifles depend those destinies which are 
 called great ! 
 
 " Is it not M. de Cinq-Mars ? " said the king, in a loud 
 voice. " Let him approach ; I am waiting for him." 
 
 Young D'Effiat approached on horseback, and at some 
 paces from the king desired to set foot to earth ; but 
 scarcely had his leg touched the ground than he dropped 
 upon his knees. 
 
 " Pardon, Sire ! " said he, " I believe that I am 
 wounded ; " and the blood issued violently from his 
 boot. 
 
 De Thou had seen him fall, and had approached to 
 sustain him. Richelieu seized this opportunity of also 
 advancing with dissembled eagerness. 
 
 " Remove this spectacle from the eyes of the king," 
 said he. " You see very well that this young man is 
 dying." 
 
 " Not at all," said Louis, himself supporting him ; " a 
 king of France knows how to see a man die, and has 
 no fear of the blood which flows for him. This young 
 man interests me. Let him be carried into my tent, 
 and let him have doctors with him. If his wound is not 
 serious, he shall come with me to Paris, for the siege 
 is suspended, M. le Cardinal. Such is my desire ; other 
 affairs call me to the centre of the kingdom. I will 
 leave you here to command in my absence. This is 
 what I desired to say to you." 
 
 With these words the king went abruptly into his 
 tent, preceded by his pages and his officers, carrying 
 flambeaux.
 
 THE MISTAKES. 191 
 
 The royal pavilion was closed, and Cinq-Mars borne 
 in by De Thou and his people, while the Due de 
 Richelieu, motionless and stupefied, still regarded the 
 spot where this scene had passed. He appeared thun- 
 derstruck, and incapable of seeing or hearing those who 
 observed him. 
 
 Laubardemont, still intimidated by his ill reception of 
 the preceding day, dared not speak a word to him, and 
 Joseph hardly recognized in him his former master. For 
 an instant he regretted having given himself to him, 
 and fancied that his star was waning ; but reflecting 
 that he was hated by all men and had no resource save 
 in Richelieu, he seized him by the arm, and shaking him 
 roughly, said to him in a low voice, but with asperity, 
 
 " Come, come, Monseigneur, you are chicken-hearted ; 
 come with us." 
 
 And seeming to sustain him by the elbow, but in fact 
 drawing him in spite of himself, with the aid of Lau- 
 bardemont, he made him enter his tent, as a school- 
 master forces a schoolboy to rest, fearing the effects 
 of the evening mist upon him. 
 
 The prematurely aged man slowly obeyed the wishes 
 of his two parasites, and the purple of the pavilion 
 dropped upon him.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE NIGHT-WATCH. 
 
 coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me ! 
 The lights burn blue. Is it not dead midnight ? 
 Cold, fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. 
 What do I fear ? Myself ? 
 
 1 love myself ! SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 SCARCELY was the cardinal in his tent before he dropped, 
 armed and cuirassed, into a great armchair ; and there, 
 holding his handkerchief to his mouth with a fixed look, 
 he remained in this attitude, letting his two dark con- 
 fidants wonder whether contemplation or annihilation 
 maintained him in it. He was deadly pale, and a cold 
 sweat streamed upon his brow. In wiping it, with a 
 sudden movement he threw behind him his red cap, the 
 only ecclesiastical sign which remained upon him, and 
 dropped again with his mouth upon his hands. The 
 Capuchin on one side, and the sombre magistrate on the 
 other, considered him in silence, and seemed with their 
 brown and black costumes like the priest and the notary 
 of a dying man.
 
 THE NIGHT-WATCH, 193 
 
 The friar, drawing from the depth of his chest a voice 
 which seemed better suited to repeat the service of the 
 dead than to administer consolation, spoke first, 
 
 " If Monseigneur will please to recall my counsels 
 given at Narbonne, he will confess that I had a just 
 presentiment of the troubles which this young man 
 would one day cause him. ' 
 
 The magistrate continued, 
 
 "I have learned from the old deaf abbe* who dined 
 at the house of the Mare'chale d'Effiat, and who heard 
 all, that this young Cinq-Mars exhibited more energy 
 than one would have imagined, and that he attempted 
 to rescue the Marshal de Bassompierre. I have still 
 by me the detailed report of the deaf man, who played 
 his part very well. His Eminence the Cardinal must 
 be sufficiently convinced by it." 
 
 "I have told Monseigneur," recommenced Joseph, 
 for these two ferocious Seyds alternated their discourse 
 like the shepherds of Virgil, "I have told him that it 
 would be well to get rid of this young D'Effiat, and that 
 I would charge myself with the business, if such were 
 his good pleasure. It would be easy to destroy him in 
 the opinion of the king." 
 
 " It would be safer to make him die of his wound," 
 answered Laubardemont ; " if his Eminence would have 
 the goodness to command me, I know intimately the 
 assistant-physician, who has cured me of a blow on the 
 forehead, and is now attending to him. He is a prudent 
 man, who is quite devoted to Monseigneur the Cardinal- 
 Due, and whose affairs have been somewhat embarrassed 
 by gambling." 
 
 VOL. I. 13
 
 194 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 " I believe," replied Joseph, with an air of modesty, 
 mingled with a little bitterness, " that if his Excellency 
 proposed to employ any one in this useful project, it 
 would be rather his accustomed negotiator, who has had 
 some success on past occasions." 
 
 " I fancy that I could enumerate some signal in- 
 stances," answered Laubardemont, " and very recent 
 ones, of which the difficulty was great." 
 
 " Ah, no doubt," said the father, with a bow and an 
 air of consideration and politeness, "your most bold 
 and skilfully executed commission was the trial of 
 Urbain Grandier, the magician. But with Heaven's 
 assistance one may be enabled to execute things as 
 excellent and bold. It is not quite without merit, for 
 instance," added he, dropping his eyes like a young 
 girl, " to have vigorously extirpated a royal Bourbon 
 branch." 
 
 "It was not very difficult," answered the magistrate, 
 with bitterness, " to select a soldier from the guards to 
 kill the Comte de Soissons ; but to preside, judge " 
 
 "And execute one's self," interrupted the heated 
 Capuchin, " is certainly less difficult than to educate a 
 man from infancy in the thought of accomplishing great 
 things with discretion, and to bear all tortures, if neces- 
 sary, for the love of Heaven, rather than reveal the name 
 of those who have armed him with their justice, or to 
 die courageously upon the body of him that he has 
 struck, as did one who was commissioned by me. He 
 uttered no cry at the blow of the sword of Riquemont, 
 the squire of the prince. He died like a saint ; he was 
 my pupil."
 
 THE NIGHT-WATCH. 195 
 
 ' " To give orders is a different thing from running 
 risk one's self." 
 
 " And did I risk nothing at the siege of Rochelle ? " 
 
 " Of being drowned in a sewer, no doubt," said 
 Laubardemont. 
 
 " And you," said Joseph, " has your danger been 
 that of catching your fingers in instruments of tor- 
 ture ? And all this because the abbess of the Ursulines 
 is your niece." 
 
 " It was a good thing for your brothers of Saint 
 Francis, who held the hammers ; but I, I was struck 
 in the forehead by this same Cinq-Mars, who was lead- 
 ing an enraged multitude." 
 
 " Are you quite sure of that ? " cried Joseph, de- 
 lighted. " Did he dare to act thus against the com- 
 mands of the king ? " The joy which this discovery 
 gave him made him forget his anger. 
 
 " Fools ! " exclaimed the cardinal, suddenly breaking 
 silence, and taking from his lips his handkerchief 
 stained with blood. " I would punish your miserable 
 dispute had it not taught me many secrets of infamy on 
 your part. You have exceeded my orders ; I commanded 
 no torture, Laubardemont. That is your second fault. 
 You get me hated for nothing ; that was useless. But 
 you, Joseph, do not neglect the details of this disturb- 
 ance in which Cinq-Mars was engaged ; it may be of use 
 in the end." 
 
 "I have all the names and descriptions," said the 
 secret judge, eagerly, bending his tall form and 1 thin 
 and olive-colored visage, wrinkled with a servile smile, 
 down to the armchair.
 
 190 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 " It is well ! it is well ! " said the minister, pushing 
 him back ; " but that is not the question yet. You, 
 Joseph, be in Paris before this young upstart, who will 
 be favorite, I am certain. Become his friend ; make him 
 of my party or destroy him. Let him serve me or fall. 
 But, above all, send me every day safe persons to give 
 me verbal accounts. I will have no more writing for 
 the future. I am very ill satisfied with you, Joseph. 
 What a miserable courier you chose to send from 
 Cologne ! He could not understand me. He saw the 
 king too soon, and here we are still in disgrace in con- 
 sequence. You have just missed losing me entirely. 
 Go and watch what is about to be done at Paris. A 
 conspiracy will soon be hatched against me ; but it will 
 be the last. I remain here in order to let them all act 
 more freely. Go, both of you, and send me my valet 
 after the lapse of two hours ; I wish to be alone." 
 
 The steps of these two men were still to be heard as 
 Richelieu, with eyes fixed upon the entrance to the tent, 
 seemed to pursue them with his irritated looks. 
 
 " Wretches ! " exclaimed he, when he was alone, " go 
 and accomplish some more secret work, and afterwards 
 I will crush yourselves, impure instruments of my power. 
 The king will soon succumb beneath the slow malady 
 which consumes him. I shall then be regent; I shall 
 be King of France myself ; I shall no longer have to 
 dread the caprices of his weakness. I will destroy the 
 haughty races of this country. I will be alone above 
 them all. Europe shall tremble. I " 
 
 Here the blood, which filled his mouth, obliged him 
 to apply his handkerchief to it again.
 
 THE NIGHT-WATCH. 197 
 
 " Ah, what do I say ? Unhappy victim that I am ! 
 Here am I, death-stricken ! My dissolution is near ; 
 my blood flows, and my spirit desires to labor still. 
 Why ? For whom ? Is it for glory ? 'T is an empty 
 word. Is it for men ? I despise them. For whom, then, 
 since I shall die, perhaps, in two or three years ? Is 
 it for God ? What a name ! I have not walked with 
 him ! He has seen all 
 
 Here he let his head fall upon his breast, and his eyes 
 met the great cross of gold which was suspended from 
 his neck. He could not help throwing himself back in 
 his chair ; but it followed him. He took it ; and con- 
 sidering it with fixed and devouring looks, he said in 
 a low voice, 
 
 " Terrible sign ! thou followest me ! Shall I find thee 
 elsewhere, divinity and suffering ? What am I ? What 
 have I done ? " 
 
 For the first time a singular and unknown terror 
 penetrated him. He trembled, at once frozen and 
 scorched by an invincible shudder. He dared not lift 
 his eyes, fearing to meet some terrible vision. He 
 dared not call, fearing to hear the sound of his own 
 voice. He remained profoundly plunged in the contem- 
 plation of eternity, so terrible for him, and he mur- 
 mured the following kind of prayer : 
 
 " Great God, if you hear me, judge me then, but do 
 not isolate me in judging me ! Look upon me sur- 
 rounded by the men of my generation ; consider the 
 enormous work which I had undertaken ! Was not an 
 enormous lever wanted to bestir those masses ; and if 
 this lever in falling crushes some useless wretches, am
 
 198 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 I very culpable ? I seem wicked to men ; but thou, Su- 
 preme Judge, dost thou regard me thus ? No ; thou 
 knowest that it is boundless power which makes crea- 
 ture culpable against creature. It is not Armand de 
 Richelieu who destroys ; it is the prime minister. It is 
 not for his personal injuries; it is to carry out a system. 
 But a system what is this word ? Is it permitted me 
 to play thus with men, to regard them as numbers for 
 working out a thought, which perhaps is false ? I over- 
 turn the framework of the throne. What if, without 
 knowing it, I sap its foundations and hasten its fall ! 
 Yes, my borrowed power has seduced me. O labyrinth ! 
 
 weakness of human thought ! Simple faith, why did 
 
 1 quit thy path ? Why am I not a simple priest ? If I 
 dared to break with man and give myself to God, the 
 ladder of Jacob would again descend in my dreams." 
 
