The making of a king (34 page)

The end can have taken few by surprise. Visiting the Louvre after Louis's coronation, Sully had found all the royal children at the palace, a each, according to their age, receiving him very well and with great caresses." On his return to the Arsenal, he had predicted, tears in his eyes, that his master's second son would not live long.

None of the children had lately been well ; and Marie had conceived the idea of bringing the younger ones to the Luxembourg, where they would be to a greater extent under her own eye, and in the hope that change of air would prove beneficial. She was herself, with Louis, at Saint-Germain when little Orleans's short life came to an end.

Louis had started from Paris, on November 14, in high spirits, prepared to display his new accomplishments to an admiring feminine circle.

« My sisters," he told Heroard, " will be very glad

to see me shoot with the arquebus. . . . Mamanga will ask M. de Souvre how he can allow me to shoot, and will go and say so to the Queen, my mother."

By the time he reached fhe chateau his brother's condition was already causing anxiety. The Duke had been suffering from slight convulsions, accompanied by a species of lethargy. Waking, however, he responded to Louis's greeting with ready courtesy and the respect ever shown to the elder brother.

" Good-night, mon petit papa" he said, " you do me too much honour in taking the trouble to come and

see me."

Bursting into tears, Louis left the room. It was the brothers' last meeting.

" Is there no means of saving him ?" the King asked M. de Souvre the following day.

The gouverneurs answer was not reassuring. The doctors were doing all they could. The King must pray.

Louis was ready and willing. But was there nothing else to be done ? he persisted anxiously.

A votive offering to our Lady of Loretto, taking the form of a silver image of the height of the sick child, was suggested. Louis caught at the idea.

"Send to Paris at once," he ordered; "let them make haste" ; then fell, with tears, to saying his prayers.

On the night of November 16, the King, waking at one o'clock, asked for news of his brother ; then—not being informed that all was over—slept again. Almost at that very hour the child had passed away. " A short time before," records Heroard, " he said that he

had seen in a dream an angel, who told him that his good papa wished to see him, and that he would see him soon. { Je 1'embrasserai si fort,' he said gaily."

Henri-Quatre was not forgotten by his children.

When the news was broken by Concini to Louis on the following morning he received it with manifest distress and loss of colour. Then, with a child's impatience of grief, he tried his best to amuse himself, begging M. de Souvre to ask the Queen not to insist upon his sprinkling the body with holy-water. The ceremonies and the horror attending his father's death were not obliterated from his memory, nor was it without reluctance that he was induced to occupy the great chamber at the Louvre where he had seen Henri lying dead.

To what degree the Queen would be inconsolable for the loss of her son God alone knew, wrote the Tuscan Secretary, Ammirato, whether using the words equivocally or not. Richelieu, writing of the event at a later date, mentions that he had been told that, on a former occasion, Marie had been so little moved by a serious illness of the Duke's that Henri —always an anxious father—had considered it strange, and had taxed her with lack of affection for her children. The difference now, observed the Cardinal easily, was that the child's life was more essential to her interests, since by her husband's death she was debarred from having other sons. Richelieu was perhaps right, and political exigencies may have increased the Queen's sorrow. But it is more charitable to believe that Marie was not by temperament an anxious woman,

and that notwithstanding the Duke's delicacy, she had never contemplated the contingency of his death.

Yet it is singular to note the absence of pomp and ceremony with which the nameless child — he had not yet received public baptism—who was yet next heir to the throne, was laid to rest in Saint-Denis, his " petit papa " being apparently not present at the funeral. The fact that it was taking place may have been withheld from the boy, with a view of sparing him emotion ; for in the record of the day no trace is to be discerned of any consciousness on his part of what was going forward ; and the contrast is a singular one between the one brother, carried to his grave with bare decorum, and the other lying contentedly in bed playing with his favourite toys, whilst music was performed in his chamber. It is true that his pleasure was alloyed by the entrance of the Cardinal de Gonzaga, come to listen to the songs. Regard for his dignity constrained the King to relinquish his playthings so long as the Cardinal was present, returning with open delight to his miniature cannon when the visitor had withdrawn. So ended the burial day. On the next, Louis " gave audience to five ambassadors on his brother's decease." Another scene, also connected with the dead child, is half-piteous, half-comic ; when his baby affianced-bride, Mademoiselle de Montpensier, for whose hand suitors were contending, was brought to visit the Queen, clad in a widow's deep mourning. Touched and compassionate, Marie dispensed her from the necessity of wearing her weeds ; promising, besides, that Anjou should take his brother's place, though

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The Spanish Marriages arranged 265

confessing that she was unable to guarantee that he would treat her with as much respect. Orleans had never presumed to kiss her without first asking permission. Anjou, his mother feared, would not—at three years old— be equally discreet.

