Richelieu soon showed his quality and rose step by step to the highest honors, becoming in due course, First Minister of State. His success was due throughout to his prudent, far-seeing conduct and his incomparable adroitness in managing affairs. “He was so keen and watchful,” said a contemporary, “that he was never taken unawares. He slept little, worked hard, thought of everything and knew everything either by intuition or through his painstaking indefatigable spirit.” He was long viewed with suspicion and dislike by the young King, but presently won his esteem by his brilliant talents. He dazzled and compelled the admirationof all, even those opposed to him. His extraordinary genius was immediately made manifest; it was enough for him to show himself. His penetrating eye, the magnetism of his presence, his dexterity in untying knots and in solving promptly the most difficult problems, enabled him to dominate all tempers and overcome all resistance. His was a singularly persuasive tongue; he had the faculty of easily and effectually proving that he was always in the right. In a word, he exercised a great personal ascendency and was as universally feared as he was implicitly obeyed by all upon whom he imposed his authority. When he was nominated First Minister, the Venetian minister in Paris wrote to his government, “Here, humanly speaking, is a new power of a solid and permanent kind; one that is little likely to be shaken or quickly crumbled away.”
Richelieu’s steady and consistent aim was to consolidate an absolute monarchy. Determined to conquer and crush the Huguenots he made his first attack upon La Rochelle, the great Protestant stronghold, but was compelled to make terms with the Rochelais temporarily while he devoted himself to the abasement of the great nobles forever in opposition to and intriguing against the reigning sovereign. Headed by the princes of the blood, they continually resisted Marie de Medicis and engaged in secret conspiracy, making treasonable overtures to Spain or openly raising the standardof revolt at home. With indomitable courage and an extraordinary combination of daring and diplomacy, Richelieu conquered them completely. The secret of his success has been preserved in his own words, “I undertake nothing that I have not thoroughly thought out in advance; when I have once made up my mind I stick to it with unchangeable firmness, sweeping away all obstacles before me and treading them down under foot till they lie paralysed under my red robe.”
Richelieu, in thus strenuously fighting for his policy, which he conceived was in the best interests of France, made unsparing use of the weapons placed at his disposal for coercing his enemies. Foremost amongst these were the prisons of state, the Bastile, Vincennes and the rest, which he filled with prisoners, breaking them with repression, retribution, or more or less permanent removal from the busy scene. Year after year the long procession passed in through the gloomy portals, in numbers far exceeding the movement outward, for few went out except to make the short journey to the scaffold. The Cardinal’s victims were many. Amongst the earliest offenders upon whom his hand fell heavily in the very first year of his ministry, were those implicated in the Ornano-Chalais conspiracy. The object of this was to remove the King’s younger brother, Gaston, Duc d’Orleans, generally known as “Monsieur,” out of the hands of the Court and set him up as a pretender to the throne in opposition to Louis XIII. Richelieu, in his memoirs, speaks of this as “the most fearful conspiracy mentioned in history, both as regards the number concerned and the horror of the design, which was to raise their master (Monsieur) above his condition and abase the sacred person of the King.” The Cardinal himself was to have been a victim and was to be murdered at his castle of Fleury, six miles from Fontainebleau. When the plot was betrayed, the King sent a body of troops to Fleury and the Queen a number of her attendants. The conspirators were forestalled and the ringleaders arrested. The Marshal d’Ornano was taken at Fontainebleau and with him his brother and some of his closest confidants. The Marquis de Chalais, who was of the famous house of Talleyrand, was caught in the act at Fleury, to which he had proceeded for the commission of the deed. He confessed his crime. There were those who pretended at the time that the plot was fictitious, invented by Richelieu in order to get rid of some of his most active enemies. In any case, the Marshal d’Ornano died in the Bastile within three months of his arrest and it was generally suspected that he had been poisoned, although Richelieu would not allow it was other than a natural death. Chalais had been sent to Nantes, where he was put on trial, convicted, sentenced to death and eventually executed. The execution was carried out with great barbarity, for the headsman was clumsy and made thirty-twostrokes with his sword before he could effect decapitation.
The two Vendômes, Caesar, the eldest, and his brother, the Grand Prior, were concerned in the Ornano-Chalais conspiracy. Caesar was the eldest son of Henri IV by Gabrielle d’Estrées, but was legitimised and created a duke by his father, with precedence immediately after the princes of the blood. Although Louis’ half-brother, he was one of his earliest opponents. After the detection of the plot he was cast into the prison of Vincennes, where he remained for four years (1626-30), but was released on surrendering the government of Brittany and accepting exile. He was absent for eleven years, but on again returning to France was accused of an attempt to poison Cardinal Richelieu and again banished until that minister’s death. He could not bring himself to submit to existing authority, and once more in France became one of the leaders of the party of the “Importants” and was involved in the disgrace of the Duc de Beaufort, his son. Having made his peace with Cardinal Mazarin in 1650, he was advanced to several offices, among others to those of Governor of Burgundy and Superintendent of Navigation. He helped to pacify Guienne and took Bordeaux. The Grand Prior, his brother, became a Knight of Malta and saw service early at the siege of Candia, where he showed great courage. He made the campaign of Holland under Louis XIV, after having been involved with Chalais, and throughout showed himself a good soldier.
Richelieu’s penalties were sometimes inflicted on other grounds than self-defense and personal animosity. The disturbers of public peace he treated as enemies of the State. Thus he laid a heavy hand on all who were concerned in affairs of honor whether death ensued or not. His own elder brother had been killed in a duel, and he abhorred a practice which had so long decimated the country. It was calculated that in one year alone four thousand combatants had perished. King Henry IV had issued the most severe edicts against it and had created a tribunal of marshals empowered to examine into and arrange all differences between gentlemen. One of these edicts of 1602, prohibiting duels, laid down as a penalty for the offense, the confiscation of property and the imprisonment of the survivors. A notorious duellist, De Bouteville, felt the weight of the Cardinal’s hand. He must have been a quarrelsome person for he fought on twenty-one occasions. After the last quarrel he retired into Flanders and was challenged by a Monsieur de Beuvron. They returned to Paris where they fought in the Place Royale, and Bussy d’Amboise, one of Beuvron’s seconds, was killed by one of De Bouteville’s. The survivors fled but were pursued and captured, with the result that De Bouteville was put upon his trial before the regular courts. He was convicted and condemned to death. All theefforts on the part of influential friends, royal personages included, to obtain pardon having proved unavailing, he suffered in the Place de Grève. The pugnacity of this De Bouteville was attributed by many to homicidal mania, and one nobleman declared that he would decline a challenge from him unless it was accompanied by a medical certificate of sanity. He had killed a number of his opponents and his reputation was such that when he established a fencing school at his residence in Paris all the young noblemen flocked there to benefit by his lessons.
Richelieu used the Bastile for all manner of offenders. One was the man Farican, of whom he speaks in his “Memoirs” as “a visionary consumed with vague dreams of a coming republic. All his ends were bad, all his means wicked and detestable.... His favorite occupation was the inditing of libellous pamphlets against the government, rendering the King odious, exciting sedition and aiming at subverting the tranquillity of the State. Outwardly a priest, he held all good Catholics in detestation and acted as a secret spy of the Huguenots.” An Englishman found himself in the Bastile for being at cross purposes with the Cardinal. This was a so-called Chevalier Montagu, son of the English Lord Montagu and better known as “Wat” Montagu, who was much employed as a secret political agent between England and France. Great people importuned the Cardinal to releaseMontagu. “The Duke of Lorraine,” says Richelieu, “has never ceased to beg this favor. He began with vain threats and then, with words more suitable to his position, sent the Prince of Phalsbourg to Paris for the third time to me to grant this request.” The Duke having been gratified with this favor came in person to Paris to thank the King. An entry in an English sheet dated April 20th, 1628, runs, “The Earl of Carlisle will not leave suddenly because Walter Montagu is set free from France and has arrived at our court. The King says he has done him exceeding good service.” It was Montagu who brought good news from Rochelle to the Duke of Buckingham on the very day he was assassinated. Later in October, Montagu had a conference with Richelieu as to the exchange of prisoners at Rochelle.