 At this moment his ear was struck by a great noise 
 outside, laughter of soldiers, ferocious shouts and 
 oaths, mingled with words which were a long time sus- 
 tained by a weak and clear voice ; one would have said 
 that it was the voice of an angel interrupted by the 
 laughter of demons. He rose and opened a sort of 
 linen window, worked in the sides of his square tent. 
 A singular spectacle presented itself to his view ; he 
 remained some instants contemplating it, attentive to 
 the conversation which was going on. 
 
 " Listen, listen, La Valeur ! " said one soldier to an- 
 other. " See, she begins again to speak and to sing ! 
 Set her in the middle of the circle between us and 
 the fire." 
 
 " Don't you know her ? Don't you know her ? " said
 
 THE NIGHT-WATCH. 199 
 
 another. " Here is Grand-Ferrd, who says that he knows 
 her." 
 
 " Yes, I tell you I know her ; and, by Saint Peter 
 of Loudun, I will swear that I have seen her in my 
 village, when I had leave of absence ; and it was upon 
 an occasion at which one shuddered, but concerning 
 which one dares not talk, especially to a Cardinalist 
 like you." 
 
 " Eh ! and pray why dare not one speak of it, 
 you great simpleton ? " said an old soldier, raising his 
 mustache. 
 
 " It is not spoken of because it burns the tongue. Do 
 you understand that ? " 
 
 " No, I don't understand it." 
 
 " Well, nor I neither ; but they were citizens who told 
 it to me." 
 
 Here a general laugh interrupted him. 
 
 " Ha, ha, ha ! is he a fool ? " said one. " He listens 
 to what the townsfolk tell him." 
 
 " Ah, well ! if yoti listen to their jabber, you have 
 time to lose," said another. 
 
 "You do not know, then, what my mother said, 
 greenhorn ? " said the eldest, gravely dropping his eyes 
 with a solemn air, to get himself listened to. 
 
 " Eh ! how can you think that I know it, La Pipe ? 
 Your mother must have died of old age before my 
 grandfather came into the world." 
 
 " Well, greenhorn, I will tell you ! You shall know, 
 first of all, that my mother was a Respectable Bohe- 
 mian, as much attached to the regiment of carabineers of 
 La Roque as my dog Canon there. She carried brandy
 
 200 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 round her neck in a barrel, and drank better than the 
 best of us. She had fourteen husbands, all soldiers, 
 who died upon the field of battle." 
 
 " Ha ! that was a woman ! " interrupted the soldiers, 
 full of respect. 
 
 " And never once in her life did she speak to a towns- 
 man, unless it was to tell him on coming to her lodging, 
 ' Light my candle, and warm my soup.' " 
 
 " Well, and what is that your mother said to you ? " 
 
 " If you are in such a hurry, you shall not know, 
 greenhorn. She said habitually in her talk, ' A soldier 
 is better than a dog ; but a dog is better than a 
 bourgeois? " 
 
 " Bravo ! bravo ! that was well said ! " cried the 
 soldier, filled with enthusiasm at these fine words. 
 
 " That," said Grand-Ferre*, " does not prove that the 
 citizens who made the remark to me that it burned 
 the tongue were unreasonable ; besides, they were not 
 altogether citizens, for they had swords, and they were 
 grieved at a cure* being burned, and so was I." 
 
 " Eh ! what was it to you that they burned your cure*, 
 great simpleton ? " said a sergeant, leaning upon the 
 fork of his arquebuse ; " after him another would come. 
 You might have taken one of our generals in his stead, 
 who are all cure's at present ; for me, I am a Royalist, 
 and I say it frankly." 
 
 " Hold your tongue ! " cried La Pipe ; " let this girl 
 speak. It is these dogs of Royalists who always disturb 
 us in our amusements." 
 
 " What do you say ? " answered Grand-Ferre*. " Do 
 you even know what it is to be a Royalist ? "
 
 THE NIGHT-WATCH. 201 
 
 " Yes," said La Pipe ; " I know you all very well. 
 Go, you are for the old self-called princes of the peace, 
 together with the wranglers against the cardinal and 
 the gabelle; there, am I right or not?" 
 
 " No, old red-legs. A Royalist is one who is for the 
 king; that's what it is. And as my father was the 
 king's valet, I am for the king, you see ; and I have 
 no liking for the red-legs, that's flat." 
 
 " Ah, do you call me red-legs ? " answered the old 
 soldier. "You shall give me satisfaction to-morrow 
 morning. If you had made war in the Valteline, you 
 would not talk in that style ; and if you had seen his 
 Eminence marching upon the dike at Rochelle, with the 
 old Marquis de Spinola, while volleys of cannon-shot 
 were sent after him, you would have nothing to say 
 about red-legs." 
 
 " Come, let us amuse ourselves instead of quarrelling," 
 said the other soldiers. 
 
 The men who conversed thus were standing round a 
 great fire, which illuminated them more than the moon, 
 beautiful as it was ; and in the middle of them was the 
 object of their gathering together and their cries. The 
 cardinal perceived a young woman arrayed in black and 
 covered with a long white veil. Her feet were naked ; a 
 thick cord clasped her elegant person; a long rosary fell 
 from her neck almost to her feet; her hands, delicate 
 and white as ivory, turned its beads and made them 
 pass rapidly beneath her fingers. The soldiers with a 
 barbarous joy amused themselves with laying little 
 brands in her way to burn her naked feet. The 
 oldest took the smoking match of his arquebuse, and
 
 202 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 approaching it to the edge of her robe, said in a hoarse 
 voice, 
 
 " Come, madcap, tell me your history, or I will fill you 
 with powder and blow you up like a mine ; take care, 
 for I have already played that trick to others besides 
 you, in the old wars of the Huguenots. Come, sing." 
 
 The young woman, looking at him gravely, replied 
 nothing, and let down her veil. 
 
 " You don't manage her well," said Grand-Ferre", with 
 a drunken laugh ; " you will make her cry. You don't 
 know the fine language of the court ; let me speak to 
 her." And touching her on the chin, " My little heart," 
 he said, " if you will please, my sweet, to recommence 
 the little story you told just now to these gentlemen, 
 I will pray you to travel with me upon the river Du 
 Tendre, as the great ladies of Paris say, and to take a 
 glass of brandy with your faithful chevalier, who met 
 you formerly at Loudun, when you played a comedy in 
 order to burn a poor devil." 
 
 The young woman crossed her arms, and looking 
 around her with an imperious air, cried, 
 
 " Withdraw, in the name of the God of armies ; with- 
 draw, impious men ! There is nothing in common be- 
 tween us. I do not understand your tongue, nor you 
 mine. Go, sell your blood to the princes of the earth at 
 so many oboles a day, and leave me to accomplish my 
 mission! Conduct me to the cardinal." 
 
 A coarse laugh interrupted her. 
 
 " Do you think," said a carabineer of Maurevert, " that 
 his Eminence the Generalissimo will receive you with 
 vour feet naked ? Go and wash them."
 
 THE NIGHT-WATCH. 203 
 
 "The Lord has said, 'Jerusalem, lift thy robe, and 
 pass the rivers of water,' " answered she, her arms still 
 crossed. "Let me be conducted to the cardinal." 
 
 Richelieu cried in a loud voice, " Bring the woman to 
 me, and let her alone ! " 
 
 All were silent ; they conducted her to the minister. 
 
 " Why," said she, beholding him, " why bring me 
 before an armed man ? " 
 
 They left her alone with him without answering. 
 
 The cardinal looked at her with a suspicious air. 
 " Madame," said he, " what are you doing in the camp 
 at this hour? And if your mind is not disordered, why 
 these naked feet ? " 
 
 " It is a vow ; it is a vow," answered the young 
 woman, with an air of impatience, seating herself 
 beside him abruptly. " I have also made one not to 
 eat until I have found the man I seek." 
 
 " My sister," said the cardinal, astonished and soft- 
 ened, approaching to observe her, " God does not exact 
 such rigors from a weak body, and particularly from one 
 of your age, for you seem very young." 
 
 " Young ! oh, yes, I was very young a few days 
 ago ; but I have since passed two existences at least, 
 so much have I thought and suffered. Look on my 
 countenance." 
 
 And she discovered a face perfectly beautiful. Black 
 and very regular eyes gave life to it ; but in their ab- 
 sence one might have thought her features were those 
 of a phantom, she was so pale. Her lips were blue and 
 quivered ; and a strong shudder made the encounter of 
 her teeth audible.
 
 204 CINQ- MARS. 
 
 "You are ill, my sister," said the minister, touched, 
 taking her hand, which he felt to be burning hot. A 
 sort of habit of inquiring concerning his own health, 
 and that of others, made him touch the pulse of her 
 emaciated arm; he felt the arteries lifted by the beatings 
 of a terrible fever. 
 
 " Alas," continued he, with more of interest, " you 
 have killed yourself with rigors beyond human strength ! 
 I have always blamed them, and especially at a tender 
 age. What, then, has induced you to this? Is it to 
 confide it to me that you are come ? Speak calmly, 
 and be sure of succor." 
 
 " Confide in men ! " answered the } r oung woman ; " oh, 
 no, never ! They have all deceived me. I will confide 
 myself to no one, not even to M. Cinq-Mars, although 
 he must soon die." 
 
 " What ! " said Richelieu, contracting his brows, but 
 with a bitter laugh, "what! do you know this young 
 man ? Has he been the cause of your misfortune ? " 
 
 " Oh, no ! He is very good, and hates wickedness ; 
 that is what will ruin him. Besides," said she, suddenly 
 assuming a harsh and savage air, " men are weak, and 
 there are things which women must accomplish. When 
 there were no more valiant men in Israel, Deborah 
 arose." 
 
 " Ah ! how came you with all this fine learning ? " 
 continued the cardinal, still holding her hand. 
 
 " Oh, I can't explain that ! " answered she, with a 
 touching air of na'ivet^ and a very gentle voice ; " you 
 would not understand me. It is the Devil who has 
 taught me all, and who has destroyed me."
 
 THE NIGHT-WATCH. 205 
 
 " Ah, my child ! it is always he who destroys us ; 
 but he instructs us ill," said Richelieu, with an air 
 of paternal protection and an increasing pity. " What 
 have been your faults ? Tell them to me ; I have much 
 power." 
 
 " Ah," said she, with a look; of doubt, " you have 
 much influence over warriors, brave men and generals ! 
 Beneath your cuirass there must beat a noble heart ; 
 you are an old general who knows nothing of the tricks 
 of crime." 
 
 Richelieu smiled ; this mistake flattered him. 
 