By the middle of December the great wish of Marie's heart was granted, and the double Spanish marriages were definitely arranged. Some discussion took place as to the date at which the Infanta and Madame were to be exchanged, the Queen pleading that the fact that Anne was motherless was a reason for hastening, rather than retarding, her transference to France, where she herself would act the part of a mother. But Philip declined to part with his daughter till, in two years' time, she should have completed at least her twelfth year, and Marie was fain to be content.

The Princes of the Blood on their return to Paris, from which they had absented themselves, were less so. The affair had been settled without their advice or concurrence ; and, though they were not in a position to oppose the arrangement openly, it was another item added to their reckoning against the Regent. More and more they stood over against her, a hostile and menacing force.

" M. le Chancelier," said Louis one day, as, alert and suspicious, he watched his mother and Conde in conversation, and drew his conclusions from her changing colour and the Prince's gestures, " M. le Prince is chiding the Queen, my mother. It should not be endured. I will not have it."

Neither did he respond with cordiality when his

cousins showed a desire to deal with him directly, and not through untrustworthy channels. Taking him apart one day, Conde bade him not to believe that the Princes of his own blood had any thought of carrying him off—a report of the kind appearing to have been in circulation. To risk their lives for him was their sole desire.

Louis received the protestation coldly.

c< Je ne m'en soucie pas," he said ungraciously.

If there was little chance that he would be disposed to attach himself to the party led by the Princes, another danger, as yet unsuspected, was preparing. About this time a scene is recorded, trifling in itself, yet not unimportant when interpreted by the light of future events.

Louis lay half-asleep and dreaming.

" Ho, how beautiful . . . how beautiful, is the lure ! . . . the lure! . . . Luynes . . . Luynes," he murmured between sleeping and waking.

Charles d'Albert, Seigneur de Luynes, was the King's falconer. He was to become, as many would know to their cost, his favourite. The manner of his obtaining the post which was the first rung of the ladder is curious ; the very means taken to obviate the danger of the King's contracting an inconvenient affection having led to the connection that proved in the end fatal to his mother's sway.

Knowing Louis's passion for falconry, it had occurred to the younger Vitry, now captain of the guard in his father's place, and to a comrade of his, de la Curee, that could a dependent of their own be appointed to take charge of the King's birds, hitherto

under the care of a mere servant, it would prove to their interest. Having selected a guardsman skilled in the art as their candidate, they took the opportunity when, dinner ended, Louis was almost alone, to suggest to him, in a low voice, that it was not fitting that his hawks should remain in the hands of a peasant, and, reminding him of instances of their protege's skill, recommended him for the post. The King listened favourably, though, according to his wont, committing himself to no decided opinion. All might have gone according to their wishes had not a young attendant of Louis's, Fontenay by name, overheard the conversation, and, having taken counsel with the son and nephew of Souvre—just then ill and confined to his bed—hurried to thegouverneur, and disclosed to him what was going forward. Fontenay suggested further that, instead of the proposed soldier, who was believed to be in the interest of the Concini party, Luynes would be a fit person to minister to the King's pleasure, and, owing his appointment to Souvre, would be likely to show himself grateful. Souvre fully concurred ; Luynes was put forward, and, Louis having a liking for him, placed him at once in his new post. Into no one's imagination had it entered as a possibility that Luynes, thirty-five years of age and possessed of no remarkable intelligence, would become a favourite, and all was considered to have been put on a safe and satisfactory footing, the King's " oiseaux de cabinet"—so called because he always kept some of them in his apartments and to distinguish them from those belonging to the Grand Falconer's charge—remaining under the care of his new attendant,

CHAPTER XXI 1612

The year 1612—The Spanish marriages finally arranged— Truce with the Princes—Signature of the marriage contracts—The Due de Bellegarde and the magic mirror—Death of the Comte de Soissons —Louis in disgrace.

