ry de Montmorency was the last of the ducal branch of his house, and
was only thirty-seven.
It was a fine opportunity for Monsieur to once more break his
engagements. Shame and anxiety drove him equally. He was universally
reproached with Montmorency's death; and he was by no means easy on the
subject of his marriage, of which no mention had been made in the
arrangements. He quitted Tours and withdrew to Flanders, writing to the
king to complain of the duke's execution, saying that the life of the
latter had been the tacit condition of his agreement, and that, his
promise being thus not binding, he was about to seek a secure retreat out
of the kingdom. "Everybody knows in what plight you were, brother, and
whether you could have done anything else," replied the king.
"What think you, gentlemen, was it that lost the Duke of Montmorency his
head?" said Cardinal Zapata to Bautru and Barrault, envoys of France,
whom he met in the antechamber of the King of Spain. "His crimes,"
replied Bautru. "No," said the cardinal, "but the clemency of his
Majesty's predecessors." Louis XIII. and Cardinal Richelieu have
assuredly not merited that, reproach in history.
So many and such terrible examples were at last to win the all-powerful
minister some years of repose. Once only, in 1636, a new plot on the
part of Monsieur and the Count of Soissons threatened not only his power,
but his life. The king's headquarters were established at the castle of
Demuin; and the princes, urged on by Montresor and Saint-Ibal, had
resolved to compass the cardinal's death. The blow was to be struck at
the exit from the council. Richelieu conducted the king back to the
bottom of the staircase.
[Illustration: The King and the Cardinal----204]
The two gentlemen were awaiting the signal; but Monsieur did not budge,
and retired without saying a word. The Count of Soissons dared not go
any further, and the cardinal mounted quietly to his own rooms, without
dreaming of the extreme peril he had run. Richelieu was rather lofty
than proud, and too clear-sighted to mistake the king's feelings towards
him. Never did he feel any confidence in his position; and never did he
depart from his jealous and sometimes petty watchfulness. Any influence
foreign to his own disquieted him in proximity to a master whose affairs
he governed altogether, without ever having been able to get the mastery
over his melancholy and singular mind.
Women filled but
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