 " I heard you ask for the cardinal ; do you desire to 
 see him ? Did you come here to seek him ? " 
 
 The girl drew back and placed a finger upon her 
 forehead. 
 
 " I had forgotten it," said she ; " you have talked to 
 me too much. I had overlooked this idea, and yet it 
 
 an important one; it is for it that I have condemned 
 myself to the hunger which kills me. I must accom- 
 plish it, or I shall die first. Ah," said she, putting 
 her hand beneath her robe in her bosom, whence she 
 appeared to take something, " behold it ! this idea " 
 
 She suddenly blushed, and her eyes widened extra- 
 ordinarily. She continued, bending to the ear of the 
 cardinal, 
 
 " I will tell you ; listen. Urbain Grandier, my lover 
 Urbain, told me this night that it was Richelieu who 
 had been the cause of his death. I took a knife from 
 an inn, and 1 come here to kill him ; tell me where 
 he is." 
 
 The cardinal, surprised and terrified, recoiled with
 
 206 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 horror. He dared not call his guards, fearing the cries 
 of this woman and her accusations ; and nevertheless, a 
 transport of this madness might be fatal to him. 
 
 " This frightful history will pursue me everywhere ! " 
 cried he, looking fixedly at her, and thinking within 
 himself of the course he should take. 
 
 They remained in silence, face to face, in the same 
 attitude, like two wrestlers who contemplate before at- 
 tacking one another, or like the pointer and his victim 
 petrified by the power of a look. 
 
 In the mean time, Laubardernont and Joseph had 
 gone forth together ; and ere separating they talked for 
 a moment before the tent of the cardinal, because they 
 wanted mutually to deceive each other. Their hatred 
 had just acquired new force by their quarrel ; and each 
 had resolved to ruin his rival in the mind of his master. 
 The judge began the dialogue, which each of them had 
 prepared, taking the arm of the other as by one and the 
 same movement. 
 
 " Ah, reverend father ! how you have afflicted me by 
 seeming to take in ill part some trifling pleasantries 
 which I said to you just now." 
 
 " Heavens, no ! my dear sir, I am far from that. 
 Charity, where would be charity ? I have sometimes a 
 holy warmth in conversation, for the good of the State 
 and of Monseigneur, to whom I am entirely devoted." 
 
 " Ah, who knows it better than I, reverend father ? 
 But render me justice ; you also know how completely 
 I am attached to his Eminence the Cardinal, to whom 
 I owe all. Alas ! I have employed too much zeal in 
 serving him, since he reproaches me with it."
 
 THE NIGHT-WATCH. 207 
 
 " Reassure yourself," said Joseph ; " he bears no ill- 
 will towards you. I know him well ; he can appreciate 
 one's actions in favor of one's family. He too is a very 
 good relative." 
 
 " Yes, there it is," answered Laubardemont ; " con- 
 sider niy condition. My niece was totally lost with her 
 convent if Urbain had triumphed ; you feel that as 
 well as I do, particularly as she did not quite compre- 
 hend us, and acted the child when she was obliged 
 to appear." 
 
 " Is it possible ? In full audience ! What you tell 
 me indeed makes me feel for you. How painful it 
 must have been ! " 
 
 " More so than you can imagine. She forgot, in her 
 possession, all that she had been told, committed a 
 thousand blunders in Latin, which we patched up as 
 well as we could; and she even caused an unpleasant 
 scene on the day of the trial, very unpleasant for me 
 and the judges, there were faintings-away and shrieks. 
 Ah, I swear that I would have scolded her well if I had 
 not been forced to quit precipitately that little town 
 of Loudun. But, look you, it is natural enough that 
 I am attached to her. She is my nearest relative ; for 
 my son has turned out ill, and no one knows what has 
 become of him during the last four years. Poor little 
 Jeanne de Belfiel ! I made her a nun, and then abbess, 
 in order to preserve all for that scamp. If I had fore- 
 seen his conduct, I would have retained her for the 
 world." 
 
 " She is said to have great beauty," answered Joseph ; 
 " that is a precious gift for a family. She might have
 
 208 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 been presented at court, and the king Ah ! ah ! 
 Mademoiselle de la Fayette eh ! eh ! Mademoiselle 
 d'Hautefort you understand ; it may be even possible 
 to think of it yet." 
 
 " Ah, that is like you, Monseigneur ! for we know 
 that you have been nominated to the cardinalate ; how 
 good you are to remember the most devoted of your 
 friends ! " 
 
 Laubardemont was yet talking to Joseph when they 
 found themselves at the end of the line of the camp, 
 which led to the quarter of the volunteers. 
 
 " May God and his holy Mother protect you during 
 my absence ! " said Joseph, stopping. " To-morrow I de- 
 part for Paris; and as I shall have frequent business 
 with this young Cinq-Mars, I will first go to see him, 
 and learn news of his wound." 
 
 " If I had been listened to," said Laubardemont, " you 
 would not now have had this trouble." 
 
 " Alas, you are right ! " answered Joseph, with a pro- 
 found sigh, and raising his eyes to heaven ; " but the 
 cardinal is no longer the same man. He will not take 
 advantage of good ideas ; he will ruin us if he goes 
 on so." 
 
 And making a low bow to the judge, the Capuchin 
 took the road which he had indicated to him. 
 
 Laubardemont followed him for some time with his 
 eyes, and when he was quite sure of the route which 
 he had taken, he returned, or rather ran back, to the 
 tent of the minister. "The cardinal sends him away, 
 he tells me ; that shows that he is tired of him. I know 
 secrets which will ruin him. I will add that he is gone
 
 THE NIGHT-WATCH. 209 
 
 to pay court to the future favorite. I will replace this 
 monk in the favor of the minister. The moment is 
 propitious. It is midnight ; he is to be alone for an 
 hour and a half yet. Let me run." 
 
 He arrived at the tent of the guards, which was before 
 the pavilion. 
 
 " Monseigneur gives audience to some one," said the 
 captain, hesitating; "you cannot enter." 
 
 " Never mind ; you saw me leave an hour ago, and 
 there are things passing of which I must give an 
 account." 
 
 " Come in, Laubardemont," cried the minister ; " come 
 in quickly, and alone." 
 
 He entered. The cardinal, still seated, held the two 
 hands of the nun in one of his, and with the other he 
 imposed silence upon his stupefied agent, who remained 
 motionless, not yet seeing the face of this woman. She 
 spoke volubly, and the strange things she said contrasted 
 horribly with the sweetness of her voice. Richelieu 
 seemed moved. 
 
 " Yes, I will stab him with a knife. It is the knife 
 which the demon Beherith gave me at the inn ; but it 
 is the nail of Sisera. It has a handle of ivory, look you ; 
 and I have wept much over it. Is it not singular, my 
 good general ? I will turn it in the throat of him who 
 killed my friend, as he himself told me to do; and after- 
 wards I will burn the body. There is like for like, the 
 punishment which God permitted to Adam. You have 
 an astonished air, my brave general ; but you would be 
 much more so, if I were to repeat to you his song, 
 the song which he sang to me again yesterday night, at 
 
 VOL. I. 14
 
 210 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 the hour of the funeral- pyre, you understand? the 
 hour when it rains, the hour when my hand burns, as 
 now. He said to me, ' They are much deceived, the 
 magistrates, the red judges. I have eleven demons at 
 my command ; and I shall come to see you when the 
 clock strikes, under a canopy of purple velvet, with 
 torches, torches of resin to give us light ' Ah, that 
 is beautiful ! Listen, listen to what he sings ! " 
 
 And she sang a strange and melancholy strain to the 
 air of De Profundis. 
 
 " Is it not singular, my good general ? " said she, 
 when she had finished ; " and I, I answer him every 
 evening. Then he speaks, and speaks as spirits and 
 prophets do. He says, ' Woe, woe to him who has shed 
 blood ! Are the judges of the earth gods ? No, they 
 are men who grow old and suffer, and yet they dare 
 to say aloud, Let that man die ! The penalty of death, 
 the pain of death, who has given to man the right of 
 imposing it on man ? Is the number two ? One would 
 be an assassin, look you ! But count well, one, two, 
 three. Behold, they are wise and just, these grave and 
 salaried criminals ! crime, the horror of Heaven ! If 
 you looked upon them from above as I look upon them, 
 you would be yet paler than I am. Flesh destroys flesh ! 
 That which lives by blood sheds blood coldly and with- 
 out anger, like a God with power to create ! ' ' 
 
 The cries which the unhappy girl uttered, as she 
 rapidly spoke these words, terrified Richelieu and Lau- 
 bardemont so much that they still remained motionless. 
 The delirium and the fever continued to transport 
 her.
 
 THE NIGHT-WATCH. 211 
 
 " ' Did the judges tremble ? ' said Urbain Grandier to 
 me. ' Did they tremble at deceiving themselves ? ' They 
 work the death of the just. The question ! They bind 
 his limbs with ropes to make him speak. His skin 
 cracks, tears away, and rolls up like a parchment ; his 
 nerves are naked, red, and glittering ; his bones crack ; 
 the marrow spurts out. But the judges sleep ! they 
 dream of flowers and spring. ' How hot the grand cham- 
 ber is ! ' says one, awaking ; 'this man has not chosen to 
 speak ! Is the torture finished ?' And pitiful at last, he 
 dooms him to death, death, the sole fear of the living! 
 death, the unknown world ! He sends before him a 
 furious soul which will wait for him. Oh ! has he never 
 seen the vision of vengeance ? Has he never seen before 
 falling to sleep the flayed prevaricator?" 
 
 Already, weakened by fever, fatigue, and grief, the 
 cardinal, seized with horror and pity, exclaimed, 
 
 " Ah, for the love of God, let this terrible scene have 
 an end ! Take away this woman ; she is mad ! " 
 
 The frantic creature turned, and suddenly uttering 
 loud cries, " Ah, the judge ! the judge ! the judge ! " she 
 said, recognizing Laubardemont. 
 
 The latter, clasping his hands, and trembling before 
 the cardinal, said with terror, 
 
 " Alas, Monseigncur, pardon me ! she is my niece, 
 who has lost her reason. I was not aware of this mis- 
 fortune, or she would have been shut up long ago. 
 Jeanne ! Jeanne ! come, Madame, to your knees ! ask 
 forgiveness of Monseigneur the Cardinal-Due." 
 
 " It is Richelieu ! " cried she ; and astonishment 
 seemed wholly to paralyze this young and unhappy
 
 212 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 beauty. The flush which had animated her at first 
 gave place to a deadly paleness, her cries to a motion- 
 less silence, her wandering looks to a frightful fixed- 
 ness of her large eyes, which constantly followed the 
 agitated minister. 
 
 " Take away this unfortunate child quickly," said he ; 
 " she is dying, and so am I. So many horrors pursue 
 me since that sentence that I believe all hell is loosed 
 upon me." 
 
 He rose as he spoke ; Jeanne de Belfiel, still silent 
 and stupefied, with haggard eyes, open mouth, and head 
 bent forward, yet remained beneath the shock of her 
 double surprise, which seemed to have extinguished the 
 rest of her reason and her strength. At the movement 
 of the cardinal, she shuddered to find herself between 
 him and Laubardemont, looked by turns at one and the 
 other, let the knife which she held fall from her hand, 
 and retired slowly towards the opening of the tent, 
 covering herself completely with her veil, and looking 
 wildly and with terror behind her upon her uncle who 
 followed, like an affrighted lamb, which already feels 
 at its back the burning breath of the wolf about to 
 seize it. 
 