Richelieu’s upward progress had not been unimpeded. The Queen Mother became his bitter enemy. Marie de Medicis was disappointed in him. He had not proved the humble, docile creature she looked for in one whom she had raised so high and her jealousy intensified as his power grew. She was a woman of weak character and strong passions, easily led astray by designing favorites, as was seen in the case of the Concinis, and there is little doubt that the Maréchal d’Ancre was her lover. After his murder she was estranged from Louis XIII, but was reconciled and joined with Richelieu’s enemies in ceaselessly importuning the King to break withhis too powerful minister. She was backed by Anne of Austria, the wife of Louis XIII; by “Monsieur,” the Duc d’Orleans and a swarm of leading courtiers in her efforts to sacrifice Richelieu. The conflict ended in the so-called “Day of Dupes,” when the minister turned the tables triumphantly upon his enemies. Louis had retired to his hunting lodge near Versailles to escape from his perplexities and Richelieu followed him there, obtained an audience and put his own case before the King, whom he dazzled by unveiling his great schemes, and easily regained the mastery. His enemies were beaten and like craven hounds came to lick his feet; and like hounds, at once felt the whip.
One of the first to suffer was the Queen Mother. She had no friends. Every one hated her; her son, her creatures and supporters,—and the King again sent her into exile, this time to Compiègne, where she was detained for a time. She presently escaped and left France to wander through Europe, first to Brussels, then to London and last of all to Cologne, where she died in a garret in great penury. Marie de Medicis’ had been an unhappy life. Misfortune met her on the moment she came to France, for the King, her bridegroom, who had divorced his first wife, Marguerite de Valois, in the hopes of an heir by another wife, was much disappointed when he saw Marie de Medicis. She was by no means so good looking as he had been led to believe. She was tall, with a large coarse figure, andhad great round staring eyes. There was nothing softly feminine and caressing in her ways, she had no gaiety of manner and was not at all the woman to attract or amuse the King’s roving fancy,—thevert galant, the gay deceiver of a thousand errant loves. Yet he was willing to be good friends and was strongly drawn to her after the birth of the Dauphin, but was soon repelled again by her violent temper and generally detestable character. The establishment of the Jesuits in France was Marie’s doing. She was suspected of duplicity in Henry’s assassination, but the foul charge rests on no good grounds. After becoming Regent, she alienated the nobility by her favoritism and exasperated the people by her exorbitant tax levies to provide money for her wasteful extravagance and the prodigal gifts she bestowed. The one merit she possessed in common with her house was her patronage of arts and letters. She inspired the series of famous allegorical pictures, twenty-one in number, painted by Rubens, embodying the life of Marie de Medicis.
There was no love lost between the Cardinal and the Maréchal Bassompierre, who paid the penalty for being on the wrong side in the famous “Day of Dupes” and found himself committed for a long imprisonment in the Bastile. The Marshal had offended Richelieu by penetrating his designs against the nobility. When asked what he thought of the prospect of taking La Rochelle, he had answered, “It would be a mad act for us, for we shall enablethe Cardinal, when he has overcome the Calvinists, to turn all his strength against our order.” It was early in 1631 that danger to his person began to threaten him. He was warned by the Duc d’Épernon that the Queen Mother, of whose party Bassompierre was, had been arrested and that others, including himself, were likely to get into trouble. The Marshal asked the Duc d’Épernon for his advice, who strongly urged him to get away, offering him at the same time a loan of fifty thousand crowns as a provision until better days came. The Marshal refused this kind offer but resolved to present himself before the King and stand his ground. He would not compromise himself by a flight which would draw suspicion down on him and call his loyalty in question. He had served France faithfully for thirty years and was little inclined now that he was fifty to seek his fortune elsewhere. “I had given my King the best years of my life and was willing to sacrifice my liberty to him, feeling sure that it would be restored on better appreciation of my loyal services.”
Bassompierre prepared for the worst like a man of the world. “I rose early next day and proceeded to burn more than six thousand love-letters received from ladies to whom I had paid my addresses. I was afraid that if arrested my papers would be seized and examined and some of these letters might compromise my old friends.” He entered his carriage and drove to Senlis where theKing was in residence. Here he met the Duc de Gramont and others who told him he would certainly be arrested. Bassompierre again protested that he had nothing on his conscience. The King received him civilly enough and talked to him at length about the disagreement of the Queen Mother with Cardinal Richelieu, and then Bassompierre asked point blank whether the King owed him any grudge. “How can you think such a thing,” replied the treacherous monarch. “You know I am your friend,” and left him. That evening the Marshal supped with the Duc de Longueville and the King came in afterwards. “Then I saw plainly enough,” says Bassompierre, “that the King had something against me, for he kept his head down, and touching the strings of his guitar, never looked at me nor spoke a single word. Next morning I rose at six o’clock and as I was standing before the fire in my dressing-room, M. de Launay, Lieutenant of the Body-Guard, entered my room and said, ‘Sir, it is with tears in my eyes and with a bleeding heart that I, who, for twenty years have served under you, am obliged to tell you that the King has ordered me to arrest you.’
“I experienced very little emotion and replied: ‘Sir, you will have no trouble, as I came here on purpose, having been warned. I have all my life submitted to the wishes of the King, who can dispose of me or my liberty as he thinks fit.’... Shortly afterwards one of the King’s carriages arrived in front of my lodging with an escort of mounted musketeers and thirty light horsemen. I entered the carriage alone with De Launay. Then we drove off, keeping two hundred paces in front of the escort, as far as the Porte St.-Martin, where we turned off to the left, and I was taken to the Bastile. I dined with the Governor, M. du Tremblay, whom I afterwards accompanied to the chamber which had been occupied by the Prince de Condé, and in this I was shut up with one servant.
“On the 26th, M. du Tremblay came to see me on the part of the King, saying that his Majesty had not caused me to be arrested for any fault that I had committed, holding me to be a good servant, but for fear I should be led into mischief, and he assured me that I should not remain long in prison, which was a great consolation. He also told me that the King had ordered him to allow me every liberty but that of leaving the Bastile. He added another chamber to my lodging for the accommodation of my domestics. I retained only two valets and a cook, and passed two months without leaving my room, and I should not have gone out at all had I not been ill.... The King, it seems, had gone on a voyage as far as Dijon, and on his return to Paris I implored my liberty, but all in vain. I fell ill in the Bastile of a very dangerous swelling, due to the want of fresh air and exercise and I began therefore to walk regularly on the terrace of the Bastion.”
