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THE DUKE D'AUMALE Henriette de Balzac d’Entragues, Marquise de Verneuil. (Frontispiece.eye | I ; i | 4 ; i / eS Se ae alPrinted in Great Bnitain a 25 eer en ing thy [2LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Henriette de Balzac d’Entragues, Marquise de Verneuil Frontispiece Marguerite de Valois, Queen of Navarre. : . Facing p. 10 Henri IV. and Gabrielle Estrées. '. 30 Henriette de Balzac d’Entragues, Marquise de Verneuil 3 42 Marriage by proxy of Marie de’ Medici : 3 68 The Maréchal Duc de Biron : ’ ‘5 ILO Maximilien de Bethune, Duc de Sully. . 3 134 Jacqueline de Beuil, Comtesse de Moret. ; 4 154 Statue of Henri IV. (Paris) Henri IV., King of France 182 Charlotte Marguerite de Montmorency, Princesse de Condé . ; ‘ ; : : 5 206 Henri II. de Bourbon, Prince de Condé 3 232 Francois Ravaillac, assassin of Henri IV. of Navarre < 208 | Coronation of Marie de’ Medici, 1610 276 : Henri [V. entrusting the government to Marie de’ Medici * 278 Jean Louis de la Vallette, Duc d’Epernon (1554-1642) ,, 296 | |i | ) } i : i | | Ce ee ee eet nt ot Pree Lee oe el meine htee green euip en Cem att he nets hemletLast Loves of Henri of Navarre CHAPTER t Number of the gallant adventures of Henri of Navarre in all probability underestimated rather than exaggerated by historians—His incorri- sible amativeness—His first love-affairs—His marriage with Mar- guerite de Valois—A policy of reciprocal indulgence—Infatuation of the King of Navarre for Madame de Sauve—His rivalry with the Duc d’Alencon over this siren—Escape of Henri from the Court of France His affair with Mlle. de Tignonville—He is rejoined by his wife, who is accompanied by Catherine de’ Medici and her “ escadron volant ’’’—Impression made by this famous bevy of beauties upon the King of Navarre and the nobles of his Court—" All lovers together ”’ —Return of Catherine and her squadron to Paris—Mlle. de Rebours —Mlle. de Fosseux, or ‘‘ Fosseuse,’’ maid-of-honour to the Queen of Navarre, attracts the favourable notice of the King—Monsteur likewise falls in love with the damsel—But is persuaded by Marguerite, anxious to placate her husband, “to subdue his passion ’’—Em- barrassing results of the King of Navarre’s admiration for ‘‘ Fosseuse a —A Court scandal—Marguerite accepts an invitation from Henri IIT, to visit the Court of France, and takes ‘‘ Fosseuse ’’’ with her—She is persuaded by the Queen and Catherine de’ Medici to dismiss that lady from her service—Indignation of the King of Navarre against his wife in consequence of this proceeding—Revival of the old animosity between Henri III. and Marguerite—The King grossly and publicly insults his sister during a ball at the Louvre, and com- mands her to quit Paris and “‘ deliver the Court from her contagious presence ’’—Near Palaiseau, he causes her and some of her attendants to be arrested and conveyed to Montargis, where he personally interrogates the latter in regard to the morals of their mistress— Refusal of her husband to receive her until a satisfactory explanation and apology is forthcoming from Henri III.—He finally consents, but Marguerite finds her position an unenviable one—Liaison of the King of Navarre with Corisande d’Andouins, Comtesse de Gramont, ‘la belle Corisande.’’ F we are to believe all that contemporary chroniclers and historians tell us of the gallant adventures of Henri of Navarre, then it is necessary to admit that though several of his descendants, such as Louis XIV., Louis XV., the Regent Philippe d’Orléans and our own I See PUTN pe mp eee emer Cen ee emia ete aener s Cmnyainimensoupthink —s ee eee ere Se eRe oe Last Loves of Henri of Navarre Merry Monarch, acquired no small celebrity in this métiey, they were, after all, but feeble imitators of their illustrious ancestor.’ The cares of State, the dangers and fatigues of war, never prevented him who has been named the Vert- Galant from paying court to the fair, and, like Vau- venargues’s ideal critic, if he permitted himself prefer- ences, he had no exclusions. High-born Jadies and daughters of the people, abbesses and courtesans, maids, Wives and widows, he made love to them all indis- criminately, nor would he appear to have entertained the least objection to having two or more affairs of the heart on his hands at the same time. Despite the surveillance of his stern Huguenot preceptor, Florent Chrestien, Henri entered upon his career of gallantry at La Rochelle when he was barely fifteen. The object of this first attachment was a damsel named Florette or Fleurette, who would appear to have been the daughter of a gardener, and is said to have presented him with a son. It was also at La Rochelle that, after a brief interval, we hear of him laying success- ful siege to the heart of Suzanne des Moulins, wife of Pierre Mathieu, a professor at the University. This lady likewise presented him with a pledge of her affection, but the child—also a son—only lived a short time.’ 1 Several historians, amongst whom may be mentioned Lescure (“Les Amours d’Henri IV.,” Paris, 1864), Le Petit Homme Rouge (" The Favourites of Henry of Navarre,’’ London, 1910), and M. L. Jarry (‘‘Henriette d’Entragues,”’ Orléans, 1897), have compiled lists of the bonnes fortunes of Henri IV., the number with which he is usually credited being about fifty, excluding certain ladies, such as Mlle. de Guise, Antoinette de Tours, Comtesse de Guercheville, and Catherine de Rohan, Duchesse des Deux-Ponts, whom he is believed to have courted without success. In the opinion, however, of so high an authority on the period as M. Charles Merki (‘La Marquise de Verneuil et la mort d’Henri Va Paris, 1912), these lists, so far from being too lengthy, are probably very incomplete, “‘ car 11 avatt eu partout des maitresses et semé des enfants a tous les cavvefours.’’ ? Henri would appear to have been very partial to the wives of the professors at the University of La Rochelle, since some years later he engaged in a love-affair with the wife of another, one Pierre Martine, a learned Navarrais. This worthy man is said to have entertained so little suspicion of what was going on that he often boasted of the charms 2Madame de Sauve Certain passades upon which we need not dwell here filled the interval between this affair and his marriage, in August 1572, with Marguerite de Valois, which was followed by the Massacre of St. Bartholomew, his forced conversion to the Roman Catholic religion, and three and a half years of semi-captivity at the Court of France. During this period the ill-assorted pair appear to have agree upon a policy of reciprocal indulgence, and while Marguerite found consolation for the lack of her husband’s affection in the society of La Mole, and when that gallant lost his head, in consequence of his partici- pation in the Conspiracy of the Politiques,’ in that of Bussy d’Amboise,’ Henri, after various amourettes, con- ceived a violent passion for Charlotte de Beaune de Semblancay, Baronne de Sauve,* one of “‘ those creatures more divine than human,’ who comprised Catherine de’ Medici’s renowned “ escadron volant.’* So great was his infatuation for Madame de Sauve, Marguerite tells us, in her ‘‘ Mémoires,”’ that he scarcely quitted her side all day, and did not seek the nuptial chamber until two hours after midnight. This dangerous siren was at the same time courted by Francois de Valois, Duc d’Alengon—Monsieur, as he was officially styled—fourth son of Catherine of his spouse and of the attentions which the King paid her. Subsequently, we read of tender relations between his Majesty and a Madame de Sponde, the wife of a third professor, who translated Homer and Hesiod, while the lady deceived him with the King. _ 1 See the author’s ‘‘ Queen Margot *’ (London, Harpers; New York, Scribners, 1906), pp. 181 ef seq. 2 Bussy, like La Mole and several other of Marguerite’s admirers, came to a violent end, being assassinated at the Chateau of Coutancére, in Anjou, by a band of bravoes in the pay of the Comte de Montsoreau, with whose wife he was conducting an intrigue. : 3 She was the wife of Simon de Fizes, Baron de Sauve, Secretary of State under Charles IX. and Henri III. After the death of her first husband, in 1579, she married Frangois de la Trémoille, Marquis de Noirmoutier. She retained her fascination until long past her first youth, and it was with her that Henri de Lorraine, Duc de Guise, spent his last night on earth, before falling under the daggers of the ‘‘ Quarante-Cinq.” 4 Brantéme, 1*Last Loves of Henri of Navarre de’ Medici, who was on the worst possible terms with his brother, Henri III. Acting doubtless on instructions from a high quarter, she employed all her wiles to incite that prince and the King of Navarre to jealousy of one another, and thus prevent any concerted action between them in the political arena, and succeeded but too well. “To such a pitch of violence,’ writes Marguerite, ‘‘ did she work up the passion of my brother and my husband, that, forgetful of every other ambition, duty and object in life, the sole idea in their minds seemed to be the pursuit of this woman. Moreover, they thereby arrived at so great and furious a jealousy of one another, that, although she was sought by several others, who were all better beloved by her than they were, these two brothers-in-law paid no attention to this, but only dreaded each other’s courtship.” The rivalry between the two princes was terminated by the flight of Alencon from the Court, and a few months later (February 4, 1576), the King of Navarre also contrived to effect his escape. It is related that after Henri had crossed the Seine at Poissy, and felt himself safe from pursuit, he remarked to his equerry Agrippe d’Aubigné and the other gentlemen who were with him : “ I have left in Paris only two things which I regret : the Mass and my wife. The first I will make shift to do without ; but the second I cannot, and I shall be glad to see her again.”’ It was not, however, until the autumn of 1578 that Marguerite was permitted to join him, and, in the inter- val, his Majesty would appear to have got on excel- lently well without his consort. To this epoch belongs his affair with Mlle. de Tignonville, daughter of Lancelot de Montceau, Seigneur de Tignonville, first maitre @’hétel to the King of Navarre. So enamoured did he become of this damsel, that he made the long journey to Béarn, under the pretext of seeing his sister Catherine, in order to pay court to her. At first Mlle. de Tignonville would have none of him, but he is believed to have triumphed 4A Bevy of Beauties over her resistance eventually, by the aid of a Gascon named Salbceuf, who, says d’Aubigné, “ did not play the part of a gentleman in this matter.”’ Catherine accompanied her daughter to Gascony, ostensibly with the object of settling certain matters in dispute between the King of Navarre and Henri III., really in the hope of sowing dissension between the former and his most influential followers. For this purpose she decided to make use of those facile beauties whom she so often employed to seduce the chiefs of factions, to retain them in a voluptuous idleness, or to rob them of their secrets, and placed her ‘‘ escadron volant™ on its war-footing. In its ranks was Madame de Sauve, who, although she was but twenty-five, had achieved so many conquests that she must have seemed almost a veteran to the young girls who were on their first cam- paign, amongst whom may be mentioned Mlle. d’Atri, a fair Neapolitan, and Mlle. Dayelle,’ a beautiful young Greek, who had escaped from the sack of Cyprus in 1571. About the middle of December, the two Queens arrived at Nérac, the capital of Henri’s duchy of Albret and the residence of his maternal ancestors, where it had been arranged that the conference between Catherine and the King of Navarre should be held. However, for the moment, politics were relegated to the back- ground and love reigned supreme. The pretty girls whom Catherine had brought with her turned the heads of all the Protestant nobles, so much so indeed that the Queen-Mother suspected that the delay in holding the conference had been arranged by these enamoured gentlemen ‘“‘to the end that they might the longer enjoy the society of her maids of honour.” Even the stern Calvinist, d’Aubigné, and the grave statesman, Maxt- milien de Béthune, Baron de Rosny, afterwards Duc 1 Davila was her real name, and she was a sister of Horatio Davila, the historian, who was at this time one of the Gentlemen of the Chamber to Francois de Valois, now become Duc d’Anjou. She afterwards married a Norman gentleman named Jean d’Humieres. 5Last Loves of Henri of Navarre de Sully, caught the prevailing infection, for the former tells us that they were “all lovers together,” while Sully admits that he also becdme a courtier and ‘took a mistress like the others.” It should be mentioned, however, that the Calvinist nobles were, after all, only following the example of their sovereign, who was carrying on two love-affairs simultaneously, having re- newed his old liaison with Madame de Sauve and started a new one with Mlle. Dayelle, the beautiful Cypriot, for whom his passion had reached a high temperature. “But,” writes his complaisant consort, “this did not prevent the King, my husband, from showing me great respect and affection, as much, indeed, as I could have desired, . and he expressed great satisfaction at our reunion.’”? Much to Catherine’s mortification, the charms of her fair auxiliaries did not succeed in making either Henri or his principal advisers lose sight of their political interests, and when, at the end of March 1579, she set out on her return to Paris, she had accomplished very little, save the sowing of a few seeds of discord about the King of Navarre, and the beguiling of two or three nobles from their allegiance to him.” Madame de Sauve and the-fascinating Mlle. Dayelle having followed Catherine to Paris, Henri turned for consolation to one of his wife’s maids-of-honour, Mlle. de Rebours,* “a malicious girl,” says Marguerite, “ who disliked me and endeavoured by every means in her power to prejudice me in the eyes of the King my * “Mémoires et lettres de Marguerite de Valois’’ (edit. Guessard). * Among them was d’Ussac, the old governor of La Réole, one of the six surety-towns ceded to the Huguenots by the Peace of Bergerac. Mile. d’Atri, Catherine’s Neapolitan maid-of-honour, had contrived to render d’Ussac madly enamoured of her, and the King of Navarre and his younger nobles bantered the poor old man so unmercifully upon his infatuation, that he took offence and, in the next war, held La Réole against his former friends, ‘‘ to the prejudice of his soul and his honour.”’ : Daughter of Guillaume de Rebours, a President of the Parlement of Paris, according to some writers, of Mont-Albert Rebours, a Huguenot gentleman, killed in the St. Bartholomew, according to others. 6‘* Fosseuse ”’ husband.” Mlle. de Rebours’s favour, however, was not of long duration, for when the Court quitted Pau for Nérac, in the following June, she was ill and had to be left behind, and by the time she was sufficiently recovered to regain it, her place in the King’s affections had been usurped by another of Marguerite’s maids-of-honour, Mlle. de Fosseux, or “‘ Fosseuse,” as the Queen had named her: However, Fosseuse, a damsel of some fifteen summers, ‘‘ conducted herself with virtue and propriety, ” and, for some time, the affair remained in its prelimt- nary stages. At the same time that he flirted with this mgénue, the Béarnais cast a favourable eye upon a soubrette in his wife’s service called Xaintes, ‘‘ avec laquelle 11 familiarisait.” The Queen, however, was not in a posi- tion to protest, having a little affair of her own, with the handsome Vicomte de Turenne, afterwards Duc de Bouillon. The renewal of the civil war temporarily interrupted his Majesty’s courtship of Fosseuse, and when, after some months, the conclusion of peace gave him leisure to resume it, he found, to his mortification, that he no longer had the field to himself. The Duc d’Anjou’ had been sent to Gascony to treat for peace on behalf of Henri III. and, after his diplomatic labours were over, he remained as a guest at his brother-in-law’s court. Monsieur, who had a marvellous aptitude for making mischief wherever he went, did not fail to maintain his reputation in this respect. He fell in love with the fair Fosseuse, and, for a time, there reigned between him and his royal host a rivalry almost as bitter as had existed in the days when they were both at the feet of Madame de Sauve. Nor was this all; for the King conceived the idea that his consort, through jealousy of Fosseuse, was favouring her brother’s equivocal at- tentions to the damsel, and began to treat her with 1 Frangoise de Montmorency, fifth daughter of Pierre de Montmorency, Marquis de Thury, Baron de Fosseux. 2 Alencon had become Duc d’Anjou in 1576. 7Last Loves of Henri of Navarre marked coldness. To remedy this painful state of affairs, the Queen was forced to intervene and secure to Henri the peaceable possession of his enchantress, ~ by pointing out to her brother the misery he would bring upon her by this courtship,” whereupon that magnanimous prince, “‘ caring, as he did, more for her happiness than his own, subdued his passion.’ Marguerite, however, soon had reason to regret that Monsieur had proved so complaisant, since Mlle. Fosseuse, who had hitherto only allowed the King “ such famili- arities as might with all propriety be permitted,” ended, as might have been foreseen, ‘‘ by surrendering herself entirely to his will,’ with results of a very embarrassing nature. ‘‘ Whereupon,” continues the Queen, “ finding herself in this condition, her bearing towards me changed, and instead of being frank with me, as was her custom, and rendering me all the good service in her power with respect to the King my husband, she began avoiding me, and rendering me as many evil turns as she had formerly done me good ones. She possessed so much influence over the King that, in a very short while, I perceived that he was wholly changed. He became estranged, avoided me, and no longer took the same pleasure in my society as when Fosseuse had conducted herself with propriety.” Soon the damsel’s condition was the chief topic of conversation, not only at the Court, but in all the 1 ““Mémoires et lettres de Marguerite de Valois ” (edit. Guessard). The Queen had certainly need to placate her husband at this period, since she had fallen desperately in love with Monsiewr’s grand equerry, Jacques de Harlay, Seigneur de Chanvallon, one of the handsomest men of his time, and had acted with such singular indiscretion that the affair was the talk of the Court, and it was even reported that her Majesty and M. de Chanvallon had been detected in a most compromising situation. After her gallant returned with his master to Paris, we find the enamoured princess writing to him in the following strain: ‘‘ Absence, constraint, serves but to increase my love, as much as it would diminish that of a feeble soul inflamed by a vulgar passion. . . . Be sure that the hour when you change will be that of my end. .. . I live no more save in you, mon beau tout, ma seule et parfaite beauté. . . . I kiss a million times those beautiful eyes, that’ beautiful hair, my dear and sweet fetters ; I kiss a million times that beautiful and lovable mouth,’’ and so forth. 8A Complaisant Consort country round. The Queen, anxious to put a Sone to the scandal, summoned her to her cabinet, and proposed that, under pretext of avoiding the plague which had broken out at Nérac, she (the Queen) should retire to Mas d’Agenais, a country house belonging to the King, situated in a very lonely spot, taking Fosseuse and such persons as could be trusted to hold their tongues with her, and remain there until a certain event had taken place. Thus, they would put an end to a scandal which concerned the Queen no less than her maid-of- honour. Instead of being grateful for her Majesty’s mag- nanimity, Fosseuse answered, with a fine assumption of injured innocence, that she would give the lie to all who spoke ill of her, and accused Marguerite of seeking a pretext to compass her ruin. Then she left the Queen’s cabinet in a rage and went to inform the King of what had passed. Henri was no less incensed than his mistress, declared that she had been shamefully maligned and did not fail to show Marguerite how much he resented her interference. However, one night, some three or four months later, there came a doctor knocking at the door of the roy al bed-chamber, with tidings of a very urgent nature for his Majesty’s ear alone. “My husband,” writes Marguerite, ‘‘ was greatly embarrassed as to what he should do, fearing, on the one hand, that she (Fosseuse) might be discovered, and, on the other, that she might not receive proper attention, for he loved her dearly. Finally, he decided to confess everything to me, being assured, notwithstanding what had happened in the past, that he would always find me ready to serve him. He thereupon drew aside my bed-curtains and said to me: ‘M’amie, I have concealed something from you that I must now avow. I entreat you to pardon me, and not to bear in mind what I have said to you on the matter ; but to oblige me by rising at once and going to the assistance of Fosseuse, who. is very ill. I feel assured that, seeing her in this state, you will not harbour 9Last Loves of Henri of Navarre resentment for what has passed. You know how much I love her; I entreat you, therefore, to do me this favour.’ ”’ The Queen replied that, “‘ she honoured him too much to take anything amiss that he proposed,” and that she would hasten to Fosseuse and “‘ behave to her as though she were her own daughter.” At the same time, she advised her husband to go away on a hunting expedition, so as to minimize the danger of the affair getting about. Marguerite kept her word, and “ God willed that Fosseuse should give birth to a daughter, who, moreover, was still-born.’’ Ifason had been born and had survived, who could have foreseen the unpleasant consequences that might have ensued, since it would appear that Henri, in accordance with the practice he adopted with several later enchantresses, had promised the lady that, if she bore him a son, he would repudiate his consort and marry her? But, “‘in spite of employing the greatest discretion,’ the news of the event was soon all over the chateau, and when the King returned from the chase, he begged Marguerite to pay a second visit to Fosseuse, thinking by this means to silence the rumours which were afloat. Her Majesty, however, not unnaturally considering that, in consenting to act the part of a mother to her husband’s mistress, she had carried her complacency far enough for one day, declined. ‘‘I replied,’ she writes, “‘ that I had visited her when she had need of my assistance ; but that now she no longer required it, and that if I went to her, I should be revealing rather than concealing what had occurred, and that everyone would point the finger of scorn at me. He was extremely angry with me, which displeased me greatly, since I did not consider that, after what I had done in the morning, I deserved sucha reward.” And the Queen adds: “She (Fosseuse) often incited him to get into these tempers against me.” In January 1582, Marguerite left Nérac, on a visit to the Court of France, and, to Henri’s great distress, IO( 4 | iz : Wx tgUcn ile Le — {“themine de Hew Marguerite d lyon: i / : ; i : | 5 i : i } a a ee S|A Gross Insult took Fosseuse with her. Shortly after her arrival in Paris, yielding to the urgent representations of Catherine and of the pious Queen, Louise of Lorraine, the latter of whom was inexpressibly shocked at seeing a lady of such unenviable notoriety in attendance upon her sister-in-law, she dismissed that errant damsel from her service, although, by way of compensation, she subsequently arranged for her a very advantageous marriage, with Francois de Broc, Baron de Cinq-Mars. The King of Navarre, on learning that his inamorata had received her congé, was highly indignant and de- spatched one of his gentlemen to his wife to acquaint her with his displeasure. Marguerite replied in a very admirable letter, which ought to have convinced the infatuated monarch that he had gone too far and drawn an apology from him. But, unfortunately, Catherine took upon herself to interfere and wrote her son-in-law a sharp reprimand, which deeply offended him and incensed him still further against his wife. Marguerite’s visit to the French Court, the chief object of which appears to have been the resumption of her interrupted romance with le beaw Chanvallon, proved a most fatal step, so far as she was concerned. For many years past the princess and her elder brother, Henri III., had been on the worst possible terms, and, after a brief truce, the old animosity between them revived and became more bitter than ever. Finally, on August 8, 1583, the King grossly and publicly insulted his sister during a ball at the Louvre, upbraiding her with her amours with Chanvallon, by whom he accused her of having had a child, and enumerating all the lovers whom she had had since her marriage, ““ naming so precisely dates and places,’ writes the Austrian Ambassador, Busbecq, ‘‘ that he seemed to have been a witness of the incidents of which he spoke.’* ‘Then, 1 The King had suborned one of Marguerite’s waiting-women, who furnished his Majesty with a full, true and particular account of the Chan- vallon affair, together with many piquant details concerning his pre- decessors in her mistress’s affections. IlRRO ne eT a Tet Oe ee nant ee ey a ee eT ee a nL npn ety eee Cee ee SNe ete Last Loves of Henri of Navarre without giving the unfortunate princess time to reply, he commanded her to quit Paris and “‘ deliver the Court from her contagious presence.” Marguerite obeyed, and next morning left Paris, with the intention of proceeding to the Chateau of Vendome, which belonged to Henri of Navarre, and remaining there until she had ascertained what kind of reception she was likely to meet with at Neérac, since she could not doubt that the news of the scene at the Louvre would very soon reach her husband’s ears. But the malevolence of Henri III. was not yet satisfied, and near Palaiseau he caused the Queen and some of her attendants to be arrested and conveyed to the Chateau of Montargis, where he personally interrogated the latter in regard to the morals of their mistress, his object being to ascertain what truth there was in the report which he had affected to believe that his sister had secretly given birth to a child by Chan- vallon,’ with the connivance of her confidantes, Mesdames de Béthune and de Duras. To the King’s intense mortification, however, the two ladies in question persisted in denying the accusation, and neither threats nor cajolery could wring anything from them to in- criminate the Queen. The evidence of Marguerite’s other attendants proved equally unsatisfactory, from his Majesty’s point of view, and there can be little doubt that the charge was a malicious slander, started and propagated by the princess’s enemies.’ On the intercession of the Queen-Mother, who was 1 The previous evening, Henri III. had sent to arrest Chanvallon, but that gentleman, warned in time, had prudently taken to flight. 2 “ The Queen was innocent of that which was imputed to her,’’ remarks Brantome, ‘‘ as I happen to know.” On the other hand, Dupleix declares that Marguerite gave birth to a son by Chanvallon. ‘“‘ He is still living,” continues the historian; ‘‘ he isa Capuchin called Frére Ange; I was formerly acquainted with him”’ (“ Histoire d’Henri IV.,” p. 595). Apart from the fact that Dupleix is quite unworthy of belief where Marguerite is concerned, M. de Saint-Poncy points out in his ‘‘ Histoire de Marguerite de Valois,” that this Frére Ange must have been born some years before the intrigue with Chanvallon began, since in 1603 he was a full-fledged monk and confessor to Henriette d’Entragues, Henri IV.’s mistress. IZSatisfaction Refused “beside herself with affliction” on ieaeine of the indignity to which her daughter had been subjected, Henri III. liberated the prisoners and _ permitted Marguerite to continue her journey, having first insisted that. she should dismiss Mesdames de Béthune and de Duras from her service. However, on her arrival at Cognac, she received a letter from her husband, for- bidding her to enter his dominions, until a full and satisfactory explanation had been accorded him by Henri III. If, he declared, the charges made against her were true, she was not fit to be his wife - if they were false, her honour required that her brother should with- draw them, and apologize for calumnies so atrocious, for an insult so humiliating. The brave and accomplished oe Plessis-Mornay, the “‘ Pope of the Huguenots,’ as the Catholics called him, and, subsequently, the bluff d’Aubigné were despatched to Henri III. to remonstrate with him on the want of consideration he had shown for their master’s honour. But they could get nothing from him but a kind of half-apology, and in October he despatched Pomponne de Belliévre, afterwards Chancellor, to Nérac, with a letter wherein he imperiously com- manded his brother-in-law to receive his wife im- mediately, and declared that he had no satisfaction to give him, since it was his King’s privilege to act as he pleased towards his subjects.’ This the King of Navarre declined to do, and the dispute dragged on until the beginning of the following spring, when the condition of Monsieur, who was slow ly dying of consumption at Chateau- -Thierry, and whose death would leave Henri of Navarre heir-presumptive to the French throne, contributed to bring about a ot the same time, he begged him not to take the matter so much to heart. ‘‘ Kings,’’ he wrote, “ are often liable to be deceived by false reports, and calumny has not always respected the conduct and morals of even the most virtuous princesses, as, for example, the Queen your mother. You cannot be ignorant of all the evil that was said of her. ‘ His Majesty,’’ remarked the Béarnais ironically to Belliévre, ‘‘ does me too much honour ; he tells me I am the son of a wanton, by way of excuse for calling my wife one.” ss)PaO Aleta ape ots enhreneebeenioweheerenpichenidncepiagiitenagedinetatin oyna Putt i bibowteeptet in iehonpnerrietbnieeeshit imnvetisbubislelebrk babs —e Last Loves of Henri of Navarre settlement. Henri III. desired a reconciliation with his brother-in-law, hoping to prevail upon him to embrace the Catholic faith again, and thus avert the trouble which must inevitably follow the death of Anjou. ‘I recognize your master as my sole heir,” said he to Mornay, who had been sent on a second embassy to the Court of France. ‘He is a prince of exalted birth and great parts. I have always loved him, and I know that he loves me. He is somewhat choleric and brusque; but good at bottom.’”’ Mornay lost no time in informing his master of the King’s words, and urged him strongly to be reconciled to his wife.* His wise counsel prevailed, and, at the beginning of April, Marguerite, who had been residing at Agen, one of the towns of her appanage, received an intimation from her husband that he was prepared to receive her. The Queen of Navarre accordingly returned to Nérac and nominally resumed her former position, but she did not find there the same consideration nor the same security as she had once enjoyed. Henri, careless and good-natured though he might be where morality was concerned, had been deeply incensed by the odious scandal which had assailed his wife’s reputation, by the pressure which had been brought to bear upon him to reinstate her under the conjugal roof, and by the threats to which his resistance had provoked the French Court. And, even if all this had never occurred, it is probable that His Majesty would have been by no means anxious for Marguerite’s return, as he was now desperately enamoured of Diane d’Andouins, Com- tesse de Gramont,known to history as “ Ja belle Corisande,” who had gained so great an ascendency over him that she was commonly reported to have bewitched him. Madame de Gramont, who was a year or two older than her royal lover, was a very different kind of woman 1 Adding some very excellent advice for his Majesty’s future conduct. “The love-affairs,’’ he writes, “‘ which are carried on so openly, and to which you devote so much time, are no longer seasonable. It is time, Sire, for you to make love to all Christendom, and especially to France.”’ 14‘*La Belle Corisande ”’ from the frail beauties who had hitherto engaged Henri’s attentions. In the first place, she was very wealthy, being the only child of Paul d’Andouins, Vicomte de Louvigny, Seigneur de Lescar, one of the four ereat baronies of Béarn, and the widow of Philibert, Comte de Gramont, the fav ourite of Henri III., who was mortally wounded at the siege of La Fére in August 1580 ; and her affection for the young king was quite disinterested. In the second, she was a woman of considerable intellectual attainments’ and a most accomplished musician, and in 1573 had given proof of a courage and sang-froid very unusual in one of her sex, when she had sav ed the life of her father-in-law, attacked at the Chateau of Hagetmau, near Pau, by a band of Protestant rebels, led by the Baron d’Arras. Lastly, though she passed several years of her married life amidst the corrupting atmosphere of the dissolute Court of the Valois, where vice was the mode, and virtue, even ordinary decency, was mocked and derided, she has the great honour not to figure in the scandals to which the chroniclers of the time devote so many pages. It was not, indeed, until after the death of her husband, when she was living at the Chateau of Haget- mau, that her liaison with the King of Navarre, w hom she had known since the time when they were children,’ began. The date is uncertain, but it was probably shortly after the departure of Marguerite and the fair Fosseuse for Paris in January 1582, though some historians place it at the end of 1580. Anyw ay, Madame de Gramont inspired in the volatile heart of the Béarnais the love the most worthy, as well as the most durable, which he had yet experienced ; he gave her his fullest confidence and treated her with almost as much respect as he would have shown to a queen 1 She was an intimate friend of Montaigne, who, in 1580, at the time of the first issue of his ‘‘ Essais,’’ dedicated to her a chapter containing twenty-nine of the sonnets of his dead friend, the poet La Boétie. 2 She had shared the studies of Henri and his sister, Catherine de Bourbon, afterwards Duchess of Bar. T5CHAPTERS it The death of the Duc d’Anjou makes Henri of Navarre heir presumptive to the throne of France—Treaty of Nemours—Bull of Sixtus V. against the King of Navarre—Renewal of the civil war—Strained relations between the King and Queen of Navarre—Marguerite leaves Nérac and takes refuge at Agen, one of the towns of her appanage— Devotion of the Comtesse de Gramont to the King of Navarre— Her sacrifices on his behalf—Henri contemplates obtaining a divorce from his consort and marrying his mistress—His letters to her one of the most valuable sources for a study of his character—Mlle. de Boyslambert—Scandalous conduct of the King of Navarre with her at La Rochelle—He is compelled by the Calvinist pastors to make public reparation for his sins before the Battle of Coutras—After the victory, he hastens away to Gascony to lay the captured standards at the feet of la belle Corisande—Henri’s overtures rejected by the Comtesse de Guercheville and the Duchesse des Deux-Ponts—His love-affair with Claude de Beauvilliers, Abbess of Montmartre— Rupture of the relations between the King of Navarre and Madame de Gramont—Last years of the countess—First meeting of Henri and Gabrielle d’Estrées—Visit of Gabrielle to the Royal camp before Chartres—Her marriage with M. de Liencourt—She leaves him and rejoins the King—Her marriage annulled—Her children by Henri IV. —Deep attachment of the King to her—Her beauty and amiable character—Henri determines to marry her, so soon as he can obtain the dissolution of his marriage with Marguerite de Valois—Universal alarm caused by this resolution—Sudden death of Gabrielle—Ex- travagant grief of the King—Negotiations opened for Henri’s marriage with Marie de’ Medici—The King’s marriage with Queen Marguerite is dissolved by Clement VIII. HE death of the Duc d’Anjou, in June 1584, opened to Henri of Navarre the prospect of the throne of France, but the fact that the legitimate heir was a heretic made the renewal of the civil war inevitable, and the Guises and the League at once began to organize their forces for the coming struggle. No means were left un- tried by them to intimidate Henri III. into giving their proceedings his countenance and support, and, though for a time the King declined to yield, he eventually gave way and, on July 1585, signed the Treaty of Nemours, whereby he interdicted throughout his realm 16Husband and Wife any Other religion save the Catholic, on pain of death, and bound himself to declare war on all Huguenots who at the expiration of six months had not made their submission. In September, appeared the Bull in which Sixtus V. declared ‘‘ Henri, formerly King of Navarre,’ a relapsed heretic and proclaimed him in- capable of succeeding to the throne of France, and at the beginning of the following year war began. While these momentous events were taking place, the position of the Queen of Navarre at Nérac was becoming increasingly difficult. So long as his wife had been of use to him in his political schemes, Henri had shown her at least those outward marks of respect and con- sideration to which her rank entitled her. But now she had lost her credit and could no longer serve as an in- termediary between him and the French Court; nay, more, he had come to regard her in the light of a possible rival, for there was a party in the nation which, too orthodox to accept a heretic sovereign, and, on the other hand, too fervently Royalist to desire a change of dynasty, meditated, in the event of Henri III.’s death, putting Marguerite forward as a claimant to the throne, in defiance of the Salic Law. In consequence, Henri began to neglect her entirely, passing nearly all his time at Pau with the Comtesse de Gramont and paying only brief and infrequent visits to Nérac. La belle Corisande, too, seems to have lost no opportunity of sowing dissension between the royal pair, and the breach grew daily wider. At length, matters came to such a pass that each party believed, or affected to believe, that the other cherished the most sinister designs and was only waiting to put them into execution. Marguerite imagined that she had everything to fear from the ascendency of the Comtesse de Gramont, and declared that there was a plot to carry her off and retain her captive at Pau. On his side, Henri caused a man named Ferrand, who was, or had been until very recently, one of the Queen’s secretaries, to be arrested on a charge of attempting 17 2Last Loves of Henri of Navarre to poison him,’ though it subsequently transpired that he had done nothing worse than carry on a very active propaganda on behalf of the Guises. Neverthe- less, before his innocence of the criminal charge was established, Henri, spurred on by Madame de Gramont, seems to have contemplated very seriously repudiating his wife, on the ground that she had been an accom- lice of Ferrand, and took the advice of his Council on the matter. An open rupture between the ill-assorted couple was now inevitable, and Marguerite determined to quit Nérac and seek an asylum on the estates of her appanage, which bordered on the dominions of the King of Navarre. It was her intention to maintain herself there, with the support of the League, as a kind of independent sovereign, and set both her husband and brother at defiance. Accordingly, about the middle of March, she proceeded to Agen, on the pretext of desiring to be edified by the discourses of an eloquent monk who was to preach there during Holy Week, and embarked upon that series of strange adventures? which brought her eventually to the mountain fortress of Usson, where she spent nearly twenty years and wrote the famous “ Mémoires,” ‘“‘by reason of which an enduring radiance will attach to her name.’”* If Madame de Gramont’s conduct in seeking to embitter the relations between the King of Navarre and his consort reflects but little credit upon her, the part she played during the eventful years which followed the renewal of the civil war is deserving of all admiration. She stimulated her royal lover’s ambition and shared his councils; she mortgaged her immense estates and 1 An attempt to poison Henri had certainly been made about this time. Under date March 6, 1585, the Austrian Ambassador, Busbecq, writes to his Court: ‘‘ Avillain has endeavoured to poison the King of Navarre, but either because the poison was not sufficiently virulent, or because the prince’s constitution was too strong, the venom did not take effect. The wretch attempted to kill himself with a pistol.” 2 See the author’s ‘‘ Queen Margot,’’ pp. 314 é/ seq. 8 Sainte-Beuve. 18Henri and Mme. de Gramont pledged her jewels to provide him with the money which he so sorely needed to maintain the unequal struggle against the forces of Henri III. and the League, and, not content with this proof of her devotion, under- took long and fatiguing journeys on his behalf, traversing the mountains of Béarn and the valleys of Gascony in order to recruit troops for his service.! Henri was always anxious to marry his mistress for the time being, “a proof,” remarks one of his biographers, ~ that the reiterated and passionate protestations of constancy in which his letters abound were not wholly insincere,’’” and about the end of 1587 or the beginning of 1588 he conceived the idea of espousing his Corisande. D'Aubigné tells us that one day his master charged him on his allegiance to give him good advice, and then, after citing thirty instances of princes who had mar- ried subjects, told him that he had promised his hand to the Comtesse de Gramont, in case he should, as he hoped, succeed in obtaining a divorce from Queen Marguerite. It is probable that, at the time this promise was given, Madame de Gramont was enceinte, since it is known that she bore the King a son, who died in 1590, as is indicated by one of Henri’s letters to her, in which he says: “I am greatly distressed by the death of my little one (petiot) ; he was beginning to talk.”’ If we may believe d’Aubigné, he reminded the King that the position of the princes he had mentioned had been very different from his own, engaged as he was in a life-and-death struggle for his rights and his religion, and that those who followed him, as Protector of the Churches, expected from him zeal, noble actions and virtues, Finally, after considerable difficulty, he suc- ceeded in extracting from him a solemn promise to + “This lady,’’ says the author of ‘‘Les Amours du Grand Alcandre,’’ ‘‘ made war on his behalf at her own expense and sent him levies of 23,000 or 24,000 Gascons,’’ The author probably exaggerates the numbers of troops which Madame de Gramont recruited for the King of Navarre, but they were no doubt considerable. * Mr. P. F. Willert: ‘‘ Henry of Navarre and the Huguenots in France.”’ 19 2*Last Loves of Henri of Navarre postpone his project in regard to Madame de Gramont for two years. When that period expired, Henri’s passion for Corisande was expiring also. From the beginning of the war down to the termina- tion of his relations with Madame de Gramont in 1590, Henri appears to have maintained with his mistress a regular correspondence. None of the lady’s letters has been preserved, but, happily, a good many of the King’s are in existence,’ since they are undoubtedly amongst the most interesting which he ever penned, and one of the most valuable sources for an intimate study of this remarkable personality. “It is from these letters, unconstrained, natural, sincere, familiar and jovial,’ writes Lescure, “ that we are able to trace one by one the traits of the physiognomy, political, moral, gallant, of Henri IV. To his other mistresses, Henri IV. said only what he wished. To Corisande, whom he feels to be entirely his own, he tells everything.” Often he writes to her of military matters and, so to speak, associates her in his enterprises. “ The enemy took the [le de Marans before my arrival, so that I could not relieve the chateau,’ he writes under date March 12, 1587. ‘‘ You will soon hear that I have retaken it, please God.” And again : “Yesterday, the Marshal (de Matignon) and the Grand Prior came and offered us battle, being well aware that I had sent my troops back. It occurred on the summit of the vineyards near Agen. [hey were five hundred horse and nearly three thousand foot. 1 Thirty-seven of the letters addressed by Henri IV. to Madame de Gramont were collected by the Comte d’Argenson, Minister for War under Louis XV., and at his death, in 1764, became the property of Président Hénault. The latter communicated them to La Place, by whom they were published in the Mercure, 1765-60. Other letters in the same correspondence came to light at various times, and the whole collection, so far as it goes, will be found in Bergui de Xivrey’s “ Recueil des Lettres missives d’Henri IV.,’”’ published in the collection of ‘ Docu- ments relatifs a l’histoire de France.” The original letters are in the Bibliothéque de 1’Arsenal. 2 «Tes Amours d’Henri IV.” (Paris, 1864). 20Henri and Mme. de Gramont After spending five hours in forming their order of battle, which was somewhat confused, they advanced, resolved to hurl us into the moats of the town, as they assuredly ought to have done, since all their infantry came into action. We received them at the wall of my vineyard, which was the furthest, and retreated at a walk, skirmish- ing continually, until we were only five hundred paces from the town, where lay our main force, which may have numbered three hundred arquebusiers. Then we drove them back to the point where they had assailed us. It was the hottest skirmish I have seen.” At another time he addresses her in the style of a knight of the age of chivalry : “Prepare yourself, my beautiful mistress, to have a favour made for me; for I will wear none save your favours in this war. I have only two hundred horse to oppose to their three hundred, but I will see if the others will fight. If they do so, I will fire a pistol-shot for love of you.”’ It is to Madame de Gramont, who loves him for himself, that Henri confides the most readily his maladies, his perplexities, his disappointments : “ Yerre could not be sent off on account of my illness, from which, thank God, I now see myself emerg- ing. Assuredly, my heart, I saw the heavens open, but I was not deemed worthy to enter them. God still desires to make use of me. Twice in twenty-four hours I was brought so low as to be fit to be wrapped in shrouds. You would have pitied me. . . . I conclude because I feel faint. Good-morrow, my soul.” “My mind is sorely disturbed, and not without reason. Send Licerac to me; I will send you word by him of the extreme afflictions in which I find myself. I know not how I am able to support them.” _The sudden death of his cousin, Henri I. de Bourbon, Prince de Condé, at Saint-Jean-d’ Angély, at the beginning of March 1588, in circumstances which pointed most 1 Letter of March 12, 1587. 21Last Loves of Henri of Navarre strongly to poison, following as it did upon the crushing defeat of the German auxiliaries, from whose assistance he had expected so much, was a great blow to the King of Navarre. ‘‘ Ah!’ cries he to Corisande, “ the violent trials by which I am assailed are racking my brain. This year will be my touchstone. I must assuredly either become mad or turn out a clever man.” He had a strong suspicion that an attempt might be made on his own life and tells his mistress of it : ‘“T am now the only target of the perfidies of the Mass (worshippers). They poisoned him (Conde), the traitors. But my God remains the master, and I, by His grace, the executor of His will... . I foresee that great trouble is coming upon me. Pray stoutly to God for me. Should I escape, it will be that He will have preserved me. Until the grave, to which I am perchance nearer than I imagine, I shall remain your faithful slave. . . . My soul, I am well enough in body, but sorely afflicted in mind. Love me and show me that you do so; it will be a great consolation to me." Henri’s letters are, of course, full of the extravagant expressions of tenderness which were then the mode.* “Your slave loves you to distraction. ...I kiss thy hand a million times. ... Love me more than yourself. . . . I would rather die than fail in aught that I have promised you,” and so forth. As for his protestations of constancy, they are in- numerable : ‘““My heart, always remember Petiot (little one). Assuredly his fidelity is a miracle. . . . Believe that my fidelity is white and spotless ; its like was never seen. _. . Live assured of my fidelity ; it grows firmer, 1 that be possible. . . . Be always assured of my fidelity, 1 Letters of March 10 and 13, 1588. 2 “‘ Our style to-day is full of excess,’’ writes the Queen of Navarre’s chancellor, Pibrac, to his mistress in 1581. ‘“‘ People no longer make use of the words ‘ tolove’ and‘ toserve.’ They add to them ‘ extremely,’ ‘ passionately,’ ‘ madly,’ and other similar expressions, even so far as to invest with divinity things which are less than human.” 22Scandal at La Rochelle which will be inviolable. . . . I love none but you, and in that resolution I shall die. . . . Never entertain a doubt of my fidelity. . . . Be assured of your slave’s fidelity. He will never fail you. ... Believe that nothing save a departure from friendship (on your part) will ever cause me to alter my resolution to be yours eternally.”’ Alas! Henri’s fidelity to Corisande was very far from being so “‘ white and spotless’’ as he asserted. During the years of their liaison the names of quite a number of women are associated with his. His affair with the wife of the learned and unsuspecting Pierre Martine, of La Rochelle, belongs to this period,' and about the same time his Majesty gained the favour of a certain Mlle. Esther de Boyslambert, of that town, who, in August 1587, presented him with a son.? Henri lived quite openly with this lady in the Hétel d’Huré, Rue de Bazoges, at La Rochelle, to the great scandal of the Calvinist pastors, who exhorted him from the pulpit to amend the irregularities of his life. Their admonitions were for a time unheeded, but the indignant ministers took advantage of the King’s entry upon the campaign of Coutras to compel him to make public confession of his faults in the Protestant temple of Pons, in the presence of all his captains.’ The battle of 1 See page 2 supra. 2 The little boy, who was called Gideon, died two years later. . But: according to certain writers whom M. Merki cites, this con- fession took place on the battlefield of Coutras. Péréfixe, in his ‘‘ Vie d’Henri IV.,” relates that at the moment when the King was about to sound the charge, a minister stopped him, declaring that God would not bless his arms until he had repaired the scandal he had occasioned by seducing a young girl belonging to an honourable family of La Rochelle. The ‘‘ Dictionnaire des Siéges et Batailles,’’ under the word ‘‘ Coutras,’’ adds that, having ranged his troops in order of battle, Henri of Navarre, _Tecognizing his sin, threw himself on his knees and asked pardon of God, promising to repair the honour of the outraged family and taking to witness all those who saw and heard him.”’ “ All those present shed tears,’’ says of the same the ‘‘ Notice sur la Vie d’Henri le Grand,”’ ‘‘ and would have given a thousand lives for a prince so good and who recog- nized thus his faults.”—M. Charles Merki, ‘‘La Marquise de Verneuil et la mort d’HenriIlYy.”’ 23Last Loves of Henri of Navarre Coutras took place some days later, and they were able to attribute the defeat of the Catholics to the repentance which Henri had manifested. But the incorrigible Béarnais, instead of pursuing his advantage, hurried southwards on the wings of love to lay the captured standards at the feet of Ja belle Corisande.’ Neither did he break with Mlle. de Boyslambert, who followed him in more than one of his campaigns, and was subse- quently accused by Gabrielle d’Estrées of having at- tempted to poison her.” Meantime, Henri had courted Antoinette de Pons, Comtesse de Guercheville, a very pretty young widow, who made him forget, for the moment at any rate, his other conquests. So enamoured did he become that, according to Mlle. de Guise, “‘ he spoke of marriage to the countess, since she was unwilling to listen to him otherwise.’’*? However, the lady is believed to have declined to yield to the solicitations of the monarch, and the latter experienced a similar rebuff at the hands of Catherine de Rohan, Duchesse des Deux-Ponts, who informed him that “‘ she was too poor to be his wife and of too good a family to be his mistress.” At the time of the blockade of Paris by Henry IV., the Huguenots placed their cannon on the ruins of the 1 It is, however, very doubtful whether Henri could have effected any- thing of importance, evenif he had remained with his troops. Inadespatch to Elizabeth of England, he explains his inaction after Coutras on the ground that he could not keep his army together, so eager were the soldiers to secure and carry home their booty; adding that a large part of his forces consisted of the levies of the districts in the immediate neighbour- hood, Poitou, Saintonge and the Angoumois, who had come prepared to fight a battle, but not equipped for a campaign. 2 If we may believe L’Estoile, Henri treated this poor lady very shabbily. ‘‘ At the end of this year (1592),’’ he writes, ‘a woman called Madame Esther, who had been one of the mistresses of the King at La Rochelle, pressed by necessity and seeing herself, owing to the death of her son, cast off and almost abandoned by his Majesty, came to seek him at Saint-Denis, to implore him to have pity upon her. But the King, hindered by other affairs, and having also his mind occupied by other amours, took no account of her and refused either to see or to hear her. Upon which this poor creature, overwhelmed by sorrow and mortifi- cation, fell ill at the said Saint-Denis and died.”’ 8 «*T es Amours du Grand Alcandre.”’ 24The Abbess of Montmartre old Pe inple of Mars, at Moncaante, near W Hie h stood the abbey of that name, whose church is still in existence. The King and his officers hastened to appropriate the nuns, according to the custom of the epoch, and “ aban- doned themselves to the worst disorders with them.’ To his Majesty was adjudged the abbess, Claude, or Claudine, de Beauvilliers,? who was at this time only seventeen, and so frequent were the King’s visits to the abbey that, in after years, “he was accustomed to speak of it as his own monastery and to say that he had been a monk there.’ After a time, however, he removed Claude de Beauvilliers to a pavilion in the 30is de Bondy, which he had had built for her, and when the adv ance of the Spaniards from the Netherlands obliged him to raise the siege, had her conducted to Senlis. After a few months, however, he wearied of Claude, as he had wearied of so many others, and she returned to Montmartre, but a year or two later Henri provided her with the rich Abbey of the Pont-aux-Dames, near Meaux. Madame de Gramont was far too well informed Henri’s little affairs to be the dupe of his protestations of constancy, and on one of his Majesty’s letters, dated May 15, 1580, she indicates her opinion of their value pretty plainly, ‘Swearing truly to you,’ writes the King, “‘ that I love and honour none in the world as | do you, and that I will keep faithful (garderor fidelité) to you even to the grave.” W hereupon the lady writes 1 They had acted in the same way at the Abbey of Maubuisson, where the King lodged during the siege of Pontoise, and the chroniclers of the time report many scandalous details, which it would be impossible to reproduce. 2 She was a daughter of Claude de Beauvilliers, Comte de Saint- Aignan, and Marie Babou de la Bourdaisiére, and Lescure and other his- torians have confused her with her sister Marie de Beauvilliers, who became Abbess of Montmartrein 1598. Marie, a very different woman from her sister, addressed herself to the task of putting an end to the disorders which had existed in the convent since its invasion by Henry IV. and his officers at the time of the blockade of Paris, expelling the most de- praved of the nuns and bringing the rest under strict discipline. In revenge, some of the latter made an attempt to poison the abbess, which very nearly succeeded. 25 ~ Saree ee LO een resLast Loves of Henri of Navarre “Ilny a nen qui n'y paroisse’”’ (There is no appearance of it), and after changing “‘fidehté”’ into ‘‘ INfidelité,”’ adds sarcastically: ‘‘ Je le crois”’ (I believe it). Nor would she appear always to have kept her knowledge or her suspicions to herself, for on one occasion we find the King writing to her as follows: “I have received a letter from you, my mistress, by which you acquaint me that you do not wish me ill, but that you are unable to place reliance in one so variable as myself. I am displeased beyond measure to learn the first, and you are quite wrong to continue doubting as you do. In what actions of mine have you known me to be variable, I say, as regards yourself ? I have always remained firm in the love and service I vowed to you. God is my witness of it.’’ The correspondence continues throughout that event- ful year 1589, which witnessed the reconciliation of the King of Navarre with Henri III., the advance of their united forces upon Paris, the assassination of Henri ITI. by Jacques Clément, which made the Béarnais King of France de jure, if not de facto, and the latter’s campaign in Normandy, and not the least interesting of Henri’s letters to Corisande is the one which he addressed to her from his fortified camp at Arques, on September 7th, a fortnight before the battle of that name: ‘““T am so hard worked, but I contrive to keep well, and my affairs prosper better than some folk expected. I have taken Eu. The enemy, who are now double my strength, thought they would take me. After accomplishing my enterprise, I drew near to Dieppe? and await them in a camp which I am fortifying. To- morrow I shall see them, and I hope, with God’s help, that, if they attack me, they will find that they have made an ill bargain of it.’’? 1 Arques lies some five miles from Dieppe. 2 The army of the League, under Mayenne, appeared in front of the Royal lines on September 13th. There was some sharp fighting on the 13th, but the decisive attack was not delivered until the early morning of the 21st. The issue was for some time in doubt, but eventually the Leaguers were repulsed. 26Runiure with Mime. de Gaamont But the following year saw the end of the liaison, which had already lasted far beyond the span of any in which the fickle prince had yet engaged, and of w hich he had for some time past been growing weary. For la belle Corisande was beautiful no longer ; she was now thirty-seven, and the years do not appear to have dealt at all kindly with her ; anyway, she had lost the power to charm him which she had once possessed. The death of their little son severed what was probably the last link which bound Henri to her. Disembarrassed of the scruples of the father, he very soon triumphed over those of the lover, and the part played by Madame de Gramont in the love-affair of Catherine de Bourbon and the Comte de Soissons' hastened what was now inevitable. In 1587, Henri had adroitly detached Soissons from the party of the League, by encouraging him to hope for the hand of his sister Catherine. The match was a brilliant one for a poorly endowed younger son, and the count was undoubtedly attached to the princ ess, who, on her side, was deeply in love with him. The King, however, changed his mind, and told Soissons that he must look elsewhere for a wife. The latter, however, declined to bow to the royal will, and, without Henri’s knowledge, he left the army and made a journey to Pau, where he and Catherine signed a mutual promise of marriage, Which they would in all probability have carried out at the first convenient opportunity, but for the prompt intervention of Paujas, the President of the Supreme Council of Béarn,? who, ascertaining what was in the wind, caused the princess to be guarded closely, and obliged Soissons to leave Pau. There can be no possible doubt that Madame de Gramont, to whose care Henri had entrusted his sister, had encouraged her to defy the King and been privy to 1 Charles de Bourbon (1560- 1612), son of Louis I., Prince de Condé, by his second wife, Frangoise d’Orléans-Longueville. 3 Frang¢ois Charles, Baron de Pardaillan-Paujas. He had married Henri IV.’s former mistress, Mile. de Tignonville. 27 ESLast Loves of Henri of Navarre Soissons’ schemes, probably out of revenge for the more frequent infidelities and the growing coldness of her royal lover; and the latter marks his displeasure at her conduct by the following severe letter : ““Madame,—I commissioned . . . to speak to you touching what, to my regret, has passed between my sister and yourself. Far from finding you capable of believing me, he has found that all your discourse tends only to blame me and incite my sister to do what she ought not todo. I did not expect that of you, to whom I will only say these words: that all persons who seek to set my sister at variance with me will never have my forgiveness.’ With this letter, which is tantamount to a sentence of disgrace, the romantic correspondence of Henri IV. with Madame de Gramont terminates. Corisande lived until 1620, or, according to some writers, until 1624. In middle-age, L’Estoile tells us, she became, “‘ very fat, corpulent and red in the face,’ and Sully adds that she was ashamed that folks should say that the King had once loved her so much. The latter part of her life was passed on her estates in Béarn, which she never quitted. Her ungrateful lover appears to have ignored her existence for some years, but in September 1597, at the suggestion of the countess’s relative, the Marquis de Parabére, who reproached him with a too abrupt and humiliating dismissal, he wrote her an extremely flattering letter, thanking her for the great services which she had rendered him in Béarn and assuring her of his friendship and esteem. From that time onwards he gave her many proofs of his confi- dence, while her son, Antoine II., Comte de Gramont, was high in the royal favour and was appointed Viceroy of Navarre. It is possible that Madame de Gramont might have retained the favour, if not the affection, of the King, for some time longer, and that Henri might have con- 28eaprieite a? Retrces. tinued to kiss her hands, at least on paper, had not a new passion led him to seize so excellent a pretext for terminating a now irksome connection. In November 1590, the Royal army happened to encamp in the neighbourhood of the Chateau of Cceuvres, in Picardy, the country-seat of the Marquis Antoine d’Estrées, Grand Master of the Artillery, at that time a prisoner in the hands of the Leaguers. By his marriage with Francoise Babou de la Bourdaisiére, a lady who came of “‘a race the most fertile in femmes galantes which France has ever seen,’* and,who had taken care to live up to the reputation of her family,’ Antoine d’Estrées had two sons*® and six daughters, all remarkable for their good looks. The pick of the basket was the fourth girl, Gabrielle, and one of the King’s favourites, the Grand Equerry, the Duc de Belles garde, a devoted admirer of the young lady, extolled her beauty to his master with such enthusiasm that Henri’s curiosity was piqued, and he accompanied him on a visit to the chateau. On his arrival, he found that even a lover’s tongue had done but scant justice to the charms of Gabrielle, whose beauty, grace and 1 Tallemant des Réaux. 2 She had been the mistress, amongst others, of Francois de Beranger, Seigneur du Guast, one of the favourites of Henri III., who was assassinated by Guillaume de Prat, Baron de Viteaux, in 1575. Some years later, Viteaux was killed in a duel by the young M arquis d’Alégre, whose father he had slain in a similar affair shortly before his assassination of Du Guast. Madame d’Estrées sent for the victor to congratulate him, and fell so much in love with him that, one fine day in 1583, although then over forty, she left her husband and children and went to live with Alég W hen, in 1590, Alégre was appointed Governor of Issoire, in Averene. she followed him thither, But their rapacity so exasperated the towns- people that, in June, 1592, a party of them rose in revolt, stormed the governor’s house and murdered both him and Madame d’Estrées. 8 The elder, Francois Louis, Marquis de Coeuvres, was killed during the siege of Laon, in 1594. The younger, Francois Annibal, attained considerable distinction both as a diplomatist and a soldier. In 1626 he was created a marshal of France, in recognition of his gallant defence of Mantua against the Spaniards, and, in 1648, Ducd’Estrées. His memoirs, first issued in 1666, are of much interest, and have several times been reprinted, the best edition being that published by the Socicte de l’Histoire de France, in rgro. 29Last Loves of Henri of Navarre simplicity made so profound an impression on the sus- ceptible heart of the Béarnais that he departed madly in love. If we may believe the author of ‘‘les Amours du Grand Alcandre,”’ no sooner had the enamoured monarch left her presence than he felt that at all risks he must return. Cceuvres was surrounded by parties of the enemy, but prudence and dignity were alike forgotten, and, disguised as a wood-cutter, with a bundle of faggots on his head, the King of France made his way to the feet of his new enchantress. His overtures, however, met with a very chilly reception, and Gabrielle, having informed her royal admirer that ‘“‘ she found him so ugly that she was unable to look upon him,” abruptly quitted the room and sent one of her younger sisters, Diane, to entertain him. Whatever truth there may be in this story, and, since we know that, in later years, Henri adopted a somewhat similar disguise in order to approach Charlotte de Montmorency, Princesse de Condé, it seems probable enough, the King’s passion persisted, although during the next nine months he only saw, or rather caught a glimpse of, Gabrielle on two or three occasions. But in the month of August 1591, the girl’s aunt, Madame de Sourdis, who had discovered his Majesty’s passion and desired for her husband the government of Chartres, then besieged by the Royal army, brought her to the camp. True or false, the rumour immediately ran that she was the mistress of the King. Meantime, the Marquis d’Estrées had recovered his liberty. This nobleman, whom the anecdotiers and several historians have represented as a party to his daughter’s dishonour, intervened, on the contrary, energetically to nip the scandal in the bud. On her return to Cceuvres, Gabrielle received from him the order to prepare to marry Nicolas d’Amerval, Seigneur de Liencourt, a widower with fourteen children. Of a docile disposition, she obeyed without resistance, and, although her lord and master was double her age and 30: cI 3 } ; {ee i } : f H i : ietsGabrielle Mistress of the King something more ‘han plain in appearance, she would probably have resigned herself to the situation, like so many other victims of marriages of convenience, but for a regrettable misadventure which happened to the poor man just before the ceremony: he was deprived of a part of his faculties in consequence of a fall from his horse. This time Gabrielle yielded to the sincere in- clination which was drawing her tow ards the King, and three months later (December 1591), she rejoined him, and did not leave him again. On June 7, 1503, Gabrielle bore the King a son, and shortly afterwards, at the instigation of his Majesty, little desirous of one day seeing doubts arise as to the child’s paternity, began an action for nullity of mar- riage before the ecclesiastical courts. Her suit was successful, and the little boy, who had been given the name of César, was duly acknowledged and legitimated by his royal father and created Duc de Vend6me. After her emancipation Gabrielle was successively created Marquise de Monceaux and Duchesse de Beaufort, and installed triumphantly as maitresse en titre. She bore the King another son, called Alexandre and also legiti- mated, and a daughter, Catherine Henriette, afterwards married to the Duc d’E Ibeuf ; and Henri’s ‘attachment to her grew stronger as time w ent on, though Bellegarde, at any rate, continued to be a not unfav oured rival. 1 But not on the ground of ‘‘l’tncapacité conjugale de M. de Ltencourt,”’ as 1s generally supposed. Gabrielle alleged three reasons why the marriage should be annulled: (1) That she had been unduly constrained thereto by her father; (2) her husband’s incapacity, which had prevented the union from being consummated ; (3) propinquity of relationship, M. de Liencourt’s first wife, Anne de Gouffier, having been second cousin to Gabrielle, and no dispensation for the marriage having been obtained. The court dismissed the first and second pleas, but accepted the third. Why it should not have accepted the second also, is not quite clear, since it was undoubtedly true, and it was on this ground that, in February 1600, Marguerite d’Autun, whom Liencourt had made his third wife, obtained the dissolution of their marriage. 2 As Henri’s own letters prove. ‘‘ The influence your eyes have on me,’’ he writes to Gabrielle on one occasion, “‘ saved you from half my reproaches, But, if I had known what I have since learned of my rival’s visit, I should not have seen you, but have broken withyou forgood.... 31 Se ee ene TR ce een eeSy vee a: Se ey ae Oe ne ae OS ne ee ran bad Mpg stich blenny Last Loves of Henri of Navarre “Good-bye, sweetheart,’ writes the King to her, from Saint-Denis, on the evening before his abjuration ; “come in good time to-morrow, for it seems to me a year since I saw you. A thousand kisses for the hands of my angel and the lips of my dear mistress.’ And again: “Tam writing to you, my dear love, at the foot of your picture, which I worship, because it is meant for you, not because it is like you. I am a competent judge, since you are painted in all perfection, in my soul, in my heart, in my eyes.”’ The portraits of Gabrielle scarcely justify the extrava- gant terms in which her contemporaries celebrate her beauty ; but she was undoubtedly a very pretty woman, with a dazzling complexion, golden hair and blue eyes shaded by long lashes. Moreover, she was sweet- tempered, kind-hearted and affectionate, and probably sincerely attached to the King, notwithstanding her occasional infidelities. She used her influence with moderation, and to the advantage of others rather than to their detriment, and conducted herself with such decorum that even stern Calvinists declared that her behaviour was “ that of a wife rather than of a mistress.” At last, Henri began to entertain serious thoughts of marrying his Gabrielle, so soon as he could secure the dissolution of his marriage with Marguerite de Valois, who, aware that, after so compromising a past, she could never hope to be Queen of France in anything but name, had consented to forgo the crown matrimonial, in ex- change for the payment of her debts, which amounted to an enormous sum, a handsome pension and other advantages. Sully relates that at the time of the Peace of Vervins (May 2, 1598), the King one day drew him into a garden, and, after carefully closing the door, approached the delicate subject of his divorce and re- marriage. The Pope, he was assured by his Ambassador What more can you promise than you have already promised ? What oath can you swear that you have not twice broken ?’’ However, as he concludes by declaring that he would give four years of his life to reach his mistress as soon as his letter, itis to be doubted whether his reproaches can have had much effect on the lady. 32Henri Resolved to Marry Gabrielle at Rome aaa hase agen the Papal Gonrt. was anxious to serve him in the matter of a divorce, and it therefore behoved him to find a wife without delay. He then proceeded to enumerate all the marriageable foreign princesses and French girls of high rank, to each and all of whom, however, he contriv ed to discover some fatal objection as a possible Queen. “Ah well, sire,” said Sully, “‘cause all the most beautiful girls in France from seventeen to twenty-five to be brought together; converse with them, study their hearts, study “their minds, and finally place yourself in the hands of matrons of experience in such matters.”’ The King laughed and accused his Minister of jesting at his expense. ‘‘ What would people say of such an assembly of ous ?”’ he remarked. “ But be sure that the wife I seek must, above all, be a sweet-tempered woman, of good appearance, and likely to bear me children. Do you know of one who unites all these qualities ?”” The cautious Sully replied that he had not considered the matter. ‘‘ Well, what will you say if I name her in whom I have found them all ?” cried the King. ‘“‘ That could not be, unless in the case of a widow,” rejoined the Minister. ‘“‘ Ah, big fool that you are! Confess that all the conditions I desire I find in my mistress !’’ exclaimed Henri. Towards the end of 1598, it was generally known that the King, despite the strenuous opposition of Sully and Duplessis-Mornay, intended to marry the Duchesse de Beaufort. Such a resolution aroused universal alarm. Gabrielle had many friends and few enemies, but not even her most devoted partisans could maintain that her birth and previous life fitted her to be the Queen of France ; while it was clear that the opposing claims of her legitimate sons and of those who might be born in wedlock would raise difficulties of which no one could foresee the end. Further, Clement VIII. disapproved of his Majesty’s choice, less probably on account of Gabrielle’s obvious unsuitability to share a throne, as because she was the intimate friend of the King’s sister 33 3 TCE rrr IT anaes rer ae a eee een aLast Loves of Henri of Navarre Catherine, now Duchess of Bar, and also of Louise de Coligny, widow of William the Silent, Prince of Orange. These two ladies were among the most stubborn heretics in Europe, and his Holiness did not doubt that, urged by them, Gabrielle would use all her influence with the King in favour of their co-religionists. He therefore refused to dissolve the marriage, sheltering himself behind the difficulties regarding the succession in which such a marriage must involve France. This paternal solicitude for his kingdom did not deceive Henri IV., who, impatient at the delay, instructed his representatives at the Vatican to hint that, if the Holy Father continued contumacious, the Eldest Son of the Church might be tempted to behave in an exceedingly unfilial manner and follow the example of his last namesake on the throne of England. Whether, with this threat hanging over him, Clement would eventually have yielded, is a matter of opinion ; but an unexpected event came to relieve the tension. On April 6, 1599, the Duchesse de Beaufort, who was then in an advanced stage of pregnancy, left Fon- tainebleau, where the Court was then in residence, to spend Easter in Paris.’ She lodged at the Deanery of Saint-Germain-l’Auxerrois, with her aunt, Madame de Sourdis, but in the evening supped at the house of an Italian financier named Zamet, who had risen from a very humble station to great wealth and the intimate friendship of the King. Next day she attended the Tenebre at the Couvent du Petit Saint-Antoine, at that time renowned for its fine music. During the service 1 Henri IV. accompanied her so far as Savigny, about midway between Fontainebleau and Paris, where she entered her barge to make the rest of the journey by water. Bassompierre, who, with the Duc de Montbazon and the Marquis de la Varenne, had been chosen to escort her, tells us that, at the moment of parting from the King, Gabrielle broke down and began to weep bitterly, declaring that she had a presentiment that she should never see him again. The King, after vainly endeavouring to console her, was on the point of giving way and taking her back to Fontainebleau. But, in view of their intended marriage, he attached great importance to the duchess performing her Easter devotions in the capital, and, after repeated embraces, he freed himself from her detaining arms and gave the signal for the barge to start. 34Sudden Death of Gabrielle She was taken ill, and was carried to Zamet’s house, which was close to the convent, where she recovered sufficiently to return home. On the 8th, although still feeling unwell, she attended Mass at Saint-Germain- l’Auxerrois, being carried thither in a litter, escorted by the archers of the Guard and followed by the Lorraine princesses and a number of other ladies in carriages. While in church she was again taken ill, and, on returning to her relative’s house, fell into violent convulsions. On the gth (Good Friday) she gave birth to a still-born child, and on the following morning, after forty hours of atrocious sufferings, she expired. The public, learning that she had fallen ill after supping with Zamet, persisted in the belief that he had caused her to be poisoned, for political reasons. Italians bore a sinister reputation in those days, and, indeed, down to a much later period, but this theory is now generally discredited. A singular circumstance about the death of Gabrielle is that Henri IV. was informed of it on the day before it actually occurred. On the gth, La Varenne, learning that the King, who had been warned of the illness of the duchess, was travelling post to Paris, and wishing either to spare him the sight of his mistress, whom, Bassom- pierre tells us, he had seen on the Thursday afternoon ~ so changed that she was almost unrecognizable,” or to avoid a scandal, took upon himself to announce the event which he knew to be inevitable and close at hand, and sent the Maréchal d’Ornano and Bassompierre to intercept him. ~ We met the King beyond La Saussaye, near Ville- juif, travelling at the top speed of his horses,’’ writes the latter. “ When he saw the marshal, he suspected that he was the bearer of ill news, which caused him to weep bitterly. Finally, they made him alight at the Abbey of La Saussaye, where they laid him on a bed. He gave vent to every excess of grief which it is possible to describe.”’ He wanted to continue his journey to Paris, in order to see Gabrielle and to hold her in his arms, and his 35 aLast Loves of Henri of Navarre attendants had almost to use force to place him in a coach and take him back to Fontainebleau. On arriving there, he ascended to the Salle de la Cheminée and begged everyone to return to Paris “to pray God for his consolation,’ keeping with him only a few of his most intimate friends. As Bassompierre was about to take leave of him, he said: ‘“‘ Bassompierre, you were the last who was with my mistress ; stay with me to talk to me of her.” ‘‘So I remained also, and we were eight or ten days without, the company being augmented, if one excepts certain of the Ambassadors, who came to condole with him and then returned to Paris immediately.” ’ The death of the Duchesse de Beaufort created an immense sensation in Paris, and “twenty thousand persons defiled through the chamber of death.”* The obsequies took place on April 17, and, by the orders of the King, were similar to those of the Princesses of the Blood. An effigy of the deceased was exposed, ac- cording to custom, on a bed of state, which was draped in the colours of the House of France—crimson velvet and gold tassels. The corpse itself was dressed in a mantle of white satin, and a Mass was celebrated at Saint-Germain-!’ Auxerrois, which was attended by the whole Court. Finally, the remains of the mother and child were transported to Saint-Denis, where a solemn service was held, and then buried at the Abbey of Maubuisson, of which one of Gabrielle’s sisters was abbess. Meantime, the King remained prcstrated with grief. Violet, in which the sovereigns of France were accustomed to mourn, was not sombre enough to express the depths of his despair. He clad himself in black and wore it for three months.2 And we find him writing to his 1 ‘‘ Mémoires de Bassompierre.”’ The Parlement of Paris also sent a deputation to condole with the grief-stricken King. 2 ““ Mémoires de Chaverny.”’ 3 The Court was ordered to go into violet mourning for a similar period. 36Grief of the King sister Catherine, in answer to a letter of condolence’ which she had sent him : “My affliction is incomparable, like unto her who is the cause of it. Regrets and tears will follow me to the tomb. The root of my love is dead, and will never put forth another branch.”’ However, as we shall presently see, he was not long in finding consolation. When with Gabrielle had disappeared the great obstacle to a divorce, petitions poured in from all parts of the kingdom begging the King to marry again. Deputations from the Parlements, the municipal bodies and the religious corporations waited upon his Majesty to present addresses, wherein were pointed out the advantages of a new union, which might procure him successors and thus assure the tranquillity of the realm. While Henri’s representatives at Rome redoubled their efforts to induce Clement VIII. to annul his marriage with Marguerite, his Ministers, undeterred by the many evils of which a Florentine marriage had before been the cause, opened negotiations with the Grand Duke of Tuscany for the hand of his niece Marie, daughter of his brother and predecessor, Francesco de’ Medici. Marie de’ Medici was twenty-five, with a sufficiency of good looks to satisfy a not too exacting husband— or, at least, the King was persuaded to believe so— and the prospect of a rich dowry. Moreover, she was the niece of the Pope, a circumstance which would doubtless induce his Holiness to expedite the divorce. 1 Her letter is worth reproducing : ‘‘ My dear King, I am well aware that no words can cure your great grief. I only write these to assure you that I share it as completely as I needs must, owing to my extreme love for you and to my own loss of so perfect a friend. I greatly wish that I had been with you, to offer you in your affliction all the love and service that I owe you. Believe me, my dear King, I shall always act a mother’s part to my nephews and niece. I humbly beg that you will remember that you have promised me my niece. If you will let me have her, I will treat her with as much love and care as if she were my own daughter. . . . If it pleased God, my King, that I could lighten your grief by the sacrifice of some years of my life, I would pray with all my heart that it might be so, and upon this truth I kiss you a thousand times, my dear and brave King.”’ 37Last Loves of Henri of Navarre Matters now went smoothly enough, and on September 24, Clement, having no longer to fear the influence of Gabrielle d’Estrées and her Huguenot friends, delegated the Cardinal de Joyeuse, the Bishop of Modena—the Papal Nuncio at the French Court—and Horace Montan, Archbishop of Arles, “ to inquire into the affair.” The inquiry was opened at the Louvre on October 15, and on November 10, 1599, the Papal commissioners declared the marriage of Henri and Marguerite null and void, de facto and de jure. On December 17, the dissolution was confirmed by the Parlement, on account of blood relationship, “‘ spiritual affinity,” * violence and the failure of one of the parties to consent to it, and on the 22nd the decree was proclaimed “ solemnly and publicly,’ with open doors, in the Church of Saint- Germain-!’Auxerrois. The King was divorced, but he was not yet re-married. While his Ministers were haggling with the Grand Duke of Tuscany over the price at which their master should sell his hand, his Majesty had once more lost the heart which he had fondly imagined was buried in poor Gabrielle’s grave. Scarcely two months after his mistress’s death, his love—to borrow his own expression —had ‘put forth another branch,’ and one which threatened to bear fruit of a most embarrassing kind. 1 Henri II., Marguerite’s father, had stood godfather to Henri of Navarre in 1554. The argument was that this spiritual affinity had required a special Papal dispensation, and that that sent by Gregory XIII, in 1572, only applied to the blood relationship.CHAPTER III Visit of Henri IV. to the Entragues family at their Chateau of Bols- Malesherbes — Francois de Balzac, Seigneur d’Entragues — His chequered career—His marriage with Marie Touchet, mistress of Charles [X.