 Thus they both went forth ; and scarcely in the open 
 air, the furious judge caught the hands of his victim, 
 tied them with a handkerchief, and easily led her, for 
 she uttered no cry, not even a sigh, but followed him 
 with her head still drooping upon her bosom, and as if 
 plunged in profound somnambulism.
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE SPANIARD. 
 
 Qu'un ami veritable est une douce chose ! 
 
 II cherche vos besoms au fond de votre cceur ; 
 
 II vous e'pargne la pudeur 
 
 De les lui de'couvrir vous-meme. 
 
 LA FONTAINE. 
 
 IN the mean time, a scene of quite a different nature was 
 passing in the tent of Cinq-Mars ; the words of the king, 
 the first balm to his wounds, had been followed by the 
 anxious care of the surgeons of the court. A spent ball, 
 easily extracted, had been the only cause of his acci- 
 dent. He was allowed to travel ; and all was ready. 
 The invalid had received up to midnight friendly or 
 interested visits ; among the first were those of little 
 Gondi and of Fontrailles, who were also preparing to quit 
 Perpignan for Paris. The ex-page, Olivier d'Entraigues, 
 joined with them in complimenting the fortunate volun- 
 teer, whom the king seemed to have distinguished. The 
 habitual coldness of the prince towards all who sur- 
 rounded him having caused those who knew of them to
 
 214 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 regard the few words he had spoken as assured signs 
 of high favor, all came to congratulate him. 
 
 At length, released from visitors, he lay upon his 
 camp-bed. De Thou sat by his side, holding his hand, 
 and Grandchamp at his feet, still grumbling at the 
 numerous interruptions that had fatigued his wounded 
 master. Cinq-Mars himself tasted one of those moments 
 of calm and hope, which so refresh the soul as well as 
 the body. The hand unoccupied by his friend secretly 
 pressed the gold cross that hung next to his heart, and 
 the beloved donor of which he was so soon to behold. 
 It was but outwardly that with kindly looks he heard the 
 counsels of the young magistrate ; his inward thoughts 
 were all turned towards the object of his journey, the 
 object, also, of his life. The grave De Thou went on 
 in a calm, gentle voice, - 
 
 " I shall soon follow you to Paris. I am happier than 
 yourself at seeing the king take you there with him. 
 You are right in looking upon it as the commencemen 
 of a friendship which must be turned to profit. I have 
 deeply reflected on the secret causes of your ambition, 
 and I think I have divined your heart. Yes ; that 
 feeling of love for France, which made it beat in your 
 earliest youth, must have gained greater strength. You 
 would be near the king in order to serve your country, 
 in order to put in action those golden dreams of your 
 early years. Certes, the thought is a vast one, and 
 worthy of you ! I admire you ; I bow before you. To 
 approach the monarch with the chivalrous devotion of 
 our fathers, with a heart full of candor, and prepared 
 for any sacrifice ; to receive the confidences of his soul ;
 
 THE SPANIARD. 215 
 
 to pour into his those of his subjects; to soften the 
 sorrows of the king by telling him the confidence his 
 people have in him ; to cure the wounds of the people 
 by laying them open to its master, and by the interven- 
 tion of your favor thus to re-establish that intercourse 
 of love between the father and his children which for 
 eighteen years has been interrupted by a man whose 
 heart is marble ; for this noble enterprise, to expose 
 yourself to all the horrors of his vengeance and, what is 
 even worse, to brave all the perfidious calumnies which 
 pursue the favorite to the very steps of the throne, 
 this dream was worthy of you. Pursue it, my friend. 
 Be never discouraged. Speak loudly to the king of the 
 merit and misfortunes of his most illustrious friends 
 who are trampled on. Tell him fearlessly that his old 
 nobility have never conspired against him ; and that 
 from the young Montmorency to the amiable Comte de 
 Soissons, all have opposed the minister, and never the 
 monarch. Tell him that the old families of France 
 were born with his race ; that in striking them he 
 affects the whole nation ; and that if he destroy them, 
 his own race will suffer, that it will stand alone exposed 
 to the blast of time and events, as an old oak trembling 
 and exposed to the wind of the plain, when the forest 
 which surrounded and supported it has been destroyed. 
 Yes," cried De Thou, growing animated, " this aim is a 
 fine and noble one. Go on in your course with a reso- 
 lute step ; expel even that secret shame, that bashfulness, 
 which a noble soul experiences before it can resolve 
 upon flattering, upon paying what the world calls its 
 court. Alas, kings are accustomed to these continual
 
 216 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 expressions of false admiration for them ! Look upon 
 them as a new language which must be learned, a 
 language hitherto foreign to your lips, but which, believe 
 me, may be nobly spoken, and which may express high 
 and generous thoughts." 
 
 During this warm discourse of his friend, Cinq-Mars 
 could not refrain from a sudden blush ; and he turned 
 his head on his pillow towards the tent, so that he 
 might not be seen. De Thou stopped : 
 
 " What is the matter, Henri ? You do not answer. 
 Am I deceived ? " 
 
 Cinq-Mars gave a deep sigh, and was still silent. 
 
 " Is not your heart affected by these ideas which I 
 thought would have transported it ? " 
 
 The wounded man looked more calmly at his friend, 
 and said, 
 
 " I thought, my dear De Thou, that you were not 
 going to interrogate me farther, and that you were 
 willing to have a blind confidence in me. What evil 
 genius has moved you thus to sound my soul ? I am 
 not a stranger to these ideas which possess you. Who 
 told you that I had not conceived them ? Who told you 
 that I had not formed the firm resolution of prosecuting 
 them infinitely farther in action than you have put them 
 into words ? Love for France, virtuous hatred of the 
 ambition which oppresses and shatters her ancient insti- 
 tutions with the axe of the executioner, the firm belief 
 that virtue maybe as skilful as crime, these are my 
 gods as much as yours. But when you see a man kneel- 
 ing in a church, do you ask him what saint or what 
 angel protects him and receives his prayer ? What
 
 THE SPANIARD. 217 
 
 matters it to you, provided that he pray at the foot of 
 the altars that you adore, provided that if called upon, 
 he fall a martyr at the foot of those altars ? When our 
 forefathers journeyed with naked feet towards the holy 
 sepulchre, with a pilgrim's staff in their hands, did men 
 inquire the secret vow which led them to the Holy 
 Land ? They struck, they died ; and men, perhaps God 
 himself, asked no more. The pious captain who led 
 them never stripped their bodies to see whether the red 
 cross and haircloth concealed any other mysterious sym- 
 bol ; and in heaven, doubtless, they were not judged 
 with any greater rigor for having aided the strength of 
 their resolutions upon earth by some hope permitted 
 to a Christian, some second or secret thought, more 
 human, and nearer the mortal heart." 
 
 De Thou smiled, and slightly colored, lowering his eyes. 
 
 " My friend," he answered, gravely ; " this excitement 
 may be injurious to you. Let us not continue this sub- 
 ject ; let us not mingle God and heaven in our discourse. 
 T is not well ; and draw the clothes over your shoulder, 
 for the night is cold. I promise you," he added, cover- 
 ing his young invalid with a maternal care, "I promise 
 not to again offend you with my counsels." 
 
 " And I," cried Cinq-Mars, despite the interdiction to 
 speak, " swear to you by this gold cross you see, and by 
 the holy Mary, to die rather than renounce the plan that 
 you first traced out ! You may one day, perhaps, be 
 forced to pray me to stop ; but then it will be 1 too late." 
 
 " Well, well ! " repeated the counsellor, " now sleep ; 
 if you do not stop, I will go on with you, wherever you 
 lead me."
 
 218 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 And taking a prayer-book from his pocket, he began 
 to read attentively ; in a short time he looked at Cinq- 
 Mars, who was still awake. He made a sign to Grand- 
 champ to put the lamp out of sight of the invalid ; but 
 this new care succeeded no better. The latter, with his 
 eyes still open, tossed restlessly on his narrow bed. 
 
 " Come, you are not calm," said De Thou, smiling ; 
 " I will read to you some pious passage which will put 
 your mind in repose. Ah, my friend, it is here that 
 true repose is to be found ; it is in this consolatory 
 book, for, open it where you will, you will always see, 
 on the one hand, man in the only condition that suits 
 his weakness, prayer, and the uncertainty as to his des- 
 tiny, and, on the other, God himself speaking to him 
 of his infirmities ! What a glorious and heavenly spec- 
 tacle ! What a sublime bond between heaven and earth ! 
 Life, death, and eternity are there ; open it at hazard." 
 
 " Yes ! " said Cinq-Mars, rising with a vivacity which 
 had something infantine in it ; " you shall read to me, 
 but let me open the book. You know the old supersti- 
 tion of our country, when the mass-book is opened with 
 a sword, the first page on the left contains the destiny 
 of him who reads, and the first person who enters after 
 he has read is powerfully to influence the reader's future 
 fate." 
 
 " What childishness ! But be it as you will. There 's 
 your sword ; put in the point. Let us see." 
 
 "Let me read myself," said Cinq-Mars, taking one 
 side of the book. Old Grandchamp gravely advanced 
 his tawny face and his gray hair to the foot of the bed 
 to listen. His master read, stopped at the first phrase,
 
 THE SPANIARD. 219 
 
 but with a smile, perhaps slightly forced, he went on to 
 the end. 
 
 " I. Now it was in the city of Milan that they appeared. 
 
 " II. The high-priest said to them, ' Bow down and 
 adore the gods.' 
 
 " III. And the people were silent, looking at their faces, 
 which appeared as the faces of angels. 
 
 " IV. But Gervais, taking the hand of Protais, cried, 
 looking to heaven, and filled with the Hoi}" Ghost, 
 
 "V. Oh, my brother! I see the Son of man smiling 
 upon us ; let me die first. 
 
 "VI. For if I see thy blood, I fear I shall shed tears 
 unworthy of the Lord our God. 
 
 " VII. Then Protais answered him in these words, 
 
 " VIII. My brother, it is just that I should perish after 
 thee, for I am older, and have more strength to see thee 
 suffer. 
 
 " IX. But the senators and people ground their teeth 
 at them. 
 
 " X. And the soldiers having struck them, their heads 
 fell together on the same stone. 
 
 "XI. Now it was in this same place that the blessed 
 Saint Ambrose found the ashes of the two martyrs which 
 gave sight to the blind." 
 
 " Well," said Cinq-Mars, looking at his friend when 
 he had finished, "what do you say to that?" 
 
 " God's will be done ! but we should not scrutinize 
 it." 
 
 "Nor put off our designs for a child's play," said 
 D'Effiat, impatiently, and pulling round him a cloak 
 which was thrown over him. " Remember the lines we 
 formerly so frequently quoted, ' Justum et tenacem 
 propositi virum ; ' these iron words are stamped upon
 
 220 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 my brain. Yes ; let the universe crumble around me, 
 its wrecks shall carry me away still t resolute." 
 
 " Let us not compare the thoughts of man with those 
 of Heaven; and let us be submissive," said De Thou, 
 gravely. 
 
 "Amen!" said old Grandchamp, whose eyes had 
 filled with tears, which he hastily brushed away. 
 
 " What hast thou to do with it, old soldier ? Thou 
 weepest," said his master. 
 
 " Amen ! " said a voice, in a nasal tone, at the en- 
 trance of the tent. 
 