Bassompierre was destined to see a good deal of that terrace, for the years slowly dragged themselves along with hope constantly deferred and no fulfilment of the promises of freedom so glibly extended to him. He was arrested in 1631 and in the following year heard he would in all probability be released at once; but, as he says, he was told this merely to redouble his sufferings. Next year he had great hope of regaining his liberty and Marshal Schomberg sent him word that on the return of the King to Paris he should leave the Bastile. This year they deprived him of a portion of his salary and he was greatly disheartened, feeling “that he was to be eternally detained and from that time forth he lost all hope except in God.” Two years later (1635) the Governor, Monsieur du Tremblay, congratulated him on his approaching release and the rumor was so strong that a number of friends came every day to the Bastile to see if he was still there. These encouraging stories were repeated from month to month without any good result, and at length Père Joseph, “his gray eminence,” Richelieu’s most confidential friend and brother of Monsieur du Tremblay, being at the Bastile, promised the Marshal to speak to the Cardinal on his behalf. “I put no faith in him,” writes Bassompierre, and indeed nothing more was heard for a couple of years, but we find in the Marshal’s journal an entry to the effect that the King had told the Cardinal it weighed on his conscience forhaving kept him in prison so long, seeing that there was nothing against him. “To which,” says Bassompierre, “the Cardinal replied that he had so many things on his mind he could not remember the reason for the imprisonment or why he (Richelieu) had advised it, but he would consult his papers and show them to the King.” The poor Marshal’s dejection increased, having been detained so long in the Bastile, “where he had nothing to do but pray God to speedily put an end to his long misery by liberty or death.”
The imprisonment outlasted the journal which ends in 1640, and it was not until the death of the Cardinal in 1642 that he at length obtained his release, just eleven years after his first committal to prison. He at once presented himself at Court and was graciously received by the King who asked him his age. “Fifty,” replied Bassompierre, “for I cannot count the years passed in the Bastile as they were not spent in your Majesty’s service.” He did not enjoy his freedom long, for he soon afterwards died from an apoplectic seizure.
Anne of Austria—Her servant Laporte—Clandestine communication in the Bastile—Birth of Dauphin, afterward Louis XIV—Cinq Mars—His conspiracy—Richelieu’s death—His character and achievements—Dubois the alchemist—Regency of Anne of Austria—Mazarin’s influence—The “Importants”—Imprisonment and escape of Duc de Beaufort—Growth of the Fronde—Attacks on Bastile—De Retz in Vincennes—Made Archbishop of Paris while in prison—Peace restored—Mazarin’s later rule benign.
Richelieu throughout his ministry was exposed to the bitter enmity of the Opposition; his enemies, princes and great nobles, were continually plotting to take his life. The King’s brother, Gaston, Duc d’Orleans, intrigued incessantly against him, supported by Anne of Austria, queen of Louis XIII, who was ever in treasonable correspondence with the King of Spain. Richelieu, whose power waned for a time, strongly urged the Queen’s arrest and trial, but no more was done than to commit her most confidential servant, Laporte, to the Bastile. The Queen herself was terrified into submission and made solemn confession of her misdeeds. She did not tell all, however, and it was hoped moremight be extorted from Laporte by the customary pressure. It was essential to warn Laporte, but he was in a dungeon far beneath one of the towers and access to him seemed impossible. The story is preserved,—an almost incredible one, but vouched for in Laporte’s “Memoirs,”—that a letter was conveyed to Laporte by the assistance of another prisoner, the Chevalier de Jars. The letter was conveyed to De Jars by one of the Queen’s ladies disguised as a servant, and he managed by boring a hole in his floor to pass it to the room below. Here the occupants were friends, and in like manner they dug into the dungeon beneath them, with the result that Laporte was eventually reached in his subterranean cell. Fortified now by the fact of the Queen’s avowal, Laporte conducted himself so well that the most searching examination elicited no further proofs. The process followed was in due course detected and Richelieu was heard to lament that he did not possess so faithful a servant as Laporte.
The Chevalier de Jars, above mentioned, had been long an inmate of the Bastile, being concerned with the keeper of the seals, Chateauneuf, in a plot to convey Marie de Medicis and the King’s brother, Gaston, to England. No proof was forthcoming as to Jars’s complicity with Chateauneuf, and he was treated with the utmost cruelty in order to extort confession. He was imprisoned in a fetid dungeon till his clothes rotted off his back, his hair and nailsgrew to a frightful length and he was nearly starved to death. Père Joseph, the Cardinal’salter ego, the famous “grey eminence,” constantly visited him to make sure that this rigorous treatment was carried out. At length the Chevalier was taken out for examination, to which he was subjected eighty times, and threatened first with torture and then with capital punishment. At last he was warned that he must die and was removed to the place of execution. Pardon, however, was extended to him just as the axe was raised. Still the Chevalier refused to make any revelation. He was taken back to the Bastile, but he was no longer harshly treated. De Jars seems to have won the favor of Charles I, of England, whose queen, Henrietta Maria, wrote to Richelieu begging for the prisoner’s release. This came in 1638, apparently a little after the episode of the clandestine letter described above.
The birth of a son, afterwards Louis XIV, put an end to the worst of these court intrigues. Gaston d’Orleans lost his position as heir presumptive and the King, while still hating Richelieu, trusted him more and more with the conduct of affairs. Fortune smiled upon the French arms abroad. Richelieu had made short work of his principal enemies and he was now practically unassailable. No one could stand against him and the King was simply his servant. Louis XIII would gladly have shaken himself free from his imperious minister’s tyranny, but the King’s health was failing and hecould only listen to whispers of the fresh plots which he was too weak to discountenance and forbid. The last of these was the celebrated conspiracy of Cinq Mars, well known in history, but still better known in romantic literature as the subject of the famous novel by Alfred de Vigny, named after the central figure. Richelieu, needing an ally near the King’s person, had selected Henri Cinq Mars, youngest son of the Marquis d’Effiat, a handsome, vain youth who quickly grew into the King’s graces and was much petted and much spoiled. The young Cinq Mars, no more than nineteen, amused the King by sharing his silly pleasures, teaching him to snare magpies and helping him to carve wooden toys. Cinq Mars was appointed master of the horse and was greatly flattered and made much of at court. His head was soon turned and filled with ambitious dreams. He aspired to the hand of the Princess Marie de Gonzague of the house of Nevers and made a formal proposition of himself to Richelieu. The Cardinal laughed contemptuously at his absurd pretensions, and earned in return the bitter hatred of Cinq Mars. The breach was widened by the King’s bad taste in introducing his favorite at a conference of the Privy Council. Richelieu quietly acquiesced but afterwards gave Cinq Mars a bit of his mind, gaining thereby redoubled dislike. From that time forth Cinq Mars was resolved to overthrow the Cardinal. He found ready support from the Duc d’Orleans and the Duc de Bouillon,while the King himself was not deaf to the hints of a speedy release from Richelieu’s thraldom. Only the Queen, Anne of Austria, stood aloof and was once more on friendly terms with the Cardinal. A secret treaty had been entered into with Philip IV of Spain, who was to further the aims of the conspirators by sending troops into France. The two countries were then at war and it was high treason to enter into dealings with Spain. Just when the plot was ripe for execution an anonymous packet was brought to Richelieu at Tarascon, whither he had proceeded with the King to be present at the relief of Perpignan. This packet contained a facsimile of the traitorous treaty with Philip IV and Cinq Mars’s fate was sealed. The King with great reluctance signed an order for the arrest of Cinq Mars, who was taken in the act of escaping on horseback.
