The Memoirs of Cardinal de Retz, Complete

J >> Jean Francois Paul de Gondi, Cardinal de Retz >> The Memoirs of Cardinal de Retz, Complete


The Cardinal de Richelieu's health declining, the archbishopric of Paris
was now almost within my ken, which, together with other prospects of
good benefices, made me resolve not to fling off the cassock but upon
honourable terms and valuable considerations; but having nothing yet
within my view that I could be sure of, I resolved to distinguish myself
in my own profession by all the methods I could. I retired from the
world, studied very hard, saw but very few men, and had no more
correspondence with any of the female sex, except Madame de -------.

The devil had appeared to the Princesse de Guemenee just a fortnight
before this adventure happened, and was often raised by the conjurations
of M. d'Andilly, to frighten his votary, I believe, into piety, for he
was even more in love with her person than I myself; but he loved her in
the Lord, purely and spiritually. I raised, in my turn, a demon that
appeared to her in a more kind and agreeable form. In six weeks I got
her away from Port Royal; I was very diligent in paying her my respects,
and the satisfaction I had in her company, with some other agreeable
diversions, qualified in a great measure the chagrin which attended my
profession, to which I was not yet heartily reconciled. This enchantment
had like to have raised such a storm as would have given a new face to
the affairs of Europe if fortune had been ever so little on my side.

M. the Cardinal de Richelieu loved rallying other people, but could not
bear a jest himself, and all men of this humour are always very crabbed
and churlish; of which the Cardinal gave an instance, in a public
assembly of ladies, to Madame de Guemenee, when he threw out a severe
jest, which everybody observed was pointed at me. She was sensibly
affronted, but I was enraged. For at last there was a sort of an
understanding between us, which was often ill-managed, yet our interests
were inseparable. At this time Madame de La Meilleraye, with whom,
though she was silly, I had fallen in love, pleased the Cardinal to that
degree that the Marshal perceived it before he set out for the army, and
rallied his wife in such a manner that she immediately found he was even
more jealous than ambitious. She was terribly afraid of him, and did not
love the Cardinal, who, by marrying her to his cousin, had lessened his
own family, of which he was extremely fond. Besides, the Cardinal's
infirmities made him look a great deal older than he was. And though all
his other actions had no tincture of pedantry, yet in his amorous
intrigues he had the most of it in the world. I had a detail of all the
steps he had made therein, which were extremely ridiculous. But
continuing his solicitation, and carrying her to his country seat at
Ruel,--[The Cardinal de Richelieu's seat, three leagues from
Paris.]--where he kept her a considerable time, I guessed that the lady
had not brains enough to resist the splendour of Court favour, and that
her husband's jealousy would soon give way to his interest, but, above
all, to his blind side, which was an attachment to the Court not to be
equalled. When I was in the hottest pursuit of this passion I proposed
to myself the most exquisite pleasures in triumphing over the Cardinal de
Richelieu in this fair field of battle; but on a sudden I had the
mortification to hear the whole family was changed. The husband allowed
his wife to go to Ruel as often as she pleased, and her behaviour towards
me I suspected to be false and treacherous. In short, Madame de
Guemenee's anger, for a reason I hinted before, my jealousy of Madame de
La Meilleraye, and an aversion to my own profession, all joined together
in a fatal moment and were near producing one of the greatest and most
famous events of our age.

La Rochepot, my first cousin and dear friend, was a domestic of the late
Duc d'Orleans,--[Gaston Jean Baptists de France, born 1608, and died at
Blois, 1660.]--and his great confidant. He mortally hated the Cardinal
de Richelieu, who had persecuted his mother, and had her hung up in
effigy, and kept his father still a prisoner in the Bastille, and now
refused the son a regiment, though Marechal de La Meilleraye, who very
highly esteemed him for his courage, interceded for the favour. You may
imagine that when we came together we did not forget the Cardinal.

I being crossed in my designs, as I told you, and as full of resentment
as La Rochepot was for the affronts put upon his person and family, we
chimed in our thoughts and resolutions, which were, dexterously to manage
the weakness of the Duc d'Orleans and to put that in execution which the
boldness of his domestics had almost effected at Corbie.