 " Parbleu, Monsieur ! rather put that question to his 
 Gray Eminence, who comes to visit you," answered the 
 faithful servant, pointing to Joseph, who advanced with 
 his arms crossed, making a salutation with a frowning 
 air. 
 
 " Ah, it will be he, then ! " murmured Cinq-Mars. 
 
 " Perhaps I come mal a propos" said Joseph, sooth- 
 ingly. 
 
 " Perhaps very d propos" said Henri d'Effiat, smiling, 
 with a glance at De Thou. " What can bring you here, 
 Father, at one in the morning ? It should be some good 
 work." \ 
 
 Joseph saw he was ill received ; and as he had always 
 sundry reproaches to make himself with reference to all 
 the persons whom he addressed, and as many resources 
 in his mind for getting out of the difficulty, he fancied 
 that they had discovered the object of his visit, and felt 
 that it was not a moment of ill humor that he ought to 
 select for preparing the way to friendship. Therefore, 
 seating himself coldly near the bed, he said,
 
 THE SPANIARD. 221 
 
 " I come, sir, to speak to you on the part of the car- 
 dinal-generalissimo, of the two Spanish prisoners you have 
 made ; he desires to have the most prompt information 
 concerning them. I am to see and question them. But 
 1 did not suppose you were still awake ; I merely wished 
 to receive them of your people." 
 
 After a forced interchange of politeness, they ordered 
 into the tent the two prisoners, whom Cinq-Mars had 
 almost forgotten. 
 
 They appeared, the one, young and displaying an 
 animated and rather wild countenance, was the sol- 
 dier ; the other, concealing his form under a brown 
 cloak, and his gloomy features, which had something 
 ambiguous in their expression, under his broad-brimmed 
 hat, which he did not take off, was the officer. He 
 spoke first : 
 
 " Why do you make me leave my straw and my sleep ? 
 Is it to deliver me or hang me ? " 
 
 " Neither," said Joseph. 
 
 " What have I to do with thee, man with the long 
 beard ? I did not see thee at the breach." 
 
 It took some time after this amiable exordium to 
 make the stranger understand the right a Capuchin had 
 to interrogate him. 
 
 " Well," he said, " what dost want? " 
 
 " I would know your name and country." 
 
 " I shall not tell my name ; and as for my country, I 
 have the air of a Spaniard, but perhaps am not one, for 
 a Spaniard never acknowledges his country." 
 
 Father Joseph, turning towards the two friends, said, 
 " Unless I deceive myself, I have heard his voice some-
 
 222 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 where. This man speaks French without any accent ; 
 but it seems he wishes to give us enigmas, as in the 
 East." 
 
 " The East ? that 's it," said the prisoner. " A Span- 
 iard is a man from the East ; he is a Catholic Turk ; his 
 blood flags or boils ; he is lazy or indefatigable ; indo- 
 lence makes him a slave, ardor a tyrant ; immovable in 
 his ignorance, ingenious in his superstition, he wants 
 only a religious book and a tyrannical master ; he obeys 
 the law of the pyre ; he commands by that of the pon- 
 iard ; at night he falls asleep in his bloodthirsty 
 misery, nurses fanaticism, and awakes to crime. Who 
 is this gentleman ? Is it the Spaniard or the Turk ? 
 Guess ! Ah, ah ! you seem to discover that I have wit, 
 because I light upon analogy. Truly, gentlemen, you 
 do me honor ; and yet the idea may be carried much 
 further, if desired. If I pass to the physical order, for 
 example, may I not say to you, this man has serious 
 and long features, a black and almond-shaped eye, 
 rugged brows, a sad and changeable mouth, tawny, 
 meagre, and wrinkled cheeks ; his head is shaved, and 
 he covers it with a black handkerchief in the form of a 
 turban ; he passes a whole day lying or standing under 
 a burning sun, without motion, without utterance, smok- 
 ing a pipe that intoxicates him. Is this a Turk or 
 a Spaniard ? Are you content, gentlemen ? Truly, it 
 would seem so ; you laugh, and what do you laugh at ? 
 I, who have 'presented this idea to you, I have not 
 laughed ; see, my countenance is sad. Ah 1 perhaps it 
 is because the gloomy prisoner has suddenly become a 
 gossip, and talks quick. Ah, that 's nothing! I might
 
 . THE SPANIARD, 223 
 
 tell you other things, and render you some service, my 
 worthy friends. If I ran into anecdote, for example ; if 
 I told you I knew a priest who ordered the death of 
 some heretics before saying mass, and who, furious at 
 being interrupted at the altar during the holy sacrifice, 
 cried to those who asked for his orders, ' Kill them 
 all ! kill them all ! ' should you all laugh, gentlemen ? 
 No, not all ! This gentleman here, for instance, would 
 bite his lips and his beard. Oh ! it is true he might an- 
 swer that he did wisely, and that they were wrong to 
 interrupt his unsullied prayer. But if I added that he 
 concealed himself for an hour behind the curtain of 
 your tent, M. de Cinq-Mars, to listen while you talked, 
 and that he came to betray you, and not for me, what 
 would he say ? Now, gentlemen, are you content ? 
 May I retire after this display ? " 
 
 The prisoner had uttered this with the rapidity of a 
 quack vending his wares, and in so loud a voice that 
 Joseph was quite confounded. He indignantly arose at 
 last, and addressing himself to Cinq-Mars, said, 
 
 " How can you suffer a prisoner who ought to have 
 been hanged to speak to you thus, sir ? " 
 
 The Spaniard, without deigning to attend to him 
 any farther, leaned towards D'Effiat, and whispered in 
 his ear, 
 
 " I can be of no farther use to you ; give me my 
 liberty. I might ere this have taken it ; but I would 
 not do so without your consent. Give it me, or have 
 me killed." 
 
 " Go, if you will ! " said Cinq-Mars to him. " I as- 
 sure you I shall be very glad ; " and he told his people
 
 224 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 to retire with the soldier, whom he wished to keep in 
 his service. 
 
 This was the affair of a moment. There no longer 
 remained any one in the tent but the two friends, the 
 abashed Joseph and the Spaniard, when the latter, tak- 
 ing off his hat, showed a French but savage countenance. 
 He laughed, and seemed to respire more air into his 
 broad chest. 
 
 " Yes, I am a Frenchman," he said to Joseph. " But 
 I hate France, because she gave birth to my father, who 
 is a monster, and to me, who have become one, and who 
 once struck him. I hate her inhabitants, because they 
 have robbed me of my whole fortune at play, and be- 
 cause I have robbed them and killed them. I have been 
 two years in Spain in order to kill more Frenchmen ; 
 but now I hate Spain still more. No one will know why. 
 Adieu ! I must live henceforth without a nation ; all 
 men are my enemies. Go on, Joseph, and you will 
 soon be as good as I. Yes, you saw me once before," 
 continued he, violently, pushing him in the breast and 
 throwing him down. " I am Jacques de Laubardemont, 
 the son of your worthy friend." 
 
 At these words, quickly leaving the tent, he disap- 
 peared like an apparition. De Thou and the servants, 
 who ran to the entrance, saw him with two bounds 
 spring over a surprised and disarmed soldier, and run 
 towards the mountains with the swiftness of a hart, 
 despite various musket-shots. Joseph took advantage 
 of the disorder to slip away, stammering a few words of 
 politeness, and left the two friends laughing at his ad- 
 venture and his disappointment, as two schoolboys laugh
 
 THE SPANIARD. 225 
 
 at seeing the spectacles of their pedagogue fall off, and 
 at last preparing to seek a rest of which they both stood 
 in need, and which they soon found, the wounded man 
 in his bed, and the young counsellor in his chair. 
 
 As for the Capuchin, he walked towards his tent, 
 meditating how he should turn all this so as to take the 
 greatest possible revenge, when he met Laubardemont, 
 dragging by her two hands the young mad-woman. They 
 recounted to one another their mutual and horrible 
 adventures. 
 
 Joseph had no small pleasure in turning the poniard 
 in the wound of his friend's heart, by telling him of the 
 fate of his son. 
 
 " You are not singularly happy in your family," he 
 added. " I advise you to shut up your niece and hang 
 your son, if you are fortunate enough to find him." 
 
 Laubardemont replied with a hideous laugh, 
 
 " As for this idiot here, I am going to give her to an 
 ex-secret judge, at present a smuggler in the Pyrenees 
 at Oleron. He can make what he pleases of her, a 
 servant in his posada, for instance. I care not, so that 
 my Lord never hears of her." 
 
 Jeanne de Belfiel, her head hanging down, gave no 
 sign of sensibility. Every glimmer of reason was extin- 
 guished in her ; one word alone remained upon her lips, 
 and this she continually pronounced. 
 
 " The judge ! the judge ! the judge ! " she said mur- 
 muringly, and was silent. 
 
 The uncle and Joseph threw her, almost like a sack 
 of corn, on one of the horses which were led up by two 
 servants. Laubardemont mounted another, and prepared 
 VOL. i. 15
 
 226 CINQ-MARS. 
 
 to leave the camp, wishing to get into the mountains 
 before day. 
 
 " A good j6urney to you ! " he said to Joseph. " Exe- 
 cute your business well in Paris. I commend to you 
 Orestes and Pylades." 
 
 " A good journey to you ! " answered the other. " I 
 commend to you Cassandra and (Edipus." 
 
 " Oh ! he has neither killed his father nor married his 
 mother." 
 
 " But he is on the high-road to those little pleasantries." 
 
 " Adieu, my reverend father ! " 
 
 " Adieu, my venerable friend ! " 
 
 They said aloud, but in a low voice, 
 
 " Adieu, assassin in the gray robe ! During thy ab- 
 sence I shall have the ear of the cardinal." 
 
 " Adieu, villain in the red robe ! Go thyself and de- 
 stroy thy cursed family. Finish shedding that portion 
 of thy blood that is in others' veins. What of it re- 
 mains in thee, I will take charge of. I' faith, a well- 
 employed night ! "
 
 NOTES AND HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS. 
 
 WHEN this work appeared for the first time, 1 it appeared 
 without notes, simply as a work of art, as a summary of a 
 century. That it might be rightly judged by the public, 
 the author would not surround it in any way with the 
 apparent eclat of historical research, with which it is too 
 easy to decorate a new book. He wished not to show the 
 true in detail, but the epic work, the composition with its 
 tragedy, the scenes of which comprise all the eminent per- 
 sonages of the time of Louis XIII. The author, however, 
 soon found it necessary to indicate the principal sources of 
 his labors ; and as he had ever desired to go back to the 
 purest sources, that is to say, to the manuscripts, and in 
 their default, to their contemporary impressions, he added 
 the present documents to the second edition of " Cinq- 
 Mars," 2 to correct the erroneous ideas prevalent as to the 
 authenticity of some facts. Subsequently, he returned to 
 the simple and primitive unity of his work. But now 
 again that his production has been multiplied in editions 
 far more numerous than he could have expected, he is 
 desirous that minds inquisitive as to the details of the 
 vrai anecdotique, need not have to seek elsewhere for the 
 documents. 
 
 1 March, 1826, 2 vols. 2 j unej i 82 6.
 
 228 NOTES AND HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS. 
 
 PAGE 103. 
 Father Joseph. 
 