De Thou, another of the conspirators, was taken with the Duc de Bouillon, while the Duc d’Orleans fled into Auvergne and wandered to and fro, proscribed and in hiding. The only crime that could be advanced against De Thou was that he was privy to the plot and had taken no steps to reveal it. Cinq Mars was now abandoned by the King, who left him to the tender mercies of Richelieu. This resulted in his being brought to trial at Lyons, but he contrived to send a message appealing for mercy to the King. It reached the foolish, fickle monarch when he was in the act ofmaking toffy in a saucepan over the fire. “No, no, I will give Cinq Mars no audience,” said Louis, “his soul is as black as the bottom of this pan.” Cinq Mars suffered on the block and comported himself with a fortitude that won him sympathy; for it was remembered that his faults had been fostered by the exaggerated favoritism shown him. De Thou was also decapitated after his associate, and, not strangely, was unnerved by the sight which he had witnessed. The Duc de Bouillon was pardoned at the price of surrendering his ancestral estate of Sedan to the Crown.
This was Richelieu’s last act of retaliation. He returned to Paris stricken with mortal disease. He travelled by slow stages in a litter borne by twelve gentlemen of his entourage, who marched bareheaded. On reaching Paris, he rapidly grew worse and Louis XIII paid him a farewell visit on his deathbed. On taking leave of his master he reminded him of the singular services he had rendered France, saying: “In taking my leave of your Majesty I behold your kingdom at the highest pinnacle it has hitherto reached and all your enemies have been banished or removed.” The tradition is preserved that upon this solemn occasion he strenuously urged the King to appoint Mazarin as his successor. The Italian cardinal was brought into the Council the day after Richelieu’s death and from the first appears to have exercised a strong influence over the King. The means and methods ofthe two statesmen were in great contrast. Richelieu imposed his will by sheer force of character and the terror he inspired. Mazarin, soft-mannered and supple-backed, worked with infinite patience and triumphed by duplicity and astuteness.
Richelieu’s constant aim was to establish the absolute power of the monarchy, and to aggrandize France among nations. His internal government was arbitrary and often extremely cruel and he was singularly deficient in financial ability. He had no idea of raising money but by the imposition of onerous taxes and never sought to enrich France by encouraging industries and developing the natural resources of the country. A strong, self-reliant, highly intelligent and gifted man, he was nevertheless a slave to superstition and the credulous dupe of fraudulent impostures. It will always be remembered against him that he believed in alchemy and the virtue of the so-called philosopher’s stone; yet more, that he was responsible for the persecution and conviction of Urban Grandier, a priest condemned as a magician, charged with bewitching the nuns of Poictou. It was gravely asserted that these simple creatures were possessed of devils through the malignant influence of Grandier, and many pious ecclesiastics were employed to exorcise the evil spirits.
The story as it comes down to us would be farcical and absurd were it not so repulsively horrible. The nuns believed to be afflicted were clearly thevictims of emotional hysteria. They exhibited the strangest and most extravagant grimaces and contortions, were thrown into convulsions and foamed and slavered at the mouth. The ceremony of exorcism was carried out with great solemnity, and it is seriously advanced that the admonition had such surprising effects that the devils straightway took flight into the air. The whole story was conveyed to Cardinal Richelieu by his familiar, Père Joseph, who declared that he had seen the evil spirits at work and had observed many nuns and lay-sisters when they were possessed. The Cardinal thereupon gave orders for Grandier’s arrest and trial, which was conducted with great prolixity and unfairness. The evidence adduced against him was preposterous. Among other statements, it was claimed that he exhibited a number of the devil’s marks upon his body and that he was so impervious to pain that when a needle was thrust into him to the depth of an inch, it had no effect and no blood issued. Grandier’s defence was a solemn denial of the charges, but according to the existing procedure, he was put to the “question,” subjected to most cruel torture, ordinary and extraordinary, to extort confession of the guilt which he would not acknowledge. He was in due course formally convicted of the crimes of magic and sorcery and sentenced to make theamende honorable; to be led to the public place of Holy Cross in Loudun and there bound to a stake on a wooden pile and burned alive. The records statethat he bore his punishment with constancy accompanied with great self-denial, and declare that a certain unaffected air of piety which hypocrisy cannot counterfeit was shown in his aspect. On the other hand one bigoted chronicler of the period declares that, during the ceremony, a flying insect like a wasp was observed to buzz about Grandier’s head. This gave a monk occasion to say that it was Beelzebub hovering around him to carry away his soul to hell,—this for the reason that Beelzebub signifies in Hebrew the god of flies.
It is difficult to understand how Richelieu could suffer himself to be beguiled into accepting the promises made by an unscrupulous adventurer to turn the baser metals into gold. But for a space he certainly believed in Noël Pigard Dubois, a man who, after following for some time his father’s profession of surgery, abandoned it in order to go to the Levant, where he spent four years in the study of occult science. On returning to Paris he employed his time in the same pursuit, chiefly associating with dissolute characters. A sudden fit of devotion made him enter a monastery, but he soon grew tired of the irksome restraints he there experienced, and, scaling the walls of his retreat, effected his escape. Three years after this he once more resolved to embrace a monastic life, took the vows and was ordained a priest. In this new course he persevered for ten years, at the end of which time he fled to Germany, became a Lutheran, anddevoted himself to the quest of the philosopher’s stone.
Dissatisfied with this mode of life, he again visited Paris, abjured the Protestant religion, and married under a fictitious name. As he now boldly asserted that he had discovered the secret of making gold, he soon grew into repute and was at last introduced to Richelieu and the King, both of whom, with singular gullibility, gave full credence to his pretensions. It was arranged that Dubois should perform the “great work” in the Louvre, the King, the Queen, the Cardinal, and other illustrious personages of the court being present. In order to lull all suspicion, Dubois requested that some one might be appointed to watch his proceedings. Accordingly Saint-Amour, one of the King’s body-guard, was selected for this purpose. Musket balls, given by a soldier together with a grain of the “powder for projection,” were placed in a crucible covered with cinders and the furnace fire was soon raised to a proper heat. When Dubois declared the transmutation accomplished, he requested the King to blow off the ashes from the crucible. This Louis did with so much ardor that he nearly blinded the Queen and the courtiers with the dust he raised. But when his efforts were rewarded by seeing at the bottom of the crucible the lump of gold which by wonderful sleight of hand Dubois had contrived to introduce into it, despite the presence of so many witnesses, the King warmly embracedthe alchemist. Then he ennobled him and appointed him president of the treasury.
Dubois repeated the same trick several times with equal success. But an obstacle which he might from the first have anticipated occurred. He soon grew unable to satisfy the eager demands of his protectors, who longed for something more substantial than insignificant lumps of gold. Some idea of their avidity may be conceived when it is known that Richelieu alone required him to furnish a weekly sum of about £25,000. Although Dubois asked for a delay, which he obtained, he was of course unable to comply with these extravagant demands, and was in consequence imprisoned in Vincennes, whence he was transferred to the Bastile. The vindictive minister, unwilling to acknowledge that he had been duped, instead of punishing Dubois as an impostor, accused him of practising magic and appointed a commission to try him. As the unhappy alchemist persisted in asserting his innocence he was put to the torture. His sufferings induced him in order to gain respite to offer to fulfil the promises with which he had formerly deceived his patrons. Their credulity was apparently not yet exhausted, for they allowed him to make another experiment. Having again failed in this, he confessed his imposture, was sentenced to death and accordingly perished on the scaffold.
A host of warring elements was forced into fresh activity by the death of Richelieu, soon followedby that of the King. Louis XIII, in his will, bequeathed the regency to his widowed Queen, Anne of Austria, and her accession to power stirred up many active malcontents all eager to dispute it. The feudal system had faded, but the great nobles still survived and were ready to fight again for independence if the executive were weakened; while parliaments were ready to claim a voice in government and curtail the prerogatives not yet wholly conceded to the sovereign. The long minority of Louis XIV was a period of continual intrigue. France was torn by party dissension and cursed with civil war. If we would understand the true state of affairs and realise the part played by the two great prisons, Vincennes and the Bastile, and the principal personages incarcerated within their walls, a brief résumé of events will prove helpful.