The Duc d'Orleans was appointed General, and the Comte de Soissons
Lieutenant-General of the King's forces in Picardy, but neither of them
stood well with the Cardinal, who gave them those posts only because the
situation of affairs was such that he could not help it. L'Epinai,
Montresor, and La Rochepot made use of all the arguments they could think
of to raise jealousies and fears in the Duc d'Orleans, and to inspire him
with resolution and courage to rid himself of the Cardinal. Others
laboured to persuade the Comte de Soissons to relish the same proposal,
but though resolved upon, it was never put into execution. For they had
the Cardinal in their power at Amiens, but did him no harm. For this
every one blamed the Count's companion, but I could never yet learn the
true cause; only this is certain, that they were no sooner come to Paris
than they were all seized with a panic, and retired, some one way, some
another.

The Comte de Guiche, since Marechal de Grammont, and M. de Chavigni,
Secretary of State and the Cardinal's most intimate favourite, were sent
by the King to Blois. Here they frightened the Duc d'Orleans and made
him return to Paris, where he was more afraid than ever; for such of his
domestics as were not gained by the Court made use of his pusillanimous
temper, and represented to him the necessity he was under to provide for
his own, or rather their, security. La Rochepot and myself endeavoured
to heighten his fears as much as possible, in order to precipitate him
into our measures. The term sounds odd, but it is the most expressive I
could find of a character like the Duke's. He weighed everything, but
fixed on nothing; and if by chance he was inclined to do one thing more
than another, he would never execute it without being pushed or forced
into it.

La Rochepot did all he could to fix him, but finding that the Duke was
always for delays, and for perplexing all expedients with groundless
fears of invincible difficulties, he fell upon an expedient very
dangerous to all appearance, but, as it usually happens in extraordinary
cases, much less so than at first view.

Cardinal de Richelieu having to stand godfather at the baptism of
Mademoiselle, La Rochepot's proposal was to continue to show the Duke the
necessity he lay under still to get rid of the Cardinal, without saying
much of the particulars, for fear of hazarding the secret, but only to
entertain him with the general proposal of that affair, thereby to make
him the better in love with the measures when proposed; and that they
might, at a proper time and place, tell him they had concealed the detail
to the execution from his Highness upon no other account but that they
had experienced on several occasions that there was no other way of
serving his Highness, as he himself had told La Rochepot several times;
that nothing, therefore, remained but to get some brave fellows fit for
such a resolute enterprise, and to hold post-horses ready upon the road
of Sedan under some other pretext, and to so execute the design in the
presence and in the name of his Royal Highness upon the day of the
intended solemnity, that his Highness should cheerfully own it when it
was done, and that then we would carry him off by those horses to Sedan.
Meanwhile the distraction of the inferior ministers and the joy of the
King to see himself delivered from a tyrant would dispose the Court
rather to invite than to pursue him. This was La Rochepot's scheme, and
it seemed exceedingly plausible.

La Rochepot and I had, it may be, blamed the inactivity of the Duc
d'Orleans and the Comte de Soissons in the affair of Amiens a hundred
times; yet, no sooner was the scheme sufficiently matured for execution,
the idea of which I had raised in the memory of La Rochepot, than my mind
was seized with I know not what fear; I took it then for a scruple of
conscience,--I cannot tell whether it was in truth so or not, but, in
short, the thought of killing a priest and a cardinal deeply affected my
mind. La Rochepot laughed at my scruples, and bantered me thus: "When
you are in the field of battle I warrant you will not beat up the enemy's
quarters for fear of assassinating men in their sleep." I was ashamed of
my scruples, and again hugged the crime, which I looked upon as
sanctified by the examples of great men, and justified and honoured by
the mighty danger that attended its execution. We renewed our
consultations, engaged some accomplices, took all the necessary
precautions, and resolved upon the execution. The danger was indeed very
great, but we might reasonably hope to come off well enough; for the
Duke's guard, which was within, would not have failed to come to our
assistance against that of the Cardinal's, which was without. But his
fortune, and not his guards, delivered him from the snare; for either
Mademoiselle or himself, I forget which, fell suddenly ill, and the
ceremony was put off to another time, so that we lost our opportunity.
The Duke returned to Blois, and the Marquis de Boissi protested he would
never betray us, but that he would be no longer concerned, because he had
just received some favour or other from the Cardinal's own hands.