THERE is little to distinguish the year 1612, in its main features, from what had preceded it. The same passions were at work, the same motives continued to direct conduct. Fresh cabals were formed, one combination replaced another : that was all. If a difference is discernible it is chiefly that the ascendancy of the Marquis d'Ancre and his wife was not so complete and uninterrupted as before, and that upon occasion the Queen vindicated her independence by a refusal to act upon Concini's advice. Upon the whole, however, he and his wife continued to be the most powerful factors at Court. When the Marquis seemed to have fallen into temporary disgrace, sceptical observers questioned whether the reality corresponded to the outward appearance.

The Comte de Soissons, until his death towards the end of the year, supplied a constant cause of disquiet to the Government. His restless ambition forbade him to remain content with the concessions he obtained;

his position being further strengthened by the league uniting him and Conde, and by intrigues he carried on with d'Ancre. Any sympathy that might have been felt for the great French nobles in their resistance of foreign influence is destroyed by the readiness they testified to make terms with the enemy when it was their personal interest to do so.

During the spring the Regent's supreme desire was accomplished, and the Spanish marriages were finally settled. On January 26, in a speech from the Chancellor, the announcement was made to the assembled Council, consisting of the Princes of the Blood and the officers of the Crown. Save by Conde and Soissons, no dissentient voice was raised, but the attitude of the two was at once made clear.

" Mon frere," said Soissons, turning to his cousin, u what do you think of this kind of Council ? See what account is made of us, and how we are treated ! "

The Queen, overhearing, as she was meant to overhear, the words, was observed to flush, and would have replied. The Chancellor, however, interposed to prevent it, and nothing further passed on the subject. Whether the Princes approved or not, it was clear that the Regent did not intend to be turned from her purpose ; and two months later, on March 25, in the absence of both Conde and Soissons, the necessary preliminaries were gone through and Don Innigo de Cardenas, Spanish Ambassador, formally recognised Madame as Princess of Spain.

Everything had been done to lend importance to the occasion. The Court was present, with the officers

•

of the Crown, the Marshals of France, and many prelates. Madame, dressed in the Spanish fashion, wore a gown of cloth of silver, embroidered in gold ; the King was also dressed in gold and silver. Kneeling before little Elizabeth, Cardenas rendered her the homage due to the bride of his Prince. In the sight of the entire Court the conclusion of the affair was declared.

The announcement was made in another fashion to the general public. Carousels, entertainments, festivities of all kinds, illuminations and fireworks, celebrated the betrothal of the King ; and Louis, wherever he appeared, was greeted with enthusiastic acclamation. The man in the street might not, on reflection, approve of the implied reversal of the late King's foreign policy, but he loved amusement, and nothing so magnificent had ever been witnessed in Paris. " Night was turned into day, darkness into light, and the streets into amphitheatres."

The Princes of the Blood did not share in the festivities. If not categorically refusing their consent to the marriages, they had betaken themselves, sulking, to the provinces. Conde had refused to return ; Soissons, saying that he intended to spend Easter at his own castle at Dreux, promised vaguely to render obedience later on to the King's summons. The fact that the two were together was not reassuring to the Government ; and, though resolute in her determination to hold her own and to withstand the extravagant demands which the Comte de Soissons, in particular, was always making, the Queen thought it well to attempt a policy of conciliation. The Marquis

d'Ancre was therefore sent to visit the Count on her behalf; the ministerial party, opposed to the favourite and distrustful of his methods, deputing Villeroy to share his mission and to keep watch over his proceedings.

At the time when Villeroy was to start it appears that the Regent was, for some reason, ill content with the Parlement; since to his inquiry as to when he was to leave Paris she replied sharply that it would be so soon as that body had executed her commands.

" Madame," said the King, overhearing what was said, and confident of his own powers of persuasion, " Madame, tell them to assemble, and send me to them. They will not refuse me."