Anne of Austria was not a woman of commanding ability. She was kind hearted, well-intentioned, of sufficiently noble character to forget her own likes and dislikes, and really desirous of ruling in the best interests of the country. Her situation was one of extraordinary difficulty and, not strangely, she was inclined to lean upon the best support that seemed to offer itself. Cardinal Mazarin was a possible successor to Richelieu and well fitted to continue that powerful minister’s policy. The Queen was willing to give Mazarin her full confidence and was aghast when he talked of withdrawing permanently to Rome. She now desired himto remain and take charge of the ship of state, but his elevation gave great umbrage to his many opponents at court, and the desire to undermine, upset and even to assassinate Mazarin was the cause of endless intrigues and conspiracies. The cabal of the “Importants” was the first to overcome. It consisted of Richelieu’s chief victims now returned from banishment, or released from gaol; princes of the blood and great nobles aiming at recovered influence, and the Queen’s favorites counting upon her unabated friendship. They gave themselves such airs and their pretensions were so high that they gained the ironical sobriquet of “the important people.” Mazarin, when they threatened him, made short work of them. The Duc de Beaufort, second son of the Duc de Vendôme, handsome of person but an inordinate swaggerer, whose rough manners and coarse language had gained him the epithet of “King of the Markets,” was arrested and shut up in Vincennes. Intriguing duchesses were once more exiled and the principal nobles sent to vegetate on their estates. A new power now arose; that of the victorious young general, the Duc d’Enghien, the eldest son of the Prince de Condé, afterwards known as the “great Condé.” He became the hero of the hour and so great was his popularity that had he been less self-confident and more willing to join forces with the Duc d’Orleans, “Monsieur,” the young King’s uncle, he would have become a dangerous competitor to Mazarin. D’Enghien soonsucceeded to the family honors and continued to win battles and to be an unknown quantity in politics capable at any time of throwing his weight on either side.
The next serious conflict was with the Parliament of Paris, ever eager to vindicate its authority and importance and to claim control of the financial administration of France. The French treasury was as ill-managed as ever and the Parliament was resolved to oppose the proposed taxation. Extreme misery prevailed in the land. The peasants were ground down into the most wretched poverty, and were said to have “nothing left to them but their souls; and these also would have been seized, but that they would fetch nothing at the hammer.” The Parliament backed up the cry for reform, and Mazarin, to check and intimidate it, decided to arrest two of its most prominent members. The aged Broussel was sent to the Bastile and Blancmesnil was thrown into the castle of Vincennes.
These arbitrary acts drove the Parisian populace into open revolt. Broussel’s immediate release was demanded and obstinately refused until the disturbances increased and barricades were formed, when the Queen, at last terrified, surrendered her prisoner. The next day she left Paris, taking the young King with her, declaring that she would return with troops to enforce submission. Condé, who had returned from the army with fresh successes, advised conciliation, being secretly anxious to supportthose who would cripple the growing authority of Mazarin. Peace was restored, at least on the surface, and the Queen once more returned to Paris. But she was almost a prisoner in her palace and when she appeared in public her carriage was followed by a hooting mob. She again planned to disappear from Paris and send the royal army to blockade it. In the dead of a winter’s night the whole court, carrying the King, fled to St. Germain where no preparations had been made to receive them. For days they were short of food, fuel and the commonest necessaries. But a stern message was dispatched to the people of Paris, intimating the immediate advance of a body of twelve thousand troops. The capital was abashed but not greatly alarmed, and was prepared for defence and for the support of Parliament. The question of the moment was that of leadership, and choice lay between the Prince de Condé, the great Condé’s brother, and the Duc d’Elboeuf, who was appointed with the certainty that Condé would not submit to him.
The Duc de Beaufort was also available, for he had succeeded in escaping from Vincennes. A brief account of his evasion may well find place here. Chavigny, a former minister, was governor of the prison, and no friend to Beaufort. But Cardinal Mazarin did not trust to that, and special gaolers were appointed to ensure the prince’s safe custody. Ravile, an officer of the King’s body-guard, and six or seven troopers kept him constantly under eye,and slept in the prisoner’s room. Beaufort was not permitted to retain his own servants about him, but his friends managed to secure the employment of a valet, supposed to be in hiding to escape the consequences of a fatal duel in which he had killed his man. This mysterious retainer exhibited the most violent dislike of Beaufort and treated him openly with insolent rudeness. On the day of Pentecost, when many of the guards were absent at mass, Beaufort was permitted to exercise on the gallery below the level of his regular apartment, with a single companion, an officer of the Garde du Corps. The valet above mentioned had taken his seat at table with the rest, but suddenly rose, feigning illness, and leaving the dining room locked the door behind him. Rejoining the Duke the two threw themselves upon the officer, whom they overpowered and bound and gagged. A ladder of ropes, already prepared, was produced and fastened to the bars of the window, and the fugitives went down into the moat by means of it. Meanwhile, half a dozen confederates had been stationed below and beyond the moat to assist in the escape, and were in waiting, watching the descent. Unfortunately the ladder proved too short by some feet. A long drop was necessary, in which Beaufort, a stalwart figure, fell heavily and was so seriously hurt that he fainted. Further progress was arrested until he regained consciousness. Then a cord was thrown across the moat and the Prince was dragged over by his attendants, who carried him to a neighboring wood where he was met by fifty armed men on horseback. He mounted, although in great bodily pain, and galloped off, forgetting his sufferings in his delight at freedom regained. Beaufort fled to a distant estate of his father’s, where he remained in safety until the sword was drawn, when he promptly proceeded to Paris and was received with open arms after his imprisonment and long absence. His popularity was widespread and extravagantly manifested. The market women in particular lavished signs of affection on him and smothered him with kisses. Later, when it was believed that he had been poisoned by Mazarin and had applied to the doctors for an antidote, the mob was convulsed with alarm at his illness. Immense crowds surrounded the Hotel de Vendôme. So great was the concourse, so deep the anxiety that the people were admitted to see him lying pale and suffering on his bed; and many of them threw themselves on their knees by his bedside and wept pitifully, calling him the saviour of his country.
The moving spirit of the Fronde was really Gondi, better known afterwards as Cardinal de Retz, who had been appointed Coadjutor-Archbishop of Paris. He was a strange character who played many parts, controlled great affairs, exercised a supreme authority and dictated terms to the Crown. His youth had been stormy, and although he was an ordained ecclesiastic, he hated the religious profession. He led a vicious, irregular life, was a libertine and conspirator, fought a couple of duels and tried to abduct a cousin. None of these evil deeds could release him from his vows, and being permanently, arbitrarily committed to the Church, his ambition led him to seek distinction in it. Studying theology deeply and inclining to polemics, he became a noted disputant, argued points of doctrine in public with a Protestant and won him back to the bosom of the Catholic Church. It was Louis XIII who, on his death-bed, in reward for this conversion, named him Coadjutor. Gondi was possessed of great eloquence and preached constantly in the cathedral to approving congregations. He was essentially a demagogue on the side of the popular faction. Despite his often enthusiastic following, his position was generally precarious, and when the opposing parties made peace he fell into disgrace. In the midst of his thousand intrigues he was suddenly arrested and carried to Vincennes as a prisoner. When at length he escaped from Nantes, to which he had been transferred, his reappearance produced no effect and he wandered to and fro through Europe, neglected and despised. His only fame rests on a quality he esteemed the least, that of literary genius, for his “Memoirs,” which he wrote in the quiet years of latter life, still hold a high place in French literature.