I confess that this enterprise, which, had it succeeded, would have
crowned us with glory, never fully pleased me. I was not so scrupulous
in the committing of two other transgressions against the rules of
morality, as you may have before observed; but I wish, with all my heart,
I had never been concerned in this. Ancient Rome, indeed, would have
counted it honourable; but it is not in this respect that I honour the
memory of old Rome.

There is commonly a great deal of folly in conspiracies; but afterwards
there is nothing tends so, much to make men wise, at least for some time.
For, as the danger in things of this nature continues, even after the
opportunities for doing them are over, men are from that instant more
prudent and circumspect.

Having thus missed our blow, the Comte de La Rochepot and the rest of
them retired to their several seats in the country; but my engagements
detained me at Paris, where I was so retired that I spent all my time in
my study; and if ever I was seen abroad, it was with all the reserve of a
pious ecclesiastic; we were all so true to one another in keeping this
adventure secret, that it never got the least wind while the Cardinal
lived, who was a minister that had the best intelligence in the world;
but after his death it was discovered by the imprudence of Tret and
Etourville. I call it imprudence, for what greater weakness can men be
guilty of than to declare themselves to have been capable of what is
dangerous in the first instance?

To return to the history of the Comte de Soissons, I observed before that
he had retired to Sedan for safety, which he could not expect at Court.
He wrote to the King, assuring his Majesty of his fidelity, and that
while he stayed in that place he would undertake nothing prejudicial to
his service. He was most mindful of his promise; was not to be biassed
by all the offers of Spain or the Empire, but rejected with indignation
the overtures of Saint-Ibal and of Bardouville, who would have persuaded
him to take up arms. Campion, one of his domestics, whom he had left at
Paris to mind his affairs at Court, told me these particulars by the
Count's express orders, and I still remember this passage in one of his
letters to Campion: "The men you know are very urgent with me to treat
with the enemy, and accuse me of weakness because I fear the examples of
Charles de Bourbon and Robert d'Artois." He was ordered to show me this
letter and desire my opinion thereupon. I took my pen, and, at a little
distance from the answer he had already begun, I wrote these words:

"And I do accuse them of folly." The reasons upon which my opinion was
grounded were these: The Count was courageous in the highest degree of
what is commonly called valour, and had a more than ordinary share in
that boldness of mind which we call resolution. The first is common and
to be frequently met with among the vulgar, but the second is rarer than
can be imagined, and yet abundantly more necessary for great enterprises;
and is there a greater in the world than heading a party? The command of
an army is without comparison of less intricacy, for there are wheels
within wheels necessary for governing the State, but then they are not
near so brittle and delicate. In a word, I am of opinion there are
greater qualities necessary to make a good head of a party than to make
an emperor who is to govern the whole world, and that resolution ought to
run parallel with judgment,--I say, with heroic judgment, which is able
to distinguish the extraordinary from what we call the impossible.

The Count had not one grain of this discerning faculty, which is but
seldom to be met with in the sublimest genius. His character was mean to
a degree, and consequently susceptible of unreasonable jealousies and
distrusts, which of all characters is the most opposite to that of a good
partisan, who is indispensably obliged in many cases to suppress, and in
all to conceal, the best-grounded suspicions.

This was the reason I could not be of the opinion of those who were for
engaging the Count in a civil war; and Varicarville, who was the man of
the best sense and temper of all the persons of quality he had about him,
told me since that when he saw what I wrote in Campion's letter the day I
set out for Italy, he very well knew by what motives I was, against my
inclination, persuaded into this opinion.

The Count held out all this year and the next against every solicitation
of the Spaniards and the importunities of his own friends, much more by
the wise counsels of Varicarville than by the force of his own
resolution; but nothing could secure him from the teasings of the
Cardinal de Richelieu, who poured into his ears every day in the King's
name his many dismal discoveries and prognostications. For fear of being
tedious I shall only tell you in one word that the Cardinal, contrary to
his own interest, hurried the Count into a civil war, by such arts of
chicanery as those who are fortune's favourites never fail to play upon
the unfortunate.

The minds of people began now to be more embittered than ever. I was
sent for by the Count to Sedan to tell him the state of Paris. The
account I gave him could not but be very agreeable; for I told him the
very truth: that he was universally beloved, honoured, and adored in that
city, and his enemy dreaded and abhorred. The Duc de Bouillon, who was
urgent for war, be the consequence what it would, improved upon these
advantages, and made them look more plausible, but Varicarville strongly
opposed him.