 " In his youth," says the historian of Father Joseph, " his hair and 
 beard were of a somewhat fiery red. He perceived that Louis XIII. 
 could not bear this color ; and he accordingly took pains to turn it 
 brown, with combs of lead and steel, until he learned the secret of turn- 
 ing it white, which was afterwards communicated to him by a quack 
 doctor. The king's horror for red hair was so great that one day his 
 first gentleman of the chamber (whose brother held the finest governor- 
 ship in the kingdom) having the honor to accompany his Majesty to 
 Foutainebleau on a hunting expedition, it rained so hard that it washed 
 away all the paint with which he concealed the redness of his hair. 
 The prince, perceiving it, was terrified, and said to him, ' Good God, 
 what do I see ? never appear again before me ! ' The gentleman was 
 obliged to resign his post." 
 
 PAGE 104. 
 
 " His confidant." 
 
 The same historian says : % 
 
 " This too celebrated Capuchin, whom one of his historians calls the 
 assistant spirit of the cardinal, was not only his confidant, but that of 
 the king himself. Inflexible, pliant, and base, he strengthened the 
 steps of the minister in the path of blood, and assisted him to draw 
 thither the feeble prince. The history of this man is known every- 
 where. Here are the details of one of his tricks, which is little 
 known : 
 
 " Montmorency was taken at Casteluaudary. Louis XIII. hesitated 
 to execute him. Monsieur, who had abandoned him on the field of 
 battle, earnestly demanded his pardon. The cardinal desired his death, 
 but did not know how to obtain this precious favor. Bouillon was 
 charged with the negotiation. It was he who counselled Gastou. To 
 him Joseph first addressed himself. 
 
 " He got hold of him with the address of a serpent, and through him 
 counselled Monsieur not to demand assurances from the king of the 
 young duke's pardon, but to remit the affair entirely to Louis's good- 
 ness alone, whose heart, he said, was afflicted by the appearance of a
 
 NOTES AND HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS. 229 
 
 doubt on the subject. Monsieur thought he saw in this suggestion an 
 intention to pardon, insinuated by his brother himself, and made his 
 peace for himself alone, without stipulating anything for the young 
 duke, and referring him to the king's clemency. It was then that, 
 in a conseil ctroit of the king, the cardinal, and Joseph, the latter ven- 
 tured to speak first, and playing off the energy of his political vocifera- 
 tions with the phlegmatic arguments of the cardinal, forced from Louis 
 the promise, too well kept, that he would be inflexible." 
 
 Brulart de Leon, ambassador at Eatisbon with Joseph, 
 says that the Capuchin had nothing Christian about him 
 but the name, and sought only to deceive all the world. 
 
 A work in 1635, entitled " La Verite Defendue," speaks 
 of him in these terms : 
 
 " He is the grand inquisitor of the State, interrogates alleged crimi- 
 nals, throws them into prison without any charge, preventing their 
 justification being heard, and by panic terrors draws out declarations 
 which serve to hide the cardinal's injustice. He shamefully makes use 
 of heaven for his earthly purposes, and of the name of God for decep- 
 tions, and of religion for the knaveries of the State." 
 
 He was of a very good family ; the name, J)u Tremblay. 
 I refer to the published life of this unworthy monk those 
 who would be better acquainted with him. 
 
 PAGE 107. 
 
 "The cardinal dictated to him those duties of a new 
 kind," etc. 
 
 The insolent commands of the ministerial religion, laid 
 down by Eichelieu, are extracted from a manuscript men- 
 tioned in the history of Father Joseph. 
 
 This is what the reverend and ingenious historian and 
 genealogist, the continuator of the Abbe Eichard, says on 
 the subject : 
 
 " He composed, with the cardinal, a book entitled, ' L'Unite du 
 Ministre, et les Qualites qu'il doit avoir.' This work never saw the
 
 230 NOTES AND HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS. 
 
 light at the time, but in the king's hands ; and it is this treatise which 
 determined his Majesty to vest the entire government of his kingdom 
 iu his Eminence. I have seen this manuscript in folio ; it is well 
 written. It is not difficult to see that Father Joseph is the author of 
 it by reading the principal propositions set forth there, first, as Chris- 
 tian truths ; secondly, as political truths. This work might be entitled, 
 ' Testament politique du P. Joseph..' All the great men of the past 
 century left such." 1 
 
 PAGE 113. 
 
 " As for Marillac," etc. 
 
 " The Marechal de Marillac was deprived of his legitimate judges, 
 the members of the parliament, who in vain endeavored to take cogni- 
 zance of the affair, and saw Mole, their attorney-general, silenced. 
 Dragged from tribunal to tribunal, without finding one sufficiently clever 
 to detect a crime in him, the Marechal de Marillac finally fell under the 
 decree of commissioners, read by a keeper of the ecclesiastical seals 
 (Chateauneuf), a dispensation from Rome being got for him expressly 
 to enable him to condemn a man without reproach. The cardinal 
 laughed at the spectacles he had forcibly put on the noses of the judges, 
 as he phrased it. What confusion ! what a time ! We cannot throw 
 too great a light upon the principal points of history, to extinguish the 
 puerile regrets for the past in some minds which do not sufficiently 
 examine the history of the period." 
 
 PAGE 194. 
 
 " To have vigorously extirpated a royal Bourbon branch." 
 The Comte de Soissons, assassinated at the battle of 
 Marfee, which he gained over the troops of the king, or 
 rather of the cardinal. I have before me the most de- 
 tailed contemporary accounts of this affair. They state as 
 follows : 
 
 " The regiments of Metternich and the infantry of Lamboy having 
 broken their ranks, there remained near the said comte only two or 
 1 Hist, du P. Joseph.
 
 NOTES AND HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS. 231 
 
 three of his men. In this confusion, he was approached by a single 
 cavalier, whom his men did not recognize in this confusion as an 
 enemy, and who fired a pistol at him below the eye, which killed him 
 upon the spot. This great prmce, having no other design than to serve 
 his Majesty and his kingdom, and to stop the violence of him who seeks 
 to undermine all who were above him, he, the cardinal, has thus extir- 
 pated a royal branch of Bourbon, having had this prince marked and 
 shot by one of his guards, who had placed himself, with this horrible 
 design and by his command, among this prince's men, being recog- 
 nized as sucli on being killed on the spot, as the villain was, by Rique- 
 mont, esquire of the same defunct prince." J 
 
 There exists, in the " Bibliotbeque de Paris," a curious 
 autograph, which shows how much the cardinal relied on 
 such expeditions. It runs thus : 
 
 Letter of M. des Noyers to M. le Marechal de Chatillon, after the battle 
 
 of Sedan. 
 
 The king has resolved to give a government and a pension for life to 
 the soldier who killed the enemy's general. M. le Marechal will send 
 the soldier in question to Reims to his Majesty immediately upon his 
 
 arrival. Done at Peronne, this 9 July, 1641. 
 
 DES NOYERS. 
 Vol. g. 6, 283 MM. 
 
 Examination of the Secret Correspondence of the Cardinal 
 de Richelieu, relative to the trial of MM. de Cinq-Mars 
 and de Thou. 
 
 The indefatigable activity, the vivid penetration, the in- 
 genious perseverance of the Cardinal de Richelieu at the 
 close of his life, when illness, fatigue, and vexation might 
 well have deadened his rare faculties, are not alone evi- 
 denced in the conduct of this affair. It is curious and most 
 painful to observe the subterrene ways through which he 
 passed to arrive at his end, this potent miner, this worthy 
 pioneer ! All the meannesses to which political laborers 
 are forced to stoop would render their imitators less arro- 
 
 1 Montglat, Fabert, etc., Relation de Montresor, t. ii, p. 520.
 
 232 NOTES AND HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS. 
 
 gant, did they consider that this man after the entire ac- 
 complishment of his projects only succeeded in hastening 
 and confirming the fall of the absolute monarchy which he 
 thought he had confirmed forever. 
 
 To place these documents properly before the reader, it 
 is necessary to omit the long technicalities of the proces- 
 verbal, the dryness and confusion of which have, no doubt, 
 disgusted all those who have looked at it. But it is desir- 
 able to extract the singular and vivid facts which are 
 distinguishable in the chaos, when we look attentively 
 at it. 
 
 As soon as M. de Cinq-Mars is arrested, and the Due 
 d'Orleans has excused himself in the letter we have cited 
 in the course of this work, 1 the first anxiety of the cardinal 
 is to know whether M. de Bouillon is arrested. In this 
 doubt, and fearing the return of Louis XIII. to his affec- 
 tion for Cinq-Mars, he stops at Tarascon, and thus seeks 
 to satisfy himself that his influence is in the ascendant. 
 Like a gladiator preparing for battle, he essays his arms 
 and balances his club. 
 
 Instructions after the arrest of M. le Grand to MM. de Chavigny and 
 des Noyers, being with the king, to learn, among other things, from 
 his Majesty if his Eminence shall act, as heretofore, as he shall 
 think Jit. 
 
 If M. de Bouillon is taken, it is necessary to show promptly that lie 
 has been justly arrested. To do this, it must be found out who of the 
 friends of Madame have taken part in the matter ; and in case the said 
 lady will not afford information, you must devise some plan by which it 
 may appear that you have a knowledge of the matter. Tor this pur- 
 pose all the prisoners must be separated, and not be allowed to speak 
 with any one. By this means you may make one believe that another 
 has confessed all he knows, and thus induce each to confess, or at least 
 to believe the matter confessed elsewhere. 
 
 Cioniac must be arrested. He is said to have secret papers. The 
 casket with hair and love-tokens must be taken from M. de Choisy. 
 
 1 Vol. ii., chap. xxiv.
 
 NOTES AND HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS. 233 
 
 It must be represented to the king that it is important not to say he 
 has burned all the papers ; and in fact it is generally believed that he 
 has not done so. 
 
 If M. de Bouillon is taken, Italy must be provided with a general of 
 great fidelity for several pressing reasons. One is wanted in Guyenne, 
 another in Roussillon, it being doubtful whether M. de Tureune will 
 serve, or whether, indeed, he ought to be left there alone. The king 
 can see to this if he pleases. 
 
 We see the snare here indicated. M. de Cinq-Mars was 
 the first to fall into it. 
 
 The answer is not long delayed. M. de Bouillon has 
 been arrested. The king has consented to tell all the lies 
 dictated to him ; and as a proof of his obedience, he 
 writes with his own hand the following letter : 
 
 Letter from the King to his Eminence. 
 
 I am always happy to see you. I am much better since yesterday ; 
 and after the capture of M. de Bouillon, which is a great stroke, I 
 hope with the aid of God that all will go well, and that he will grant 
 me perfect health. It is what I pray of him with all my heart. 
 
 Louis. 
 
 With this gage he could act. He menaced Monsieur, 
 and answered him vaguely. Gaston again supplicated. 
 The same day he wrote to the king, to Cardinal Mazarin, 
 to M. des Noyers, to M. de Chavigny, and a second time to 
 the cardinal. Kernark that it was of the latter he had at 
 first demanded pardon, the 17th of June, before supplicat- 
 ing the king on the 25th, following the hierarchy estab- 
 lished by the cardinal. He asks pardon from every one, 
 and promises a full confession. 
 
 Hereupon, the cardinal sets his foot upon the king's 
 brother, and crushes him by the cold letter in which he 
 counsels him to confess all, and which is in the text of this 
 book. 
 