The wars of the Fronde lasted with varying fortunes for five distressful years. This conflict owed its name to the boyish Parisian game of slinging stones. The sling, orfronde, was the weapon they used and the combatants continually gathered to throw stones at each other, quickly dispersing at the appearance of the watch. The Queen was implacably resolved to coerce the insurgents. The Parisians, full of fight, raised men and money in seemingly resolute, but really half-hearted resistance. Condé commanded the royal army, blockaded Paris for six weeks and starved the populace into submission. The earlier successes had been with the city. The Bastile had been attacked and its governor, Monsieur du Tremblay, the brother of Père Joseph, “His Grey Eminence,” capitulated, hopeless of holding out with his small garrison of twenty-two men. The conflict never rose above small skirmishes and trifling battles. The civic forces had no military value. The streets were filled with light-hearted mobs who watched their leaders disporting gaily in dances and entertainments at the Hotel de Ville. Condé, on the other hand, was in real earnest. He attacked the suburbs and carried serious war into the heart of the city. The insurgents prepared to treat, and Mazarin, who feared that the surrender of Paris to Condé would make that prince dictator of France, consented. He agreed to grant an amnesty, to reduce taxation and bring the King back to Paris.
Condé now went into opposition. He posed asthe saviour of the Court, and as the nobles crowded round him he grew more and more overbearing. Mazarin had now secured the support of Gondi by promising to obtain for him the Cardinal’s hat and he detached the other leaders of the Fronde by liberal bribes. The final stroke was the sudden arrest of Condé and with him two other princes, Conti and Longueville. The volatile Parisians were overjoyed at the sight of the great general being escorted to Vincennes. Peace might have been permanently established had not Mazarin played the Coadjutor false by now refusing him the Cardinal’s hat, and Gondi therefore incited his friends to fresh rebellion. A strong combination insisted upon the dismissal of Mazarin and the release of the three princes. They had been removed for safe custody to Havre, where Mazarin went in person to set them free. He would have made terms with them, but they resisted his advances and returned to Paris in triumph, where the Parliament during Mazarin’s absence had condemned Mazarin to death in effigy. Mazarin now withdrew altogether from France to Cologne where he still directed the Queen’s policy. A fresh conflict was imminent. Gondi was gained by a new promise of a Cardinalate for him and the opposing forces gathered together for war.
Condé was now hostile. With him were Gaston, Duc d’Orleans, the Dukes of Beaufort and Nemours and other great nobles. Gaston’s daughter, the intrepid, “Grande Mademoiselle,” above all feminine weakness, took personal command of a part of the army. Turenne, one of the greatest soldiers of his time, led the royal troops against her. Condé made a bold but fruitless attempt to capture the Court. He then marched on Paris pursued by Turenne’s forces. A fight ensued in the suburb of Saint Antoine, where Condé became entangled and was likely to be overwhelmed. He was saved by the “Grande Mademoiselle,” who helped him to carry his troops through Paris and covered the movement by entering the Bastile in person, the guns of which were opened upon the royal troops. This was the final action in the civil war. The people, wearied of conflict, clamored loudly for peace. One obstacle was the doubtful attitude of Cardinal de Retz, who throughout this later phase had pretended to be on the side of the Court. He, however, was still bent on rebellion. He garrisoned and fortified his house and laid in ammunition and it was essential to take sharp measures with him. He was beguiled for a time with fair appearances, but the Queen was already planning his removal from the scene. One day Cardinal de Retz came to pay his homage and, on leaving the King’s apartments, was arrested by the captain of the guard.
The Cardinal has told his story at length in his extremely interesting “Memoirs.” Some of his friends knew of the fate impending but were too late to warn him and help him to escape, as they proposed, by the kitchen entrance of the Louvre. When taken they brought in dinner and he eat heartily much to the surprise of the attendant courtiers. After a delay of three hours he entered a royal carriage with several officers and drove off under a strong escort of gendarmes and light horse, for the news of his arrest had got out and had caused an immense sensation in Paris. All passed off smoothly, for those who threatened rescue were assured that on the first hostile sign, De Retz would be killed. The prisoner arrived at Vincennes between eight and nine o’clock in the evening and was shown into a large, bare chamber without bed, carpet or fire; and in it he shivered at this bitter Christmas season, for a whole fortnight. The servant they gave him was a ruffian who stole his clothes, his shoes and his linen, and he was compelled to stay constantly in bed. He was allowed books but no paper or ink. He passed his time in the study of Greek and Latin and when permitted to leave his room he kept doves, pigeons and rabbits. He entered into a clandestine correspondence with his friends, pondering ever upon the possibilities of escape, for he had little or no hope of release otherwise.
Now fortune played into De Retz’s hands. His uncle, the Archbishop of Paris, died, and the Coadjutor, although a prisoner, was entitled to succeed. Before the breath was out of the deceased’s body, an agent took possession of the Archbishop’s palacein the Coadjutor’s name, forestalling the King’s representative by just twenty minutes. De Retz was a power and had to be counted with. He was close in touch with all the parish clergy and through them could stir up the people to fresh revolt which the great ecclesiastics, chafing at the incarceration of their chief, the Archbishop, would undoubtedly support. Moreover, the Pope had written from Rome an indignant protest against the arrest of a prince of the Church. The situation was further embittered by a sad occurrence. A canon of the Notre Dame had been placed by the chapter near the Archbishop to take his orders for the administration of the diocese, and this aged priest, suffering from the confinement, lost his health and committed suicide. The death was attributed to the severity of the imprisonment and sympathy for De Retz redoubled, fanned into flame by incendiary sermons from every pulpit in Paris.
The Court now wished to temporise and overtures were made to De Retz to resign the archbishopric. He was offered in exchange the revenues of seven wealthy abbeys, but stubbornly refused. He was advised by his friends not to yield as the only means to recover his liberty, but he finally agreed to accept the proffered exchange and pending the approval of the Holy See was transferred from Vincennes to the prison of Nantes at the mouth of the Loire. Here his treatment was softened. He was permitted to amuse himself, toreceive visitors of both sexes and to see theatrical performances within the castle. He was still a close prisoner and there was a guard of the gate sentinels on his rooms; but he bore it all bravely, being buoyed up with the hope of approaching release.