I thought myself too young to declare my opinion; but, being pressed to
do so by his Highness, I took the liberty to tell him that a Prince of
the blood ought to engage himself in a civil war rather than suffer any
diminution of his reputation or dignity, yet that nothing but these two
cases could justly oblige him to it, because he hazards both by a
commotion whenever the one or the other consideration does not make it
necessary; that I thought his Highness far from being under any such
necessity; that his retreat to Sedan secured him from the indignity he
must have submitted to, among others, of taking the left hand, even in
the Cardinal's own house; that, in the meantime, the popular hatred of
the Cardinal gained his Highness the greater share of the public favour,
which is always much better secured by inaction than action, because the
glory of action depends upon success, for which no one can answer;
whereas inaction is sure to be commended as being founded upon the hatred
which the public will always bear to the minister. That, therefore, I
should think it would be more glorious for his Highness, in the view of
the world, to support himself by his own weight, that is, by the merit of
his virtue, against the artifices of so powerful a minister as the
Cardinal de Richelieu,--I say, more glorious to support himself by a wise
and regular conduct than to kindle the fire of war, the flagrant
consequences whereof no man is able to foresee; that it was true that the
minister was universally cursed, but that I could not yet see that the
people's minds were exasperated enough for any considerable revolution;
that the Cardinal was in a declining state of health, and if he should
not die this time, his Highness would have the opportunity of showing the
King and the public that though, by his own personal authority and his
important post at Sedan, he was in a capacity to do himself justice, he
sacrificed his own resentments to the welfare and quiet of the State; and
that if the Cardinal should recover his health, he would not fail, by
additional acts of tyranny and oppression, to draw upon himself the
redoubled execrations of the people, which would ripen, their murmurings
and discontents into a universal revolution.

This is the substance of what I said to the Count, and he seemed to be
somewhat affected by it. But the Duc de Bouillon was enraged, and told
me, by way of banter, "Your blood is very cold for a gentleman of your
age." To which I replied in these very words: "All the Count's servants
are so much obliged to you, monsieur, that they ought to bear everything
from you; but were it not for this consideration alone, I should think
that your bastions would not be always strong enough to protect you." The
Duke soon came to himself, and treated me with all the civilities
imaginable, such as laid a foundation for our future friendship. I stayed
two days longer at Sedan, during which the Count changed his mind five
different times, as I was told by M. Saint-Ibal, who said little was to
be expected from a man of his humour. At last, however, the Duc de
Bouillon won him over. I was charged to do all I could to convince the
people of Paris, had an order to take up money and to lay it out for this
purpose, and I returned from Sedan with letters more than enough to have
hanged two hundred men.

As I had faithfully set the Count's true interest before him, and
dissuaded him from undertaking an affair of which he was by no means
capable, I thought it high time to think of my own affairs. I hated my
profession now more than ever; I was at first hurried into it by the
infatuation of my kindred. My destiny had bound me down to it by the
chains both of duty and pleasure, so that I could see no possibility to
set myself free. I was upwards of twenty-five years of age, and I saw it
was now too late to begin to carry a musket; but that which tortured me
most of all was this fatal reflection, that I had spent so much of my
time in too eager a pursuit of pleasure, and thereby riveted my own
chains; so that it looked as if fate was resolved to fasten me to the
Church, whether I would or no. You may imagine with what satisfaction
such thoughts as these were accompanied, for this confusion of affairs
gave me hopes of getting loose from my profession with uncommon honour
and reputation. I thought of ways to distinguish myself, pursued them
very diligently, and you will allow that nothing but destiny broke my
measures.