 Then come fresh reports from the faithful agent Cha- 
 vigny, who has not sufficiently humble terms in which to
 
 234 NOTES AND HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS. 
 
 address the cardinal, whose creature he incessantly calls 
 himself. Chavigny laughs at Monsieur and the cholera- 
 morbus (already known, as we see) which had seized the 
 agent of this prince from the fear of being arrested. 
 
 He counsels Gaston to withdraw from France. We see 
 that the king does not venture to answer until the cardinal 
 has corrected the letter he is to write. 
 
 M. de Chavigny to his Eminence. 
 
 The king spoke yesterday to M. de la Riviere as well and as firmly 
 as one could wish. I have made him write down and sign all he said 
 to him on the part of Monsieur, as your Eminence will see by the copy 
 I send you ; and when he raised some difficulties in obeying the com- 
 mands of his Majesty, his Majesty spoke to him as a master, and he was 
 in such fear of being arrested that he was seized nearly with a faint- 
 ing fit, and then with a species of cholera-morbus, of which he was 
 only cured by reassuring his mind. The king was delighted that Mon- 
 seigneur had no intention of seeing Monsieur. In speaking to M. 
 de la Riviere, I made him fall insensibly into the idea of proposing to 
 Monsieur himself to confess all betimes in a letter to the king, so 
 that he may, after having seen his Majesty, go for a while out of the 
 kingdom with his Majesty's good favor and that of your Eminence. 
 
 He told me that he would make this proposition to Mouseigneur, 
 and that he would get his guarantee for the safety of Monsieur, if he 
 would confess everything in writing and come to the king, and after- 
 wards quit France. 
 
 In this case your Eminence will be pleased to inform your creature if 
 Venice would not be the best place to which Monsieur could go, and 
 what sum you think he should have allowed him annually. 
 
 I send Monseigneur the king's reply, to be put at the foot of La 
 Riviere's declaration, that it may be corrected as it shall please you, and 
 then be placed in his hands when he shall pass. 
 
 CHAVIGNY. 
 
 MONTFEIN, the last June, 1642. 
 
 The cardinal permits Monsieur to leave the kingdom and 
 to go to Venice, and fixes the pension he shall have to make 
 him wiser.
 
 NOTES AND HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS. 235 
 
 Note to MM. de Chavigny and des Noyers. 
 
 I have no difficulty, if the king thinks fit, in giving my word to 
 .M. de la Riviere that if Monsieur will declare to the king all that he 
 knows in writing, without reservations, and shall come to see his 
 Majesty before leaving the kingdom, according to the proposition which 
 the said Sieur de la Riviere made to us, his Majesty will let him depart 
 freely, relieve him well, if he leave with the king's consent. Venice is 
 a suitable residence, and in that case he will require the king's permis- 
 sion to set forth, not to return to France until it shall please the king 
 to permit and order it. 
 
 As to money, I think that he ought to be contented with what the 
 King of Spain was to have given him ; namely, ten thousand crowns 
 a month. To give him more, were to give him the means of doing ill ; 
 and it being impossible for the king to consent that he should take with 
 him the evil spirits who have misled him, he needs no more for himself 
 and well-intentioned people. However, if we must go so far as four 
 hundred thousand livres, I think we must not be stopped by so small a 
 difference. I am entirely the friend of those who love me as you do. 
 
 THE CARDINAL DE RICHELIEU. 
 TARASCON, this last June, 1042. 
 
 Either M. de la Riviere comes with a mere mouth-complirnent and a 
 confession of a disguised fault, or charged to discover a part of what 
 has been done. If the former, the king ought to believe or feign to be- 
 lieve what he says, and answer that he readily pardons Monsieur, and 
 that M. de la Riviere may tell him all he has upon his conscience with- 
 out being troubled about it. 
 
 If the latter, he should still feign to believe that what he says is all 
 there is to say, and answer, " What you have just confessed surprises 
 me, yet does not surprise me. 
 
 " It surprises me because I did not expect this new proof of want of 
 affection in my brother. It does not surprise me, because M. le Grand, 
 now he is taken, inquires very anxiously whether he is not charged 
 with an understanding with Monsieur. 
 
 " M. de la Riviere, I will speak to you frankly. Those who have 
 given my brother these evil counsels must expect nothing from me but 
 the rigor of justice. As to my brother, if he discovers to me, without 
 reservation, all he has done, he will find the effects of my goodness, as 
 he has already done various times already."
 
 236 NOTES AND HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS. 
 
 Whatever entreaties La Riviere may employ to obtain a promise of 
 general pardon, without obligation of confessing all that has passed, 
 the king shall adhere to his last reply, telling him that he himself could 
 hardly desire to counsel him to do more than God, who requires a true 
 repentance and unfeigned gratitude before he pardons an offence ; that 
 he ought to be satisfied with the assurance that Monsieur will find the 
 effects of his goodness, if he behaves towards his Majesty as he ought 
 to do, namely, as is above set forth. 
 
 We see here that the parts are written out word for 
 word, and that the king is neither to add nor take anything 
 from them. The agent of Monsieur (La Kiviere) hastens 
 to him, and the cardinal sends him to the king to dictate 
 beforehand his reply. With what pliancy every personage 
 obeys the director of this sanguinary play ! 
 
 The political observers do not sleep. They excite Louis 
 XIII. by all possible means against the scapegoat upon 
 whom every sin is to fall. The prisoner is treated with 
 redoubled rigor. 
 
 Des Noyers writes on the 30th of June, 1642, to the 
 cardinal : 
 
 " The king has told me that he thinks M. le Grand capable of turn- 
 ing Huguenot. I added that he would have turned Turk, if by that 
 means he could reign and deprive his Majesty of what God had so legit- 
 imately given him. Upon which the king said to me, ' I believe it.' 
 
 " His Majesty told me this morning that Treville had conversed with 
 M. le Marquis on the arrival of M. le Grand at Montpellier, and that 
 on entering the citadel he said, ' Ah ! must I then die at twenty-two ? 
 Thus 't is to conspire against one's country so early,' which he received 
 very well." 
 
 M. des Noyers to his Eminence. 
 
 PARIS, July 1. 
 
 His Majesty is more than ever irritated against M. le Grand, for he 
 has discovered that during his illness this wretch whom Monsieur the 
 first president truly calls le perfide public, had said, speaking of the 
 king, " He will still linger on."
 
 NOTES AND HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS. 237 
 
 Nothing is omitted that can irritate Louis XIII., though 
 it is difficult to appreciate the point of the first president's 
 phrase. 
 
 The same man (Des Noyers) again writes, on the 1st of 
 July, 1642, from Pierrelate: "His Majesty continues to 
 give the greatest demonstrations of love for Monseigneur, 
 and of an equal hatred to this wretched perfide public." 
 
 Thus the bulletin of the royal anger is sent to the car- 
 dinal every hour, and care is taken that the fever shall not 
 abate. The parents of the two young men wish to petition ; 
 they are prevented. M. de Cuavigny writes, the 3d July, 
 1642 : " The Abbe d'Effiat and the Abbe de Thou came to 
 see the king, as we have been assured. His Majesty 
 thought proper to send to them and command them to 
 withdraw." 
 
 The correspondence is urgent ; the next day (July 4, 
 1642), the cardinal writes from Tarascon : 
 
 " The most obscure enigmas begin to be explained, le perfide public 
 confessing, in the place where he is, that he had ill designs against the 
 person of M. le Cardinal, but none to which the king had not given his 
 consent ; the mischief is that the liberty lie has hitherto enjoyed, of 
 walking twice a day, has occasioned this statement to be much spread 
 in the province, which may produce very ill effects." 
 
 A mortal fear agitated the cardinal lest it should be dis- 
 covered that the king had been concerned in the conspiracy ; 
 he makes the imprisonment still more strict. He adds : 
 
 " Seyton, the lieutenant of the Scottish guards, sixty-six years of 
 age, allowed M. le Grand to walk twice a day. He did so up to within 
 these three days, which gives me reason to suppose that the former 
 orders have been lost. 
 
 "M. de Bouillon required only a doctor and two valets-de-chambre ; 
 le perfide public has six attendants, who must be reduced. Otherwise, 
 it is impossible to prevent his making known whatever he pleases ; no 
 prince ever had more.
 
 238 NOTES AND HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS. 
 
 " You will adroitly introduce this subject, without mentioning my name 
 in any way." 
 
 Impatiently awaiting a good commissioner, he says : 
 
 " I expect M. de Chaze, whom we will try with M. de Thou. Make 
 him hasten by the Rhone, for time presses, and it is necessary I should 
 be here to assist him in his interrogations, which I will give him ready 
 arranged." 
 
 As it is necessary to envenom the wound in the royal 
 heart, he does not forget a circumstance which may have 
 this effect. 
 
 " It were well that the faithful Marquis de Mortemar tell the king 
 how le perfide public said that Fontrailles had jested upon his illness ; 
 namely, ' He is not yet bad enough.' 
 
 " This will tend to prove that the perfide and his principal confidants 
 were ill intentioned against the king." 
 
 We see that no light word or youthful thoughtlessness, 
 real or supposed, is omitted by political cuiming. Cha- 
 vigny immediately answers in the same spirit. 
 
 " The faithful marquis has not yet had an opportunity of saying what 
 M. le Cardinal has directed ; it will be done to-morrow. We shall see 
 what the king will say." 
 
 Then the next day, the same Chavigny writes in all 
 haste : 
 
 " Mortemar has told the king what M. le Grand said. The king did 
 not fail, immediately upon hearing it, to repeat it to M. de Chavigny. 
 [The same who thus sneers at Louis XIII. for his docility ! ] And 
 I think he is the same with M. des Noyers. 
 
 " The king expressly commanded me to mention it to your Eminence, 
 and to say to you that he believes M. le Grand quite detestable enough 
 to have entertained this horrible thought, and that he remembers he 
 had at Lyons more than fifty gentlemen dependent on him. 
 
 " Nothing has been omitted to keep his Majesty in a good humor. 
 The king has several times repeated that M. le Grand is the greatest 
 liar in the world. Thus we may hope that friendship is tolerably worn 
 out in the heart of Louis XIII."
 
 NOTES AND HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS. 239 
 
 The 6th of January, 1642 (mark this rapidity), the two 
 creatures of the cardinal-due, Chavigny and Des Noyers, 
 inform him of the result of their insinuations. 
 
 " We humbly entreat Moiiseigneur to tranquillize his mind, and to 
 believe that he was never so powerful with the king as he is now ; that 
 his presence will effect all he wishes." 
 
 That same day the cardinal-due writes very humbly to 
 the king, in the tone of an innocent victim and priest, 
 whom the king is defending. 
 
 His Eminence to the King. 
 
 " I have learned," says he, " the new discovery which the king has 
 been pleased to make of the evil design M. le Grand had against me, 
 against a cardinal who for twenty-five years has, by the permission of 
 God, successfully served his master ; the greater the malice of this 
 wretch, the more the goodness of your Majesty is apparent. 
 
 "This Seventh July, 1642." 
 
 And on the 7th, he sends for M. de Thou into his cham- 
 ber, bringing him from the prison of Tarascon. I have 
 before me this curious interrogatory, and give it here, as it 
 has been preserved, word for word. It is not superfluous 
 to point out the tone of exquisite politeness of these two 
 personages, neither of whom forgets the rank and char- 
 acter of the other, and who seem to have constantly in 
 their minds the old adage: "One gentleman is as good 
 as another." 
 