—Henriette d’Entragues—Her appearance and character —The King becomes infatuated w1 ith her—Portrait of Henri IV. at this period—His advances at first coldly received by the lady—An interrupted {é/e-d-téte—Mlle. de la Chatre—The King follows the Entragues to Paris—The pearl necklace—Aftiray at Z: sancti | house between the Prince de Joinville and the Duc de Belleg Entragues leave Paris—Liaison of Henri IV. with Marie de iz Bour- daisiére demands the _ sum of 100,000 aes Ventre Saint-Gris! Voila une nuit bien payée !’’—Diplomatic conduct of Henriette—The promise of marriage—Interview between the King and Sully at Rontainebledu=—Demands of M: d’Entragues—New negotiations—Henriette becomes the mistress of the King. *ITUATED at a short distance from Pithiviers and overlooking the narrow valley of the Essonne, stands the old Chateau of Bois-Malesherbes. [wo of its four towers no longer exist, and its chapel 1s in ruins; but the chamber which Henri IV. occupied on his frequent visits to the chateau is still intact ; hung with the same old tapestries on which the eyes of the King must have often rested, /e Triomphe de la Renommée and la Vision d@’Ezéchel. Beneath the latter is a quaint legend : ‘‘Mort, femme et temps, tout, soit veil et antique, Mondaine amour et chasteté pudique, Tout prendra fin.’’ It was in the first days of June, 1599, that Henri IV. passing through the Beauce, on his way from Fontaine- bleau to Blois, paid his first visit to Bois-Malesherbes, at that time the property of Francois de Balzac, Seigneur d’Entragues et de Marcoussis and governor of Orléans. The loss of his beloved mistress still weighed heavily upon the King, and his intimates, La Varenne at their 39 eae eee ee ee es Spee D EEN TtLast panes of Henri of Navarre head, in the hope of finding some eo aeenan for ‘their disconsolate master, had advised him to stop at Males- herbes, telling him that two very pretty girls—Entra- guess daughters—were to be found there. This was quite sufficient to decide the monarch, who little thought that he was about to fall into the hands of a family of intriguers, of elastic conscience and without the smallest scruple where there was a question of anything to their advantage. The Balzacs came originally from Auvergne and were an old and not undistinguished family. One of them, Jean de Balzac, had rendered considerable financial assistance to Charles VII. in his struggles against the English ; another, Roffec, had been seneschal of the Agénais and governor of Pisa under Charles VIII.; and a third, Guillaume, a staunch adherent of the House of Lorraine, had been governor of Le Havre and heutenant of Duc Francois de Guise’s company of men- at-arms. Guillaume had two sons, Charles and Francois. Charles, surnamed Jle bel Entraguet, was originally one of the favourites of Henri III.; but he deserted the King to attach himself to Henri de Guise, who protected him against the vengeance of his sovereign after he had killed the latter's beloved Quélus in the famous Duel of the Mignons. His brother Frang¢ois, governor suc- cessively of Chartres and Orléans, rendered some service to the Royal cause during the first Wars of Religion. But when the troubles between Henri III. and the League began, he played fast and loose with both parties, being in turn Royalist, Guisard, then Royalist again. On the accession of Henri IV., he became a Leaguer once more, and when the King ‘entered Paris, he gave orders to Sully to “ drive away the Balzacs and all their gang.” The reputation of Francois de Balzac was sullied by two particularly villainous actions : In October 1567, a few days after the flight of Catherine de’ Medici and Charles IX. from Meaux to Paris, which preceded the Second War of Religion, the 40The Entragues Family Marquise de Rothelin, his aunt, had shut herself up in the Chateau of Blandy, with the children of her son- in-law, the Prince de Condé. She believed herself in safety there, and had refused to follow the wives and daughters of the Huguenot chiefs who had taken refuge at Orléans. Entragues, under the pretext of bringing her news, persuaded her to open the gates of the chateau. Then, with his men-at-arms, he fell upon and massacred the servants of his aunt, and carried off the marchioness and Condé’s children to Catherine de’ Medici. Later, during the Wars of the League, he offered for a very large sum of money to open the gates of Orléans, of which he was governor, to Henri IV. If the bargain were not kept, it was thanks to the energy of the defenders of the place, who refused to surrender. On the death of his first wife, Jacqueline de Rohan, In 1578, Entragues married the celebrated Marie louchet, a woman of great beauty and of considerable intelligence, who is said to have been his mistress before becoming that of Charles IX.1 This union was a very advantageous one for him, since Marie had been well provided for by her royal lover, and, besides, it made him step-father and guardian of the King’s natural son, Charles de Valois, to whom Catherine de’ Medici, passing over her daughter Marguerite, afterwards bequeathed her county of Auvergne. By his second marriage, Entragues had a son and two daughters, Henriette and Marie—two daughters 1 Marie Touchet was born at Orléans in 1549, and was the daughter, not of an apothecary of that town, as some writers assert, but of Jean Touchet, Sieur de Beauvais et du Quillard, lieutenant of the bailiwick of Orléans, and of Marie Mathys, daughter of a Fleming, Orath Mathys, physician to the King. A portrait reproduced by Bouchet, in his ‘“ Por- traits au crayon,’’ shows us a woman with a perfect oval face, fine eyes, a high forehead, a thin, straight nose and thin lips; in fact, one with less ot beauty than of that charm which justified the anagram drawn from her mame: ‘‘ Je chayrme tout.’’ Charles IX. appears to have met her at Orléans, about the end of 1566 or the beginning of 1567, and he remained greatly attached to her down to the time of his death. She never, how- ever, attempted to exercise any political influence over him, nor even to enrich herself at the expense of the State, as did so many royal favourites, entertaining, it is probable, a wholesome dread of the enmity of Catherine de’ Medici. 41 eeprom err ret tr rt, te lars eee re ee ee ree " xee Last Loves of Henri of Navarre who were to prove as vicious as their mother, and over whom the latter watched with jealous care, desiring for them a brilliant future. When, after peace had been at last restored to the distracted country, Henri IV.., with the aid of Gabrielle d’Estrées, regarded already as Queen, had formed a sort of court of nobles and ladies, which was to recall, to some degree at least, that of Catherine de’ Medici, Entragues, notwithstanding his sadly tarnished reputation, succeeded in obtaining the admission of his wife and Henriette. In 1598, we find the latter, with eleven other ladies and twelve of the handsomest nobles of the Court, figuring in a ballet which was given at the Tuileries and afterwards at the residence of the Duchess of Bar, on which occasion she would appear to have created a very favourable im- pression.” It was, in fact, upon Mlle. d’Entragues, the elder, that the courtiers had chiefly counted to cheer the disconsolate monarch when they advised him to break his journey at the fatal Chateau of Bois-Malesherbes. Henriette, born at Orléans in 1579, had just completed her twentieth year. Without being strictly beautiful, for her nose was not above reproach—‘‘ un bec effilé,’ is Sully’s de- scription of it—and her lips were thin and when in repose ill-tempered, she was an undeniably pretty girl, with a slender, supple figure, blonde hair, blue eyes and a bewitching smile. Her good looks, however, were only a part of her attractions, for all her con- temporaries seemed to be agreed that her grace, her intelligence, her vivacity and her ready wit rendered her marvellously fascinating. Except her appearance, there was nothing of the young girl about her. Ripe for intrigue, courtesan by instinct, greedy, ambitious, 1 ‘‘ With all the severity of a rigid duenna, she watched over a treasure of which she knew the value, and it was whispered that she had poniarded with her own hand a young page who had been too familiar with Henriette.” Comte Hector de la Ferriére: ‘‘ Henri 1V.—le Roi—l’Amoureux.”’ 2 But we question the accuracy of M. Merki’s assertion: ‘‘Le ceur du voi était pris en ce moment.” Henri IV. would appear to have been at Monceaux, where he was recovering from a somewhat severe illness. 42adbeast ce te lchidberones Cet nee re r 4 } oi t : bidg a Moe stoas: TIT ipp rane tr eperemee epee tee wane ge women orret en Henriette de Balzac d’Entragues, Marquise de Verne; bese pk emereyh ih eebeberseseny nea eee OeT woe 9 TEESE wyA New Infatuation unscrupulous, she had early practised the art of pro- voking and exciting the passions which she did not share, but by which she meant one day to profit. Mis- tress of all the tricks and manceuvres of her type, she could play many parts and transform herself at will. She could be naive, cynical, tender, cold, coquettish, reserved, humble, imperious, according to the require- ments of the moment. In character, as in outward presentment, no greater contrast to Gabrielle d’Estrées, with her regular features, her full figure, and her gentle and placid disposition, could well be imagined. But the veterans of gallantry, greedy of change, allow themselves to be seduced easily by these contrasts, and perhaps the very fact that nothing in Henriette d’Entragues could remind him of her whom he had lost may have accounted for her speedy subjugation of the King. Anyway, from the first evening Henri IV. appears to have become completely infatuated with this dangerous creature, and on the morrow of his visit he despatched two of his intimates, Castelnau de Charosse and the Comte de Lude, to Malesherbes, charged with certain vague negotiations, which were merely intended to give a pretext for returning. Entragues, in the course of con- versation, remarked that, in order to seek distraction from the melancholy into which the death of the Duchesse de Beaufort had thrown him, the King ought to pass some days at Malesherbes, the neighbourhood of which afforded most excellent hunting; he would deem it a great honour to entertain him. Needless to say, his Majesty was graciously pleased to accept the invitation and proceeded to Malesherbes with ten or a dozen gentlemen. This second and longer visit more than confirmed the impressions of the first. It seemed to the amorous monarch that he had never met anyone quite so fascinating as Henriette before. The novelty of the girl, her vivacity, her witty sallies, which spared no one, the King no more than anyone else, captivated him. Poor Gabrielle, for whom he still wore mourning, 43Last Loves of Henri of Navarre was forgotten. This new passion had effaced from his heart every other recollection. Henceforth, he felt unable to lose sight of Henriette, and, when he left Malesherbes, it was to go to the Chateau du Hallier, which belonged to Louis de |’HOpital, his Captain of the Guards, and was scarcely a league distant from Chemault, the property of Guillaume Pot, one of the King’s equerries, to whom the Entragues were about to pay a visit. Nothing now remained for the siren and her relatives but to play the cards which Fortune had placed in their hands, and this they did with incontestable skill. At the date at which we have arrived, Henri IV. was forty-six, and it must be admitted that there was little enough about him calculated to appeal to any woman, least of all a charming girl of twenty. Madame de Simier, who had known Henri III., his predecessor, once observed: ‘I have seen the King, but I have not seen his Majesty.’’ And certainly the Béarnais, so far as appearance went, was very far removed from the popular conception of a great monarch. He was a little, swarthy man, with a long, hooked nose, which resembled that of a Punchinello, and a pointed chin.’ His merry, bright eyes, “‘ full of amorous desires,” still shone with all the fire of his youth; but his back was a little bent, his countenance lined with premature wrinkles and his hair and beard had turned grey. He was careless and slovenly in his dress and, what was far worse, dirty—some of his contemporaries use a stronger expression—in his person, from which emanated a most unpleasant odour. In fact, apart from his title of King, he had nothing to commend him to the good eraces of the fair, except his high spirits and his in- fectious gaiety. Nevertheless, with true Gascon conceit, he flattered himself that he was still capable of inspiring a disinterested passion, and, encouraged by the mediocre reputation of the Entragues, he appears to have counted upon a prompt and easy victory. 1 The Duchesse de Rohan said that ‘‘ Love would not have been able to nestle between a nose and a chin which mingled with one another.” 44Skilful Conduct of Henriette d’Entragues He speedily discovered his mistake. Henriette, at first, gave him some slight encouragement, but when, emboldened by this, her admirer became more pressing, she repulsed him sharply. Thereupon his Majesty began to launch forth into promises, and made to glitter before the girl’s eyes, as he had before those of so many others, all the advantages which she would derive from surrendering to his will: money, jewels, a title, an estate, official recognition as his mistress. But the Entragues, who had very accurately gauged the extent of the monarch’s infatuation, were resolved to secure far better terms than these. Counselled, doubtless, by her relatives, Henriette cleverly simulated offended modesty, assured the King that, though she loved him, honour was dearer to her than life, and besought him to press her no more. Finally, one morning, her half- brother, the Comte d’Auvergne, brusquely interrupted their ¢éte-d-téte and gave the King to understand very plainly that his attentions to the young lady must cease. Greatly disappointed, but far from despairing, Henri IV. took himself off to Chateauneuf, where the Maréchale de la Chatre awaited him with her two charm- ing daughters, each of whom asked nothing better than to be allowed to console the quasi-widower, and between whom their fond mother hoped he would choose. His Majesty permitted himself to respond to the advances of the prettiest, but it was only a passing caprice ; already he was no longer master of his will. and learning that Madame d’Entragues and Henriette had gone to Paris, he departed incontinently for the capital. On arriving there, the Louvre not being ready for his reception, he took up his quarters at the Hotel de Gondi, quite close to the Hétel de Lyon, where Madame d’Entragues and her daughter were staying, and lost no time in dispatching the Comte de Lude to present his compliments to the ladies. The count reported that he had been very coldly received by Henriette, nor did his master’s letters and billets-doux meet with 45en oe eee yeeros ‘ ‘ eee tad yh namie ere ih tS ae eh ey i ll wn ah mic et ene dha ey an rn en pen = ee final a ame ee — : a peed, eer eee ieee bee rstereyeee ne ae asso . i — Last Loves of Henri of Navarre any better success. In the hope of melting the ice, the King sent his charmer a magnificent pearl necklace. Henriette promptly returned the costly gift, which on the morrow his Majesty replaced by a hundred apricots." On August 10, Henri IV. supped with the Duc d’Elbeuf and a merry company of nobles, amongst whom were Charles de Lorraine, Prince de Joinville, younger brother of the Duc de Guise, and the Grand Equerry, the Duc de Bellegarde—Monsteur le Grand, as he was officially styled. Both of these gallants were, or had been, in love with Henriette d’Entragues, who had sent Monsieur le Grand about his business, but, on the other hand, would appear to have been far from insensible to the admiration of the Lorraine prince, prior to the King’s appearance upon the scene. At the conclusion of the banquet, Henri entered his coach to go to Zamet’s house, which was called, and with reason, ‘‘l’hétel des menus platsirs du rot,’ and where, Bassompierre tells us, his Majesty had arranged to pass the night with ‘‘a pretty wench called la Glandée.” * As Zamet’s house, situated in the Rue de la Cerisaie, near the Bastille, was some considerable distance from the Hdtel d’Elbeuf, all the guests escorted the King thither on horseback. It was a fine night, and, after the King had retired to bed, the nobles who had accompanied him remained chatting in the courtyard. Suddenly, a quarrel broke out between the Prince de Joinville and Bellegarde, the former accusing the Grand Equerry of having, out of spite, denounced him to the King as a rival in the affections of Mlle. d’Entragues. It ended by Joinville, who must have had a great deal more wine than was i “ Journal de L’Estoile.’’ 2 The same chronicler mentions two other women who about this time were honoured by certain fugitive attentions from the King : a Madame de Boinville and a Mlle. Clin, ‘“‘ Mlle. Clin,’ or rather Madame Quelin, was the mother of one Nicolas Quelin, counsellor to the Grande Chambre of the Parlement of Paris, who claimed, wrongly it would appear, to be the son of Henri IV. 46A Midnight Brawl good for him, drawing his rapier and making a savage lunge at Bellegarde, which wounded him in the thigh. The wounded man took refuge in the house, while his friend, the Marquis de Villars rushed at Joinville and would perhaps have killed him, had not the young Comte de Rambouillet thrown himself between them and received the thrust intended for the prince. In another moment every sword was out, and the mélée threatened to become general, when the King, “in his shirt and sword in hand,” appeared at the top of the flight of steps leading down to the courtyard. There- upon the combatants sheathed their weapons, and Joinville prudently took to flight. The King, extremely angry, sent that same night for Achille de Harlay, First President of the Parlement, and gave orders that he should hold an inquiry into the affair and show no favour to anyone. Early on the morrow, however, the Duchesse de Nemours and Mlle. de Guise, Joinville’s grandmother and sister, came to implore him to pardon the offender. At first the King was inflexible, jealousy perhaps counting for something in his severity; but eventually he relented so far as to give orders that the proceedings which had been begun against Joinville Should go no further and content himself by exiling the prince from the Court and Paris. This affair, as may be supposed, caused no little scandal, which may, perhaps, have decided the Entragues to cut short their visit to Paris. Anyway, a few days later, to the great chagrin of the King, they departed for their Chateau of Marcoussis. The enamoured monarch resolved to follow them so soon as possible, but meantime he returned to Blois, whence he proceeded to Chenonceaux, on a visit to Louise of Lorraine, who, since the tragic death of Henri ITI., had lived there in strict retirement. Amongst the Queen-dowager’s maids-of-honour was Marie de la Bourdaisiére,! a kinswoman of Gabrielle d’Estrées, 1 Daughter of Georges Babou, Seigneur de la Bourdaisiére, Comte de Sagonne. 47Last Loves of Henri of Navarre and, to pass the time, the Vert-Galant made love to her. The lady’s resistance was brief, and there was a moment when it seemed likely that she might succeed in detaching him from Henriette. ‘‘ But the allurement of an un- satisfied desire triumphs most often over possession,’ * and, recalled without doubt by Mile. d’Entragues, he hurried off to Marcoussis. There, aiter an interview in which the girl’s coquetry had driven the infatuated King almost to the verge of distraction, she demanded the sum of 100,000 écus as the price of her surrender. Henri, on his return to Paris, requested this sum of Sully, his Surintendant des Finances, who “raised cries of anguish,’ having at that moment to find three or four million livres for the renewal of the alliance with the Swiss. His remonstrances, however, were unheeded, though it was not until he received a formal order from the King to bring the 100,000 ecus demanded to the Louvre that he could constrain himself to obey. But at first he brought only 50,000, hoping to save the rest, and ordered the Treasury clerks who carried the bags containing the money to spread them out on the floor of the King’s cabinet, in order that his Majesty might see with his own eyes what such a sum, so easy to promise and so difficult to raise, represented. ‘‘ Ventre Sadnt- Gris !? Henri IV. was unable to prevent himself from exclaiming. ‘‘ Voila une nuit bien payée!” Neverthe- less, the reluctant Minister was obliged to disgorge the balance. Mlle. d’Entragues duly got the money she had de- manded, but the King got nothing except thanks, since the hundred thousand écus were only a part of the price which the cunning minx intended to exact, and she caused herself to be so jealously guarded by her father and mother that it was quite impossible for her to carry out her part of the bargain. At length, one day in the salon at Bois-Malesherbes, in a ¢éte-d-téte which Madame d’Entragues had graciously permitted them, judging that she had by this time reduced the old gallant 1 La Ferriére, ‘‘ Henri IV.—le Roi—l’ Amoureux.’’ 48 as r i ae | eeThe Promise of Marriage to such a state of despair that he would be ready to | consent to almost anything, she made known her conditions. ~ O my King, O most amiable of men,” said she, her eyes shining with hypocritical tenderness, “I trust myself so entirely to your love that I am able to refuse you nothing; but you know well that I do not belong to myself. It is not I, I who love you, that you must seek to persuade: it is my mother ; it is my father.”’ The King inquired in what way he could do that. She answered that she dared not tell him. He pressed her, and, after some further hesitation, she told him that her parents exacted, besides the title of marchioness for her—“in order to guarantee their honour in the | world and their conscience towards God ’’—a promise | of marriage; a written promise. The example of | Gabrielle d’Estrées, whom death alone had prevented | from becoming Queen of France was, in fact, very | tempting. Henriette was resolved to make the King || marry her; she was unwilling to surrender except at i this price. She added that she had used every endeavour to persuade her parents to be satisfied with a verbal promise, but they insisted that it should be in writing. ‘“ However,” she went on, “ it is all the same thing, for there is no document which can suffice to constrain a man who wears so good a sword and who has so much courage ; who is able to raise at a word thirty thousand soldiers and to set thirty cannon inmotion. Thus, since my relatives attach so much importance to this formality, you have but to yield, if you love me, satisfied that I shall then at last be able to accede to your least desires.’ ~ O tyranny of love,” cries the indignant Sully, in | recounting this scene in his ‘“‘ Economies royales,” ‘how great is then thy power! This cunning baggage, this designing creature, knew so well how to cajole the King that in the end he allowed himself to be per- ii suaded into making this promise, since otherwise he Hl would not be able to possess her who had already cost 49 4 SUSE I CC rN ee is ALast Loves of Henri of Navarre him so much and had so many times promised herself to him.”’ This promise, of which the copy at any rate has come down to us and is preserved in the Bibliotheque Nationale, was dated from Bois-Malesherbes, October I, 1599, and couched in the following terms : “We, Henri the Fourth, by the grace of God, King of France and Navarre, promise and swear, by our faith and kingly word, to Messire Francois de Balzac, Sieur d’Entragues, chevalier of our orders, that he, giving us to be our consort (pour compagne) demoiselle Henriette Catherine de Balzac, his daughter, provided that within six months, to begin from the first day of this present month, she become pregnant and bear us a son, that forthwith we will take her to wife and legitimate spouse, and publicly solemnize the marriage and in the face of Our Holy Church, in accordance with the usual solem- nities required in such cases. For the greater appro- bation of which promise, we promise and swear as above to ratify and renew it under our sign manual, imme- diately after we have obtained from Our Holy Father the Pope the dissolution of the marriage between us and dame Marguerite de France, with permission to remarry as shall seem good to us. In witness whereof we have written and signed the present, etcres And so we find Henri IV., after having been in love with so many women, actually promising to seat by his side, on the throne of France, a little imtriguer, a coquette whom he desired to possess! © But,’ observes M. Merki, ‘“‘he was, as we know, but indifferently scru- pulous, destitute, indeed, of all moral sense in certain respects, and an arrangement of this kind cost him little. He was prepared to swear and to promise all manner of things; but he was firmly resolved not to keep them.” * Every time that the Vert-Galant engaged in a new oe RUBBERS Ae Nationale, fonds Dupuy: ‘‘Lettres-Missives d’Henri a «‘T_a Marquise de Verneuil.”’ 50The Promise of Marriage adventure it was his habit to demand the advice of his mentor Sully, of which he entertained a very high opinion, though, unfortunately, he did not often follow it. Before, therefore, handing the compromising docu- ment which we have just cited to Mlle. d’Entragues, he decided to submit it to the Minister, and one morning, at Fontainebleau, led him into the grand gallery of the chateau, and without any preamble, placed the paper in his hands. Sully, who had probably been expecting something of the kind, read it with unmoved countenance and, without comment, made as though to return it to his master. “But speak,” exclaimed the King, ~ speak quite freely!’? The Minister read the fatal paper again, but he still remained silent. The King became impatient. ‘ You do not wish then to speak,”’ said he; “‘come, say everything that is in your mind. I assuredly owe you this compensation for the hundred thousand écus that I robbed you of. Speak ; I shall not be annoyed.” “ Sire,’”’ answered Sully, “repeat a second time that assurance.” Henri complied, upon which the other, instead of speaking, promptly tore up the promise of marriage. ‘Comment, morbleu!”. cried the Monarch, astonished at such boldness. “ Have you gone mad?” ‘Would to God, Sire, that I was the only madman in France!” replied the privileged Minister. The King stooped down, gathered up the torn pieces of the promise, and, without a word, retired to his apartments, where he told his secretary Loménie to bring him writing materials and proceeded to draw up a fresh one. A quarter of an hour later he emerged from his cabinet, and, without appearing to see Sully, who was awaiting him at the end of the gallery, went himself to convey the document to Mlle. d’Entragues. That lady, meantime, was very much on her guard. . My heart,” writes the enamoured King) to her, “ol love you so greatly that I can no longer exist when absent from you. I will see you this week, but I shall desire that it be in private rather than otherwise. Give me some opportunity for this.’’ 51 4*Last Loves of Henri of Navarre But Henriette replied that she would not receive him except in public. The King, much chagrined, reproached her with this refusal : “You must cease this brusqueness if you desire entire possession of my love. For, as King and as Gascon, I am unable to endure it. Further, those who love perfectly, as I do, wish to be flattered, not treated roughly. When M. d’Entragues comes here, I shall prove to you if I love you or not. Meantime, it ill be- comes you to doubt it, and that offends me.” And he adds : “Yesterday evening your diamond fell out of its setting, but, very happily, I found it again. God knows if I were in distress, for I should have preferred to lose the finger, holding so dear everything that comes from you, that nothing can compare with it... . I hope to see you on Sunday in public, since you have refused to see me in private.” * But even after the promise of marriage had been handed over, Henriette presented fresh demands, sug- gested, said she, by her father. What these demands were is not quite clear, but there is every reason to believe that M. d’Entragues was endeavouring to obtain the baton of a marshal of France as ransom for his daughter’s shame.” Henri IV., however, was too careful of the honour of his army to prostitute it thus. “You command me,” writes he to Henriette, “ to surmount, if I love you, all the difficulties in the way of our happiness which may arise. I have shown suffi- ciently the strength of my love in the propositions which I have made, for your relatives, on their side, not to raise further difficulties. What I have said before you, I shall not fail in, but I shall do nothing more.” Without paying any attention to this letter, Entragues came to Fontainebleau and demanded audience of the 1 ‘ Lettres-Missives,’’ Letters of October 5 and 7. 2 The Comte d’Auvergne had already obtained a handsome pension to secure his complaisance. 52Manceuvres of the Entragues King. Pressed by the latter to explain exactly what he wanted, he pretended that he was unable to speak freely except in the presence of his confidential man of business, a person named Nau, and the conversation was ac- cordingly adjourned until the morrow. On leaving the chateau, Entragues remarked to some of his friends, in a tone loud enough to be overheard by those standing by: “I see plainly that the King and my daughter are in accord to deceive me.” His words were im- mediately reported to the King, who writes to Henriette : “He (Entragues) said to those whom he thinks his friends that all that I say to him is with the intention of deceiving him, and that you are consenting to this design. For myself, I am not offended by this speech, but it does you wrong.”’ Next day, neither Entragues nor Nau appeared at the hour appointed, to the great annoyance of the King, who informs Henriette that, after waiting two hours, he has sent to find M. d’Entragues and that he will “neither eat nor drink until he has settled matters with him.”’ However, that gentleman had apparently returned to Bois-Malesherbes. It was now Henriette’s turn to raise difficulties. She pretended to be jealous and reproached the King with his amourette with Mlle. de la Chatre, who had recently arrived at Fontainebleau. Henri hastened to sacrifice the poor lady to her resentment. “I have pronounced sentence on the belle,” he writes. " 90 soon as her horses are ready, she will go. This has not been done without tears and the greatest oaths imaginable.” A sudden indisposition interrupted for a few days the King’s visits to Bois-Malesherbes. ‘ If my illness had continued,” writes he to Henriette, “I would have sent to fetch you. Iam so sad at not seeing you that nothing is able to content me. Love me very dearly, for I cherish you more than I ever did.”’ The lady’s response, however, was decidedly cold ; she even appears to have insinuated that his Majesty 53Last Loves of Henri of Navarre was less ill than he represented himself to be. The gallant’s rejoinder was piteous. ‘‘ Assuredly I have not deserved this of you,” he writes. Henriette hastened to make amends, assured the King of her affection, and told him cynically that her father was prepared to come to terms with him. The King, however, declared that he wished to have nothing more to do with M. d’Entragues, but to arrange matters with her alone. And, without doubt in the hope of finally deciding her, he informed her that ‘‘ the money to purchase her an estate was all ready.” On October 14, Entragues came to Fontainebleau and informed the King that he had decided to consent to all his wishes. His Majesty could not contain his delight, and wrote to Henriette that ‘“‘the joy which he felt was such that it could not be expressed in writing, but that ‘‘ he would show it her on the morrow.” And he retired to rest to dream of a great happiness. But, early the following morning, Entragues again presented himself, and, to the monarch’s intense chagrin, informed him that it would be useless for him to go to Bois-Malesherbes. His daughter was no longer there. It was true. The evening before he had taken Hen- riette and her mother to the Chateau of Marcoussis, a veritable fortress defended by three drawbridges, which in time past had sustained more than one siege. Certain historians are inclined to see in this a move prompted by remorse on the part of Entragues, who was recoiling at the last moment from the dishonour which was about to be inflicted on his name. We coniess we cannot agree with them. Entragues’s whole career shows him to have been a greedy, crafty, unscrupulous rogue, and it seems far more probable that he hoped, by keeping his daughter from the arms of the King a little longer, to extract from the latter’s impatience the coveted baton of marshal or some other advantage. Whatever his real motive may have been is, however, of little interest, since at this juncture Madame d’En- tragues intervened. Believing that she had only to 34Henriette Surrenders stretch out her hand to seize the crown Pemouiel of France and place it on her daughter's head, she sent secretly to advise the King to give Baeeies an order which would remove him momentarily from Marcoussis. The order was promptly given, and, so soon as the Cerberus had departed, the wolf was introduced into the sheepfold. A few days later his Majesty returned to Paris, bringing his new conquest with him, and installed her in the Hotel de Larchant, near the Louvre, which some time before he had caused to be prepared for her reception and furnished most sumptuously. “Such a bird deserves a fine cage,’’ said he. - i. pi Sere yer eamene CeeEererenTT terre Tee tat Te Tope eer ener peter eres taChe ne Ee ee ne See a ey ene re ene ee Cee eet ee ee Re ae ene erecmaney et va ae PeS oy eee ere Seer ee ee eee eee e Te porn ee {tae | CHAPTER IV The new romance not untroubled by storms—Henriette becomes enceinte, to the great alarm of the King’s Ministers—Her pilgrimage to Notre- Dame-de-Cléry—Visit of Charles Emmanuel, Duke of Savoy, to the Court of France—He gains the friendship of the favourite by his presents and attentions—He succeeds in seducing the Maréchal de Biron from his allegiance to his sovereign—Completion of the nego- tiations for the marriage of Henri IV. with Marie de’ Medici—Fury of Henriette on learning the news—Terrible scene between her and the King—Henri IV. writes to his mistress and the Comte d’Entragues demanding the return of the promise of marriage which he has given the lady—But both father and daughter maintain an obstinate silence—Temporary reconciliation—Henriette is created Marquise de Verneuil—She gives birth to a stillborn child—Her despair— Departure of the King for Lyons—War between France and Savoy —Letters of Henri IV. to Marie de’ Medici—Madame de Verneuil sets out to join him—She is received by the citizens of Lyons as though she had been Queen—Letter of the King to her—Their meeting at Saint-André-de-la-Céte—Quarrel and _ reconciliation— Madame de Verneuil accompanies the King to Grenoble—She returns hurriedly to Paris in a paroxysm of rage, on learning of the approach- ing arrival of Marie de’ Medici—Henri IV. follows her and is treated to another violent scene—He leaves Paris in anger—The favourite, recognizing that she has gone too far, writes him a humble and tender letter, and is forgiven—Peace between France and Savoy. ARS honeymoon past, Henri IV. appears to have been no more faithful to his new favourite than he had been to her predecessors. But the gallantries in which he indulged were but passing caprices, and he returned always to this captivating creature, whose lively disposition and witty and caustic tongue possessed for him almost as great an attraction as her physical charms. It is true that the ménage was not untroubled by storms, since Henriette was decidedly jealous and did not mince her language when she had reason to suspect her royal lover of some infidelity, and sometimes the latter found her reproaches a little hard to endure and was tempted to repent of his bargain. But then 56An Embarrassing Situation the young lady could be quite irresistible when she had a mind to be, and, so soon as she recognized that she was going too far, she changed her tactics, became tender and caressing, and never failed to wheedle the amorous monarch back into a good humour. Besides, relying on the written promise she had extracted from the King, she ardently desired a son, and intended to leave as little as possible to chance. If she offended the Béarnais, and his visits to her were to become less frequent, her desire might not be realized within the specified time. Finally, towards the end of that year, Henriette became enceinte, to her own intense satisfaction, but to the great alarm of the King’s Ministers, who foresaw the most embarrassing complications if the mistress were to bear a son. They had feared the elevation to the throne of Gabrielle d’Estrées too much to approve of that of Henriette, and even if so scandalous a marriage were avoided, it would hardly be possible for the King, so long as the promise he had given the lady remained in her possession, to wed a foreign princess. As for Henriette, so far from concealing it, she paraded impu- dently this pregnancy, of which the prize was a crown, and made a pilgrimage to Notre-Dame-de-Cléry, one of the most famous sanctuaries of the Orléanais, and presented it with a silver child as a votive offering. In 1588, Charles Emmanuel, Duke of Savoy, profiting by the civil troubles in France, had occupied the mar- quisate of Saluzzo, annexed to France by the Treaty of Cateau-Cambrésis. Called upon by Henri III. to with- draw his troops, he had replied that it was necessary to keep them there in order to prevent the Huguenots of Dauphiné from seizing the country, and the King was obliged to accept this explanation. All the time that he was grappling with Philip II., Henri IV. did not feel strong enough to compel the Duke to evacuate Saluzzo, and matters remained in the same state until the Peace of Vervins in 1598. Once, however, delivered 57Last Loves of Henri of Navarre from this implacable enemy, the King was free to deal with Charles Emmanuel, who proposed that the affair should be submitted to the arbitration of the Pope, and, this being refused, offered to come to the Court of France, under the pretext of treating in person, but really for the purpose of intriguing more at his ease. “Let him come,” remarked the Béarnais contemptu- ously, ‘‘ but let him not hope to be rid of the business for a visit and a few compliments.” On December 13, 1599, the Duke arrived at Fon- tainebleau, accompanied by a brilliant escort, and followed by wagons containing many costly gifts and some 500,000 crowns, by means of which he hoped to secure such support among the King’s advisers that he would be allowed to keep his acquisition on easy terms. A week later, having shown his guest all the marvels of the royal residence, and organized in his honour several hunting-parties in the forest, the King con- ducted him to Paris. Apartments had been prepared for Charles Emmanuel at the Louvre, but he preferred to lodge with the Duc de Nemours, who was his near relative. Secret interviews with important persons would, of course, be much easier to arrange at the Hotel de Nemours than at the Louvre. Serious affairs were at first laid aside, and enter- tainments of all kinds, tilting matches, tournaments, banquets, plays by the Italian comedians, succeeded one another without cessation. Ballets were then the mode, and all the most handsome men and prettiest women at the Court took part in them. Etiquette with a bachelor King—or, at any rate, with one who conducted himself as such—was far from severe, and gallantry reigned supreme. The escadvon volant of Catherine de Medici had long since retired from active service, but a new generation of young and charming women had arrived to take its place, and the Duke of Savoy had abundant opportunities, if he had been inclined to take them, of enhancing a reputation for 58Charles Emmanuel of Savoy gallantry which had preceded him across the Alps.’ Short, slight and terribly round-shouldered, “‘ he atoned for his physical deformity by all the intelligence that one ascribes charitably to hunchbacks.’’? With his fine dark eyes, of which the shrewdness softened the boldness, and his broad and high forehead, which his hair carefully brushed back made higher still, “he appeared a great prince beside a great King.”’ On New Year’s Day Charles Emmanuel emptied his wagons of the treasures they contained, and made splendid presents to the King® and the principal nobles and ladies of the Court, or at least to all those whom he judged might be of service to him. That reserved for Henriette d’Entragues was particularly magnificent and consisted of ‘“‘ pearls, diamonds and other precious stones,’ since the Duke had decided that he was likely to find in her a valuable ally, if not at the moment, then at some future time. Won over to his interests by this munificent gift, the favourite ventured to speak to the King of the pretended rights of Savoy to the marquisate of Saluzzo. But, weak as was Henri IV. where his mistresses were concerned, to his credit it must be recorded that he seldom tolerated their interference in affairs of State, and at the very first hint which she let fall, he rebuked her so sharply that she had no desire to return to the subject. But while seeking to make use of the favourite, Charles Emmanuel strove to corrupt the chief nobles of the King’s entourage. Although he was scarcely thirty- two, he was already an adept in intrigue, and he had not failed to notice the restless discontent of some of those who had fought on the King’s side against the League. 1 The number of his mistresses and of the children he had had by them was reported to equal, if not to exceed, that of Henri IV., a statement which we find somewhat difficult to believe. 2 La Ferriére, ® He offered Henri IV. two vases of rock crystal which had come to him from his ancestress Beatrix of Portugal, a present which was ironically compared to the fragility of his promises. 39Last Loves of Henri of Navarre They contrasted their rewards with the favours obtained by their former adversaries and complained bitterly of their master’s ingratitude. Their importance had, they felt, depended on the war, and was likely to diminish in proportion as the country became more settled and the authority of the Crown more firmly established. The most prominent of these malcontents was the Maréchal de Biron. Like his father, the old Maréchal de Biron, who had died during the siege of Epernay in 1592, Biron was a brave and capable soldier and had rendered great service to the King’s cause, but, like him, he was inordinately vain and ambitious and entertained the most extravagant opinion of his deserts. Whatever cause of complaint others of Henri IV.’s old companions- in-arms might have had, Biron certainly seems to have had none, since the King had conferred upon him a marshal’s baton, created him duke and peer of France, and appointed him to the lucrative and important post of Governor of Burgundy. But no rewards appeared adequate to a man who was wont to boast that his own and his father’s services had given the King his crown and was, besides, an inveterate gambler and spendthrift and perpetually in need of money, and he made no secret of his disgust that he was not all-powerful at Court.’ On the road from Orléans to Fontainebleau, the Duke had had a first conversation with Biron, and had made such good use of the occasion that he had already suc- ceeded in partially winning him over. Henri IV. furnished him with the means to complete the work he had begun. With a prince so astute, the monarch ought to have been on his guard, but, in the course of their conversation, he had the imprudence to respond to some amorous confidences of his guest by others more compromising, and to complain of the ungovernable temper of Biron, his ingratitude and his excessive vanity, even going so far as to accuse him of not being i P. FB. Willert, “ Henry of Navarre.” 60The Duke of Savoy and Biron pally brave, except when he was fighting under his sovereign’s eyes.} Charles Emmanuel duly repeated these unfortunate words to the marshal, who was beside himself with indignation, and when he judged that he was ripe for treason, he flattered his pride and his am- bition by offering him the independent sovereignty of Burgundy and the hand of his third daughter, and soon had him fairly in his toils. The interview between the Duke and Biron did not escape the watchful eyes of Sully and Villeroy, and, to escape this surveillance, the two conspirators arranged to communicate in future through the agency of one Jacques de la Fin, who was to go each night from one hotel to the other. This La Fin, who had formerly been in the service of the Duc d’ Anjou and afterwards in that of Henri de Lorraine, Duc de Guise, was an adventurer and charlatan, who had gained the confidence of Biron by his pretended skill in alchemy, astrology and magic, in which sciences the marshal was a devout believer. The Comte d’Auvergne and the Duc de Bouillon asso- ciated themselves in their intrigues, and, as for Henriette d’Entragues, they did not doubt that they would be able to count on her in the event of her matrimonial pretensions not being realized. For Biron had, from the first, encouraged these, and had thus succeeded in ingratiating himself with the favourite, while Charles Emmanuel had paid her the most assiduous court. At the end of February, Henri IV. caused the Duke of Savoy to be informed that he was prepared to cede to him the marquisate of Saluzzo, in consideration of receiving in exchange Bresse, Valromey and the district of Gex—the whole frontier of the Rhone, in fact. After vainly endeavouring to secure more favourable terms, the Duke pretended to accept this ultimatum, and on May 7 he quitted Paris, the French Government having granted him a delay of three months, in order that he might take the advice of his Ministers. 1 Henri IV., says Saint-Simon, was jealous of the military reputation of Biron, ‘ ‘jealous of his valour and of his ability.”’ 61ee en a ~- Se ae ee eee ae eee - ainda ee — RETO T TET TT nae yt MIE TREES oe eee Last Loves of Henri of Navarre Shortly before the arrival of the Duke of Savoy in France, an Ambassador from Tuscany, Baccio Giovannini, had come to treat officially of the marriage of the King with Marie de’ Medici. But, aware that Charles Emmanuel was endeavouring by every means in his power to hinder the project, Henri’s Ministers deemed it prudent to defer the negotiations until this incon- venient guest had taken his departure. So soon, however, as he had crossed the frontier, the negotiations began, and, not a little to Giovannini’s surprise, Sully and Villeroy, on behalf of their master, made scarcely any difficulty about accepting the dowry which the Grand Duke of Tuscany had authorized him to propose; and exchanged with him a definite promise. The fact is, that the two Ministers did not, in view of the great interests which attached to the marriage of the King, consider it politic to defer the matter any longer for the sake of a few hundred thousand crowns. The same day Sully proceeded to the Louvre. “Whence do you come ?”’ demanded the King. “Sire, I come from marrying you.’ ‘ Marrying Tene The King: placed his elbows on the table and his head in his hands and remained thus for some time, lost in thought. Then he said : “Ah well, let it be so, since the interest of the State requires it of me as a duty.” Mile. d’Entragues was speedily warned of what had occurred—Sully, who detested her, no doubt saw to that—and a terrible scene took place between her and the King. Beside herself with fury, the young woman flung aside the mask and revealed for the first time her detestable character. Upon the head of the lover who had deceived her she poured a veritable hail of bitter reproaches and gross abuse. Then, having exhausted all her vocabulary of invective, she passed 1 This was 600,000 crowns. Henri IV. had originally demanded 1,500,000. Sully is said to have received a present of 10,000 crowns for his complaisance in not demanding more. 62a Terrible Scene from insults to threats, swearing to make use of that promise of marriage which the King had dared to treat as a worthless scrap of paper. Henri IV. endeavoured to reason with her, and assured her that, though his decision, dictated by the gravest reasons of State, was irrevocable, he still loved her. But his efforts were useless and served only to provoke a fresh explosion of wrath, before which his Majesty retreated, with an unmoved countenance, but, nevertheless, wounded to the quick, for Henriette had known only too well where to plant her blows. Returned to his apartments, the indignant monarch snatched up a pen and wrote to his mistress the following caustic letter : ‘““Mademoiselle,—Love, honour and the benefits which you have received from me bra have arrested the most frivolous soul in the world, if it had not been accompanied by an evil disposition such as yours. [ shall not reproach you further, though I can and ought to do so, as you are aware. I beg you to send me back the promise you know of, and do not give me the trouble of recovering it by other means. Return to me also the ring which I sent you the other day. That is the reason of this letter, to which I desire an answer to-night.’ At the same time, the King wrote to the Comte d’En- tragues, in whose possession he believed the promise of marriage to be, a letter in which he likewise demanded the return of that document, though in terms less abrupt than he had addressed to ‘Henriette. He added that, if he brought it back, he would explain to him his reasons, which were ‘‘ domestic and not of State,’’ and concluded by assuring him that he was “‘a good master,” a hint 1 This ring was perhaps the same which, L’Estoile tells us, the King had bought from a jeweller on the Pont-au-Change, to w hom he had remarked before paying for it: ‘‘ Let me examine it again. Quite recently I had sold to me a piece of merchandise which was not worth half of what I gave for it.’’ According to the chronicler, the piece of merchandise in question was Mlle. d’Entragues. 63Last Loves of Henri of Navarre that his obedience would not fail of substantial recogni- tion. But both father and daughter maintained an obstinate silence, to the great embarrassment of the King, who, in view of his marriage with Marie de’ Medici, was most anxious to come to some arrangement with Henriette and her parents, and began to fear that it was their intention to make a scandal. It was Madame d’Entragues who came to his relief. More prudent than Henriette—had she not herself passed through similar crises in the time of Charles IX. ?— she made her daughter understand that she was taking the wrong road, that nothing was yet desperate, and that, in any case, she ought to make a virtue of resigna- tion. Henriette surrendered to these sage counsels, and the result was a reconciliation, temporary at least, between her and Henri IV., of which the pledge was the grant of the estate of Verneuil, in Normandy, erected into a marquisate in her favour. From that day Henriette de Balzac d’Entragues bore the title of Marquise de Verneuil. At the end of May an Ambassador from the Duke of Savoy arrived in Paris; but he brought only evasive replies from his master, who was merely seeking to gain time. Weary of these delays, the King determined to have recourse to arms if the obstinacy of Charles Em- manuel continued, and left for Fontainebleau, with the intention of proceeding to Lyons, where the expedition against Savoy would be organized. The Marquise de Verneuil followed him. “ The tigress had sheathed her claws and become tender and caressing,’ ’ and, retained by the spell which she knew so well how to cast over him, despite the pressing letters of Sully, who had preceded him to Lyons, the amorous monarch postponed his departure from day to day. Henriette had entered into her seventh month of pregnancy. If she were to give birth to a son, the King would find himself fatally trapped between the promise which he had made to marry her—the promise which 1 La Ferriére. 64A Fortunate Accident the marchioness had declined to restore el him—and the definite engagement to wed Marie de’ Medici, which Sillery, in his name, had just signed at Florence. Happily for him, fo heavens came to his aid. Summer had arrived early that year; from the first days of June the heat was intense. eae day, Henriette, feeling tired, had remained in bed, the windows of her chamber being left wide open. Towards evening a violent Anamgeretoned came on, and a _ thunderbolt entered the room and passed under her bed. So great was the shock she experienced that she was forthwith seized by the pains of childbirth, and a few hours later was delivered of a boy, who, however, died almost immediately.’ Henriette’s despair at the destruction of all her hopes was so violent that the King believed himself unable to leave her at such a moment, and, though rejoiced without doubt at this unforeseen dénouement, made some attempt to console her. The favourite’s strong con- stitution, however, soon asserted itself, and on ieee 26, Bens: LY ., yielding to the pressing instances of Sully set out for Lyons. But it was not until July 9 that he arrived there, for at Moulins he met again the fascinating Marie de la Bourdaisiére, * who had followed her roy al mistress Louise of Lorraine to that tow n, and ‘‘ wasted in her arms more than a week.” Deputies from the Duke of Savoy had preceded him to Lyons, but nothing came of the ensuing conference, since Charles Emmanuel was prepared to surrender neither Saluzzo nor the equivalent demanded by France ; and on August 12, the King, at the end of his patience, declared war. The followi ing day, Biron, forced to obey invaded the Bresse, while L esdiguiéres entered S aAVOY. From Lyons the King carried on an active corre- spondence with Marie de’ Medici, upon whom he lavished compliments and assurances of affection. 1 Some historians state that the child was born dead, but this is incorrect. He lived just long enough to be baptized by the Superior of the Mathurins of Fontainebleau, whom the King had hurrie dly sent for. 2 See page 47 supra. 65 wnayn een ae eeene te aero shenesremetsinpbeteenl- sh bpmmeytibekilinlrines Labytinitihe SL nt aoe ee Cee ee Ore Last Loves of Henri of Navarre ‘“ My beautiful mistress,’ he writes to her under date August 23, in accrediting to her the Duc de Bellegarde, “TI send my Grand Equerry to you, with all the pro- curations necessary to complete our marriage. He has so much the more desired this journey, since he knew that he could never do anything more agreeable to me or more useful for the good of the Kingdom.”’ The next day, in thanking her for a present which she has sent him, he again assures her of his affection and begs her to hasten her coming, “in order that she may behold the proofs of it.”’ Then on September 3 we find him writing as follows : “Hasten your journey as much as possible. If it were seemly for a man to say that he was enamoured of his wife, I should tell you that I am extremely en- amoured of you. But I prefer to prove it to you ina place where there will be no witnesses save you and myself. Good-day, my mistress, I conclude by kissing your beautiful hands-a hundred thousand times.”’ Finally, on September 30, in recommending her to place every confidence in her future dame dhonneur, Madame de Guercheville, he “‘ kisses her beautiful mouth a hundred thousand times.’ * After this, we might be tempted to believe that the Vert-Galant was really enamoured of his future consort, were it not that this same pen, so prodigal of tender expressions, had just written to the Marquise de Verneuil inviting her to rejoin him. Henriette, resolved to struggle against an unkind Fate and to follow the King up to the end, up to the very border of the nuptial couch, at once took the road for Lyons, which she entered on October 20, in an open litter. The complaisant citizens of Lyons received her as though she had been Queen, just as their fathers had received Diane de Poitiers half a century earlier, and the Provost of the Merchants and the sheriffs came to the gate of the Faubourg de Vaise to compliment 1 “* Lettres-Missives,’’ t. V. 66A Love-letter her. In return, the marchioness presented them with four captured standards, which Henri IV. had sent her. and begged them to deposit them in one of the chapels of the cathedral. At Lyons Henriette found a letter from the King awaiting her. My dear heart,” he wrote, ‘I set out so early in the morning to reconnoitre the passes of which | told you that the satisfaction of learning your news was delayed until this moment, when I returned to find your lackey arrived. I have kissed your letter a thousand times, in default of being able to kiss you. . During my journey we have not only seen the snow, we have been covered with it for three hours, and it was as thick as it is in France in January. I leave to-morrow, and I hope to be so near you on Friday that I shall claim from you the promise which you made me when we parted, if I arrive without baggage. Good- night, heart of mine; I kiss thee and kiss thee again.” It was at Saint-André-de-la-Cote, on the road from Grenoble to Vienne, that Henri IV. had arranged to meet his mistress. He left Grenoble on horseback, accom- panied only by Bassompierre and an equerry, and rode the whole way at a trot, with the ‘result that, when they reached their destination, Bassompierre, less accus- tomed to the saddle than his royal master, was so tired that he could scarcely stand. After a separation of four months, his Majesty naturally expected to be welcomed with open arms, but a very different reception awaited him. Some friend had charitably informed Henriette of the King’s infidelity with Mlle. de Bourdaisiére, and, although in Henri IV. she loved only the monarch, and cared not a jot for the man, her vanity was none the less deeply wounded. To be sacrificed to a queen for reasons of State was hard enough to endure; but to be supplanted, even momentarily, by a rival whom she despised—this chit of a maid-of-honour—was intolerable. 67 5*- i tr ee ae Se Bs cue . Last Loves of Henri of Navarre And she made the King feel the full brunt of her indigna- tion. Henri, angered by a reception so different from what he had expected, retaliated,’ and then, turning abruptly to Bassompierre, bade him go and have their horses saddled. But Bassompierre, perhaps secretly in accord with the marchioness, smilingly protested. “T will willingly order yours to be saddled, Sire,” said he, ‘‘ but, as for me, I declare myself on the side of Madame de Verneuil, and shall remain with her.” The King, though a little surprised at this inter- vention, took it in good part, and, writes Bassompierre, ‘after going to and fro several times in order to reconcile two persons who were well inclined to it, | made peace between them, and we slept at Saint-André.”’ ’ The next day Henri IV., accompanied by Madame de Verneuil, returned to Grenoble, where they remained a week. The King’s marriage with Marie de’ Medici had been celebrated by proxy at Florence on October 3, and the new Queen was already on her way to France. Nevertheless, Henriette desired to resume her place as though nothing had happened, and on the arrival of the Legate, Cardinal Aldobrandini, nephew of Clement VIII., who had performed the marriage at Florence, and had come to mediate between France and Savoy, the King experienced all the difficulty in the world in persuading her that decorum demanded that he should, momentarily at least, send away his mistress. Finally, she consented to start alone for Lyons, and his Majesty, greatly relieved, set out for Chambéry to receive the Legate. From Lyons, the municipal authorities had sent a luxuriously-furnished barge. The favourite embarked on Lac Bourget, and, descending the Rhone, reached Lyons, where another most flattering reception awaited 1 ‘‘ Mémoires.’’ 2 In the perpetual quarrels between the lovers, the Béarnais sometimes gave as shrewd thrusts as he received. One day, L’Estoile tells us, Henriette inquired of the King when “ his banker’s daughter’’ (Marie de’ Medici) was to arrive. ‘““ As soon,’’ he replied, “ as I have banished all the loose women from my Court.”’’ 68Marr arriage by yy proxy of MM Marie de’ e’ Med LGl: Aft fley the pa Pi ntineg ng b4 Rubeee ane x — ego peloton | | | i 7 | | ee ee en ee neA New Quarrel her. Henri IV. had intended her to remain until he was able to rejoin her, but, on learning of the approaching arrival of Marie de’ Medici, she was seized with a new paroxysm of rage and hurriedly returned to Paris. The King, on being informed of her departure, posted after her to the capital, only to be treated to a repetition of the unpleasant scene of six months earlier, when Henriette had learned that the Italian marriage had been definitely arranged. Indeed, the violence of the lady’s language would appear to have excelled even that which she had employed on the previous occasion. Anyway, it proved a little too much for the King, who, after a half- hearted attempt to pacify the infuriated sultana, lett both her and Paris. Scarcely had he taken his departure than Henriette realized that she had allowed her uncontrollable temper to carry her too far, and that, since there are limits to the forbearance of even the most infatuated of lovers, the consequences to herself might be unpleasant. For, though she had doubtless informed his Majesty in the most implicit manner that she scorned him and all the benefits that were in his power to confer, she had not the smallest desire to be taken at her word. Failing the crown matrimonial, now definitely lost to her, the position of mistress offered substantial advantages, not the least of which in her eyes were the opportunities which it would afford of making mischief in the royal ménage, and in this way avenging her blighted ambi- tions. Accordingly, she took up a pen and proceeded to address to Henri IV. the following letter, which, at once respectful and tender, she judged would go straight to the heart of a man who believed himself always and in spite of all loved for himself. ‘“T am reduced,” she writes, “‘ to the calamity which a great happiness has of late caused me to fear. It is necessary that I avow that this fear was attributable to knowledge of myself, since the great difference between your rank and mine was menacing me with the change 69ast Loves of Henci of Navarre which precipitates me from the heaven to which you had raised me to the earth where you found me. My felicity depended more upon you than on the power of destiny, to which I shall not ascribe the blame for my affliction, since it pleases you that it should be the price of the public joy which your marriage brings to France, an affliction, in truth, which I am constrained to avow, not because you ought not to fulfil the desire of your subjects, but because your nuptials are the obsequies of my life, and subject me to the power of a cruel dis- cretion, which banishes me from your royal presence and from your heart, in order that I may not be hence- forth insulted by the disdainful glances of those who have seen me occupying a place in your good graces, since I prefer to sigh at liberty in my solitude than to breathe with fear in good company. It is either a humour which your generosity has nourished, or a courage with which you have inspired me, which, since I have not learned to humiliate myself before misfortunes, does not permit me to return to my first condition. ‘I do not speak to you except by sighs ; for, as regards my secret complaints, your Majesty is able secretly to understand my thought, since you know my mind as well as my body. In my miserable exile, there remains to me nothing save only the glory of havi ing been loved by the greatest monarch of the earth ; by a King who has been willing to stoop so far as to give the name of mistress to his servant and subject ; by a King who recognizes only that of Heaven, and who has no equal here below. Bear in mind, Sire, a demoiselle whom you possess and what she owes you naturally, which she cannot do except in your faith only, which has as much power over me as your Royal Majesty has over the life of your very humble servant and subject.” This letter did not fail to produce the effect which the writer anticipated, as Henri IV. had no desire to get rid of her; all he wanted was to recover his promise of marriage. She remained, accordingly, his acknow- 7OPeace between France and Savoy edged ameitte rel even Accented aie on a new expedition against Savoy. But Charles Emmanuel had decided that it was more prudent to negotiate than to fight any longer, and was fortunate enough to persuade the King to accept a war indemnity of 80,000 crowns, with the district of Bresse and other territory on the western side of the Alps, forming the modern depart- ment of the Ain, in return for being allowed to retain Saluzzo. Without waiting for the treaty to be signed, Henri IV. returned to Paris, and then set out southwards to meet his Queen.Oe Oe ea ae: AP AE Soe Y Semen ees oe Ons eee hemes bk Sibewreny th bn jsbornnehen beh ahedeensh id hbmnian FELT At | eveee ena ao 5 ee ely MPA Tred Se ee Teena ys ent aeees = ere RN I ae = CHAP THK Vv Journey of Marie de’ Medici to France—Her reception at Marseilles— Her arrival at Lyons—First meeting with Henri [V.—‘“‘ I have been deceived ; she is not beautiful ! ’’—Personal appearance of the new OQueen—Her unattractive character—On the pretext that his presence is needed in the North, the King leaves his consort and spends a week with Henriette at Verneuil—Marie de’ Medici makes her entry into Paris—Presentation of Madame de Verneuil to the Queen— Singular behaviour of Henri IV. on this occasion—Marie de’ Medici begins to treat the favourite with marked coldness—The Queen’s Italian favourites, Leonora Galigai and Concini—In order to placate her Majesty, Madame de Verneuil obtains for Leonora the post of dame d’atours, and for a time is well received by the Queen— Henri IV. installs his mistress at the Hétel de la Force, close to the Louvre—Jealousy of Marie de’ Medici, who complains bitterly of the affront which he has put upon her—Madame de Verneuil retaliates by turning the Queen into ridicule—Curious picture of the interior of the Louvre at this moment—The domestic situation aggravated by both ladies becoming enceinte almost simultaneously—On the promise of Leonora Galigai and Concini to bring the Queen to a more reasonable frame of mind, Madame de Verneuil persuades Henri IV. to consent to their marriage—Gratitude of the Queen: her attentions to the favourite—Henriette retires to Verneuil for her approaching confinement—Visit of the King to her—The Maréchal de Biron and Queen Elizabeth—Birth of a Dauphin—Henri IV. cannot refrain from expressing his delight to Henriette—Resentment of the latter—Remonstrances of the King—Birth of a son to Madame de Verneuil. Gy October 13, 1599, Marie de’ Medici left Florence, and on the 17th, accompanied by the Grand Duchess of Tuscany, her aunt, and the Grand Duchess of Mantua, her sister, she sailed from Leghorn in a galley of the Grand Duke of Tuscany, “ one of the most beauti- ful and the most rich which had ever appeared upon the sea,’ inlaid without with ivory, ebony, mother-of-pearl and lapis lazuli, and hung within with silk brocade and cloth of gold, sewn with fleurs-de-lis in diamonds. Ten galleys of the Pope, six of the Grand Duke and five of Malta escorted this luxurious vessel, which, owing to 72Arial of Manze die? Medici stress of weather, was obliged to seek shelter in Porto Finale, on the Ligurian coast, and to remain there for more than a week. The courtier- poet Malherbe attri- buted this delay to the gallantry of Neptune, who desired to contemplate her Majesty’s charms as long as possible. On November 3, the new Queen arrived ‘at Marseilles where she was received by the Chancellor, Pomponne de Belliévre, the Connétable de Montmorency, the Ducs de Nemours, de Ventadour and de Guise, the Cardinals de Joyeuse, ‘de Gondi, de Givry and de ‘Sourdis, and a number of princesses and great ladies. ‘‘ From the port to the palace where she was to lodge a gallery had been erected. On leaving her galley, she ascended to this gallery, where the Chanc ellor awaited her and acquainted her with the orders which he had received from the King. The consuls of the town, accompanied by the citizens, presented her on their knees with two golden keys of the place, linked together with the same metal; after which she was conducted under a very rich canopy to the palace, having about her the cardinals and several bishops. On Saturday, November 4, the Chancellor, the members of the Council, the maitres des requétes and the chief officers of the Chancellery, proceeded, together with the members of the Parlement of Prov ence, to the reception-room of her lodging to salute her. On Sunday the principal ladies of the town had the honour to enter her chamber at her rising and to assist at her Mass.”’ On the 16th, Marie de’ Medici left Marseilles, escorted by two thousand horse, and the following day made her entry into the Papal city of Avignon, w here splendid fétes were given in herhonour. F inally, on December 2 she reached Lyons, where Henri IV. w as to join her. But the King had not yet arrived. Far from anxious to make the acquaintance of his wife, notwithstanding the amorous tone of his letters,! and retained perhaps 1 On December 2—the day the Queen reached Lyons—Henri IV. wrote to her: Thursday I shall start, and shall be with you Dea I have had two attacks of fever ; the sight of you will cure me.’ * Lettres- Missives,”’ t. V. . 73 SOR pee Cm PN a ee aie teneelmeenahimeiensLast Loves of Henri of Navarre by Henriette, whose malice had here a fine opportunity of exercising itself, it was not until the oth, at eight o'clock in the evening, that he reached Lyons. An hour later, while the Queen was at supper, he entered the room without being announced, in the hope that, amidst the crowd of gentlemen servants and other people, he would be able to contemplate her at his leisure without being recognized. But his arrival created such a stir that Marie divined that the King was present. She rose from table almost immediately and returned to her apartments; whither he followed her, although he was still in travelling dress. As he entered, she wished to throw herself at his feet, but he raised her up and embraced her twice. After remaining with her for half an hour, he retired to sup, and, when he had finished, sent the Duchesse de Nemours to the Queen.’ ‘“ Madame,” said she, “the King is without a bed ; he prays your Majesty to allow him to share yours.” “I am not come,’ answered the Queen, “save to obey his will, as his most humble servant.”’ Permission having been thus obtained, the Vert- Galant entered the Queen’s chamber. Marie was already in bed. “I understand,” said he, smiling, “‘that you are lending me the half of your bed, since I have not brought mine.”’ ‘The princesses and other ladies,’ remarks a naive contemporary chronicler, “retired to permit of the consummation of the marriage.”’ ” “I have been. deceived; she is not beautiful!” remarked Henri IV. to one of his confidants on first seeing his wife. It was but too true. To reconcile him to the marriage, his Ministers had shown him a highly flattering portrait of the Florentine princess which had been painted seven years before, when she was only ) 1 The Duchesse de Nemours had been appointed Surintendante of the Queen’s Household. 2 Péricaud, ‘‘ Notes sur Lyon,’’ cited by La Ferriére. TSPortrait of the Queen twenty. After having duped so many others, the Béarnais had been duped himself. By no stretch of imagination could Marie de’ Medici be called beautiful or even attractive. She had, it must be admitted, a good complexion, shapely arms and a fine bosom, which it pleased her to display liberally. But her forehead was heavy, her nose coarse, her mouth sensual, and her big dark eyes wanting in expression ; while a full and rather ponderous figure made her look considerably older than her twenty-seven years. ‘‘ She had rather the appearance of a stout bourgeoise than of a queen.”’ Nor, unfortunately, were the qualities of her mind calculated to atone for her lack of physical attractions. She had none of the intelligence of her celebrated kins- woman, Catherine de’ Medici, none of that suppleness, that charm of manner, by which the latter had so often contrived to disarm her enemies. She was dull and seldom showed any animation, except when something happened to displease her, while her manners were brusque, almost to the point of rudeness. What was worse, her temper was obstinate and even shrewish, and she had already given proof of a spiteful and un- generous disposition by condescending to mutilate the magnificent marble tomb of the Pazzi, the exiled enemies of the House of Medici, in the church of the Celestins at Lyons. Finally, she was cold, and appears to have made little or no effort to please her husband, who could not fail to compare her, very much to her disadvantage, with the sprightly Henriette, who, with all her faults, was worth as a woman, and particularly as a sweetheart, ten times at least the legitimate spouse. ‘‘ Marie de’ Medici was only the reason of State, gruff even when she wished to be amiable; the other was the caprice, the joy of youth, with her slender, elastic, vigorous body ; she was passion without restraint and without reserve love with all its transports and its follies.’’} Henri IV. remained six weeks at Lyons to await the 1 M. Charles Merki, “La Marquise de Verneuil et la mort d’Henri IV.” fa JLast Loves of Henri of Navarre conclusion of peace with Savoy. The treaty was signed on January 20, 1600, and the following day, on the pretext that his presence was needed in the North, but that the health of the Queen must not be endangered by a hurried journey, the King took leave of his consort and travelled post to Fontainebleau and thence to Verneuil, to throw himself into the arms of his mistress. His visit lasted a week, and from it dated a second pregnancy, which was to furnish new weapons to the implacable ambition of the favourite. A day or two after the King’s departure, Marie de’ Medici left Lyons with all her Court and travelled by easy stages to Nemours, where she was met by her husband, who conducted her to Fontainebleau. ‘There they remained for some days and then proceeded to Paris. The Queen made her entry into the capital on February 9g, borne in a magnificent litter, in which sat the young César de Vend6me, one of Henri IV.’s sons by Gabrielle d’Estrées. As her apartments at the Louvre were not yet ready for her reception, she accepted the hospi- tality of Jérome de Gondi, introducer of the Ambassadors, who had been appointed her chevalier d@honneur, at his hotel in the Rue de Condé on the left bank of the Seine.* The difficulties of the domestic situation which everyone, except perhaps Henri IV. himself, had, of course, foreseen, began forthwith. During the week which the King had spent at Verneuil, Henriette had extracted from him the promise that she should be presented to the Queen, on the very day even of the latter’s arrival in Paris, in order ap- parently to forestall the influences which might oppose her desire. Diane de France, Duchesse d’Angouléme, to whom his Majesty first addressed himself, accepted this disagreeable duty, but, at the last moment, excused herself on the plea of illness, and he was forced to have 1 There was at this period another Hétel de Gondi, in the Rue Saint- Honoré, which was the residence of the aged Albert de Gondi, Duc de Retz, one of the instigators of the Massacre of St. Bartholomew. 76Henriette Presented to the Queen recourse to the Duchesse de Nemours. This lady was under obligations to the King, since it was in response to her entreaties that he had pardoned Joinville for his ruffianly attack upon Bellegarde in the courtyard of Zamet’s hotel... Nevertheless, so indignant was she at what was demanded of her, that she ventured to raise objections, But Henri IV. commanded her angrily to execute his orders, and she had to obey. With obvious embarrassment, the unfortunate Ma- dame de Nemours presented Henriette to the Queen, who is said never to have forgiven her for having made this presentation. As the favourite came forward, the King appeared to think it incumbent upon-him to explain who she was. ‘Mademoiselle is my mistress,’ said he, turning with an ingratiating smile to his astonished consort. “ She will be your very obedient and very submissive servant.” Marie remained silent and impassive, while Henriette executed a curtsey so scanty as to hold out little hope of the fulfilment of the King’s promise. Upon which his Majesty, placing his hand on her head, forced her to kneel and to kiss the hem of her sovereign’s dress.” It must be admitted that Henri IV. had so contrived the introduction of the rivals as to exasperate to the utmost the tempers of both women. Nevertheless, for the moment, both succeeded in disguising their feelings. The Queen, quickly recovering herself, received the homage of the marchioness, if not graciously, at least without any appearance of coldness; while Henriette, affecting not to see anything unusual in what had occurred, smiled, prattled away and showed herself so much at her ease, that presently they were conversing together to all appearances quite amiably. The King, under the impression that all was now well, made the 1 See page 46 supra. 2 Such is the account of the incident given by the Venetian Ambassa- dor, but, according to another version, the King seized Madame de Ver- neuil roughly by the hand and almost threw her on to her knees. 77Last Loves of Henri of Navarre favourite sit down to supper at his own table, with the Queen and all the princesses, as though to announce to everyone that the situation was accepted. It had been, in point of fact, very far from accepted, and the Queen soon began to treat Madame de Verneuil with marked coldness. The latter, though she did not shrink from the inevitable conflict, decided that it would hardly be to her interest to precipitate it, and accordingly cast about her for some means of temporarily placating her Majesty, which she was not long in finding. Almost from the first Henri IV. had been plagued by the pretensions and quarrels of his wife’s Italian followers. Marie de’ Medici’s favourite attendant was her foster-sister Leonora, or Dianora, Dosi, a name which she had exchanged for the more high-sounding one of Galigai. Leonora Galigai was a strange creature, “diminutive, pale, emaciated, a soul of fire in a dimi- nutive body.” * Brought up with Marie de’ Medici as a humble playfellow and companion, her restless energy had gained so great an ascendency over her phlegmatic mistress that she was quite unable to do without her and had brought her to France. Now, amongst the Queen’s gentlemen, was one Concino Concini, a younger son of good family—his father had been secretary to the Grand Duke of Tuscany— who hoped to find his fortune in France. Concini was “of good presence, of much intelligence, amiable and of obliging manners, and skilled in horsemanship and all bodily exercises.”” But, according to the gossips of the time, he had “ dissipated all his property in gambling, wenching and other pleasures and knaveries,’ and was debauched to such a degree that, at Florence, ‘fathers of families forbade their sons to have any inter- course with him.” He is even accused of having fallen so low as to enter the service of the Cardinal Charles de Lorraine, at Rome, in the capacity of croupier, but this is probably an invention of his enemies. One of those crafty Italian adventurers who knew 1 La Ferriére. 78Leonora Galigai and Concini so well how to make use of women, Concini foresaw that his surest way to success was through Leonora, and that, if they worked together, they would completely dominate the Queen. Accordingly, he proceeded to pay her the most assiduous court, and succeeded so well that she fell desperately in love with him. Her passion, indeed, scorned all disguise, and when, during the stay of the Court at Lyons, Concini fell ill, ignoring the meaning smiles and spiteful comments of those about her, she hastened to his bedside and tended him day and night. On his recovery, she introduced him, at all hours, into the apartments of the Queen, who, not ill-disposed towards the handsome gallant on her own account, was induced to treat him with an indulgence compromising to both mistress and maid.! On his arrival at Lyons, Henri IV. had at first received Leonora very kindly, which had encouraged Marie de’ Medici to demand, through the Tuscan Am- bassador, the title of dame d’atours for her favourite. The King inquired if she were of noble birth, and, when the Ambassador admitted that she was only a cittadina —she was, in fact, the daughter of a carpenter—replied that the post was one which had always been held by a lady of quality, and that, besides, the Vicomtesse de l’Isle, daughter of M. de la Roche, the Queen’s First Equerry, had a prior claim to it. He seemededisposed, however, to permit her to discharge the duties of dame d’atours, it Madame de I’Isle were content with the title. But on being informed of her intrigue with Concini, and that she was suspected of lavishing upon her impecunious admirer the money and jewellery which she owed to the liberality of her mistress, he took umbrage, and sent her compatriot Zamet to tell her that the affair must cease and that if she wished to remain in France, she must marry a Frenchman, 1 Giovanni de’ Medici, uncle of the Queen, retired from the Court in disgust, declaring that ‘“‘ his heart was unable to support the sight of a valet being preferred to him by the Queen, to whom he was so nearly related.”’—L’Estoile. 