The Queen may have acted on the suggestion. At all events, Villeroy started on his mission with d'Ancre ; and the two were so far successful that a species of treaty was concluded with the Princes. The Regent engaged to abstain from taking action for the future without their consent and promised to each the possession of a stronghold in their governments ; they consented to return to the capital and to renew amicable relations with the Queen. By a private arrangement between d'Ancre and Soissons both were further pledged to do what lay in their power to abase the ministerial party, and though all must have known that the reconciliation of the Regent and the Princes was a hollow one, the alliance was likely to continue so long as the favourite could hope by its means to compass the ruin of his enemies.

Meanwhile peace was ostensibly restored. On Ascension Day Conde and Soissons rode into Paris, escorted

by some seven or eight thousand horsemen, and, in the absence of the King and Queen, paid their respects to the two youngest representatives of the royal family, Gaston and Henriette, at the Louvre. Soon afterwards they repaired to Fontainebleau, where the Court was residing, and gave formal consent to the Spanish marriages. The last obstacle in the way of the Queen's cherished project was removed. Young Mayenne — the loyal old Duke was dead—was dispatched, with a brilliant retinue, to conclude the betrothal at Madrid, and the Duke of Pastrana was expected to arrive, with a similar object, in Paris. By August all measures had been taken to seal, so far as marriage was concerned, Louis's fate.

The boy himself had little voice in the matter.

" My son, I want to marry you," the Queen said to him lightly. " Do you wish it ?"

u je le veux bien, Madame," was the reply. Yet signs were not wanting which indicated, to observant eyes, that his old prejudice with regard to his father's former opponent was not wholly extinct. It was true that the Tuscan envoy, who plumed himself upon having been instrumental in bringing the match about, reported that the boy was accustomed to gaze,

" Let us not speak of that," Louis answered shortly, when, on the eve of the day fixed for the signing of the contracts, Souvre told him that he was to be married on the morrow ; and it was noticed that, in replying in the prescribed terms to the Ambassador's address,

rendering thanks to Philip for his good-will, and giving the assurance that he would honour him as a father and love him as a brother, he omitted, whether by accident or design, the further dictated promise that he would make use of his good counsels.

It had been on August 13 that the envoy from Spain had entered Paris—an earnest of the drawbacks attending the return of the Princes to Court being experienced at his first audience. Something approaching to a brawl took place in the Queen's presence owing to their refusal to admit the right of the Due de Nevers to share their bench. Ten days later, on the feast of St. Louis, the solemn signature of the contracts of marriage took place.

In the King's presence-chamber—-which that morning he had personally helped to prepare for the ceremony of the evening—the momentous business was transacted. Princes, princesses, officers of State, ambassadors, crowded the room as the contract was read, all uncovering whensoever the name of King or Queen occurred. Then came the affixing of the signatures, Louis signing first, followed by his mother and Madame—whom he jogged with his elbow as she inscribed her name. Queen Marguerite came next; and the Ambassadors, the Nuncio, and the Princes in turn added their autographs. Marie, obstinate, determined, headstrong, had triumphed ; her will had been executed.

At Madrid all had prospered, save that Mayenne had permitted pleasure to follow upon business, and had paid overmuch attention to Spanish ladies to please Spanish taste. Anne had testified no reluctance to be married.

18

"Say that 1 am very impatient to see him/' she told Mayenne, who, taking his departure—the articles duly signed— had inquired if sjie had any orders to give him with regard to the King, his master.

" Eh, Madame," remonstrated her gouvernante, as she heard the child's message ; " what will the King of France think when M. le Due tells him that you are so anxious to be married ? "

Anne was impenitent.

"You have taught me," she retorted, "that the truth must always be spoken, and I am acting on that lesson."

She also sent Louis a scarf, made with her own hands—an honour he totally failed to appreciate. It was a day of magnificent presents. His mother was having a diamond necklace of immense value made for her future daughter-in-law ; informing her own daughter, with complacency, that it would show Spaniards that she came of a good family — which was perhaps a not unnatural view for a Medicis to take of the evidences of race. Madame herself had been presented with a splendid box, covered with diamonds, on behalf of the Prince of Spain ; and when Louis received for his share, on the same day, a gift possessing a merely sentimental value, he was in no wise gratified.