 Interrogatory and replies of M. de Thou to Monseigneur the Cardinal- 
 Due, when sent for from the prison of the chateau of Tarascon. 
 (Journal de M. le Cardinal de Richelieu, which he made during the 
 great storm in the year 1642, and taken from the memoirs he wrote 
 with his own hand. MDC.XLVIII. 
 
 M. LE CARDINAL. Monsieur, I entreat you to excuse my having 
 given you the trouble to come here. 
 
 M. DE THOU. Monseigneur, it is an honor and a pleasure.
 
 240 NOTES AND HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS. 
 
 After which the cardinal made him sit down on a chair 
 at his bedside. 
 
 M. LE CARDINAL. Monsieur, I entreat you to tell me the origin of 
 these things that have just taken place. 
 
 M. DE THOU. Monseigneur, no oue can know it better than your 
 Eminence. 
 
 M. LE CARDINAL. I have no correspondence with Spain which 
 might inform me. 
 
 M. DE THOU. The king having ordered these things, Monseigneur, 
 it cannot have been without your being made acquainted with it. 
 
 M. LE CARDINAL. Did you wnte to Rome and Spain ? 
 
 M. DE THOU. Yes, Monseigneur, by the king's order. 
 
 M. LE CARDINAL. Are you, then, secretary of State ? 
 
 M. DE THOU. No, Monseigneur ; but the king having ordered me, 
 I could do no otherwise than obey. 
 
 M. LE CARDINAL. Have you any power ? 
 
 M. DE THOU. Yes, Monseigneur, the king's word, and an order 
 in writing. 
 
 M. LE CARDINAL. Yet M. de Cinq-Mars has not said anything 
 about it. 
 
 M. DE THOU. He was wrong then, Monseigneur, for he received 
 the order as well as I. 
 
 M. LE CARDINAL. Where are these orders ? 
 
 M. DE THOU. They are in good hands, to be produced when they 
 are needed. 
 
 But this is what it is desirable to avoid. The cardinal 
 does not wish to be assured thus that the king has given 
 orders against him. He sends to Paris for commissioners, 
 one especially whom he indicates, M. de Lamon, to assist 
 M. de Chaze in the fresh interrogatories applied to this 
 same De Thou, so imposing, so firm, so grave, so honorable, 
 and so formidable by his virtue. 
 
 While the young magistrate is replying thus, Gaston 
 d' Orleans, Monsieur, the king's brother, sends his confes- 
 sion, and throwing himself on his knees in these terms : 
 "I, Gaston, son of France, the only brother of the king, 
 being touched by true repentance for having again failed in
 
 NOTES AND HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS. 241 
 
 the fidelity I owe to Mouseigneur the King, and desiring to 
 render myself worthy of grace and pardon, I sincerely 
 confess everything of which I ani guilty." 
 
 Then follow the accusations against M. le Grand, upon 
 whom he very handsomely throws the whole affair. 
 
 Then a second confession accompanies the first, relating 
 to the other offence. 
 
 Monsieur the King's brother to his Eminence. 
 
 D'AiGUEPERCE, July 7, 1642. 
 
 Gaston, etc. Unable to express sufficiently to my cousin, the Car- 
 dinal de Richelieu, ray extreme grief at having entered into relations 
 and correspondence with his enemies, I protest before God, and entreat 
 M. le Cardinal to believe, that I never had any knowledge of anything 
 that might affect your person, and that were I to die for it I would 
 never have lent my ear or my heart to tlie slightest proposition against 
 you, etc. 
 
 The politeness of terror can assuredly go no farther or 
 lower. 
 
 He sends his orders what Monsieur is to say if he wishes 
 to be allowed to remain in the kingdom and to have where- 
 with to subsist. 
 
 Monsieur and M. de Cinq-Mars shall be confronted with 
 each other. 
 
 Instructions of his Eminence. 
 
 When M. le Grand shall be brought to the place in which Monsieur 
 is, Monsieur must say to him, 
 
 " M. le Grand, although our rank is different, we are in the same 
 difficulty, and we must have recourse to the same remedy. I confess 
 our fault, and entreat the king to pardon it." 
 
 Either M. le Grand will take the same step, and agree with what 
 Monsieur has said, or he will play the innocent, in which case Monsieur 
 will say, 
 
 " You spoke to me in such a place. You told me so and so. You 
 came to St. Germain to me in the stables with M. de Bouillon, or who- 
 VOL. i. 16
 
 242 NOTES AND HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS. 
 
 ever else it may Lave been." Then Monsieur will relate the rest of the 
 story. 
 
 He will do the same when M. de Bouillon shall be brought on. 
 
 He will content himself with the promise of remaining in the king- 
 dom, without pretending to any charge or office. 
 
 I say this, after having well considered the affair, which may be the 
 most important of this nature that has ever happened in this kingdom. 
 
 But Monsieur raises great difficulties in the way of con- 
 fronting the accused. He is afraid of wanting assurance 
 before them. The king cannot venture to compel his 
 brother to appear ; but it is necessary to find a subterfuge. 
 The Chancellor Seguier devises one and despatches it. 
 
 " I have proposed to the king to send M. Talon, councillor of State 
 and solicitor-general, Le Bret, and Du Bignou, who are all learned in 
 criminal matters, to confer with me upon all the propositions I shall 
 make to him. 
 
 " Their opinion is that we can dispense Monsieur from being present 
 at the reading of his declaration to the accused. 
 
 " This opinion is supported by precedents and reasons. As to prece- 
 dents, we have the trial of La Mole and Coconuas, who were accused of 
 high treason. In that trial the declarations of the King of Navarre, 
 and of the Due d'Alenpon, were received and read to the accused, 
 without confrontation, although the prisoners demanded it. 
 
 " The deposition of a witness with infallible presumptions serves as 
 proof and conviction against a person accused of high treason, wliich is 
 not the case with other crimes." 
 
 We see that the chancellor goes to work here with good 
 will. 
 
 Then follows the opinion given by Jacques Talon and 
 Hierosme Bignon and Omer Talon, deciding " that no son 
 of France has been heard in any trial, and that the declara- 
 tion of such suffices for proof without confrontation." 
 
 The chancellor receives Monsieur's declaration in the 
 company of the judges, the Sieurs de Laubardemont, Marca,
 
 NOTES' AND HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS. 243 
 
 de Paris, Champigni, Miraumesnil, de Chaze, and de Seve, 
 in which the Due d'Orleans confesses to have given two 
 signed blanks to Fontrailles to treat with the King of Spain, 
 at the instigation of M. le Grand, whom lie charges also 
 with having seduced M. de Bouillon. 
 
 According to these opinions, the cardinal is armed on 
 every side and sure of success. He may go. He arrives 
 at Paris ; and while at Lyons they are trying Cinq-Mars 
 and De Thou, he places his hand upon the king, and par- 
 dons Monsieur on condition of his political nullity, and M. 
 de Bouillon in exchange for his fortress of Sedan. 
 
 The indictment is very curious, but too extensive to be 
 inserted here. It is found at the end of the interrogations. 
 The reporter there accuses M. de Cinq-Mars, after having 
 passed lightly over Monsieur and the Due de Bouillon. 
 
 " As to M. le Grand, he is accused not only of being an accomplice 
 in tin's conspiracy, but also of being its author and promoter. 
 
 " M. le Grand poisons the mind of Monsieur by imaginary fears in- 
 vented by himself. That is a crime. 
 
 "To relieve him from his terrors, he persuades him to make a party 
 in the State. Here are two crimes. 
 
 " He persuades him to combine with Spain. This is a third. 
 
 " He persuades him to destroy M. le Cardinal, and drive him from af- 
 fairs. This is a fourth. 
 
 " He persuades him to make war with France during the siege of 
 Perpignan, in order to interrupt the happiness of this State. This is a 
 fifth. 
 
 " He himself draws up the treaty of Spain. This is a sixth. 
 
 " He brings Fontrailles to Monsieur to be sent about the treaty, and 
 to Monsieur, the Comte d'Aubigny. These results may be looked upon 
 as a seventh crime, or at least the accomplishment of all the rest. 
 
 " All of them are crimes of high treason, he who attacks the persons 
 of the king's ministers being reputed by the ancient laws and consti- 
 tutions of the emperors equally guilty with those who attack the per- 
 sons of the kings themselves. 
 
 " A minister serves his prince and the State. A man deprives the 
 prince and the State of him. This is the same as if they were to de- 
 prive the f.rst of an arm, and the second of a part of its power."
 
 244 NOTES AND HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS. 
 
 I refer these arguments to the reflections of jurisconsults. 
 They may think, perhaps, that there might have been some- 
 thing to say in reply to them, were it considered possible 
 to answer these absurdities of uncontrolled power. The 
 grand fact of the Spanish treaty sufficed ; and I only trans- 
 cribe what the reporter adds, to show the animosity which 
 was prescribed him towards the enemy, the rival for favor 
 of the first minister. 1 
 
 If M. de Cinq-Mars had been less ardent, less haughty, 
 and more able, he ought not to have placed himself in the 
 wrong by a treaty with foreigners. He might have over- 
 thrown the old minister at less expense, and without at- 
 taching to his brow the label, ally of the foreigner, always 
 detested by monarchical or republican nations, alike that 
 of the Constable de Bourbon and of Coriolanus. But he 
 was twenty-two years old, and his head was not entirely 
 applied to great affairs. He acted hastily, prompted by 
 passion, against a man of experience, who knew how to 
 wait coldly for circumstances which would place his en- 
 emy in a false position. 
 
 Upon the secret interrogatory. 
 (Extracted from the Registers.) 
 
 " M. de Cinq- Mars avowed to M. le Chancelier that the strongest 
 passion which had led him to act as he did was the desire to drive 
 M. le Cardinal from State affairs, against whom he had an aversion 
 which he could neither overcome nor moderate. 
 
 " He said that six things had given him this aversion : 
 " 1. The first, that after the siege of Arras, at the close of which he 
 had been present, M. le Cardinal had spoken of him as of a person who 
 had not much courage. 
 
 1 There are few words as involuntarily and crnelly comical as those 
 which he so often repeats : " He persuaded him to," etc. Monsieur is thus 
 represented as a schoolboy under the age of reason and not responsible, 
 whom a tutor leads in some trifling errors. Preceptor of twenty-two I 
 pupil of thirty-four .' cruel witticism !
 
 NOTES AND HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS. 245 
 
 " 2. That after the alliance of M. le Marquis de Sourdis and his 
 brother, the cardinal had said that M. de Sourdis had done honor to 
 his family. 
 
 " 3. That having desired to be created duke and peer, M. le Cardi- 
 nal had persuaded the king from it. 
 
 " 4. That he had felt himself obliged to protect M. 1'Archeveque de 
 Bordeaux, whom he thought they desired to ruin. 
 
 "5. That, speaking to him of the Princesse Marie, he said that his 
 mother wished to marry him to her. His Eminence said that his mother, 
 Madame d'Effiat, was mad, and that if the Princesse Marie entertained 
 the idea, she was more mad still; that having been proposed as the 
 wife of Monsieur, he (Cinq-Mars) would be vain and presumptuous to 
 pretend to her ; that it would be ridiculous. 
 
 " 6. That the cardinal had objected to the king admitting him to the 
 council, and had him expelled from it." 
 
 END OF VQL. I.
 
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