A bitter disappointment was in store for him. The Pope refused to accept his resignation on the grounds that it had been extorted by force and was dated from the interior of a prison. The attitude of his gaolers changed towards him as he was suspected of foul play and he was secretly apprised that he would probably be carried further out of the world and removed to Brest. He was strongly advised to attempt escape. One idea was that he should conceal himself in a capacious mule trunk and be carried out as part of a friend’s baggage. The prospect of suffocation deterred the Cardinal and he turned his thoughts to another method. This was the summer season and the river was low and a space was left at the foot of the castle wall. The prisoner was in the habit of exercising in a garden close at hand, and it was arranged that four gentlemen devoted to him should take their posts here on a certain afternoon. There was a gate at the bottom of the garden placed there to prevent the soldiers from stealing the grapes. Above was a kind of terrace on which the sentries guarding De Retz were stationed. The Cardinal managed to pass into this garden unobserved and he came upon a rope so placed as to assist him in sliding downto the lower level. Here a horse was awaiting him, which he mounted and galloped away, closely followed by his friends. Their way led through streets where they encountered a couple of guards and exchanged shots with them. All went well until De Retz’s horse shied at the glitter of a ray of sunlight, stumbled and fell. The Cardinal was thrown and broke his collar bone. Both horse and man were quickly got on their feet and the fugitive, though suffering horribly, remounted and continued his flight. The party reached the river in safety, but when embarking on the ferry-boat De Retz fainted and was taken across unconscious. There was no hope of his being able to ride further and while some of them went in search of a vehicle, the others concealed the Cardinal in a barn, where he remained for seven hours, suffering terribly. At last, help came, about two o’clock in the morning, and he was carried on a litter to another farm where he was laid upon the soft hay of a stack. He remained here until his safety was assured by the arrival of a couple of hundred gentlemen, adherents of the De Retz family, for he was now in the De Retz country. This successful escape caused much alarm in court circles, for it was feared that De Retz would reappear at once in Paris, but he was too much shaken by the accident to engage actively in public affairs. He remained in obscurity and at last withdrew from the country. He afterwards became reconciled to the royal power, servingLouis XIV loyally at Rome as ambassador to the Papal Conclave.
On the removal of the great demagogue from the scene, Mazarin returned to Paris. The people were well disposed to receive him and his re-entry was in its way a triumph. The King went many miles out to meet and welcome him, and the Italian minister, long so detested, drove into the capital amidst the most enthusiastic acclamations. The most important personages in the realm vied with each other to do him honor, many who had long labored for his destruction now protesting the most ardent attachment to him. Mazarin took his fortune at the flood and bearing no malice, if he felt any, by no means sought to avenge himself on those who had so long hated and opposed him. He resumed his place as chief minister and the remainder of his rule was mild and beneficent. Disturbances still occurred in France, but they were not of a serious nature. Conspiracies were formed but easily put down and were followed by no serious reprisals. The punishments he inflicted seldom extended to life and limb, for he had a strong abhorrence of bloodshed and he preferred the milder method of imprisonment. He waged unceasing war against depredators who infested the capital and parts of the country. Highway robbery had increased and multiplied during the long dissensions of the civil war. Mazarin was bitterly opposed to duelling as was his predecessor, Richelieu, and he wished tokeep the courtiers in good humor. Indeed he directly fostered a vice to which he was himself addicted, that of the gaming table. He was a persistent gambler and it has been hinted that he thought it no discredit to take advantage of his adversary. Never, perhaps, in any age or country was there a greater addiction to play. Vast sums were won and lost in the course of an evening. On one occasion Fouquet, the notorious minister of finance of whom I shall have much more to say, won 60,000 livres (roughly £5,000) in one deal. Gourville won as much from the Duc de Richelieu in less than ten minutes. Single stakes ran to thousands of pounds, and estates, houses, rich lace and jewels of great price were freely put up at the table.
Louis XIV asserts himself—His use of State prisons—Procedure of reception at the Bastile—Life in the prison—Diet and privileges—Governing staff—De Besmaus—Saint Mars—Fouquet’s fate foreshadowed—Fête at Vaux—King enraged—Fouquet arrested at Nantes—Lodged in the Bastile—Sentence changed from exile to perpetual imprisonment—Removed to Pignerol—Dies in prison—Man with the Iron Mask—Basis of mystery—Various suppositions—Identical with Count Mattioli—Origin of stories about him—Dies in the Bastile.
The latter years of Mazarin’s government were free from serious disturbances at home and his foreign policy was distinctly beneficial to France. He governed firmly, but in the name of the King, who already evinced the strength of will and vigor of mind which were shortly to make the royal authority absolute in France. Louis XIV was still in his teens, but already he would brook no opposition from rebellious nobles or a litigious Parliament. One day he entered the Chamber, booted and spurred just as he came from hunting at Vincennes, and plainly told the members of Parliament assembled there to prepare some fresh remonstrance, that he would tolerate no more of theirmeetings. “I know, gentlemen, the mischief that comes from them, and I will not permit them in the future.” The president protested that it was in the interests of the State. “I am the State,” replied the young despot of seventeen. The country was entirely with him. All classes were sick of commotions and hailed the new authority with every demonstration of joy. Mazarin, no doubt, aided the development of Louis’s character. “There is enough in Louis,” he had been heard to say, “to make four good kings and one honest man,” and it was under the Cardinal’s counsels that Louis developed his political education.
France was now entering upon one of the most brilliant periods of her history. Mazarin had prosecuted the war with Spain so vigorously that she was prepared to come to terms. He contracted an alliance with Protestant Cromwell which resulted in substantial gains to England. Peace with Spain and the marriage of Louis to a Spanish princess were the last acts of Mazarin, whose constantly failing health showed that death was near. Now, when the end was approaching, he had reached the pinnacle of his fortunes. No longer the hated, proscribed and persecuted minister, he enjoyed the fullest honors and the most unbounded popularity. He had grown enormously rich, for avarice was a ruling vice with him and he had uncontrolled access to the national purse. At his death he left some fifty million livres in cash, owned many palacesfilled with priceless statues and pictures, and jewels of inestimable value. His conscience appears to have troubled him as death approached; he sought to silence it by making over all his possessions to the King, who speedily silenced Mazarin’s scruples by returning them as a royal gift.
Not strangely, under such government, the finances of France were at their very lowest ebb. The financial incompetence of Mazarin, coupled with his greed, had left the treasury empty, and when Louis asked Fouquet for money he got for answer, “There is none in the treasury, but ask His Eminence to lend you some, he has plenty.” Fortunately for France, Mazarin had introduced into the King’s service one of the most eminent financiers who ever lived, Colbert, and it is reported that when dying he said, “I owe your Majesty everything; but by giving you my own intendant, Colbert, I shall repay you.” Colbert became Louis’s secret adviser, for Fouquet purposely complicated accounts and craftily contrived to tell the King nothing. One of Colbert’s first acts was to reveal to the King that Cardinal Mazarin, over and above the great fortune he left openly to his family, had a store of wealth hidden away in various fortresses. Louis promptly laid hands upon it and was in consequence the only rich sovereign of his time in Europe.
In the long period of irresponsible despotism now at hand, the prisons were destined to playa prominent part. No one was safe from arbitrary arrest. The right of personal liberty did not exist. Every one, the highest and the lowest, the most criminal and the most venial offender, might come within the far reaching hands of the King’s gaolers. Both the “Wood,” as Vincennes was commonly called, and the Bastile, the “castle with the eight towers,” were constantly crowded with victims of arbitrary power. It was an interminable procession as we shall presently see.
Let us first describe the procedure in arrest, the reception of prisoners and their daily régime within the great fortress gaol. It has been claimed that the system in force was regulated with the most minute care. As imprisonment might be decreed absolutely and without question, a great responsibility was supposed to weigh upon officials. In the first instance the Bastile was under the immediate control of a minister of state, for a long time a high official. He received an accurate and exact list of all arrests made, and rendered to the King an account of all remaining at the end of each year. The order for arrest was hedged in with all precaution. Eachlettre de cachetbore the King’s own signature countersigned by a minister, and the governor of the Bastile signed a receipt for the body at the end of the order. In some cases, prisoners of distinction brought their own warrants of arrest; but the court also signed an order to receive them, without which admission would be refused.In due course, when Louis XIV had fully established his police, arrests were made by theLieutenant-Criminel, whose agent approached and touched his intended prisoner with a white wand. A party of archers of the guard followed in support. A carriage was always employed; the first that came to hand being impressed into the King’s service. Into this the prisoner mounted with the officer making the arrest by his side. The escort surrounded the carriage and the party marched at a foot’s pace through the silent, over-awed crowd. In many cases to avoid gossip, the agent took his prisoner to a place he kept for the purpose, a private house commonly called thefour(oven) and the remainder of the journey to the Bastile was made after dark.