The Marechaux de Vitri and Bassompierre, the Comte de Cremail, M. du
Fargis, and M. du Coudrai Montpensier were then prisoners in the Bastille
upon different counts. But, as length of time makes confinement less
irksome, they were treated very civilly, and indulged with a great share
of freedom. Their friends came to see them, and sometimes dined with
them. By means of M. du Fargis, who had married my aunt, I got
acquainted with the rest, and by conversing with them discovered very
remarkable emotions in some of them, upon which I could not help
reflecting. The Marechal de Vitri was a gentleman of mean parts, but
bold, even to rashness, and his having been formerly employed to kill the
Marechal d'Ancre had given him in the common vogue, though I think
unjustly, the air of a man of business and expedition. He appeared to me
enraged against the Cardinal, and I concluded he might do service in the
present juncture, but did not address myself directly to him, and thought
it the wisest way first to sift the Comte de Cremail, who was a man of
sound sense, and could influence the Marechal de Vitri as he pleased. He
apprehended me at half a word, and immediately asked me if I had made
myself known to any of the prisoners. I answered, readily:

"No, monsieur; and I will tell you my reasons in a very few words.
Bassompierre is a tattler; I expect to do nothing with the Marechal de
Vitri but by your means. I suspect the honesty of Du Coudrai, and as for
my uncle, Du Fargis, he is a gallant man, but has no headpiece."

"Whom, then, do you confide in at Paris?" said the Comte de Cremail.

"I dare trust no man living," said I, "but yourself."

"It is very well," said he, briskly; "you are the man for me. I am above
eighty years old, and you but twenty-five; I will qualify your heat, and
you my chilliness."

We went upon business, drew up our plan, and at parting he said these
very words: "Let me alone one week, and after that I will tell you more
of my mind, for I hope to convince the Cardinal that I am good for
something more than writing the 'Jeu de l'Inconnu.'"

You must know that the "Jeu de l'Inconnu" was a book, indeed, very ill
written, which the Comte de Cremail had formerly published, and which the
Cardinal had grossly ridiculed. You will be surprised, without doubt,
that I should think of prisoners for an affair of this importance, but
the nature of it was such that it could not be put into better hands, as
you will see by and by.

A week after, going to visit the prisoners, and Cremail and myself being
accidentally left alone, we took a walk upon the terrace, where, after a
thousand thanks for the confidence I had put in him, and as many
protestations of his readiness to serve the Comte de Soissons, he spoke
thus: "There is nothing but the thrust of a sword or the city of Paris
that can rid us of the Cardinal. Had I been at the enterprise of Amiens,
I think I should not have missed my blow, as those gentlemen did. I am
for that of Paris; it cannot miscarry; I have considered it well. See
here what additions I have made to our plan." And thereupon he put into
my hand a paper, in substance as follows: that he had conferred with the
Marechal de Vitri, who was as well disposed as anybody in the world to
serve the Count; that they would both answer for the Bastille, where all
the garrison was in their interest; that they were likewise sure of the
arsenal; and that they would also declare themselves as soon as the Count
had gained a battle, on condition that I made it appear beforehand, as I
had told him (the Comte de Cremail), that they should be supported by a
considerable number of officers, colonels of Paris, etc. For the rest,
this paper contained many particular observations on the conduct of the
undertaking, and many cautions relating to the behaviour to be observed
by the Count. That which surprised me most of all was to see how fully
persuaded these gentlemen were of carrying their point with ease.

Though it came into my head to propose this project to the persons in the
Bastille, yet nothing but the perfect knowledge I had of their
disposition and inclination could have persuaded me that it was
practicable. And I confess, upon perusal of the plan prepared by M. de
Cremail, a man of great experience and excellent sense, I was astonished
to find a few prisoners disposing of the Bastille with the same freedom
as the Governor, the greatest authority in the place.

As all extraordinary circumstances are of wonderful weight in popular
revolutions, I considered that this project, which was even ripe for
execution, would have an admirable effect in the city. And as nothing
animates and supports commotions more than the ridiculing of those
against whom they are raised, I knew it would be very easy for us to
expose the conduct of a minister who had tamely suffered prisoners to
hamper him, as one may say, with their chains. I lost no time;
afterwards I opened myself to M. d'Estampes, President of the Great
Council, and to M. l'Ecuyer, President of the Chamber of Accounts, both
colonels, and in great repute among the citizens, and I found them every
way answering the character I had of them from the Count; that is, very
zealous for his interest, and fully persuaded that the insurrection was
not only practicable, but very easy. Pray observe that these two
gentlemen, who made no great figure, even in their own profession, were,
perhaps, two of the most peaceable persons in the kingdom. But there are
some fires which burn all before them. The main thing is to know and
seize the critical moment.