The party was challenged as it approached the Bastile. The first sentinel cried, “Who goes there?” The agent replied, “The King’s order;” and the under officer of the guard came out to examine thelettre de cachetwhen, if all was correct, he allowed the carriage to enter and rang the bell to inform all concerned. The soldiers of the garrison turned out under arms, the King’s lieutenant and the captain of the gateway guard received the prisoner as he alighted from the carriage. If the governor was in the castle the new prisoner was conducted immediately into his presence. A short colloquy followed. It was decided in which part of the castle the new comer shouldbe lodged. He was then taken into an adjoining apartment to be thoroughly searched and was deprived of arms, money and papers. No one but the officials and those specially authorised by the King were permitted to carry arms in the Bastile. All visitors surrendered their swords at the gate.
Now the drawbridge was let down and admission given to the inner court, whence the prisoner passed on, escorted by turnkeys, to the lodging assigned to him. If he was a person of distinction, he found a suite of rooms; if of low degree he was thrown into one of the cells in the towers. New arrivals were detained for several days in separation until the interrogatory instituted gave some idea of the fate foreshadowed. Rooms in the Bastile were not supplied with furniture. The King only guaranteed food for his guests, and they were obliged to hire what they needed unless their friends sent in the necessary articles. Later on, the King provided a special fund for the purpose of buying furniture, and five or six rooms came to be regularly furnished with a bed, a table and a couple of chairs. In rare cases servants were admitted to attend their masters, but the warders generally kept the rooms in order. If the preliminary inquiry was lengthy or the imprisonment promised to be prolonged, the prisoner was given a companion of his own class and quality whose business it was to worm his way into his confidence and eventually to betray it. These were themoutons, or spies of latter days.Every prison chamber was closed with a double gate with enormous locks and an approaching visitor was heralded by the rattling of the keys. The warders came regularly three times a day: first for breakfast, next for dinner at mid-day and to bring supper in the evening.
The dietary in the Bastile is said to have been wholesome and sufficient. The allowance made to the governor who acted as caterer was liberal. Some prisoners were so satisfied with it that they offered to accept simpler fare if the governor would share with them the difference saved between the outlay and the allowance. There were three courses at meals: soup, entrée and joint with a dessert and a couple of bottles of wine per head, while the governor sent in more wine on fête days. Reduction of diet was a common punishment, but the offenders were seldom put upon bread and water treatment, which was thought so rigorous that it was never used except by the express orders of the Court. The King paid for ordinary rations only. Luxuries such as tobacco, high-class wine and superior viands prisoners found for themselves, and these were charged against their private funds, held by the authorities. Some smoked a good deal, but many complaints against the practice were made by other prisoners. The keeping of pets was not forbidden; there were numbers of dogs, cats and birds in cages and even pigeons which were set free in the morning and returned every eveningafter spending the day in town. But these last were looked upon with suspicion as facilitating correspondence with the outside. The surgeon of the castle attended to the sick, but in bad cases one of the King’s physicians was called in and nurses appointed. When death approached a confessor was summoned to administer the rites of the Church, and upon death a proper entry was made in the mortuary register, but often under a false name.
Time passed heavily, no doubt, but the prisoners were not denied certain relaxations. They might purchase books subject to approval. When brought in they were scrupulously examined and the binding broken up in the search for concealed documents. Where prisoners did not care to read they were permitted to play draughts, chess and even cards. Writing materials were issued, but with a very niggardly hand. A larger consideration was extended to those given the so-called “liberty of the Bastile.” The doors were opened early and they were permitted to enter the courtyard and remain there until nightfall, being allowed to talk, to play certain games and to receive visits from their friends. Such relaxations were chiefly limited to non-criminal prisoners, those detained for family reasons, officers under arrest, and prisoners, whose cases were disposed of but who were still detained for safe custody. The well-being of the inmates of the Bastile was supposed to be ensured by the constant visits of the superior officials, the King’s lieutenant,the governor and his major. Permission to address petitions to the ministers was not denied and many heart-rending appeals are still to be read in the archives, emanating from people whose liberty had been forfeited. Clandestine communications between prisoners kept strictly apart were frequently successful, as we have seen; old hands exhibited extraordinary cleverness in their desire to talk to their neighbors. They climbed the chimneys, crawled along the outer bars or raised their voices so as to be heard on the floor above or below.
Much ingenuity was shown in utilising strange articles as writing materials; the drumstick of a fowl was turned into a pen, a scrap of linen or a piece of plaster torn from the wall served as writing paper and fresh blood was used for ink. Constant attempts were made to communicate with the outside. The old trick of throwing out of the window a stone wrapped in paper covered with writing was frequently tried. If it reached the street and was picked up it generally passed on to its address. Patroles were employed, day and night, making the rounds of the exterior to check this practice. The bird fanciers tied letters to the legs of the pigeons which took wing, and the detection of this device led to a general gaol delivery from all bird cages. Friends outside were at great pains to pass in news of the day to prisoners. Where the prison windows gave upon the street, and when prisoners were permitted to exercise on the platforms of the towers,their friends waited on the boulevards below and used conventional signs by waving a handkerchief or placing a hand in a particular position to convey some valued piece of intelligence. It is said that when Laporte, thevalet de chambreof Anne of Austria, was arrested, the Queen herself lingered in the street so that her faithful servant might see her and know that he was not forgotten. Sometimes the house opposite the castle was rented with a notice board and a message inscribed with giganticletters was hung in the windows to be read by thoseinside.
The governing staff of the Bastile, although ample and generally efficient, could not entirely check these disorders. The supreme chief was the Captain-Governor. Associated with him was a lieutenant of the King, immediately under his orders were a major and aide-major with functions akin to those of an adjutant and his assistant. There was a chief engineer and a director of fortifications, a doctor and a surgeon, a wet-nurse, a chaplain, a confessor and his coadjutor. The Châtelet delegated a commissary to the department of the Bastile, whose business it was to make judicial inquiries. An architect, two keepers of the archives and three or four turnkeys, practically the body servants and personal attendants of the prisoners, completed the administrative staff. A military company of sixty men under the direct command of the governor and his major formed the garrison and answered forthe security of the castle. Reliance must have been placed chiefly upon the massive walls of the structure, for this company was composed mainly of old soldiers, infirm invalids, not particularly active or useful in such emergencies as open insubordination or attempted escape. The emoluments of the governor were long fixed at 1,200 livres, but the irregular profits far out-valued the fixed salary. The governor was, to all intents and purposes, a hotel or boarding house keeper, who was paid head money for his involuntary guests. The sum of ten livres per diem was allowed for each, a sum far in excess of the charge for diet. This allowance was increased when the lodgers exceeded a certain number. The governor had other perquisites, such as the rent of the sheds erected in the Bastile ditch. He was permitted to fill his cellars with wine untaxed, which he generally exchanged with a dealer for inferior fluid to re-issue to the prisoners. In later years when the influx of prisoners diminished, the governors appear to have complained bitterly of the diminution of their income. Petitions imploring relief may be read in the actions from governors impoverished by their outgoings in paying for the garrison and turnkey. They could not “make both ends meet.”