79Last Loves of Henri of Navarre La Galigai, though she feigned submission to the royal commands, had not the least intention of aban- doning her lover, and since the entrée to the Queen’s apartments was now forbidden him, found means to receive him in those of complaisant friends. Learning of this, the King became much incensed, and before leaving Lyons on his visit to Madame de Verneuil, he strongly advised his wife to send Leonora back to Florence. But when he met the Queen at Nemours to conduct her to Fontainebleau, he found, to his intense annoyance, that she had not paid any heed to his recommendation. This affair would appear to have been the cause of one of the first quarrels between the royal pair ; indeed, Giovannini, the Florentine Ambassador, in rendering account to the Grand Duke of the presentation of Madame de Verneuil, writes that at Court it was reported that the King had acted thus “in order to indemnity himself for the affront which the princess (the Queen) had offered him in refusing to place any obstacle to the liaison of Leonora and Concini.”’ Leonora had been present on this occasion. She had, of course, already heard much of this Henriette d’En- tragues who had acquired so great an influence over the amorous King that there was scarcely any favour which he could refuse her. She studied her closely, saw that, for the time at any rate, Henriette desired to stand well with the Queen, and decided that she might use her to further her own ambition. She therefore suggested to Marie de’ Medici, determined not to be separated from her favourite, but unwilling to remain on bad terms with her husband, that she should avail herself of Madame de Verneuil’s influence with his Majesty, and obtained her consent. Intriguing and subtle, the Italian had then little difficulty in concluding a pact with Henriette, promising, in return for the marchioness securing for her the coveted post of dame d’atours, ‘to place her in as much credit as she might desire with the Queen.” 80Jealousy of the Queen Henri IV. consented to what his mistress demanded of him, but he did so with extreme reluctance. “Do you wish me to remain at the Court ?”’ said Henriette. ‘Do you wish the Queen to treat me with kindness and courtesy ?”’ “Certainly I wish it.” “Well, then, give her la Galigai as dame d’atours.”’ “I fear this woman,” answered the King ; “I dread her influence. I have done ev erything possible to send her back to Florence. However, if you desire that she should remain, I consent. God grant that you do not Hemet of 1!” And so Leonora became dame d’atours, and for a time Madame de Verneuil had no reason to complain of her reception by Marie de’ Medici. But the truce was of brief duration. “ The ideal of married life which Henri IV. appears to have formed,” writes one of his historians,! ‘‘ was such as might have occurred to an amiable Turk eman- cipated from the jealous prejudices of the East. A Sultana to be the mother of his heir, and a reigning favourite chosen from among a bevy of women—to one or another of whom the royal handkerchief might from time to time be thrown—were to show their grati- tude for the good-humoured indulgence with which he was prepared to treat them, by living amiably and cheerfully together.” Tired of havi ing to go so frequently to Verneuil when he desired to enjoy Henriette’s society, and delighted at the good understanding which now appeared to reign between wife and rsiceast the King announced his intention of installing the latter at the Louvre, or, according to Tallemant des Reaux, at the Hotel de la Force, close to the Louvre, which was “ neither politic nor seemly,” The jealousy of Marie de’ Medici broke forth at once, and she complained bitterly to the King of the affront which he had put upon her. Her wrath was increased by the reports which her favourite took care should Mr, P. F, Willert, “‘ Henry of Navarreand the Huguenotsin France.” 8I 6Last Loves of Henri of Navarre reach her of the manner in which her rival was in the habit of speaking of her. Having by this time had numerous opportunities of observing the Queen closely, the malice of Henriette had plenty upon which to exercise itself, and she allowed no opportunity to slip of making game of her Majesty, imitating her manners, counterfeiting her Italian accent and referring to her habitually as “la grosse banqutéere de Florence.” The Duc de Bouillon, in a letter to the Duchesse de Trémouille, has traced a curious picture of the interior of the Louvre at this moment : “IT saw no great ceremony, and did not see the Queen seated, but standing all the time. Near her was Mile. de Guise, who was working at strips of canvas for tapestry.' The King walked up and down the room with her. Madame de Verneuil came in once, and though she caused the Queen to grow red so soon as she caught sight of her, came and talked to her. The said marchioness has very frequent quarrels with the King, who often sees La Bourdaisiére, but nothing more. Yesterday evening the said marchioness said to him: ‘You intend to go to the war this evening! You area valiant man, who does nothing, neither kills nor wounds anyone. In the evening, the King stayed for hali an hour in the Queen’s chamber, and then went into the town, whither La Varenne alone accompanied him.” ’ The writer adds that the Queen was on bad terms with her dame dhonneury, Madame de Guercheville, and the King with Leonora Galigai, and that the Court was full of jealousies and quarrels and not much fre- quented by people of quality.’ The situation grew worse when both women found themselves enceinte almost simultaneously. This in- 1 It was whispered that Mlle. de Guise, since she could not be Queen, would not have objected to the position of Madame de Verneuil. 2 Since La Varenne was the confidant of all the King’s amours—some writers call him by a harsher name—it is probable that his Majesty intended to visit some fair lady. 8 Cited by Léon Merlet, ‘‘ Correspondance de Louise de Coligny.”’ 82Leonora Galigai and Henriette teresting discovery served but to increase their bitterness towards one another, and the King’s domestic peace was ruined, condemned as he was to submit to the per- petual complaints and reproaches of his consort, whom he was obliged to respect, on account of her rank at any rate, and who, exasperated at the gibes in which her rival was reported to be indulging at her expense, no longer referred to her except as “‘la putain du roi.’ However, in the early summer, to the inexpressible relief of the harassed monarch, an opportunity of pro- curing a respite presented itself. We have seen that Leonora Galigai had fallen des- perately in love with the fascinating Concini, and that, despite the orders of the King, she had declined to abandon him. Emboldened by the success which had attended her efforts to secure the post of dame d’atours, she was now resolved to marry her gallant, and found ready support from Marie de’ Medici. Pressed by the Queen to give his consent, Henri IV., weary of the tears or sulky looks which invariably followed his refusal, eventually yielded, and even promised a dowry of 5,000 écus, but on condition that the pair returned at once to Florence. To this the Queen, unwilling to be separated from her favourite, naturally refused to agree, and the matter seemed likely to go no further, when la Galigai bethought herself of utilizing again the services of Madame de Verneuil. Now, if the truth must be told, that lady, though she professed to despise it, was becoming not a little alarmed at the rancour which she had excited in the bosom of the Queen. Just as continual drops of water will end by wearing through the stone, so the eternal jeremiads and reproaches of his legitimate spouse might so exhaust the patience of the King that a time might come when, rather than endure them any longer, he might decide to rid himself of the cause of them. Besides, Marie de’ Medici had shown that, if her tongue were less caustic, it was well-nigh as venomous as her own, and it was not altogether pleasant to hear of the terms in which 83 6* Se Ne re ree ee Oem Se yee aCe eeLast Loves of Henri of Navarre her Majesty was wont to refer to her, often in the presence of persons with whom she desired to stand well. The favourite was, therefore, not unwilling to oblige Leonora, who was able, if she chose, to put a stop to the diatribes of the Queen, while she was always pleased to show her power. Leonora begged permission to present Concini to Madame de Verneuil, since he would be able to plead their hard case with her better than she could herself. The marchioness graciously consented, and the cunning Italian took full advantage of his opportunity. Humbly he begged her to employ her good offices on behalf of two lovers, who at present had no hope of being united, save at the price of exile from France. The Queen had intervened in their favour, unhappily to no purpose ; but a few words from Madame de Verneuil, whose in- fluence with his Majesty was so great, would doubtless cause him to relent and consent to their marriage, without the hard condition upon which he had hitherto insisted. If she would do this, she might be assured of their eternal gratitude, and that they would do everything in their power to disabuse the Queen’s mind of the most unfortunate prejudice which she had conceived against the marchioness. And he would appear to have hinted that her interests and those of himself and his future wife were far from antagonistic, and that great advantages might accrue to both parties if they were prepared to work together. An adept at flattery, amiable and persuasive, Concini succeeded in securing from Henriette a promise to obtain the King’s consent. In the circumstances, this was a matter of little difficulty, for the Béarnais, tired of war, was only too eager to snatch at a chance of peace, or, at any rate, of an armistice, and once more he allowed himself to be persuaded against his better judgment.’ “The marriage of la Galigai and Concini must soon take place,’ writes Villeroy to the Connétable de Mont- 1 According to Tallemant des Réaux, the King once observed :“ If I were dead, this fellow would ruin my realm.”’ 84Marriage of Leonora and Concini morency. ‘“‘ The marchioness favours it with all her credit, in order to gratify the Queen, who is very pleased with her.’’? According to Giovannini, the King, having resigned himself to the idea of Concini remaining in France, pushed his complaisance so far as actually to excuse himself to the Italian for the harshness which he had Shown him. ‘“‘ He did not know him,” said he, ‘“‘ and had been told much evil concerning him, but, now that he was undeceived, he wished that he should always follow his person; and he assured the Queen that he would shortly give him the title ot Gentleman of the Chamber.”’ ” The marriage of Concini and Leonora was celebrated at Saint-Germain-en-Laye on July 12, and Marie de’ Medici was so grateful to Madame de Verneuil for having intervened on behalf of her favourites that she treated her, it was said, better than anyone, sent daily to inquire after her health and made her more than one handsome present. After a short stay at Fontainebleau, where the Queen had been installed for her approaching confine- ment, eatly in August Henriette proceeded to Verneuil to prepare for her own. In all her letters she presses the King to rejoin her, but though his Majesty was only too willing to accede to her wish, he knew not what pretext to invoke which would justify his absence from his consort’s side at such a time. Finally, he found one in a rather grave incident which threatened to bring about a rupture between France and Spain. Some young gentlemen belonging to the suite of La Roche-Pot, the French Ambassador at Madrid, quarrelled with some Spaniards ; swords were drawn, and two of the Spaniards were killed. The Frenchmen, of course, took refuge at their Embassy, where they 1 Letter of June 22, 1600, cited by La Ferriére. 2 M. Charles Merki, ‘‘La Marquise de Verneuil.”’ 85Last Loves of Henri of Navarre believed that they would be safe from arrest ; but the police forced their way in, seized them and haled them off to prison. As the excuses offered by the Spanish Government for the invasion of the Embassy were deemed insufficient, and it declined to set the prisoners at liberty, La Roche-Pot was recalled, and matters began to look distinctly serious. Henri IV. believed, or affected to believe, that the Spaniards might make a sudden attack on some of the fortresses in Picardy, and announced his intention of visiting them and after- wards of going so far as Calais, which would afford him an opportunity of visiting Verneuil on the way. He was with his mistress on August 27, on which day we find him writing to Sully, whom he charges to reconcile the Queen to his journey : “My friend, I send you the letter which I am writing to my wife, in order that you may carry it to her your- self immediately, and that she may not be offended at this journey or vexed at my absence. Provide for that and also for everything which will be required for her lying-in.’’’ The King, however, did not dare to make more than a very brief stay at Verneuil, and on September 1 he arrived at Calais. He brought with him the Maré- chal de Biron and the Comte d’Auvergne, upon both of whom he was resolved to keep a watchful eye, as his suspicions concerning them were now thoroughly aroused, though he had as yet no actual proofs of their treason, or, at any rate, none upon which he cared to act. Queen Elizabeth was then at Dover, and had pro- posed to him an interview for the purpose of discussing the question of common action against Spain. But the King feared that such a meeting might alarm his Catholic subjects, and, moreover, he had a shrewd idea that the Queen might seize the opportunity to press for the pay- ment of certain loans which England had made him 1 «* Lettres-Missives,’’ t. V. 86Birth of a Dauphii ee iis B riaeles against the League, and which it would be exceedingly inconvenient to liquidate at that moment. He therefore sent Biron to offer his excuses and regrets. The marshal was very cordially received by Eliza- beth, who invited him to accompany her to London. The Queen suspected as strongly as did Henri IV. that Biron was conspiring with the enemies of France, and it may have been in agreement with her old ally that she took him to visit the Tower. Leading him to a window, she pointed to where the once-loved head of Essex was rotting in wind and rain. “ Had he but confessed,” said she, “ that he deserved death, I would have spared his life ; ‘the benefits which I conferred upon him outweighed the services which he rendered me. He bowed before the headsman, because his pride would not endure to stoop tome. If I grieved for the death of that poor wretch, it was for his ingrati- tude.”’ Then, looking fixedly at the marshal, she added significantly “Tf the King would believe me, there are as many heads which need to be cut off in Paris as in London.”’ “During his long sleepless nights in the Bastille,” observes La Ferriére, “‘ Biron must have recalled more than once these prophetic words.”’ Uneasy at the absence of the King, Marie de’ Medici sent Sully to Calais to hasten his master’s return. ‘Be reassured,’ wrote Henri on September we oe shall be with you before you are brought to bed.” On the 15th, he returned to Fontainebleau. and twelve days later the Queen gave birth to a son, the future Louis XIII. Marie was seized with the pains of labour soon after midnight on the 27th. They continued for twenty- two hours, and we are assured that, but for her Majesty’s courage and robust constitution, the ordeal must have proved fatal. The King’s anxiety was such that during 87Last Loves of Henri of Navarre the whole of this time he scarcely quitted his consort’s bedchamber, to which were admitted the Duchesse de Nemours, the Duc de Montpensier and two Princes of the Blood, the Prince de Conti and the Comte de Soissons. The Ministers and the chief persons of the Court remained in the ante-chamber, as did also, to their intense morti- fication, the surgeons and physicians attached to the Queen’s Household. For Marie, with characteristic obstinacy, had refused to accept the services of anyone but Madame Boursier, a fashionable midwife of the time, whom she herself had selected. Madame Boursier has left us a curious and interesting account of that eventful night : ~ The Queen having been delivered, I placed the Dauphin in my lap, without anyone but myself being aware of which sex the child was. The King came up tome. I looked at the child’s face and saw that he was extremely weak. I asked M. de Lozeray, one of the King’s valets de chambre, for wine, and he brought a bottle. I asked him to bring a spoon, and the King took the bottle. I said to him: ‘Sire, if this were any other child, I should put wine in its mouth and give it some, from fear that the weakness lasts too long.’ The King placed the bottle for me close to the child’s mouth and said: ‘Do as you would in the case of any other child.’ I observed that the King’s countenance was sad and altered so long as he did not know of which sex the child was.” Madame Boursier then relates how she gave a pre- arranged signal to the Queen’s first waiting-woman, in. order that the latter might inform the King of the birth of a Dauphin: ~ The colour returned to the King’s face, and, bending down, he put his mouth close to my ear and asked me: “Midwate, a5 it a.son?’, I told, him that it was: al entreat you,’ said he, ‘ not to deceive me, for that would 88Birth of a Dauphin kill me.’ The King raised his eyes to Heaven, and tears as large as big peas rolled down his face. “The King asked me whether I had told the Queen. I answered No, but that I begged his Majesty to do so. The King then went and embraced the Queen, saying : ‘M’amye, you have suffered much, but God has blessed us; we have ason!’ Her Majesty clasped her hands ; a few tears escaped her, and she swooned.’’' The Queen having been attended to, Henri IV. took the Dauphin in his arms and exhibited him to the crowd of courtiers in the ante-chamber. Then MHérouard, i first physician to the King, took possession of the little | prince and escorted him, lying in the arms of Madame de Montglat, to the apartments which had been prepared for him. The birth of an heir to the throne was hailed with transports of delight and “‘ people embraced one another, weeping with joy.” All night the town of Fontainebleau celebrated the event by fireworks, bonfires, music and A feasting. Barrels of wine were emptied in the courts of the chateau in honour of their Majesties and the Dauphin, and couriers were despatched to bear the glad tidings to every part of France. In Paris the bells of all the churches rang a merry peal, bonfires blazed in the Place de Gréve and cannon boomed from the Arsenal and the Hétel de Ville. On the morrow a Te Deum was sung at Notre | Dame, which was attended by the municipal authorities | and all the members of the Parlement in their robes ; | the poor were feasted around the Hétel de Ville, and a procession was organized through the principal streets of Paris, in which the civic authorities, the Parlement and the clergy of all the parishes took part. The joy | was unequivocal, for the birth of a Dauphin seemed to Vs promise a continuance of that peace to which France had been so long a stranger. Overjoyed at being the father of a legitimate son, . “ Des Naissances de Messeigneurs et Dames les Enfants de France, par Louise Boursier, sage-femme de la Reine, a Paris, TO52."" : 89ee ae bs qinhdacereneninntres eoehteeigiineet mic dereres Beyeuarienes a A i AA i 8 ins nin ep h ngteetegery tc enstlermerieins wekttheepeet anna Last Loves of Henri of Navarre intoxicated with pride at having an heir to his throne, Henri IV. could not prevent himself from writing to Madame de Verneuil : ‘““My dear heart, I arrived yesterday between eleven and twelve o’clock, tired and suffering from a very bad stomach-ache. My wife is going on well, and my son, thank God! He has grown and filled out half as much again in these five days since I saw him.” And two days later (October 8) : “M. d’Entragues has seen my son; he thinks him a very fine child.” To take her—her of all persons—for his confidante, to tell her that her own father thought the son of “ the Florentine ”’ a very fine child, was, in Henriette’s opinion, an intolerable insult, and in her reply she must have expressed her resentment in no measured terms. For, on the roth, we find the King writing to her as follows : ‘““My dear heart, you have so often promised to be sensible that you cannot doubt that the tone of your second letter has offended me. . . . It has been the fear I have always had of your lack of affection that has rendered me more ready to ascribe to it your hastiness. I have often told you of it, not because I am captious, but because I fear it more than the loss of my life. Attribute it, then, to excessive passion. . . . I should have sent M. de la Riviére to you, but he is obliged to remain in order to make arrangements for my son, who has drained his nurse.”’ On October 27—just a month after the birth of the Dauphin—Madame de Verneuil also gave birth to a son. “On Saturday, 4 November,’ writes L’Estoile, “the King having arrived the day before at Verneuil, goHenriette Gives Birth to a Son the marchioness was there deliv pred of a son, “Haun the King kisses and fondles a great deal, calling him his son and saying that he is finer than that of the Queen, who resembles the Medici, being swarthy and fat. Of which it is said that the Queen having been informed, she wept bitterly.’ Madame de Verneuil’s child was called Henri, after his father, and Gaston, in memory of Gaston de Foix, the illustrious ally of the Royal Family of Béarn. So soon as both ladies were sufficiently recovered to resume their ordinary mode of life, rejoicings were organ- ized at the Court in celebration of this auspicious double event, and the Queen gave a magnificent ballet, in which she invited Henriette to take part, to the great satisfac- tion of the King.Cee ene be VEY Coe UNE EERE SWOPE EET | Teneene ey Wen TENET eee eet eee Taree See ae eae CN Rn a Ee ORE ee a Tee menrebentet eet hke bapesty th Per ees Tans tae vane en ern pre e tete tee Se anerns et eee beac ee eee CHAPTER Vi Renewal of hostilities between the Queen and Madame de Verneuil— Refusal of Henriette to allow her son to be brought up at Saint- Germain with the Dauphin and the King’s children by Gabrielle d’Estrées—Indignation of Marie de’ Medici at the ridicule to which she is subjected by the favourite—Henri IV. definitely sacrifices his old flame Marie de la Bourdaisiére to the jealousy of Madame de Verneuil—The Capuchin Father Hilaire—His mysterious mission to Rome in the interests of Madame de Verneuil—On his return to France he is arrested and his papers seized—Two very compromising letters from the marchioness are found amongst them—But the King, more infatuated than ever, refuses to allow any further steps to be taken against Father Hilaire—The Duchesse de Villars—She aspires to replace Madame de Verneuil in the good graces of Henri IV. —She persuades the Prince de Joinville to deliver to her the love- letters which Henriette had written him—And places them in the King’s hands—Indignation of Henri IV. against the favourite—He is at first resolved upon her immediate disgrace, but is advised by Sully to give her an opportunity to defend herselfi—Madame de Verneuil boldly denies all knowledge of the letters and declares that they are impudent forgeries—A secretary of the Duc de Guise, noted for his skill in counterfeiting other people’s handwriting, is bribed to declare that the letters were forged by him—Interview of Henriette with the King, who is persuaded to believe the lady innocent—Banishment of Joinville—Disgrace of the Duchesse de Villars—Madame de Verneuil becomes more haughty and arrogant than ever. HE situation which had thus arisen was, however, of such a nature as to render the continuance of peace between the two women impossible. For Henri- ette, haughty, passionate and vindictive, was, as Lescure observes, born to quarrel and to set people at variance, and the birth of a son had caused her old hopes to revive. “The Florentine has her son,” said she, “‘ but I have the Dauphin! The King is my husband, for I still hold his promise!”’ She spoke of her rights, reminded 1 ** Les Amours d’Henri IV.” Q2War between the Queen and Henriette the King of the engagement which he had not kept; declared that she was his real wife and the true Queen, and that “ his Florentine ”’ was nothing but a concubine. And when his Majesty proposed that her son should be sent to Saint-Germain to be brought up with the future Louis XIII. and his children by Gabrielle d’Estrées, she angrily refused. “I will not,” she exclaimed, ‘“ allow my son to be in the company of all those bastards ! ”’ She resumed her former habit of exercising her biting wit and her talent for mimicry at her rival’s expense, and allowed no chance to slip of imitating the manners, the gait, the accent, the language, half-Italian, hali-French, of Marie de’ Medici. Henri IV., so far from resenting this, seems to have been only amused, and when the Queen, speedily informed of the ridicule to which she was again being subjected, complained bitterly to him of the conduct of Madame de Verneuil, advised her “not to take seriously buffooneries which were only indulged in to divert him.’ Such an excuse, as may be supposed, served merely to exasperate the irate Queen ; d she reproached the King bitterly with preferring a wanton to his own lawful wife, insisted that the unseemly jests and outrageous language of which she was the object should cease forthwith, and created a most unpleasant scene which appears to have been repeated on more than one occasion, and left, says an historian of Madame de Verneuil, “a disagreeable impression upon the monarch.” ? Altogether, between the two ladies, his Majesty would seem to have experienced a most trying time, which must have sensibly mitigated the satisfaction he felt at having become, almost simultaneously, the father of two fine boys. However, like the skilful politician that he was, he 1 Henriette never pardoned the King’s refusal to carry out his promise, nor ceased to allude toit. L’Estoile mentions that in 1608, when the case of the Baron de Termes, who had acted in similar fashion towards a Mille. Sagonne, was being discussed, she exclaimed contemptuously, in the presence of Henry IV. himself: ‘‘ Ha! by my faith, one says very truly, ‘ Like master, like valet!’ ’”’ 2 M. Charles Merki, “La Marquise de Verneuil.”’ 93Last Loves of Henri of Navarre did what he could to pacify both, lavishing upon the Queen presents and attentions and definitely sacrificing to the jealousy of Henriette his old flame Marie de la Bourdaisiére, whom he was still in the habit of visiting from time to time, but whom he now provided with a dowry and a husband, Charles de Saladin de Savigny. ~ If she had died of this” (7.e., from being discarded by the King), he wrote to Madame de Verneuil, in informing her that the matter was arranged, ‘‘ I should have been the homicide.”” He flattered himself, as he always did, that it was the man, and not the King, whom the lady had loved. In the autumn of 1601, an event occurred which might have had very embarrassing consequences for Madame de Verneuil had Henri IV.’s passion for this woman, her one safeguard against all the hatred and jealousy which her excessive favour had aroused, been less blind and insensate. At the beginning of February of that year, Cardinal d’Ossat, the French Ambassador at Rome, received a visit from a Capuchin monk, in religion Father Hilaire, but whose real name was Alphonse Travail. A native of Grenoble and brought up in the Protestant religion, he had served as a soldier up to the age of thirty, when he had abandoned the cuirass for the cowl, but without succeeding in divesting himself of the bold manners of the trooper. He presented himself to d’Ossat with all the assurance in the world, and handed him a letter of credence from Henri IV. himself, dated the preceding October 19, which desired the Ambassador to obtain for him an audience of the Pope and interviews with cardinals and other prelates. He was also the bearer of letters from the Duke of Bar and the Cardinal de Lorraine, and had come, he told d’Ossat, to Rome to solicit from the Holy Father the absolution of the Duke of Bar, who had married Henri IV.’s sister Catherine de Bourbon, a Protestant, without a dispensation. According to Father Hilaire, he was on intimate 94The Affair of Father Hilaire terms with the King—whom he boasted of addressing in the second person singular—and Madame de Verneuil, and, in the delicate situation to which Henri lV.’s marriage had given rise, they had allowed themselves to be guided by his advice. It was he who had persuaded the King to send away his mistress before the arrival of Cardinal Aldobrandini, and it was he who had counselled the King to find a husband of high degree for Madame de Verneuil and to provide her with a munificent dowry, and had urged the marchioness to surrender to the King the promise of marriage which he had given her. And, in proof of his assertions, he placed before the eyes of the astonished Cardinal a copy of the famous promise, and two letters from Madame de Verneuil, from which it appeared that the monk had been com- missioned to sound the Duc de Nevers, then in residence at Rome, through his man of affairs, M. de la Bretonniére, on the question of a marriage between him and the marchioness, and, in the event of the duke being favourably disposed to this project, to show him the document with which he had been entrusted. Now, this Father Hilaire was an intriguer of a very dangerous kind, an agent and spy of the Duke of Savoy, who had, in fact, during his visit to the Court of France, recommended him to Madame de Verneuil, in the hope that she might be able to make use of his services to stir up trouble in regard to the Tuscan marriage, which, as we know, he was most anxious to prevent. At Chambéry, in the following October, Henriette had presented him to the King, and, on the strength of the credentials which he carried from the Duke of Bar and the Cardinal de Lorraine, had no difficulty in obtaining for him the letter of recommendation to the French Ambassador to the Vatican. What the Capuchin had told Cardinal d’Ossat about the matrimonial negotiation with which Madame de Verneuil had entrusted him would appear to have been true enough. For, though quite decided to remain the mistress of Henri IV., if, notwithstanding his marriage, 95Last Loves of Henri of Navarre he did not separate from her, the marchioness was like- wise determined, in the event of a rupture, to extract from him a large sum of money, in order to enable her to make a brilliant marriage. But Father Hilaire naturally said nothing concerning a second and more secret mission with which Henriette had also charged him. This was to deliver to Clement VIII. the copy of the promise of marriage which the King had given her, a weapon of which she might be able to make use of later to bring about the dissolution of Henri IV.’s marriage with Marie de’ Medici. Father Hilaire seems to have made a far from favour- able impression upon d’Ossat, who, in a despatch to Villeroy, describes him as “a Capuchin very giddy and vain, with a head full of wind and smoke.” However, since Henri IV. had enjoined him to solicit for this monk an audience of the Holy Father, he could not refuse to do so, though, as Clement VIII. would not seem to have been particularly anxious to discuss the affairs of the Duke of Bar, some little time elapsed before 1t was accorded. What happened at the interview the Ambassador was unable to discover, but, in the meantime, the sus- picions which he had from the first entertained about the Capuchin were confirmed by a letter from Villeroy, who wrote that there could be no doubt that Father Hilaire was a spy of the Duke of Savoy, who had been instructed to insinuate himself into the confidence of Henri IV. and the Marquise de Verneuil, in order to obtain from them letters of recommendation of which he might make an improper use. Informed that this dangerous monk was about to set out for Paris, d’Ossat endeavoured to prevent him, and requested Father Monopoli, procurator-general of the Capuchin Order, to relegate him to some convent in Italy. That eccle- siastic replied that he would willingly do so, but, un- fortunately, Father Hilaire had taken the precaution to provide himself with a “letter of obedience’’* from 1 A letter of obedience was an authorization for a monk to move from one convent to another. 96The Affair of Father Hilaire Cardinal de Séverin, protector of their Order, and he could not therefore prevent him leaving Italy. He would send, however, authority to the Provincial of Paris, or the Superior of the Convent of the Capuchins there, at which the monk proposed to stay, to examine him and seize his papers. Accordingly, soon after Father Hilaire arrived in Paris, early in November, his cell at the Capuchins was suddenly invaded and all his papers, which he had concealed in the mattress of his bed, were seized, together with a short sword, with a very wide blade, “‘ of which he must have made use on more than one occasion.”’ } Among his papers were two letters from Madame de Verneuil. Villeroy, in reporting the matter to the King, wrote as follows : “I send you two letters from the marchioness, written from Chambéry, concerning the propositions which this monk made at that time, who appears to me more full of vanity and presumption accompanied by ignorance than of any other design of consequence. That is why I think he ought to be sent away from here and relegated to some convent where he may have leisure for mortification.” For a person who was able to read them with un- prejudiced eyes, Henriette’s letters were very com- promising. But, perhaps fortunately for her, it was only two or three weeks since her child had been born, and the King was more infatuated with her than ever. ‘‘ My menon’’ (sic), he writes to her on November 13, ‘‘ I am extremely desirous to see you, which will not be until you have recovered. Love me always and be assured that you will be the only one who will possess my love.” ? In these circumstances, it was scarcely to be expected that he would pay much attention to the evidence against the favourite, and it was, without doubt, in order 1 La Ferriére, a‘ Lettres-Missives.”’ 97 7Last Loves of Henri of Navarre to please her that he instructed Villeroy to take no further steps against Father Hilaire. That worthy, who had been placed under arrest, was accordingly set at liberty. Having abandoned the cowl, he became a secular priest, in which capacity he continued his intrigues and ended by being broken on the wheel in the Place de Gréve (May Io, 1617), on a charge of having conspired to poison Marie de’ Medici. Scarcely had Henriette escaped from this danger, than she fell into another, and one much more serious. For, on this occasion, the jealousy of the King was awakened with good reason, and she ran the risk of being exiled from the Court and relegated to a perpetual exile at Verneuil. It was the machinations of a rival beauty, Julienne Hippolyte d’Estrées—a sister of Gabrielle d’Estrées— who had married Gui de Brancas, Marquis, and after- wards, Duc de Villars, which fired the powder. After Gabrielle’s death, the Duchesse de Villars, whom Henri IV. had perhaps treated with a little too much kindness, as he treated most women, had for a moment hoped for the reversion of her sister’s post, and she had not forgiven Madame de Verneuil for having secured this coveted position. The duchess was not strictly beautiful; indeed, if we can believe the Princesse de Conti, who, however, was so jealous of other women that her statements concerning them must be accepted with reserve, her only attractions were “ her youth and her hair.’’* Tallemant des Réaux, however, says that she also possessed a fine figure and a good complexion, while, according to a modern writer, “ her eyes betrayed that sensual flame which provokes desire.”’* What is certain, is that Madame de Villars entertained a very high opinion of the power of whatever charms she may have possessed, and was quite convinced that if she could only contrive to get rid of Henriette, she would 1 ‘*Tes Amours du Grand Alcandre.”’ 2 La Ferriére, 98Intrigues of Mme. de Villars have little difficulty in replacing her in the good graces of the King. Judging that the Queen, exasperated to the last degree against the favourite, might prove a useful ally, she persuaded Mlle. de Guise to introduce her into her Majesty’s little circle of friends, and seized the first favourable opportunity of revealing her project to her. Needless to say, she said nothing to Marie about her ultimate object, which, however, the latter could scarcely have failed to divine. But so anxious was the Queen for the downfall of her enemy that she listened willingly to Madame de Villars, gave her to understand that she might reckon upon any assistance she might be able to give her without compromising herself and promised to keep the matter a profound secret. As, however, Marie was quite unable to conceal anything from Leonora Galigai, that lady and her husband soon got wind of the plot, but they decided that it would be better not to be mixed up in it, at any rate for the present, and awaited developments. These were not long in coming. It happened that the Prince de Joinville, who was at that time the gallant @ la mode, a sort of seventeenth- century Duc de Richelieu, in fact—that same Prince de Joinville who had been so high in Madame de Verneuil’s favour prior to Henri IV.’s appearance on the scene, and had quarrelled and fought with Bellegarde about her in the courtyard of Zamet’s hdtel—had fallen in love with Madame de Villars, and desired to add her to the list of his conquests. That lady, however, opposed to him a quite unexpected resistance, and when, piqued by his ill success, he pressed his suit more ardently, informed him that she was prepared to surrender on one condition only: he must prove the sincerity of his devotion by delivering to her the letters which Madame de Verneuil had written him. ~ But what will you do with them ?” inquired the astonished prince. ~ I shall keep them and shall make no use of them, 99 ilsLast Loves of Henri of Navarre unless I learn that you are seeing Madame de Verneuil again.”’ Joinville demurred, but, on being assured by the duchess that in no other way could he hope to obtain her favours, was weak enough to consent. Once in possession of Henriette’s letters, Madame de Villars hastened to carry them to Marie de’ Medici, who, in her joy at the prospect of her rival’s speedy disgrace, is said to have overwhelmed the duchess with presents. Nothing now remained but to place the compromising letters under the eyes of Henry IV., and Madame de Villars suggested that the Queen was the proper person to undertake this. But her Majesty objected, on the ground that, were she to appear in the matter, the King might question their genuineness. Madame de Villars, on the other hand, feared to prejudice her chance of securing the exalted position which must soon fall vacant, since to open the eyes of a lover to the unworthi- ness of his mistress is ever an ungrateful task; and it was only with great difficulty that she was finally persuaded to act. Some days later, Madame de Villars having met the King as though by accident, begged him to grant her a private interview, ‘“‘as she had things to tell him which concerned him very closely.” Nota little puzzled, Henri IV. gave her a rendezvous in a church, and taking her into one of the side-chapels, desired his atten- dants to leave them. So soon as they were alone, Madame de Villars placed Henriette’s letters in his Majesty’s hands, and, in order to excuse her denunciation, urged “ the obliga- tions under which his kindness had placed her,” which was the reason why she was unable “ to conceal from him the outrages of which he was the object.” “T thank you, Madame, for so much devotion,” said the monarch, in a tone which betrayed his annoy- ance. And he left her abruptly and returned to the Louvre to study the letters at his leisure. When he had mastered their contents, he was naturally I00Henriette Threatened with Disgrace furious, for, even supposing that the letters—the majority of which probably bore no date—had all been written priory to the beginning of his connection with Henriette, had not the latter repeatedly assured him, during his wooing at Malesherbes, that no man but himself had ever gained her heart, and the tone of some of these letters went far to warrant the assumption that she had given the fascinating M. de Joinville not only her heart, but a good deal more. His first impulse was to go to Madame de Verneuil, reproach her with her perfidy, and inform her that he was determined never to see her again. But, on reflecting that such a course would be sure to provoke a most violent scene, and that he was no match for the lady when it came to a verbal encounter, he charged one of his confidants, the Comte de Lude, to notify the marchioness of her disgrace and the cause of it. At the same time, he sent for Sully, whom he invariably consulted in his domestic difficulties, as well as in more important matters, though, as we know, he was not always inclined to follow the advice of this sage counsellor. Sully found the King in a towering passion, and he even talked of poniarding Joinville and taking away from the marchioness all that he had given her. But, though the Minister detested Henriette and would have rejoiced at her disgrace, he knew the deplorable weakness of his master in regard to this woman and felt certain that, with her diabolical ingenuity, she would succeed in clearing herself, in which event he would, were he now to incite the King against her, make of her an implacable and dangerous enemy. Not a little to his Majesty’s surprise, therefore, he counselled more moderation. “Do not condemn her, Sire, without hearing her,’ said he. “You are right, my friend,” replied the King, who secretly desired to give the marchioness an opportunity to explain matters. Meantime, the Comte de Lude, who, it may be Iorrrr ~ — > 7 oo sis. Avelyn se ee ne ma 7 ee Fama oe weer eee re ae est ce ee a — J a Last Loves of Henri of Navarre supposed, did not at all relish the mission which had been entrusted to him, had waited upon Madame de Verneuil. It seems not improbable that the latter had received some hint of the danger which threatened her, since she listened to the announcement of her disgrace with the most perfect composure. “ As I am confident,” said she, ‘‘ of never having done anything which might offend the King, I cannot imagine why he treats me so ill. I hope that the truth will avenge me of those who have given him such grievous impressions.” And when Lude went on to speak of the letters which had fallen into the King’s hands, she at once, with imperturbable effrontery, denied all knowledge of such epistles and declared that they must be impudent forgeries. Then she coldly dismissed the bewildered count, and retired into her cabinet, without doubt much more disturbed than she had allowed her visitor to perceive. The position in which the lady found herself was certainly a very disquieting one, but, happily for her, if she had no one to whom she could look for assistance, Joinville had friends and relatives eager to protect him from the consequences of his folly, and it was they who saved the situation for both. The Grand Equerry, Bellegarde, one of the oldest and most intimate of the King’s friends, had learned of the affair. Bellegarde happened at that time to be in love with Mlle. de Guise, and, more for her sake than for that of her brother Joinville, informed her of it and offered his aid. The princess, much alarmed, lost no time in communicating with her relatives, and a family council was held at the Hotel de Guise, when a plot was concerted which it was hoped would serve to counteract very effectually the machinations of Madame de Vullars. The Duc de Guise had a secretary who was noted for the remarkable skill with which he imitated every kind of writing, and who would have made an ideal forger. It was decided that Joinville should maintain 102Triumph of the Favourite that this man, being madly enamoured of Madame de Villars and having in his possession specimens of Henriette’s handwriting had, in order to please the duchess, concocted the whole of the compromising correspondence, of which, stricken by remorse, he had now confessed himself to be the author. The con- currence of the secretary was secured by handsome gifts and the promise of still more generous proofs of his employer’s gratitude, and by an assurance that the influence of the Guises and Madame de Verneuil should be used to save him from any severe punishment for his supposed crime. It was a bold stroke, to say the least of it, but it succeeded ; for, in point of fact, the King was only too willing to allow himself to be persuaded of his mistress’s innocence, and would, perhaps, have accepted an even more improbable story. Henriette demanded permission to justify herself. He hesitated at first, knowing her to be an expert in trickery and deceit, but finally con- sented to hear her explanations. From that moment her victory was assured; indeed, so skilfully did she plead her cause, so artfully did she contrive to combine truth and falsehood, that a less infatuated lover than the Béarnais might have been pardoned for believing her or at any rate giving her the benefit of the doubt. And so the interview, which at the outset had been decidedly constrained, ended with caresses and a promise ‘to say no more about the matter.” The King, however, felt tar from kindly disposed towards M. de Joinville, and that gallant, ‘“‘ having added political offences of a graver nature to his amorous pranks,’* was invited to betake himself to Hungary to fight as a volunteer in the eee forces against the 1 “On Sunday, December 1, 1602,’ writes L’Estoile, “‘ the King, who was in Paris, delivered the Prince de Joinville into the keeping of M. de Guise, his ‘brother, but for whose entreaties and solicitation his Majesty w ould have sent him to the Bastille, since he considered him privy to the machinations and conspiracies of the Maréchal de Biron, and told the Prince de Joinville to thank his brother, whom he loved. Two days afterwards the Chancellor examined him, and it was said that his full and frank confession had saved him from prison.’ 103Last Loves of Henri of Navarre Turks. The secretary who was so skilful in counter- feiting other people’s handwriting was sent to prison, though for a much shorter period than he would have deserved if he had really been guilty. As for Madame de Villars, she received an order to retire to her husband’s country-seat and not to present herself again at Court, having gained nothing by her little plot except a dan- gerous and powerful enemy. Triumphantly re-established in the favour of the King, Madame de Verneuil became more haughty and arrogant than ever." Sosoon as she learned that Marie de’ Medici was making arrangements to give a splendid ballet at the Court, called the Ballet des Virtus, she exacted from Henri IV. a promise that she should appear in it. The Queen was furious at the idea that the marchioness, who now almost openly mocked at and derided her, should take part in an entertainment which she had intended to reserve for her own friends, but, vanquished in the person of Madame de Villars, whose machinations she was shrewdly suspected of having encouraged, she was obliged to yield. The ballet began with a récitatif, the words of which had been written by the bishop-poet Bertaut, and contained a transparent allusion to the undisputed favour of Madame de Verneuil : ‘““ Flambeaux étincelans, clairs astres d’ici bas, De qui les doux regards mettent les coeurs en cendre, Beaux jeux qui contraigniez les plus fiers de se rendre, Ravissant aux vainqueurs le prix de leurs combats.” Then four groups of eight ladies, the Queen at the head of the last, performed the dances arranged by the master of the Court fétes.? The Papal Nuncio, the Archbishop of Camerino, was amongst the spectators. Pointing out to him all these beauties in short skirts, whose raiment of 1 L’Estoile reports that Henriette gave, on Innocents’ Day, 1602, a great banquet to the ladies of the Court, ‘“‘in proof of her innocence.’* 2 La Ferriére. 104Bon Mot of the Nuncio transparent gauze left very little to the imagination, the Vert-Galant inquired : “What think you of that squadron ?”’ “ Bellissimo,’ replied the Nuncio, “but very dan- gerous ; one ought to look at it as one looks at the sun, in blinking one’s eyes.”vein mesesiamenian dee cae ee eS a eT we ere ae aaa Sisentichekcssbbdteelachisadeat Be net mre LL re Ghd ht be tre ein reeen nd pape en geet tw Linnie ie eles psc cde rr gin [ cteerra, ener x ee Se = CHAPTER VII Conspiracy of the Maréchal de Biron—The marshal’s principal agent La Fin betrays all the plans of the conspirators to Henri IV.— Measures taken by the King to meet the danger—He summons Biron to Court, and, after considerable delay, the latter obeys—His arrival at Fontainebleau, where he is assured by the treacherous La Fin that “they know nothing ’’—His conversation with Henri IV. in the gardens of the chateau—The King is willing to forgive everything in return for a full confession—But the marshal protests that he has been foully calumniated—Biron’s arrest and that of his ac- complice the Comte d’Auvergne, Madame de Verneuil’s half-brother, decided upon—Henri IV. once more appeals to the marshal to confess, but without effect—Biron and the Comte d’Auvergne are arrested and conveyed to the Bastille—The marshal is brought to trial on a charge of high treason—Alarming revelations as to the extent of the conspiracy—Question of whether Madame de Verneuil was involved in it considered—Biron is found guilty and condemned to death—Refusal of the King to commute the capital penalty— Last hours and death of Biron—Despicable conduct of the Comte d’Auvergne—He is set at liberty—Leniency with which he is treated disapproved by the public, which attributes it to his relationship to Madame de Verneuil. OR the moment, Madame de Verneuil was trium- phant, but in the summer of 1602 an event occurred which revived the Queen’s hopes of the downfall of her rival. Ever since the visit of the Duke of Savoy to the French Court, the Maréchal de Biron, whom that astute prince had contrived to seduce from his allegiance, had been in treasonable communication with the enemies of France, and, with the assistance of Henriette’s con- temptible half-brother, the Comte d’Auvergne, and that unquiet spirit the Duc de Bouillon, endeavouring to stir up disaffection within the realm. Nothing definite appears to have been settled before the war between France and Savoy, for the support of Spain was indispensable to the confederates, and the 106Conspiracy of the Maréchal de Biron Court of Madrid distrusted its ability to cope with so redoubtable an adversary as Henri IV. had already proved himself. Accordingly, it declared that during the King’s life nothing could be done. At the same time, it suggested that this obstacle might be removed, and various plans for the assassination of Henri were discussed, as well as the terms upon which the Duke of Savoy would be prepared to bestow his daughter’s hand on Biron. During the campaign against Savoy, the marshal continued his intrigues, seeking by the aid of various emissaries to provoke a mutiny in the army or an insurrection in France. But the King, who had his suspicions of what was going on, if he had no proofs, took the precaution of placing under Biron’s orders officers upon whose devotion he could rely, and the traitor was effectually checkmated. On the termination of the war, Biron, being of opinion that it would be useless to attempt anything further at the moment, and aware that the King already sus- pected him, thought it advisable to confess to him that he had had some dealings with Savoy, and in a moment of pique had asked for the hand of Charles Emmanuel’s daughter. And for whatever he had done amiss he very humbly entreated his Majesty’s pardon, which was readily granted, the King, at the same time, advising him to get rid of his confidant La Fin, his evil genius and the principal agent of his intrigues. This he promised to do, but he did not keep his word, and scarcely had peace been signed than he was again listening to the offers of the Duke of Savoy and the Spaniards. The baits held out to him proved irresistible, and he became the centre of all who plotted against King or country in France. He flattered the Ultra- montane party by affecting to be a zealous Catholic and deploring Henri IV.’s sinful tolerance of heresy, while, at the same time, he and Bouillon endeavoured to persuade the Huguenots that their extermination had been promised to the Pope. In the towns his 107Last Loves of Henri of Navarre emissaries disseminated a report that the recently imposed and highly unpopular pancarte, or tax on sales, was but the beginning of a new system of fiscal oppression ; and the inhabitants of those provinces which were exempt from or had compounded for the gabelle were informed that Sully intended to impose a uniform salt- tax on the whole kingdom. But the conspiracy was divulged; the very man who had had in his hands all its threads betrayed the marshal. At the instances of the Spaniards, who had become suspicious of him, Biron had replaced La Fin by another agent, the Baron de Lux. At the beginning of April, 1602, La Fin, who would appear to have been only waiting for a favourable opportunity to betray his employer and conjectured from this that he had probably got as much out of the marshal and his accomplices as he was likely to get, wrote to the King warning him that there was a conspiracy on foot. Henri IV., anxious for further information, thereupon summoned him to Fon- tainebleau. The cunning rascal consulted Biron as to what he ought to do, and the latter, who had no suspicion that La Fin was meditating treachery, told him that he must obey the royal command, but warned him to destroy all his papers and to take care to reveal nothing which might serve to compromise them. That Henri IV should have sent for La Fin did not altogether surprise him, since he was aware that the King had long dis- trusted that personage. Arrived at Fontainebleau, La Fin, on the promise of a free pardon and a handsome reward, did not hesitate to divulge all that he knew. Henri IV. was at first unwilling to believe him; but he had proofs which it was impossible to question, and placed in his Majesty’s hands letters of Biron which he had been charged to dispatch to Turin, Madrid and elsewhere, but which he had kept, substituting for them spurious copies. These revealed that Biron had signed with the Comte + P. F. Willert, “‘ Henry of Navarre and the Huguenots in France.”’ 108Biron Summoned to Court d’Auvergne and the Duc de Bouillon a “ pact of mutual defence ;”’ that revolts were to be engineered in Poitou and Touraine; that the co-operation of the Huguenot chiefs was to be invited ; that on the death of Henri IV. —which, it was hoped, would very shortly happen !— the Dauphin was to be passed over, and the crown placed on the head of Henriette’s son, who was to be legitimated. The King was thunderstruck ; but the treason was flagrant and the danger great, and it was necessary to act without delay. He accordingly wrote to Biron that what he had heard from La Fin had entirely satisfied him and begging him to come to Court, while he himself, on the advice of Sully, hurried into the western provinces, where he feared the discontent of the towns and the peasantry and the influence of Bouillon amongst the Huguenots. He reassured the Protestants, who, as a matter of fact, had remained perfectly quiet, despite the duke’s efforts to induce them to rise, contradicted the malicious reports about new imposts and the ex- tension of the salt-tax, and received protestations of loyalty, which he deemed it politic to believe, from the Connétable de Montmorency and the Duc d’Epernon, both of whom were compromised by the correspondence which La Fin had placed in his hands. Since Biron had not thought fit to obey the royal command, on May 31 he wrote to him again, from Plessis-lez-Tours, bidding him meet him at Orléans, where he intended to keep the festival of Corpus Christi. The marshal, however, still hesitated to put himself in his sovereign’s power, his friends telling that ‘‘ he would be mad if he were to carry his head to the King.” However, La Fin had written him declaring that he had revealed nothing ; and, relying on the assurance of this traitor and alarmed by the King’s threat that, if he declined to obey his summons, he would come in person to Burgundy to fetch him, he set out for Fontaine- bleau, to which Henri IV. had now returned. He had decided to appeal to the King’s old friendship and to 10g; : t t soci ena omen ade denied eseeciecteeeasiih deni cs icon ean ee ee Last Loves of Henri of Navarre oppose a brazen denial to any charges brought against him, which he felt confident would be little more than vague surmises resting on no certain evidence. No one was less vindictive and more humane than Henri IV., and he assured Sully that if Biron were only prepared to confess everything and sue for pardon, all should be forgiven and forgotten. This clemency seems at first sight the height of imprudence, but he probably justified it by the reflection that after such abasement the marshal would no longer be dangerous.1 Biron reached Fontainebleau in the evening of June 13. Cavalry patrols had followed him all the way, with orders to arrest him if he showed any intention of changing his route. On his arrival, he was met by La Fin, who whispered: “‘ Courage, my master, they know nothing /”’ This lying assurance confirmed the marshal in his deter- mination to deny everything. When the Court was in residence at Fontainebleau, the King was in the habit of walking in the gardens every morning, and next day, knowing that he would be pretty sure to find him alone, Biron presented himself before him. The first impulse of Henri IV., who was taken by surprise, was to embrace his old companion- in-arms, to whom he said in a kindly tone : “It is well for you, marshal, that you have come. You are going to confess everything to me, are you not pr Unhappily for Biron, instead of taking advantage of the good-will of the monarch, which would have been his salvation, he haughtily replied : “ I have nothing to say, Sire. I have only come to demand justice on my enemies.”’ The King changed countenance. “ Is that your last word, marshal ?”’ he rejoined. «NGS Sat ehey “Well, come this evening to the Queen’s card-table, and I will speak to you again. Meantime, think matters over,” he added significantly, and dismissed him. 1 P. F. Willert, “‘ Henry of Navarre and the Huguenots in France I1IOj : 1 { } { i j iu 1 The Marechal Du hyTen ) : | t Ri i ee ee ee ee ee oo ba et ig tg ed bite Me DK Larpenetn cee fat Seen ene Sr OCT matedThe Marshal at Fontainebleau In the course of the aan he sent Sully, to ffte eeeeale and also the Comte de Soissons, to advise him to conceal nothing and to hope everything from his master’s affection, for ‘‘ he would have desired,” writes the former, “to save the culprit absolutely.”’ But Biron was obdurate, protesting that he had been foully calum- niated, and that he had done nothing beyond what he had already admitted to the King after the campaign against Savoy. The King thereupon summoned a meeting of the Council and laid the matter before it. The Council, with one voice, declared that Biron and his accomplice the Comte d’Auvergne, who was also at Fontainebleau, ought to be arrested forthwith ; but “it was only with ereat difficulty that Henri IV. was able to decide to act with rigour.” * “So be it,’ said he at length. ‘ I share your opinion. | I have invited the marshal to the Queen’s card-table ; i if he persists this evening in refusing to make any con- fession, I will give you your orders.”’ That evening, as Biron entered the court of the chateau, a note was slipped into his hand. It was as follows : “Leave on the instant; im two hours you will be arrested.” Without paying any attention to this warning, which bore no signature and the handwriting of whic h he did not recognize, the marshal entered the Queen’s apartments with his usual proud and haughty mien, and, having saluted their Majesties, took a seat at the card- table and began to play at primero. He had not been playing long, however, before the Comte d’Auvergne, looking very much disturbed, came up and, bending down, whispered : “Tt is dangerous for us two here! ” But the advice came too late. The King was the first to rise from the card-table, and, beckoning to Biron, drew him aside and said : Ht 1 Sully, ‘‘ Giconomies royales,”’ | ERE:Last Loves of Henri of Navarre “Biron, you know that I have loved you. Confess all, and I will pardon you.”’ ‘Sire,’ answered the marshal, “‘ permit me to repeat what I have already told you, that I have come only to demand justice on my enemies,” Without condescending to make any rejoinder, Henri IV. turned away, and, proceeding to his cabinet, sent for Vitry, the Captain of the Guard, and Praslin, and ordered them to arrest Biron and Auvergne as they were leaving the Queen’s apartments. Then he returned and, addressing Biron a last time, said : “ You know what I have told you, marshal.” Biron remained silent. “Ah, well! the Comte d’Auvergne will tell me more about it. Farewell, Baron de Biron! ”’ It was the marshal’s sentence of death, and, as he passed into the ante-chamber, Vitry stepped up to him. ‘“In the King’s name,” said he, laying his hand on Biron’s arm, “you are my prisoner!’’ And he demanded his sword. Biron, who appeared utterly astounded, broke out into laments and protestations. Was this, he asked, the reward of his many campaigns, his numerous wounds, his father’s merits ? He must and would speak to the King. At length, he drew his sword and surrendered it to Vitry, exclaiming : “There it is, that sword which has rendered the King SO many services !’’? The marshal was conducted to the Bastille, as was the Comte d’ Auvergne, who had left the Queen’s apartments while the King was giving orders for his arrest, and was in the act of mounting his horse in the Cour Ovale with the intention of making his escape, when Praslin apprehended him. At the end of July, Biron was arraigned before the Parlement on a charge of high treason, the peers of the realm being summoned to take their places amongst the judges, as was customary when one of their number 1 Sully, ‘‘ economies royales.”’ II2Trial of Biron was on his pal None of them, however, appeared, which was scarcely surprising, seeing that quite a number of them were more or less compromised by the marshal’s intrigues. They were unwilling to condemn yet dared not acquit. The trial, which lasted six days—from the 23rd to the 2oth of July —produced strange and alarming revela- tions. All kinds of prominent personages appeared to have been coquetting with the conspiracy, and even to have given a sort of provisional adhesion to it, amongst them being, in addition to Montmorency and d’Epernon, already mentioned, the Duc de Montpensier, a Prince of the Blood, and the Ducs de la Trémouille and de Ventadour. After the King and his family—“ the lon and his whelps,’”’ as they were styled in the correspond- ence of Biron—had been cleared out of the way, the Crown of France, in the event of Henriette’s son not attaining manhood, was to be declared elective, and the great vassals, like the Princes of the Empire, to be practically sovereigns in their own territories. Biron was to receive a sum of 1,800,000 crowns for the purpose of carrying on the war, and, on its successful conclusion, the hand of a princess of Spain or Savoy in marriage, a dowry of 300,000 crowns and the independent sovereignty of Franche- Comté, Burgundy and the Bresse, which were to be ceded to him on condition of his doing homage for them to the Catholic King. Finally, Provence, Dauphiné and the Lyonnais were to pass to Savoy. An independence similar to that of the free Imperial cities would, it was hoped, induce the larger towns to acquiesce in the disruption of the kingdom. Was Madame de Verneuil, like her half-brother the Comte d’Auvergne, an accomplice of Biron? Was she involved in this most dangerous conspiracy ? The point has been much disputed. It is certain that no evidence was forthcoming at the trial which directly proved her complicity, but having regard to the part she play ed in the conspiracy of 1604, of which we shall speak in due course, of that played by her half-brother 113 8Last Loves of Henri of Navarre on the present occasion, of her previous relations with Biron and the Duke of Savoy, and, above all, the fact that the success of the plot would have meant the realization of her ambitious dreams, no reasonable doubt, we think, can exist that she at any rate knew and ap- proved of it, even though she may not have given it any active support. Biron defended himself with much ability, but the evidence of his guilt was overwhelming, and the charges of having conspired against the State, of intended regicide and of having negotiated with foreign Powers to bring about the invasion of France were proved up to the hilt. Without a dissentient voice, his judges condemned him to have his head cut off in the Place de Gréve, while his property was to be confiscated and he was to be degraded from all his honours and dignities. After the sentence several of the judges are said to have shed tears, as they thought of “the miserable fate of this valiant swordsman,” and great efforts were made by the marshal’s relatives and friends to persuade the King to commute it. But Henri IV. was inflexible on the question of the death penalty, though he consented to spare the condemned man the ignominy of a public execution in the Place de Gréve, and gave orders that the sentence should be carried out in the courtyard of the Bastille. His severity on this occasion, which is in striking contrast with the generous anxiety he had shown to spare Biron at Fontainebleau, is, however, not difficult to understand. At that time he was not aware of the full extent of the conspiracy, nor of how far the great nobles were prepared to go in order to further their selfish ambitions, and he now recognized that it was absolutely necessary to make an example. L’Estoile, in his ‘‘ Journal,” gives a lengthy account of the last hours and death of Biron, which, however, 1s SO curious and interesting that we need make no apology for reproducing it here : ~ At eleven o’clock in the morning, on July 31, 1602, 114Execution of Biron the Chancellor and the First President, accompanied by the Civil and Criminal Lieutenants of the Chatelet, the Provost of the Merchants and four sheriffs of the town, the Provost Rapin and some members of his company, the registrars of the court, six ushers and some sergeants, entered the Bastille, where the curé of Saint-Nicolas- des-Champs and Garnier, his confessor, preacher to the King, were already for the purpose of exhorting the Sieur de Biron to think of his conscience and to make him prepare for death. But he refused to listen to them at all, being unable to persuade himself that they were in good earnest. The company entered the room and found him engaged in consulting three or four almanacs, contemplating the moon, the day, the signs and other things relating to the judgment. The Chancellor, having saluted him, demanded the King’s Order, which he delivered to him, drawing it from his breeches’ pocket, after having at first refused it ; then they ripped the Cross of the Holy Ghost? from his cloak, and the other cere- monies connected with the degradation of a marshal of France were performed. The said Chancellor said then to Biron that they had come to announce to him his sentence of death, and to have it executed, and the registrar of the criminal courts added: ‘ Monsieur, place yourself in position, that is to Say, on your knees.’ And he read the sentence to him. But when he came to these words: ‘Condemned to have his head cut off in the Place de Gréve,’ Biron exclaimed: ‘That is a fine recompense for my services, to die ignominiously before everybody!’ The Chancellor then began to speak and said: ‘Monsieur, the King has granted the favour which has been demanded of him by your relatives, and the execution of your sentence will be carried out in this place of the Bastille.’ ‘Is that the favour which he does me ?’ said the condemned man again. ‘Ha! ingrate, thankless, pitiless. And with that uttered _1 The Order of the Holy Ghost, founded by Henry III., was the highest Order of Knighthood in France, corresponding to that of the Garter in England. II5 8*Last Loves of Henri of Navarre things unworthy of a lofty soul and of a generous man, speaking in this fashion: “And why does he not employ clemency towards me, since he has done so towards many others, who have offended him more?’ He named then M. d’Epernon and M. de Mayenne, adding that the Queen of England would have pardoned the Earl of Essex if he had demanded it of her. ‘And why not me?’ he continued, ‘who demand it of him so humbly, without taking into consideration the services of my late father and my relatives, and my wounds which demand it sufficiently of themselves.’ There were other disputes, and Biron ended by laying the blame on the Chancellor, calling him ‘an unjust man, who regarded neither religion nor law, a plaster image with a great nose, who had iniquitously condemned him to death ; whom, for the wrong that he had done him, he summoned to appear before God in a year and a day.’ And he strode about the room, his countenance distorted and frightful to behold, repeating: ‘Ha minimé/ mi- nmmé!/’ Then he spoke of the King and of himself, saying : ‘ Ah well, I shall die and shall receive no mercy ; but he does not know all my secret, and will never know it from me.’ Those present exhorted him to pray to God and to think of his conscience, but he answered that that was done, and spoke of his property ; of what was owing to him and of what he owed, adding that the King could dispose of the rest. He said further that he was leaving a girl pregnant by him, to whose child he left a house which he had recently bought at Dijon and six thousand écus.’ He further demanded if there were anyone there in the service of M. de Rosny (Sully), and one of the latter’s secretaries having stepped for- ward, he said to him : “ «Tell M. de Rosny that I have always been his good friend and servant, and that I die such. Those who have made him understand the contrary and that it was 1 Henri IV. had remitted the confiscation of Biron’s property pro- nounced by the Parlement, so that the marshal was able to provide for this child. 116Execution of’ Biron my intention to kill him have deceived him. I recom- mend to him my two brothers, so that the little one may be given to the Dauphin to serve him, and I wish that my other relatives should be also recommended to him. I desire him to advise them not to come to the Court for some time.’ He drew from his finger a ring and gave it to this secretary to carry to the Comtesse de Roussy, his sister, and gave another to the Captain of the Bastille, who was present. “Then the executioner entered the room and said that the hour was past and that he must come. Biron answered that he ought to have had warning of it. ‘ Let us go! let us go! said he. On the stairs he met the Civil Lieutenant, to whom he said: ‘ Monsieur le Lieu- tenant, you have very wicked guests, and if you do not take care of yourself, they w ill ruin you ’—intending to speak of the Seigneur de la Fin and of the V idame de Chartres, his nephew. When he was near the scaffold, those who were there—about seventy persons—having made some noise, he said : “ What are so many rascals and beggars doing there ?’ Then he mounted the scaffold, followed by “the doctors (in theology) Magnan’ and Garnier, a valet of the King’ s wardrobe, w ho had been given him to attend him in prison, and the executioner. But this man, having wished to lay his hand on him, he told him to go back and to refrain from touching him otherwise than with the sword, demanding of him only what he had to do. Then he took off his doublet and gave it to the valet. The executioner offered him a white handkerchief that he might blindfold himself ; but he wished to use his own, which, being found to be too short, he asked for that of the executioner. He knelt down, but rose again abruptly with a cry of dis- tress, demanding : ‘Is there no mercy for me?’ And again he told the executioner to draw back, and not to irritate him and drive him to desperation, if he did not wish him to strangle him and more than half of those 1 Magnan, or Megna, as he is called elsewhere, was the curé of Saint- Nicolas-des-Champs, “already mentioned. 117sanean eaedinniendeteed pani ddeteeniieemhdenaed laneeadneaeemes eerie ae ne ee Ce ee ae Last Loves of Henri of Navarre who were present ; several of whom would have wished to be away from there, hearing this man, who had not been bound, talk in this fashion. Finally, he knelt down and bandaged his eyes again, and immediately rose again, saying that he wished for the last time to see the sky, since there was no pardon for him, and he must never look upon it again. For the third time he knelt down, but while he was raising his hand to remove his bandage again, and was telling the executioner not to cut off his head, as he had not said his In manus, the executioner delivered his blow. Biron had ‘two fingers injured,’ but the head fell to the ground,! from which it was picked up and placed in a white shroud with the body, which in the evening was buried at Saint- Paul,” Biron had died without making any full and public confession, and Henri IV. was probably glad that such was the case. He had learned all that it concerned him to know from La Fin,? and from the craven terror of the Comte d’Auvergne, who, a king’s son though he was, not only divulged everything he knew, but even offered to play the part of a spy and to continue to communi- cate with his confederates abroad in order to disclose their plans to the Government. The King had no desire for a war with Spain and Savoy at this juncture,’ nor to 1 According to a manuscript account of the execution preserved in the Bibliothéque Nationale, “‘the executioner struck so terrible a blow that the head flew so far as the middle of the courtyard.”’ 2 La Fin duly received the reward promised him for the betrayal of his employer, but he did not live many years to enjoy it. ‘ On April 20, 1607,’’ reports L’Estoile, “‘ the Seigneur de la Fin was attacked in broad daylight, at the end of the Pont-Neuf, by twelve or fifteen unknown men, well mounted and armed. He was borne to the ground, covered with smoke and blood, and the assassins, after firing ten or twelve pistol shots, without difficulty or any hindrance whatever, left the town, which they traversed in a body, at full gallop, sword in one hand, reins and pistol in the other, without being followed or pursued for twenty-four hours.” 8 The Ambassadors of Philip IV. and Charles Emmanuel waited upon the King to express their masters’ satisfaction that he had crushed so dangerous a conspiracy, and Henri IV. gravely thanked them for these hypocritical assurances. 118Release of the Comte d’Auvergne disturb the tranquillity which France was enjoying after so many years of turmoil by punishing the great ‘nobles who had been compromised in Biron’s intrigues. And this was undoubtedly the reason why at the marshal’s trial only a portion of the evidence which was in the hands of the Government was produced. Had every- thing been made public, war could hardly have been avoided. On October 2 Henriette’s contemptible brother was liberated from the Bastille, “‘ the King having accorded him honour and life; after a w arning of f the miserable state into which he had precipitated himself, the grave error which he had perpetrated, and an exhortation to take care of himself for the future.”’* The leniency with which he was treated and which, as we shall presently see, he was so grossly to abuse, w as V ery far from meeting with the approval of the public, whose dissatisfaction was expressed in the following verses : “O grand Dieu, quelle iniquité Deux prisonniers ont mérité La peine du méme supplice : L’un qui a toujours combattu Meurt redouté [pour] sa vertu. L’autre vit par l’amour du vice.’’2 1 L’Estoile. 2 Ibid.CHAPTER ViTt Marie de’ Medici flatly declines to believe that Madame de Verneuil is innocent of any connection with the conspiracy of Biron—The relations between the two ladies more acrimonious than ever— Unhappy position of Henri [V.—The Queen gives birth to a daughter, and Henriette follows her example, two months later—Fury of Marie de’ Medici—tTerrible scene with the King—Henri IV. legitimates his son by Henriette, who is created Duc de Verneuil—Journey of the King to Metz and Nancy—On his return to Fontainebleau, he is taken seriously ill, but recovers—Alarm of the Queen and the favourite, each of whom fears the enmity of the other in the event of Henri IV.’s death—Secret interview between them, in which Madame de Verneuil undertakes to break off her relations with the King—The marchioness begs to be excused the honour of receiving his Majesty—** Do not insist ; it is useless ”’—The King suspects that a love-affair with the Comte de Soissons is the real cause of the lady’s tardy scruples— Incident which serves to confirm his suspicions—He orders Henriette to retire to Verneuil—But, finding that he cannot do without her, resolves to make his peace—And presents her with a house at Fontaine- bleau—Wrath of the Queen, who declares publicly that she shall refuse to receive Madame de Verneuil—Henri IV. is warned by Concini that the favourite’s life is in danger—Henriette, pretending to be greatly alarmed, demands of the King a place of surety to which she can retire And, on his refusal to accede to her wishes, withdraws to Verneuil in a passion—Henri [V. begs Sully to go to Normandy to endeavour to accommodate the quarrel—Arrival of M. de Sigogne, an ambassador from Henriette—The King, warned that the marchioness is engaged in intrigues with Spain, goes himself to Verneuil to demand an ex- planation—A useless journey—Interview of Sully with the favourite— Duplicity of Henriette checkmated by the Minister’s precautions— Futile efforts of the King to induce the Queen to receive Madame de Verneuil at Fontainebleau—He spends four days in Paris with his mistress—Short truce, followed by renewal of hostilities—Henriette, in order to punish Henri IV. for having sacrificed her interests to the enmity of the Queen, refuses to receive him any longer in private, under religious pretexts. \ { ARIE DE’ MEDICI had naturally followed with intense interest the progress of the affair in which Madame de Verneuil’s half-brother was so deeply im- plicated and which, she fondly hoped, would prove the ruin of the marchioness herself. Great was the Queen’s I20Unhappy Situation of the King wrath on learning of aie scheme for placing Hee rival’s son on the throne instead of the Dauphin, in the event of the King’s death, and her disappointment was pro- aie | bitter when she was informed that no evidence s forthcoming to connect Madame de Verneuil in any way with the conspiracy, and that the Comte d’ Auvergne would appear to have acted entirely without his sister’s knowledge. Her Majesty flatly declined to be persuaded of the innocence of the marchioness, and, as she did not hesitate to allow her opinion to be known, the rela- tions between the two ladies became more acrimonious than ever. The King, fired at from both sides, placed between her whom he loved still and who was emerging haughty and triumphant from the peril which had threat- ened her, and her who, at least for appearances’ sake, he was obliged to treat with respect, could no longer find peace. He was being well punished for his amorous delinquencies, “and the affairs of women ended by occupying more of his time than those of the realm,’ * Matters were not mended by two interesting domestic events which occurred during the ensuing winter. On November 22, 1602, Marie de’ Medici gave birth to a daughter,? and two months later, January 21, 1603, Madame de Verneuil also presented his Majesty with a second pledge of her affection, a girl who was named Gabrielle.* The Queen, already deeply incensed by the news that the King was about to legitimate his son by Henriette, was beside herself with anger. Ina terrible scene, she overwhelmed her husband with the most violent reproaches, and if Sully had not seized her wrist, 1M. Charles Merki, ‘‘La Marquise de Verneuil et la mort d’Henri IV.” 2 Elisabeth de France, who was married in 1615 to Philip IV. of Spain, 8 “The wife and the mistress being continually at war,’’ observes Lescure, ‘“ the King had no other resource than to make each of them a mother alternately. He could never breathe freely except between two pregnancies, and it was only the satiety of love which brought him back to politics.’’—"' Les Amours d’Henri IV.”’ ATLast Loves of Henri of Navarre she would have struck him.t_ Nor did the legitimation of her son’ serve to placate Madame de Verneuil more than momentarily ; on the contrary, it seemed to have made her more haughty and more dissatisfied than ever, and she complained incessantly to Henri IV. of the enmity of the Queen, which prevented her from assuming the position at Court which she considered was rightfully hers. All the King’s rendezvous with his mistress passed in reproaches. “ They no longer make love except by grumbling,” wrote Sully. In order to escape for a while from these domestic storms, which were rendering his life intolerable, Henri IV., learning that trouble had broken out at Metz, where the citizens had risen against Soboles, lieutenant of their governor, the Duc d’Epernon, and were besieging him in the citadel, in which he had taken refuge, decided to proceed thither in person to restore order. Since the Queen, when at a distance from her detested rival, was, as a rule, comparatively amiable, he invited her to accompany him, an offer which Marie gladly accepted, believing that her departure with the King could not fail to mortify Madame de Verneuul. From Metz the King went to Nancy to see his sister the Duchess of Bar, and then returned to Fontaine- bleau. During the journey, “ thanks to the tranquillity which he had at last recovered,’ his health had been 1 If we are to believe an unpublished account of the relations between Henri IV. and Marie de’ Medici in the Bibliothéque Nationale, this was not the only occasion on which her Majesty forgot herself in this fashion. It was impossible,’’ says the writer, “ to persuade her to live peaceably and dutifully with the King. . . . One evening, after a quarrel, she sprang out of bed and scratched his face,”—MSS. Fontanieu 446-447, cited by M. Merki. 2 The letters of legitimation, which gave the little Duc de Verneuil, by which title the boy was now to be known, the right to possess property, to inherit estates and to fill any office or dignity in the gift ofthe Crown, were registered by the Parlement on February 18, 1603, and by the Chambre des Comptes on the 25th. It is probable that Henri IV. would have taken this step before had it not been for the doubts regarding the child’s paternity which had been aroused by the affair of the Joinville letters. I22Iliness of Henri IV. excellent, but having stayed very late one evening in the gardens of Fontainebleau, he caught a severe chill, which was followed by an acute attack of renal colic, a complaint to which he appears to have been very subject in his later years. His condition appeared so serious that Sully, Villeroy and the Chancellor were sent for in all haste, and Henri became much alarmed. Pray God that I recover from this,’ said he to the Queen, who was unremitting in her attentions, “and | will act in such a way that in the future you will be obeyed and respected.”’ Henri IV.’s splendid constitution, however, triumphed, and on the third day he began to mend. But the danger so quickly escaped might return, and, in view of this, the Queen believed herself obliged to employ more discre- tion in her attitude towards Madame de Verneuil. She was aware that, in the event of the King dying before the authority of the Crown was firmly re- established —and how very far from re-established it was recent events had shown only too plainly—her position as Regent for her little son would be full of difficulties and dangers. It would therefore be most imprudent to aggravate these by a mortal quarrel with an ambitious and unscrupulous woman like Henriette d’Entragues, whose pretensions, if supported by some of the ereat nobles for their own selfish ends, would constitute a formidable menace to her authority. And so, for the moment, policy put jealousy to silence, and she resolved to tolerate the marchioness’s return to Court, about which, before the journey to Metz, she had refused to hear a word, and even to treat her in public with apparent kindness. It is probable that Marie would not have found it so easy to arrive at such a decision, had not Henriette, perhaps equally disquieted at the possibility of the King’s early demise, which would leave her exposed to the resentment of the OQueen—as the death of Henri II. had left Diane de Poitiers to that of Catherine de’ Medici, and without the powerful connections which had saved 123a ee ee Sena Last Loves of Henri of Navarre Diane from too glaring a disgrace—judged it advisable to attempt a reconciliation. ‘Madame,’ said the marchioness at the secret interview which the Queen had, at her earnest solicita- tion, accorded her, ‘‘ you have so often given me a bad reception that I dared not come to pay my respects to you. It is a long time, I am able to assure you, since the King has visited me, and, by the grace of God, I shall guard myself so well in the future that your Majesty will have every reason to restore me your favour. “ If such is the case,” replied the Queen, ‘“‘I shall treat you as my own sister.”’ Now, it was perfectly true, as Marie was no doubt aware, that the King had not visited the favourite since his illness, for the very good and sufficient reason that his physicians had, not only forbidden him to hunt or to indulge in any form of violent exercise, but had recommended that for some time he should ‘“ abstain from any woman, even from the Queen.” But the real reason why Madame de Verneuil was so willing that this abstinence, at least so far as it affected her, should be prolonged was that she was at that moment engaged in a love-affair with the Comte de Soissons, who had perhaps succeeded other admirers whose names _ history does not mention. The marchioness kept her word, and when Henry IV., having been permitted to resume his ordinary mode of life, came to visit her, he was informed, to his astonish- ment and mortification, that Madame la Marquise begged to be excused the honour of receiving his Majesty. He went away, but, not being the kind of man to be easily discouraged, he watched. his opportunity, and one morning contrived to surprise the lady before she had risen. | “ What brings you here at this hour ?’’ cried she angrily. “One of us two is going to be deceived. I want never to see you again, for I have received nothing but ill from you.” i) 124Eenieieite arid the: dante dp ASdinanna >) ‘Madame,’ exclaimed the King, “‘ I deserve neither these reproaches nor this reception.”’ “Do not insist; it is useless,’ rejoined the mar- chioness dryly. Knowing from sad experience that when she was in an ill humour it was waste of breath to argue with her, his Majesty took his departure in high dudgeon, since he did not doubt that there was some new love-affair to account for these tardy scruples. His suspicions pointed to his kinsman, the Comte de Soissons, whose intimacy with Henriette had already occasioned him some little uneasiness, and an in- cident which occurred shortly afterwards served to confirm them. Quite recently the King had signed, without paying too much attention to them, several decrees creating new taxes, from which the Comte de Soissons was to profit in a great measure, and also Madame de Verneuil. Among them was one imposing a duty of fifteen sols on every bale of cloth entering or leaving the kingdom, which the King supposed would produce at the most 50,000 livres. But when he consulted Sully on the matter, the Surintendant des Finances had little diffi- culty in showing him that he would be making M. de Soissons, Madame de Verneuil, and other interested parties a present of something like twenty times that sum, to the great detriment of the commerce of several provinces. And he strongly advised the King to with- draw the edict imposing it, and not to oblige ‘the Parle- ment to ratify it.’ The mortified Comte de Soissons, after vainly en- deavouring to induce the Minister to abandon his opposition, persuaded Madame de Verneuil to go to him and plead their common cause. On arriving at the Arsenal, where Sully resided as Grand Master of the Artillery, which post he combined with that of Surin- tendant, she found the Minister on the point of starting The Parlement would appear to have remonstrated already against P| tax. 125Last Loves of Henri of Navarre for the Louvre, “‘ with a little memorandum rolled round his finger.”’ ‘’ What have you there ? ’”’ demanded the marchioness with a flippant air, which irritated Sully, for he replied tartly : “ Fine things, Madame, in which you are not the last.” And he showed her a list of edicts establishing new taxes, all very burdensome for the people, and the names of the greedy courtiers for whose benefit they were being imposed. Her own was the sixth. ‘‘ Well, what do you intend to do about all this ? ” “I am going,’ was the answer, ‘‘ to remonstrate with the King in favour of the poor people, who will soon be ruined if such burdens are laid upon them, without counting that his Majesty will be obliged to renounce his taxes, since there will be nothing left for him to receive.” ~ Truly,’ remarked the lady sarcastically, “it will be singular if he listens to you and ignores so many people of quality to satisfy your caprices. Towards whom would you wish the King to be generous, if it is not towards those whose names are written here: towards his cousins, his relatives, his mistresses ? ”’ Sully replied that there would be no objection to that provided his Majesty took the money from his own purse ; but to be generous at the expense of the mer- chants, artisans and labourers was a different matter altogether. “For they,’ he added pointedly, ‘are those who support the King and us all, and who are well content with a single master, without having so many cousins and relatives and mistresses to keep.” In great wrath, the marchioness departed, returned to the Comte de Soissons, and informed him of the insolent manner in which the Minister had treated her. The tale lost nothing in the telling; indeed, to such a degree did she distort what Sully had said that the count believed that aspersions had been cast upon his honour, and hurried away to the King to demand justice upon the man who, he said, had grossly insulted him. 126Honnieite and the Geiite de -Soissons And he declared that, if this were net Giron neon he would have his life. Henri IV., however, took the matter very lightly, and appeared to think that his kinsman was making a mountain out of what was probably only a mole- hill. Soissons begged him to believe him, adding that he had never lied. The King smiled. “If that were the case, my cousin,” said he, “ you would not belong to our House, But, since it is another who has informed you, tell me who it is and what has been said. I will then consider the matter and give you satisfaction, if justice requires it.”’ 5ut the count, exasperated though he was against Sully, did not think it prudent to ‘bring Madame de Verneuil’s name into the matter, and answered that he had promised not to mention the name of his informant. The King rejoined that, in that case, he should refuse to believe anything until he had heard what the accused Minister had to say himself about the affair, and he sent Fouquet La Varenne to the Arsenal to ascertain what had really happened. Then, turning to Soissons, he inquired abruptly : “Do you know, Count, what is said of you? It is that you are on the best of terms with the marchioness.”’ “On my faith, Sire,’ cried the other, completely taken aback, “‘it isan infamous calumny ! ”’ Henri IV. pretended to be satisfied with this denial and did not question him further on the subject ; and Soissons withdrew very ill at ease. Presently La Varenne returned and reported that Sully had told him that the only person to whom he had lately spoken concerning the proposed new taxes was Madame de Verneuil, who had called upon him at the Arsenal ; that he had certainly told her that he intended to use all his influence with the King to persuade him to withdraw them, and that, in consequence, the marchion- sss had left him very displeased, but that, so far from having referred disrespectfully to the Comte de Soissons, he had not even mentioned that prince’s name. 127Last Loves of Henri of Navarre The King, who was well aware of his mistress’s capacity for making mischief, began to laugh. ~ Oh!” said he, ‘we need not inquire any further about the cause of this misunderstanding, since Madame de Verneuil is mixed up in it. She has such a long tongue, and is so full of spite and invention, that to the last word she will have added a hundred, nay, a thousand.” And he sent La Varenne back to the Arsenal to assure Sully of his friendship and, at the same time, to recom- mend him, as a precautionary measure, not to go out unless well guarded, until the difference between him and the Comte de Soissons had been accommodated. “If I lose him,” he observed, ‘‘I should lose with him much more than what he can dispense in order to be well protected.”’ Finding his suspicions in regard to Henriette and Soissons in part justified, Henri [V. determined to read the lady a much-needed lesson. He had promised her the sum of 100,000 écus, presumably in consideration of her consenting to resume their former relations, with which, it appears, she proposed to acquire the county of Joigny. That same evening, however, he said to her : “Do not reckon any more on the hundred thousand écus I promised you. Others, whom you know well, will be happy to procure them for you.” “As you grow old,” retorted the marchioness, “‘ you become insupportably jealous. There is no way to live in peace with you.”’ “Ab well, if that is so, return to Verneuil. That is what you had better do.”’ And he turned his back on her. The Vert-Galant had presumed too much on his strength. A very brief separation from his unworthy mistress sufficed to convince him that he could not get on without her, and he decided to take the first oppor- tunity of making his peace. In February 1604, his sister the Duchess of Bar died, and two houses, one 128Quarrel with Mme. de Verneuil at Fontainebleau and the other at Saint-Germain, the use of which he had given her for life, reverted to him. The King at once offered one of these houses to Madame de Verneuil, who condescended to accept it as a sign that she had forgiven him ; the other he pre- sented to the Queen. The sequel showed that in making such a division his Majesty had been far from happily inspired. The Queen was infuriated at the idea that she was expected to share the King’s bounty with her rival, and declared before the whole Court that she should absolutely refuse to receive this woman who was treated as her equal. Once more it was open war between the wife and the mistress. From insults Marie de’ Medici passed to threats, and must have opened her heart to her confidante, Leonora Galigai, for one day Concini, who desired to stand well with the King, came to warn him that his favourite’s | ife was in danger, and that it would be well for him | fo take precautions for her safety.1 Henriette was | quick to perceive how a warning coming from so reliable i 4 source might be turned to her advantage, and pretend- ng to be terribly alarmed, she demanded of the King che strongholds which the Duchess of Bar had had in Normandy, in order that she might take refuge in one of them. The King offered her Caen, on condition, 1owever, that the Marquis de Bellefonds should command here. But the marchioness feared that this governor night one day become her gaoler, and fell back upon ther places situated in Poitou. To this the King efused to consent, upon which she flew into a furious oassion and, declaring that he wished to expose her to he vengeance of the Queen, took herself off to Verneuil. I for the time being the rupture was complete. | Henri IV. went, as was his custom on these occasions, 1 It is very doubtful if Marie de’ Medici ever had any serious intention Bet f procuring the assassination of her rival or that Concini and his wife | eally believed that she had. According to the Cardinal de Richelieu, fh vho for so long enjoyed the Queen’s entire confidence in later years, her hf hreats against Henriette were ‘‘ merely a feint, it being certain that she | 1ad no design, on this occasion, save to inspire her with the fear of harm vhich she did not intend to do her.” —*‘‘ Mémoires” (édit, Michaud), I., 8 We 129 9anenntrtipten reine Last Loves of Henri of Navarre to Sully to bewail his sad lot and to ask for advice. He never seemed capable of understanding that he was the architect of his own misfortunes, and that his de- plorable folly and want of tact in his dealings with women were alone responsible for these miserable domestic squabbles which were rendering his life unbearable. After complaining bitterly of the conduct of Henriette and saying all the evil possible about her, he suddenly veered round and began to expatiate upon her good qualities and to compare her with the Queen, very much to the disadvantage of the latter. ‘“ She is such an agreeable companion, when it pleases her,’ said he; ‘“‘ she always has some jest to make me laugh. I find nothing of that kind with the Queen ; she lends herself neither to my tastes nor to my humour. Quite the contrary, if I approach her familiarly to caress her, she gives me so cold a reception that I go to seek adventures elsewhere.’ It was but too true, as Sully was well aware. Time had only served to confirm the unfavourable impression which, on her arrival in France, Marie de’ Medici had made both upon the King and the Court. As the years passed, her features grew coarser and her figure more ponderous, while her obstinacy, her selfishness, her shrewish and sulky disposition, and her disdainful and even arrogant manner became only the more marked. There was nothing about her to attract, and much to repel, a husband like Henri IV.,‘ who, if he had not found the consolation which he needed in the society of the sprightly and bewitching Henriette, always irre- sistible, as we know, when she chose to exercise her fascinations, would assuredly have sought it in some other direction. Then the King went on to complain of the animosity which his wife had conceived towards his natural chil- dren—“ his bastards,’ as she habitually called them— 1 The remark attributed by Richelieu, in his ‘‘Mémoires,”’ to Henry IV., and quoted by so many historians, that “‘if she were not his wife, he would give all he possessed to have her for his mistress,’’ is probably apocryphal. If it is not, then surely it cannot have been spoken seriously ! 130Negotiations with the Marchioness and of the benefits which she heaped upon the Galigai and Concini, whom he accused of being spies of the Grand Duke of Tuscany. Sully pointed out that the remedy was in his Majesty’s own hands, and that if he were to insist on these persons and certain other members of the Queen’s Italian entour- age returning to their own country, he would no doubt find the Queen much more docile in the future. But the King shook his head. ‘I do not even wish to appear to desire it,” said he, for with this troop of Italians, who are so vindictive, it would be to shorten my life by suspicions and mis- givings worse than death.”’ With that he returned to the subject of Madame de Verneuil and begged Sully to intervene and persuade the lady to listen to reason. The part of Love’s Ambassador was, however, scarcely calculated to appeal to this severe Mentor, and he begged to be excused from undertaking such a mission. The King, somewhat mortified by his refusal, took his de- parture ; but he was quite resolved to make advances to Henriette, and the same evening wrote to Sully requesting him to reconsider his decision. However, at the moment when he was about to send him this letter another person intervened in the affair. This was M. de Sigogne, governor of Dieppe, who combined with that office the profession of a writer of erotic verse and the post of confidential adviser to Madame de Verneuil, and had come from Normandy to offer his services to accommodate the quarrel between the King and the marchioness. After a short conversation with Sigogne, the King sent him to the Arsenal and wrote at the bottom of his letter to Sully: “I am sending M. de Sigogne to you and to Madame de Verneuil, seeing that, as she places entire confidence in him, she believes that you will advance nothing of your own, as she has sometimes tried to persuade me.”’? 1 “ Lettres-Missives.’’ I31 9*Last Loves of Henri of Navarre The next day Sully went to the Louvre, where he found the King in a very ill humour. On inquiring the cause, his Majesty informed him that it was suspected that the Comte d’ Auvergne, who, it will be remembered, had offered to continue his correspondence with Spain and Savoy in order to betray the designs of these Courts to the French Government—a proposal which, after some hesitation, the King had accepted, so far as the former country was concerned—was deceiving him, and that Henriette was also engaged in intrigues with the Spaniards. Indeed, certain persons had even offered to show him letters and produce witnesses to prove that she had been won over by the Court of Madrid. The Queen, learning of this, had taken advantage of it to pester him and to urge him to deal rigorously with his mistress and compel her to surrender the promise of marriage. He had therefore decided to proceed himself to Verneuil and demand an explanation from the marchioness. No sooner did he find himself in Henriette’s presence, than the amorous monarch appears to have thought only of employing the reports which had reached him of her dealings with Spain as a means to persuade her to return to him, declaring that such was his affection for her that, if she would only make a confession, all should be forgiven. But the marchioness haughtily replied that she had nothing to confess, since the rumours of which he spoke were a gross calumny; and she begged him, as the greatest favour which he was able to accord her, not to come to see her again, since these visits served only to draw upon her the frenzied hatred of the Queen and to place her life in danger. Angry and disappointed, the King then demanded the restora- tion of the promise of marriage which, he said, would henceforth be of no use to her, to which she answered insolently that he might seek it elsewhere, since she would never give it him.’ Henri IV.’s visit, therefore, appeared only to have embittered the situation ; but, on his arrival at Fontaine- 1 Sully : ‘‘ @conomies royales.”’ 132Negotiations with the Marchioness ee ie _ — — oxeene — — $< ——_—— — bleau, to which he proceeded from Normandy, he reverted to his first idea of employing Sully as mediator, and sent Sigogne to him with the following note: “My friend Sigogne will tell you my intention as to what I desire you to say to Madame de Verneuil, apart from what I told you recently on that subject, better than I could write it. The discourse would be too long, but in a word: ‘ aut Cesar, aut mhil, ”? Much against his will, Sully went to see the mar- chioness, who was now at her hotel in Paris, and was informed by her that she was firmly resolved to break off all intercourse with the King. And she charged him to inform his Majesty of her determination. The Minister returned to the Arsenal and wrote a letter to the King, giving a summary of the conversation which he had just had with Madame de Verneuil. But, since he was aware that that lady had very little com- punction about denying what she had said, if it happened to suit her convenience, he took the precaution of sending her the letter by one of his secretaries to know whether she approved of it. And, at the same time, he instructed the bearer on no account to accept a verbal answer. Henriette read and re-read the letter, which, she admitted, was in substance an exact report of the interview. But she wished to modify certain expres- sions which appeared to her a little too harsh, and pointed out to the secretary the alterations which were to be made. But the latter, faithful to his instructions, pleaded that his memory was sometimes at fault, and begged her to put her answer into writing. The mar- chioness perceived the trap, but it was scarcely possible for her to refuse so reasonable a request, and, taking a pen, she wrote to Sully : “ Monsieur, I have seen the letter which you have been pleased to send me, which I find such as I could 1 “ Lettres-Missives,”’ Letter of April 14, 1604. 133Last Loves of Henri of Navarre have desired, and for which I am greatly your debtor and beg you to believe that I shall be eternally your servant. It seems to me that there is only one thing which might be found harsh, which is that you tell him (the King) that I beg him to consent to see me occasionally, ‘mais sans aucune privauté m famblarnite particuliére. 1 entreat you to substitute that I beg him not to ask anything of me which may be prejudicial to ,) MWiCy . Sully made the alteration which the marchioness desired and sent the amended letter to the King, who, in the bitterness of his disappointment, wrote to the Minister : “Since Madame de Verneuil is resolved upon what you tell me, I am also upon what I have told you. On Monday I shall write to acquaint her with my inten- tion and shall make her see that I have more power over myself than people say.” Henri IV., in fact, seemed quite resigned to the idea of breaking with his mistress. But Henriette had no intention of allowing matters to go so far as that, and knew her royal admirer too well to have any fear that she would be unable to bring him to her feet whenever it suited her purpose. Instead of writing to her, the King came to see her, and so angry was he, that she recognized at once that the limits of his forbearance had been reached and that it was necessary to change her tactics. She therefore boldly declared that the stipulations which had caused him so much irritation had neither been written nor dictated by her, and hinted that Sully had deliberately invented them. This had the effect of diverting the monarch’s indignation from his mistress to his Minister, and he took himself off to the Arsenal and began to upbraid Sully with having falsified the conversation he had had with Madame de Verneuil, whom, he knew, 134slanana = DEL "Ameri LL eeTE DE FRANCE. “Mimaiirs pope eerie = en semn oe vd Ohuy Soalp 13 ” , “snag et uit Maximilien de Bethune, Duc de| 1Duplicity of Henriette he had never ee able to endure, in order to separate him from her. The Surintendant, however, had, of course, kept the letter which the marchioness had written him a few days before, and, begging his Majesty to excuse him for a moment, he fetched. it from his cabinet and placed it in his hands. The King read the letter, and, finding himself disarmed, hastened to make the amende honorable. ‘Good-bye, my friend,” said he, as he rose to go, “Jove me well, for I love you as an honourable man, in whose mouth I see plainly there is nothing false. Thus, whatever I may have said on my arrival, I could not believ e that the malice came from your side, ‘knowi ing the openness of your heart and the extrav avant and mischief-making mind with which we have to deal. And, nev ertheles s, you have been well advised to take such precaution as you have shown me against her wiles.’ Such is Sully’s own version of this incident, which has been accepted without comment by the Comte de la Ferriére and other historians of the love-affairs of the Vert-Galant. But it is doubtful whether it is altogether accurate, for, as M. Merki very justly points out, in reporting episodes in which he himself is concerned, Sully is not always the most veracious of chroniclers and does not hesitate to give himself the leading part.’ Anyway, as he sadly confesses, his exposure of the perfidy of ‘“‘that malignant wasp’’—it is thus that he stigmatizes Henriette —appears to have had singularly little effect upon Henri IV. For when the marchioness returned to Verneuil, whither she judged it more prudent to retire again for a while, the lovelorn monarch, finding himself quite unable to live any longer without her, wrote letter after letter begging, nay, entreating, her to come to Fontainebleau and to bring her children. Henriette finally consented, on the understanding 1 Sully, ‘‘ Gconomies royales.”’ 2 ‘“‘ Ta Marquise de Verneuil et la mort d’Henri IV.” 135Last Loves of Henri of Navarre that he should obtain the Queen’s consent to receive her. But for some days he could not summon up sufficient courage to mention the matter to his consort ; indeed, it was not until the marchioness was actually on her way that he timidly informed the Queen of her approaching arrival and begged her to receive her courteously. Marie de’ Medici, who had been flattering herself that she was rid of her rival for some time to come, was furious at this unexpected demand, but, repress- ing her wrath, she inquired with an affectation of indifference : ‘“ Has the marchioness, then, decided to bring you her children to be brought up at Saint-Germain with the Others ? “It is I,’’ answered Henri IV., ‘‘ who have invited her to bring her children. I propose to ask her to leave them at Saint-Germain, but I can do nothing contrary to their mother’s wishes.” The Queen said nothing further, but, the evening before Henriette was expected, she sent Sillery’ to the King to inform him that she should refuse to receive her. “Ah well!” dryly remarked the Béarnais, to whom this announcement did not come asa surprise. ‘“ Sillery, go back to the Queen and make her understand that I intend to be obeyed. With her ways of behaving, she will be the cause of the Dauphin’s ruin. The hatred which she entertains for the marchioness will force me to accord her what I have always refused her up to the present : a government and fortified places.” Sillery returned to report the King’s answer to Marie de’ Medici, who retorted that if his Majesty surrendered 1 Nicolas Bruslart, Marquis de Sillery (1544-1624). He was one of the most skilful diplomatists of his time, and in 1599 was sent to Florence to negotiate the marriage of Henri IV. with Marie de’ Medici. This was probably one of the reasons why the Queen appears to have regarded him with more favour than any of her husband’s counsellors. He was created Keeper of the Seals at the end of 1604 and Chancellor of France in September 1607. 136The Queen Refuses to Receive Henriette eee ee ee Ne — a a a — to such demands on the part of Madame de Verneuil, he alone would be the cause of the Dauphin’s ruin. And she expressed her astonishment that he had not long ago comprehended ‘“ the diabolical machinations of that woman.” In reporting to Henri IV. this haughty rejoinder, Sillery counselled him not to speak to the Queen on the matter again that night. He followed this advice, and, not a little to her Majesty’s surprise, took his place in the nuptial couch in silence and spoke never a word until he woke on the following morning, when he said to her : , ‘Ma mie, | am going to meet the marchioness, and, since it is not your pleasure to receive her, I shall lecture her in such fashion that she will do nothing to the Dauphin’s disadvantage.” So soon as he was dressed, he mounted his horse and repaired to the inn where Henriette was to stop for dinner. From there he wrote to Sully bidding him make a last effort to induce the Queen to receive her rival, “were it only one single day, in order not to oblige him to do worse.’’ Very much embarrassed by such a commission, the Minister took counsel with Villeroy and Sillery, and all three went together to the Queen to endeavour to obtain this last concession. At first Marie de’ Medici showed herself intractable, but Sully, according to his own account, pleaded so eloquently with her that she finally relented and promised to write her husband ‘‘a kind letter’? in which she would “set forth her grievances.’ This she did and at considerable length, declaring that ‘‘ she had neither patience nor courage to endure the disrespectful language of Madame de Verneuil;’’ to hear her elevate “ her bastards’’ to the rank of “Sons of France,’ and “to learn of her underhand dealings in concert with her father and brother, which, however, they were permitted to carry on with impunity.’”’ However, the main thing was that she gave the Ministers to understand that she consented to receive ‘“‘ that woman”’ for one single day. 137Cane ¥ eens alee Oren eee ye tee Last Loves of Henri of Navarre Then, having adjured them “ to compel their master to respect her, as she had the right and deserved to be respected,’ she dismissed them. Meanwhile, Henri IV., having met Madame de Ver- neuil, was anxiously awaiting Sully’s reply. But so much time had been wasted by that Minister in consult- ing his colleagues, endeavouring to bring the Queen to a more reasonable frame of mind and waiting while the latter was setting forth her grievances, that long before it was on its way to the King, his Majesty had lost all patience and concluded that Sully’s mission had failed. Accordingly, he sent his mistress’s luggage to Paris, and soon afterwards entered the marchioness’s coach and proceeded with her to the capital. On the way, however, prudence reasserted itself, and, instead of remaining in Paris, he went to Saint- Germain to see his little daughter Elisabeth, who was ill. But his good resolutions did not last long, and, returning to Paris, he spent four whole days with Henri- ette, who, overjoyed at the opportunity of avenging upon the Queen the latter’s scornful refusal to receive her, took care to show herself several times in public in the company of her lover. Never had the situation been so strained, and an open rupture between the royal pair appeared far from improbable.* Happily, Marie de’ Medici suffered herself to be guided by those who hinted that, if the King had violated decorum, her own obstinacy had contri- buted to it, and that she would do well to hold out the olive branch. Accordingly, she wrote to her erring hus- band, who was officially supposed to be at Saint-Germain, in quite an amicable tone and without making the least allusion to Madame de Verneuil or to his stay in Paris. “This letter caused the King to reflect; it had more effect upon him than any threat would have had. Of 1 Richelieu declares that on one occasion, at Fontainebleau, Henri IV. informed the Queen that “‘if she were not willing to live more amicably with him and alter her behaviour, he would be constrained to send her back to Florence with all that she had brought from that country.”’ 138Animosity of the Woien his own arines will he sent the anudireniess Weds, to Vv perenel and took the road back to the conjugal roof. The Queen received him as though nothing had happened; he showed himself profoundly touched by it and rewarded her by tender caresses.’’ * Peace was thus re-established, but it was only a very short truce. For Henriette had not been neglectful of her interests while in Paris and had obtained from the King, so enraptured at this reunion with his mistress that he could deny her nothing, a promise to approach the widowed Duchesse de Longueville, with the view of affiancing the little duke—a Prince of the Blood—to the marchioness’s daughter. Marie de’ Medici, when informed by the King of the matrimonial arr ingement which was contemplated, was even more furious than she had been at the time of the unfortunate division of the Duchess of Bar's property, and “had henceforth but one idea, to ruin at any price her rival.’ Sully, who was on the point of starting for Poitou, where affairs of importance in connection with his department called for his presence, was obliged to defer his journey in order to restore some degree of harmony in the Royal House- hold. This he succeeded in bringing about on the King agreeing to pursue the matter of the Longuev ille marriage no further. But to placate the wife was to incense the mistress, and Henriette was not the kind of woman who would tamely submit to such a defeat. The Court had now returned to the Louvre, while the marchioness was at her hotel in Paris, and she at once declared war upon Marie de’ Medici, who, on her part, hastened to accept the challenge and redoubled her animosity towards her eternal enemy. At the same time, in order to punish the King for his weakness in sacrificing her interests to the enmity of the Queen—as though the unfortunate monarch was not being punished sufficiently already by all the unpleasantness. which this renewal of hostilities entailed—she declined to receive him any longer in private 1 La Ferriére. 139ee Sere ee bere rey Last Loves of Henri of Navarre under religious pretexts, declaring that she intended to spend the rest of her life in penitence and to retire into aconvent. And, to prove that this was no idle talk, she caused Mass to be said every day at her hotel by her confessor, a Capuchin called Pére Ange or Archange,’ at which a certain Madame de Boulloncourt, who is believed to have had an amourette with Henri IV. in her younger days, was a regular attendant. Then, pretending once more to be in mortal fear of the hatred of Marie de’ Medici, she besought the King to authorize her to seek an asylum for herself and her children in some foreign country, and gave him to understand that she contemplated taking refuge in England, with Edme Stuart, Duke of Lennox, who had married her aunt, Catherine de Balzac. Weary of all these quarrels, Henri IV. gave his consent to her departure, though he wished the children to be left with him. The marchioness did not, however, avail herself of this permission—probably she never seriously intended to leave France, unless it were for a short while, with the intention of returning in triumph on her own terms—for it was at that moment that a new conspiracy was discovered, and, on this occasion, there could be no reasonable doubt as to her complicity. 1 See page 12 supra.CHAPTER, 1X The Conspiracy ot the Entragues—L’Hoste, one of the secretaries of the Minister for Foreign Affairs, discovered to be betraying official secrets to Spain—His flight and death—Alarm of the Comte d’Au- vergne, whose instrument L’Hoste has been—In order to divert the suspicions of the King, he informs his Majesty that Madame de Verneuil is deceiving him with the Duc de Bellegarde—Stormy scene in Henri IV.’s cabinet at the Louvre—Auvergne leaves the Court and retires to his estates—Arrest of Thomas Morgan, a Spanish agent, and discovery of a conspiracy in which Auvergne and the Comte d’Entragues are implicated—Henriette, when questioned by the King, denies all knowledge of her father’s intrigues—En- tragues is summoned to Court, and, on the favourite’s advice, makes a partial confession to the King—Henri IV. pretends to be satisfied and permits him to return to the Chateau of Marcoussis—But sends the Provost Defunctis thither to arrest the count and seize his papers —Stratagem by which Defunctis contrives to surprise the chateau— The papers found at Marcoussis reveal the existence of a most for- midable conspiracy—And establish beyond all doubt the guilt of Madame de Verneuil, as well as of her relatives—Entragues, in the hope of saving his head, reveals to the King the whereabouts of the promise of marriage given to his daughter—Henri IV., exas- perated against Madame de Verneuil by her persistent assumption of innocence, determines to replace her by a new mistress—The comedy of Mlle. Jacqueline de Beuil—A nominal husband—Man- ceuvres of the Comte d’Auvergne to avoid arrest—He is captured and thrown into the Bastille. A T the beginning of June 1604, the alarming dis- covery was made that one of the secretaries of Villeroy, Minister for Foreign Affairs, named L’Hoste, whose duty it was to decipher despatches, had for some little time past been in the habit of delivering copies of all documents of any importance which passed through his hands to the Spanish Ambassador. When on the point of being arrested, he took to flight ; but, closely pursued by the Grand Provost and his archers, he was drowned while attempting to cross the Marne, near La Faye. The Comte d’Auvergne, who was the soul and leader 141Last Loves of Henri of Navarre of the conspiracy of which L’Hoste had been but a subordinate agent, became greatly alarmed, and, with the object of diverting the suspicions of the King and giving him something else to think about, he demanded an audience on a private matter of great importance, and so soon as he entered the royal presence, said boldly : ‘The marchioness is deceiving your Majesty with the Duc de Bellegarde! ”’ Taking into consideration the fact that it was largely owing to his sister’s intercession that M. d’Auvergne had been treated with such extraordinary leniency for his share in the Biron affair, his behaviour on this occa- sion was certainly sadly lacking in gratitude. But then that admirable quality found no place in the character of one who “concealed beneath the exterior of a prince the soul of a blackleg.’’* “From whom did you learn this malicious gossip ?”’ inquired the King, affecting to make light of the matter. The Count replied that M. de Sigogne was his in- formant. Henri IV. then demanded what proofs the other had, and was told that Bellegarde had been seen entering Henriette’s hotel after midnight. Puzzled and annoyed, he ordered Auvergne not to leave Paris, and dismissed him. The next day he sent for all three : the count, Sigogne and Madame de Verneuil, and confronted them with one another. Then, turning to Auvergne, he requested him to repeat what he had told him the previous day. Impudently the other persisted in maintaining that Bellegarde was his sister’s favoured lover, and that he had it from Sigogne. ~ wt I were a man, cred Henriette furiously, 2 would make you swallow your words with my dagger! ”’ ““And you,’ said the King, addressing Sigogne, ‘““ what answer have you to make ? ”’ “The count has lied!’ replied Sigogne bluntly. Without asking any further questions or making any comment, Henri IV. dismissed them, and they took 1 Henri Martin, ‘‘ Histoire de France, jusqu’en 1789.” 142The Conspiracy of the Entragues their departure, the two gentlemen glaring defiance at one another. So soon as they were outside the sacred precincts of the Louvre, Auvergne challenged his ad- versary to mortal combat, an invitation which was, of course, accepted ; but the King intervened and forbade them to meet. Thereupon the count, pretending to be deeply offended at his Majesty’s refusal, left the Court and retired to Auvergne, only too glad to escape, for a time at any rate, from the fast-gathering storm. The very day after his departure, the English Am- bassador handed the King a letter from James. I., which advised him to seize the person and papers of one Thomas Morgan, a secret agent of Spain, then in Paris. He fol- lowed this counsel, and Morgan was promptly arrested, together with an assistant of his named Fortan, whom he had placed with Madame de Verneuil, ostensibly to teach the lady Spanish, but really to keep her informed of the progress of the conspiracy. Partly enlightened by the compromising letters found at Morgan’s house, on June 22, Henri IV. wrote to Sully, who was in the Limousin : ' My friend, I have written you this line, while waiting until in two days’ time I shall send you d’ Escur es, from whom you will learn that we have discovered many treasons, in which the Comte d’Auvergne and M. d’En- tragues are implicated, and things so extraordinary that you will hardly believe them. We have also asc ertained, from letters which M. de Bouillon has written, which we have intercepted, that he is still making mischief and that M. de la Trémouille is taking a hand in the game.’ But, being unable to make up his mind that his mistress was also guilty, he added: ~ Nevertheless, it seems that the marchioness has not been aware of the real objects of the underhand dealings by which the others propose to profit either now or in the future.” 143Last Loves of Henri of Navarre Two days after the arrest of Morgan, Henri IV. went to Verneuil, to which, after the unpleasant scene in the King’s cabinet at the Louvre, Henriette had again deemed it prudent to retire for a while. “Letters from your father have been found on Mor- gan,’ said he brusquely the moment the door had closed behind the lackey who had announced him; “tell me what you know about them.” The marchioness, far too astute to show any un- easiness, answered carelessly : ‘““ They are, without doubt, letters recommending him to my uncle, the Duke of Lennox.”’ The King made a gesture of impatience. “No,” said he, “‘ there is no question of recommen- dations ; your name is mixed up in these letters.” ‘““Then show them to me,’ remarked the lady coolly ; “if my memory revives, I will tell you all the truth.” The King then informed her that he had written to Entragues bidding him come to Saint-Germain, where the Court was now in residence, and requested her to write herself to her father and advise him to obey. This Henriette promised to do, and he took his de- parture. Entragues wrote to the King that he would come to the Court, while Madame de Verneuil, on her side, returned to Paris and requested Henri IV.’s per- mission to see her father. He consented, but on con- dition that he should speak to the count first. The King did not invite any of his counsellors to be present at this interview, at the conclusion of which he went to visit Madame de Verneuil. “Tt is quite certain,” said he, ‘“‘ that your father has been engaged in intrigues with Morgan.”’ And he begged her, as he had at Verneuil, to reveal all she knew about them, promising that, in that case, he would deal leniently with the count. But Henriette persisted in denying all knowledge of the matter. « Well,’ said the King, “I will see your father 144The Conspiracy of the Entragues again. If he makes a full confession, I will show him clemency.” This second interview took place at the Tuileries, and Henri IV., having contrived to extract from En- tragues some partial admissions, returned to the marchioness. ““ You have certainly deceived me,” said he. ‘‘ Your father has been treating on your behalf with Spain. It is incredible that you should be unaware of it.” ~ I knew nothing about it,”’ was the reply, given with unruffied composure. The King drew from his pocket a letter which En- tragues had written to Morgan and inquired if she recognized the writing. She answered that it was her father’s, but that she was in ignorance of what the letter contained. “No matter,’ said the King, beginning to relent somewhat and thinking that perhaps after all she knew nothing about the paternal manceuvres. “I have consented to your father coming to dine with you to-day, for you know how much I love you. Let him tell you everything, and, I repeat, I will show indulgence.”’ “I will kneel to him, Sire, to entreat him to reveal everything,’ exclaimed the marchioness fervently.! Entragues dined with his daughter, and long and anxiously did they deliberate as to the course which it would be advisable for them to pursue in the extremely unpleasant situation in which they were placed. Finally, it was decided that Entragues should confess to nothing more than what they believed the King already knew, and which did not amount to anything very criminal, and that, in regard to this, he should pose as the martyr of his affection for his daughter. He accordingly prepared a long memoir in which he set forth all the troubles and difficulties in which Henri IV.’s liaison with his daughter had involved him, and declared that he had entered into relations with Spain for no other purpose than to secure for Henriette 1 La Ferriére. 145Last Loves of Henri of Navarre an asylum from the vengeance of the Queen, in the event of the King’s death. And he took great credit to himself for having refused the large sum of money which the Spanish Ambassador, Taxis,’ with whom Morgan had placed him in communication, had offered him for the promise of marriage which the King had given his daughter.’ This memoir, or, more probably, a summary of its contents, since it is of considerable length, he read to Henri IV. at their third interview, which took place the following day at Saint-Germain. His Majesty listened attentively, and, appearing to be satisfied with this pretended explanation, gave Entragues permission to return to the Chateau of Marcoussis, from which he had come. But these partial admissions, joined to those of Morgan and the papers found on that personage, clearly indicated the existence of a dangerous con- spiracy, of which more certain proofs would without doubt be found at Marcoussis, where perchance the promise of marriage might be discovered at the same time. Therefore, no sooner had Entragues taken his departure than the King sent for the Provost, Defunctis, and charged him to proceed thither, arrest his pseudo- father-in-law and take care to seize all his papers, adding that he could have “ ten cannon and five regi- ments’ to assist him if he required them. The Provost smilingly replied that, as his Majesty's principal object appeared to be to get possession of M. d’Entragues’s papers, it would be most imprudent to employ force, since, at the first alarm, the old gentle- man would assuredly hasten to destroy the compromising documents. It would therefore be necessary to have 1 Taxis had been recently replaced as Ambassador by Don Balthazar de Zuniga. 2 « «Tf the promise of marriage is such as I have been assured,’ said Taxis to me, ‘ deliver it to me; I will give you 200,000 écus! {) “Tens in a safe place,’ I replied, ‘and I shall not give it up.’ ‘Ah well! no matter, in the event of the King’s death, my master offers you a refuge for your daughter.’ ‘ The King is fifty-three,’ I replied. “I am sixty- three. He of us who will survive will watch over my daughter.’ ”’ 146Arrest of the Comte d’Entragues recourse to stratagem. However, if the King would leave the matter entirely in his hands, he would no doubt be able to find a way out of the difficulty. To this the King agreed, stipulating only that M. d’En- tragues should be under lock and key and the papers in his hands within a fortnight, and that Defunctis should keep the matter a profound secret. Defunctis lost no time in sending to the village of Marcoussis one of his most trusted subordinates, who, under the pretext that he had come to the country to recruit his health after an illness, installed himself there and closely reconnoitred the neighbouring chateau. He recognized that, with its three deep moats and draw- bridges always raised, it would be a difficult place to take by surprise, but he ascertained that on fast days it was customary to lower the bridges for a few minutes in order to allow the peasant-women who brought butter and eggs for sale to approach the gate. He duly reported what he had learned to the Provost, who, on the following Friday, disguised four of his archers as country-women and sent them, with baskets on their arms and pistols hidden therein, to the chateau, while he himself, with forty others, lay in ambush in an ad- joining wood. On perceiving the supposed women, Entragues’s chef caused the drawbridges to be lowered to allow them to cross the moats, and came to the gate to bargain with them. But, to his astonishment, instead of producing butter and eggs from the baskets they carried, they drew forth pistols and, holding them to his head, bound and gagged him. Masters of the gate, they then gave the signal agreed upon, and Defunctis and his men made their way into the chateau and quietly took possession of it—so quietly, indeed, that Entragues, who had not yet risen, heard nothing, and was still slumbering peacefully when the Provost, guided by a valet-de-chambre, entered his bedchamber. Instead of disturbing him, Defunctis, who appears to have had a sense of humour, waited 147 r0*Last Loves of Henri of Navarre patiently until the count awoke and, hearing someone in the room, demanded: ‘‘ Who is there ?”’ Then he stepped up to the bed, drew aside the curtains and stood there enjoying the other’s stupefaction. Quickly recovering his composure, however, En- tragues, who judged all men by his own low standard of honour, made an impudent attempt to bribe Defunctis, offering him a casket containing jewels worth, according to his own account, 50,000 écus, if he would allow him access to a cupboard built into the wall opposite his bed. All he wanted to take from it, he declared, was a lease which he was bound to complete within three days, in default of which he would lose a very large sum of money. The Provost, however, declined the offer, and, having affixed the seals to all the doors and placed guards at the chateau, he carried off M. d’En- tragues to Paris, where he was shut up in the Conciergerie.’ Two or three days later, Defunctis, by the King’s orders, returned to Marcoussis, and, in the presence of Entragues’s secretary, Gautier, whom the count had nominated to assist at the examination of his papers, opened the cupboard in the wall. It contained a great number of documents, and amongst them five of supreme importance, which established the guilt of all the chiet suspects beyond any possible doubt. They were: the cipher of the King of Spain ; a letter in French addressed to Entragues and signed, “ Yo el Rey’’; two others to Madame de Verneuil and the Comte d’Auvergne, and, finally, a letter, likewise signed by Philip III., which contained that monarch’s promise that if the person of Henriette’s son, the little Duc de Verneuil, were delivered to him, he would recognize him as Dauphin, true and legitimate successor to the Crown of France. Entragues and Auvergne were to be put in possession of two fortresses as places of surety and each to receive a pension of 20,000 ducats, and the Catholic King promised 1 Du Vair, ‘Anecdotes sur l’histoire de France’’; Le Laboureur, “ Additions aux Mémoires de Castelnau,” Vol. II. 148Recovery of the Promise of Marriage them, besides, “‘aid and assistance at need.” As for the “‘ Dauphin,” he was to have five fortresses in Portugal, an important government and a pension of 50,000 ducats. The documents, having been initialled by Gautier, were brought by the Provost to Henri IV., who, we are assured by Du Vair, “jumped for joy”’ on seeing the King of Spain’s cipher, and was so transported with delight when he cast his eyes over the engagement into which his enemy had entered, that he embraced Defunctis again and again, ‘declaring that he had rendered him that day the greatest service which it was possible to render the State.” It is probable that his satisfac- tion was materially increased by the knowledge that he had now at last got the whip-hand over Henriette, whose refusal of her favours perhaps occasioned him more indignation than her intrigues with Spain, about which, in point of fact, he had long had his suspicions. The King was, no doubt, not a little disappointed that the promise of marriage was not amongst the papers which had been discovered at Marcoussis, but he had not long to wait for the recovery of that celebrated document. For Entragues, aware that he was in evil case and that the correspondence now in Henri IV.’s possession rendered him liable to lose his head, sent for Defunctis and told him that ‘“‘ the King had been very desirous of having a certain paper, which he had always refused to give him; but, if he were assured that his life would be spared, he would reveal the place where it was concealed.”” The King, when informed of the count’s offer, declined to give him any such assurance ; nevertheless, the latter decided that it was advisable not to lose such an opportunity of placating the sovereign against whom he had been conspiring, and discharged his part of the bargain which he had proposed. There- upon Henri IV. sent Loménie, the Keeper of the Seals, to Marcoussis, where the paper which had been the cause of so much trouble was found, as Entragues had indicated, in a little glass bottle, enclosed within a 149| | Last Loves of Henri of Navarre larger bottle covered with cotton-wool, which had been ret | hidden in a hole made in a wall. is | i _ “We recovered yesterday, from the hands of the | i Sieur d’Entragues,”’ writes Villeroy to Beaumont, the mit French Ambassador in England, “that fine pretended mi | promise concerning which there has been so much talk, mi and that in the form which the King’s servants and | counsellors judged necessary to obviate all present and yi] future inconveniences.” * | As a matter of fact, it had been thought advisable to make Entragues sign a declaration that this was | the authentic promise and that no other to the same | effect existed.’ “ The 2 July, 1604,” runs this document, which, it will be observed, does not adhere too strictly to the facts ei of the case, ‘“‘ his Majesty being in the town of Paris, | I at the residence of the Sieur Zamet, Messire Francois de i} Balzac, Sieur d’Entragues, chevalier of his orders and captain of fifty men-at-arms, presented himself, who told and represented to him that having formerly en- treated him to give him some writing which might serve to exempt him from blame in the eyes of those who might | wish to calumniate what was passing between his Majesty and the Marquise de Verneuil, his daughter, mh and having received the same, he had always preserved it carefully up to the present, when he had deemed ug it to be his duty to give it back, by reason of some a, false reports which were being circulated in regard to this matter, to the effect that he proposed to make | a wrong use of it, although he had never entertained 1 Rael any such idea and knew that the said writing could be of no service save to him alone, for his satisfaction and for the purpose aforesaid. And he very humbly besought his Majesty to receive it in the presence of the princes and lords whom he saw about him, that they might be witnesses of his sincerity and of the declaration 1 Cited by La Ferriére. 2 There had been a popular rumour of one written by the King with his blood, which Henriette was said to keepin her own possession, 150Recovery of the Promise of Marriage which he makes of never having had any writing from his Majesty save that one; that he retained it for him- self, and never gave any extract or copy to another ; and that if any evil report to that effect had been made to him, that he would be pleased to attach no faith to it. To which his Majesty said that he well remembered that the Sieur d’Entragues had not demanded the said writing of him save for the aforesaid consideration ; that he had not since either thought or considered that he had any cause to be uneasy about at ; but since such false reports were being circulated, as though this writing was of a different tenor and substance from what it is, in prejudice even of the honour and fidelity which ‘the Sieur d’Entragues owes him, his Majesty has approved this duty which he has undertaken of restoring it, and wishes that it should be inserted word for word in the present deed, in order to remove every pretext in the future from any one who might entertain the evil in- tention of altering it or altering something in the truth and substance of it, Then followed the text of the unfortunate promise which we have given in an earlier chapter, to which was added : “We, the undersigned, Francois de Balzac, Sieur d’Entragues, acknowledge and certify that the above writing is the true and only writing executed by the King at our supplication and instance, at the time and place mentioned therein, and since placed in our hands, which we have now restored to his Majesty, in the presence of the Comte de Soissons and the Duc de Montpensier, the Chancellor, the Sieurs de Sillery, de la Guesle, procurator- general, and Jeannin, counsellor of State. Executed at Paris, the second day of July, 1604.—Signed: Ds BALSAC.”’ The deed was then signed by the persons present : ~ We, the undersigned counsellors and secretaries of State, certify the said Sieur d’Entragues to have I51A rr stains — ps Last Loves of Henri of Navarre written and signed with his own hand the acknowledg- ment and attestation written above. Executed in the place, day and year aforesaid, in the presence of the princes and sieurs named above, who, in witness of this, have signed the present deed: CHARLES DE BOURBON, HENRI DE BOURBON, BELLIEVRE, N. BRULART, DE LA GUESLE, P. JEANNIN, DE NEUFVILLE, POTIER.’’? Henri IV., having at length got possession of the document which, notwithstanding the tone of almost contemptuous indifference which characterizes the declara- tion we have just cited, might have proved a dangerous weapon in the hands of his enemies, began to relent towards Madame de Verneuil. Indeed, had that lady only consented to confess everything, instead of con- tinuing to pose as an injured innocent and actually having the effrontery to demand that the King should assure her an income of 100,000 livres—‘“‘ Very little in view of the promises which had been made her ’’—to enable her to live in peace in some quiet corner of France or to withdraw to some foreign country, it is quite probable that he would have endeavoured to hush the whole matter up, at least so far as she was concerned. Towards the end of July, Villeroy said to the Venetian Ambassador : “You have spoken to the King as an honest man ; you have urged him to break with the marchioness ; but the empire of this woman is such that, while demand- ing of us what he ought to do, we see plainly that he desires and expects from us counsels of clemency.”’ Villeroy was not far wrong, for shortly afterwards we find the King writing to Henriette : ‘““T promise you that you shall see your father, whose guards I have caused to be taken away; but do not remain there more than one day; for his contagion is dangerous. I approve of your going to Saint-Germain 1 Bibliothéque Nationale, MSS. Frangais 4120, cited by M, Charles Merki. 152Mme. de Verneuil and the Dauphin to see your children. Love me, my menon [sic]; for I swear to thee that all the rest of the world is nothing to me in comparison with thee.” * On August 27, the marchioness went to Saint-Germain and saw her children, whom Henri IV. had recently obliged her to surrender to him. Afterwards, she asked Madame de Montglat, the Dauphin’s gouvernante, to allow her to see him, a request which was granted. But when she would have taken his hand to kiss it, the child, whose capriciousness and selfishness were already very noticeable, snatched it away, exclaiming : “ Allez-vous-en /’? And it is related that, some days later, finding the little Duc de Verneuil in the King’s wardrobe, he slapped his face. Before returning to Verneuil, Henriette spent some days in Paris, evidently in the hope that the King would pay her a visit. But he did not come. The fact was that the lady’s manceuvres, and her persistent assumption of innocence in the face of the evidence against her, had begun to wear out the patience of even this most long-suffering of lovers, and if he were not yet able to break entirely with her, he was resolved to make a great effort to doso. ‘“‘ He is doing everything that is possible,’ writes the Tuscan Ambassador, Giovannini, to his Court, ‘‘ to snatch from his heart this fatal passion.”’ With his temperament and habits, there was but one possible remedy : to drive out fire by fire, to replace the old mistress by a new one. The choice of Henriette’s successor was not an easy one. The Court, it was true, swarmed with light beauties who asked nothing better than to occupy the exalted position which Madame de Verneuil had filled with so much distinction and so much profit to herself. But 1 “Lettres-Missives,’’ Vol. VI. There appears to be considerable doubt as to the date when this letter was written. The editors of Henri I[V.’s correspondence place it towards the end of 1604, while Mr. P. F. Willert ascribes it to the first weeks of the following year. The Comte de la Ferriére and M. Charles Merki, however, seem to have no doubt that it was written in the summer of 1604. 153—E—————E————E—_ ee Pah gece sh FT TS a oT — Last Loves of Henri of Navarre most of them were ladies of considerable experience in this métier, and the Béarnais preferred green fruit. Finally, however, he decided in favour of Mlle. Jacqueline de Beuil,! a penniless orphan, who, on the death of her parents, had been sheltered by Charlotte de la Trémouille, Princesse de Condé. Mlle. de Beuil is described as a delicious blonde, with a complexion of dazzling clearness, magnificent eyes sparkling with animation and lips which seemed to invite kisses—altogether a most alluring damsel.? But when the King informed the Princesse de Condé that her young frotégée had been so fortunate as to find favour in his sight, that lady, to his intense indignation, refused to lend herself to his desires and even talked about sending the girl back to her relatives. Rightly or wrongly, Henri IV. attributed this unexpected resist- ance to the influence of a certain M. de Belin, who was the governor of the young Prince de Condé and, so scandal averred, the lover of the princess-dowager. He therefore sent for him and questioned him in the presence of the Constable. ‘On the terms on which you are with the princess,” said he, with biting sarcasm, “it becomes you well to play the Puritan with me!” And he rated him in such fashion that the poor man is said to have left the royal presence more dead than alive. After this, the Princesse de Condé judged that further resistance would be worse than useless, and accordingly resolved to make the best bargain possible for her protégée, who, on her side, appears to have been only too pleased at the idea of stepping into Madame de Ver- 1The author of the ‘““Supplément au Journal de L’Estoile,” says that she was a daughter of Claude de Beuil, Sieur de Courcillon and de Marocure, who died in 1596. a ‘‘ We have of her,” writes the Comte de la Ferriére, ‘‘ only a crayon by Dumonstiers, dated 1623. Embonpoint has come, and the chin ig slightly puffy ; but the eyes have not lost their splendour. The corsage, partly open, allows us to perceive the beautifully modelled shoulders and bosom.”’ 154Re TeE eee te ee eee pl 2. ; PASS . cee Max ‘ Jacqueline de Beuil, Comtesse de Moret. SABE serene G4 : i } Rete eee ton a. et eee eden IN ete ILA sheeple oak FS Te Ae fe iGJacqueline de Beuil neuil’s shoes. Brought to Court, in response to a peremptory order from the King, Mlle. de Beuil, shrewdly counselled by the princess, proceeded to formulate the terms upon which she would be prepared to surrender. To begin with, by way of earnest-money, she demanded 50,000 écus, though she eventually consented to accept 30,000, which was less than a third of the sum which Henriette had cost. Then, following the example of her predecessor, she wanted an estate, a title and a pension of 500 écus a month, to all of which demands the King consented without demur. Finally, becoming more and more exacting, she desired that she should first be pro- vided with a husband. To this demand the King likewise acceded, and the Queen, only too happy to be rid at any price of the redoubtable Henriette, pretended ignorance of an affair which was already the talk of the whole Court. Nothing now remained but to find the man who would be willing to play the part of the husband, and in an age when ideas of honour were so very elastic and so many of the noblesse had been reduced practically to beggary by the civil wars, this presented no difficulty. Indeed, it is said that the gentleman chosen did not wait to be approached, but came forward to offer himself. He was a man of good family, a nephew of Chanvallon, the former lover of Queen Margot, one Harlay de Césy by name, good-looking and not without accomplishments, being an excellent performer on the lute, but so miser- ably poor that he was willing to be content with a pension of no more than 1,200 écus.as the price of the service required of him. The marriage was celebrated at Saint-Maur-les- Fossés on October 5, 1604, at six o’clock in the morning, and the bridal pair were brought back to Paris, to the Hotel d’Hercule, at the corner of the Rue des Grands- Augustins. The husband was permitted to spend the first night with the bride, but the nuptial chamber was lighted up as though for a féte, and gentlemen appointed by the King kept watch beside the bed to see that he I55Last Loves of Henri of Navarre did not infringe the ancient droit du seigneur, which his Majesty intended to exercise. On the following day, M. de Césy was banished to a room on the floor above, and the King took his place.’ At the end of 1604, Henri IV., in accordance with his promise, created his new mistress Comtesse de Moret, but the following year this strange marriage was annulled by the Pope. M. de Césy, as the reward of his complais- ance, kept the 30,000 écus, and in 1616 married Marie de Béthune, who is said to have been the ugliest young woman at the Court. However, she was probably well dowered and came of an influential family, and Césy prospered so well that eventually he became Ambassador at Constantinople. All this time, strange as it may seem, the Comte d’Auvergne, who had undoubtedly been the soul of the conspiracy, was still at large. Shortly after the arrest of Morgan, Henri IV. had sent his confidant d’Escures to Clermont, to which the count had retired, with a letter in his own hand ordering him to return imme- diately to Paris, and another from the Comtesse d’Au- vergne, in which she urged her husband to obey the King’s command. The count read the letters, which did not mention the reason why his Majesty was so anxious to see him, and then asked d’Escures for news of the Court. D’Escures, eyeing the other narrowly the while, told him what had just happened, adding that several great nobles were compromised by the admissions which Morgan had made when under examination. Auvergne went very white and said nothing, and his visitor, certain of his guilt, continued : ‘“Monsieur, if you have had relations with Morgan, I shall counsel you to lose no time in truthfully acquaint- ing the King with everything which has occurred and revealing to him those who are implicated in this affair, in order to obtain your pardon, since I feel sure that 1 L’Estoile. The chronicler adds details which are a little too gat for us to reproduce here. 156Manceuvres of the Comte d'Auvergne you will meet with clemency at his hands. For, if ine Maréchal de Biron had been willing to believe the same counsel which I gave him in Burgundy, he would have obtained it.” Auvergne appeared inclined to follow this advice, and, believing that Morgan had revealed all he knew, and that Henriette had also contessed, sent to Henri IV. a partial confession of his share in the plot and denounced certain of his accomplices, including his sister, who, he did not doubt, would be able to extricate herselt from any situation however difficult it might seem. But he obstinately refused to come to the Court, unless the King would accord him Jettres d’abolition for all his offences. To this Henri IV. consented, and d’Escures was despatched to Clermont with the letters. The King wished to get to the bottom of the affair, which he was never likely to do unless the chief conspirator were prepared to make a full contession ; and he was anxious, for Henriette’s sake, to avoid the necessity of having her brother arrested. For that would entail having him brought to trial for high treason and almost cer- tainly condemned to death. It would, of course, be in his Majesty’s power to commute the capital penalty, but, in view of the count’s past misdeeds, only to long years of captivity. The letters were duly delivered to the count, but the latter still refused to present himself, except on con- dition that his pardon should first be registered by the Parlement. ’ The great desire that the King shows for me to come,’ said he, ‘‘ makes me distrustful. Biron died because he did not listen to the advice of those who entreated him to remain in Burgundy. I am on bad terms with his Majesty, on bad terms with the Queen, on bad terms with my sister ; I will not go to the Court, unless my abolition is ‘registered by the Parlement.” Murat, an official of the Treasury who, at Sully’s suggestion, had been sent with d’Escures, thereupon inquired if he had been conspiring against the life of the 157Last Loves of Henri of Navarre King and the Dauphin, in which case, of course, no abolition would hold good. Auvergne declared, with great oaths, that such a crime had never been contemplated by him. “ But my sister is so cunning!” he added. “ She will invent something of the kind in order to ruin me and make her peace with the King at my expense.” And the envoys were obliged to return to the King and report the failure of their mission. At length, towards the end of October, Henri IV., losing all patience, determined that, come what might, the Comte d’Auvergne must be arrested.* To effect this, however, was far from easy, since the count, fore- seeing such a decision, had left Clermont and retired to the village of Vic, and was taking the most elaborate precautions to guard against surprise, causing the roads leading to it to be patrolled by trusty retainers and posting others, provided with hunting-horns, on the neighbouring heights, to give warning of the approach of any troops. He had a mistress in the environs of Clermont, a certain Madame de Chasseguai, a fantastic Amazon who had been in the habit of accompanying him on his hunting expeditions, but, from fear of being arrested, he ceased to visit her house, and the two lovers used to meet by night in remote villages, but never twice in the same place. However, eventually, he allowed himself to be taken by what seems a very simple stratagem. Two companies of light horse, of one of which the little Duc de Verneuil was the nominal commander, happened to be temporarily stationed in Auvergne, and the officers invited the count, who held the important appointment of Colonel-General of the Light Cavalry, to review them and report to the King on their efficiency. No request could have been more natural, particularly as the two companies had been sent to Auvergne at his 1 According to Lescure (‘‘Les Amours d’Henri IV.’), it had been discovered that new intrigues were being carried on, originated by the Spanish Ambassador, Don Balthazar de Zuniga. 158Arrest of Auvergne own desire, and the fact that it was proposed to hold the review on a wide plain between Noisants and Cler- mont served to remove any suspicion which he might otherwise have entertained. He therefore accepted the invitation and proceeded to the rendezvous, accom- panied by two servants and mounted on a “ powerful Scottish hunter,” on which, in the unlikely event of any danger threatening him, he might easily effect his escape. On his arrival, the two commanding officers, d’Eurre and Nerestang, came to meet him, hat in hand, accom- panied by four soldiers, disguised as lackeys. They conversed for a few minutes, and then proceeded to the saluting-point, d’Eurre riding on one side of the count and Nerestang on the other. Suddenly, at a given signal, two of the supposed lackeys seized the bridle of Auvergne’s horse, the other two his legs, while the officers, closing in upon him, prevented him from drawing sword or pistol. The two servants whom he had brought with him tried to come to their master’s assistance, but an arquebus shot or two fired from the ranks of the light cavalry over their heads made them think better of it; and the count was dragged from his horse, placed on that of a trooper and conducted to Aigueperse. Auvergne took his arrest very coolly, his chief con- cern appearing to be that it would prevent him from keeping a rendezvous which Madame de Chasseguai had given him for that evening. He requested permission to write to the lady to express his regret for this involun- hae discourtesy, which his captors gallantly accorded im. From Aigueperse he was taken to Briare, where d'‘Escures was awaiting him with a coach, in which he was conveyed to Montargis. Here he was placed in a barge, which, descending the Loing and the Seine, brought him to Paris. On his arrival in the capital, he was conducted straight to the Bastille, and placed in the room which Biron had occupied. A few days later the King said to the Venetian 159Last Loves of Henri of Navarre Ambassador, to whom he was giving audience at the Louvre : “T have put the Comte d’Auvergne in a place where he will be unable to do any more harm.” And he added in a tone of regret : “The marchioness has allowed herself to embark in a very bad venture.’’’ At the first news of her brother’s arrest, Henriette had hastened to Paris, but Henri IV. refused to see her and sent orders to her to return to Verneuil. During her absence, police officers visited the chateau with a search warrant, ransacked the marchioness’s coffers and carried off some letters from her father relative to the negotiations with Spain which he was conducting on her behalf, and a number of billets-doux, of which several were in Sigogne’s handwriting, a circumstance which brought about the disgrace of that gentleman. ‘With the tender words which he addressed to her,” writes the Comte de la Ferriére, ‘‘ he mingled counsels in regard to the manner in which she was to conduct herself towards the King, her protector. Passive in- strument, skilful adviser, had Sigogne been secretly paid for services rendered, or rather, sprightly story-teller, composer of little licentious verses, had he aided the marchioness to support the ennuis of her royal slavery ? With such a woman, all suppositions are possible. Henri IV. fixed upon that which wounded the most his pride; seeing himself betrayed, deceived by the man of whom he believed himself the most sure and his usual intermediary with his mistress, he ordered him to return to his government of Dieppe and not to leave it again. Sigogne, a resourceful personage, was skilful enough to find a rather plausible excuse in the delicate duties with which the King had entrusted him. “Sire,” he wrote, ‘‘ my intention was innocent, and at the moment in which my hand was writing what has displeased your Majesty, my heart was thinking of 1 Bibliothéque Nationale, ‘‘ Dépéches des Ambassadeurs Vénitiens.”’ 160M. fn Sigogne Excuses Himself serving you. The humour of her iyi hae I had to deal explains my actions. She desired extraordinary respect, a mind which surrendered to her wishes, and the appearance of much attachment to her interests. Seeing that an inclination so strong and combated by so many agitations constrained you to love her, I thought that all kinds of inventions were permitted me in order to serve you in your commands, and often when pre- tending that your Majesty was wrong and that reason was on the side of her who was depriv ed of it, her ob- stinacy was conquered and changed to your satisfaction.” And he concluded by begging the King to curtail the period of his banishment from the Court, where he was accustomed to spend a good deal more time than at Dieppe." However, his excuses do not appear to have had much effect upon Henri IV. 1 La Ferriére.,CHAPIER X Henri IV. appears determined to allow justice to take its course—His answer to the appeal of the Comtesse d’Auvergne—The Parlement decrees that Madame de Verneuil shall be imprisoned—But the King modifies this order to confinement to her own house in Paris, and sends Sillery to make a last effort to persuade her to confess— Her haughty reply—The Comte d’Auvergne is examined by special commissioners appointed by the Parlement—His accusations against his sister—Examination of Morgan—And of the Comte d’Entragues Madame de Verneuil appears before the commissioners—She persists in denying all knowledge of the conspiracy—Her second examination—Her prevarications in regard to a portrait of the Maréchal de Biron found at Verneuil—Confrontation of Entragues and Auvergne—And of the latter and Henriette. ai HE arrest of the Comte d’Auvergne, following upon that of his step-father, created a great sensation, and a number of important personages who were related to them hastened to intervene in their favour with the King. But Henri IV. appeared this time deter- mined to allow justice to take its course, and to put an end to these continual intrigues in which Spain was always mixed up. When the Comtesse d'Auvergne, a devoted wife who certainly deserved a better fate than to be united to this contemptible traitor, threw herself at his feet, all bathed in tears, to demand the pardon of her husband, he raised her up courteously, but spoke to her very firmly. “Madame,” said he, taking the Queen by the arm, “JT have pitied your grief and your tears; but were I to grant you what you ask of me, it will be necessary for my wife to be declared a wanton, my son a bastard, and the realm a prey to faction ! ”’ Madame de Verneuil remained to be dealt with, and, after long hesitation, for he still loved her, perhaps, indeed, more than he had ever done, as is the way of 162Vacillation of Henri IV. such men, he decided that she should be proceeded against. There can, we think, be very little doubt that his principal motive was the hope that the fear of punishment would suffice to bend the haughty head of this woman who had artfully opposed to his amorous desires the fear of God and the orders of her confessor, and who now angrily repulsed his offers of forgiveness, it she would only cease to persist in her denials and admit the part she had played in the plot. But from one hour to another, the monarch passed from severity to weakness, and when the Parlement directed that Henriette should be imprisoned, he modified this order to confinement to her own hotel in the Faubourg Saint-Germain, under the observation of the Captain of the Night Watch. And, a day or two later, he sent Sillery to her to make a last effort to bring her to reason. But Henriette, far from being alarmed at the situation in which she found herself, had preserved her sang-froid, her effrontery and her spitefulness. She was not afraid to die, said she; on the contrary, she desired it. The King might cause her to be put to death, but, if he did, all the world would say that it was his wife whom he had sent to the scaffold. For she was the true Queen; the other—the Italian woman—the intruder ! And when Sillery asked her what answer he was to take back to the King, she answered haughtily : ~ I demand only three things of his Majesty : Justice for myself, pardon for my father, the rope for my brother ! ”’ On November 24, 1604, three special commissioners appointed by the Parlement: the First President, Achille de Harlay, and the Counsellors Etienne de Fleury and Philibert de Turin, proceeded to the Bastille to examine the Comte d’Auvergne. This was the second occasion on which they had visited the count, aS on the first he had contented himself by placing before them the Jettres d’ abolition which he had extracted 163 11*Sn ee ee eT nee ae ene ee, ene - SNOT Deere Grd Pareeeeene fece < Sereae ern a SD eee “ Last Loves of Henri of Navarre from Henri IV. in the previous summer, and informing them that he should refuse to answer any questions.’ The Parlement had therefore sent the Advocate- General to the King to represent to him that, as this was the third occasion on which the Comte d’Auvergne had been charged with high treason, he had rendered himself unworthy of pardon ; and, with the consent of his Majesty, it had passed a decree ordering the accused to submit to examination on pain of being adjudged guilty of the crime imputed to him. Auvergne having intimated that he was now prepared to answer the questions which might be addressed to him, the First President asked : “How many times have you seen Taxis, the Ambassador of Spain ? ”’ “Twice; the first occasion was at the house of a woman whose name is unknown to me, behind the Petit Saint-Antoine. Entragues and I having explained to Taxis the dangers which threatened my sister from the hatred of the Queen, inquired whether, in the event of the death of the King, who was then very ill, an asylum would be accorded us in Spain. Taxis promised it us in his master’s name.”’ “Have you seen Morgan at the marchioness's house ?”’ was the next question. | Nos mever! But I assert that my sister was in ignorance of nothing of what was being negotiated on her behalf. The day on which Morgan was arrested, meeting her in the Queen’s gardens, she said to me: ‘The King knows everything through this man; but I do not fear anything, for | have my remission in my pockes,”’ * 1 As a matter of fact, the letters had no legal force, as they had only been accorded on the understanding that Auvergne should come to the Court and make a full confession ; and this he had not done. 2 The latter part of this statement is obviously false. In the first place, it is certain that Auvergne left Paris before Morgan’s arrest, and, in the second, after the scene in the King’s cabinet at the Louvre in which he had accused her of a liaison with Bellegarde, he could hardly have been on speaking terms with his sister. 164Examination of Thomas Morgan The examination was resumed on the 27th, when Auvergne maintained that he had on several occasions begged his sister to surrender to the King the promise of marriage which his Majesty had given her, and even invoked the evidence of Sully, to whom, he said, he had spoken about the matter. Finally, he accused the marchioness of having asked the King for the keys of the Sainte-Chapelle in order to give Taxis a rendezvous there. And he declared that had it not been for the ill fortune which had obliged him to leave Paris, he would have revealed all to the King. On December 4, Morgan, who was imprisoned in the Conciergerie, was brought before the commissioners. His defence was feeble in the extreme. Questioned as to the motives of his relations with Taxis and Entragues, he replied that he had paid court to the Ambassador merely in the hope of inducing him to use his good offices to obtain for him from the Court of Madrid a sum of 6,000 crowns owing to him by the late Queen of Scotland, whose agent he had been ; that his only object in visiting Entragues was to obtain from him letters of reeommenda- tion to the latter’s brother-in-law, the Duke of Lennox, who had great influence in England. Asked about a letter from Taxis which he was known to have trans- mitted to Entragues—another from Entragues found at Morgan’s house referred to it; and mentioned that it had been burned by Madame de Verneuil—he answered that he was in entire ignorance of its contents. Before being taken back to the Conciergerie, he pleaded that he was a foreigner, exiled from his own country on account of his religion; that if he had committed any fault, he had done so unwittingly, and that his long imprison- ment had ruined his health. For which reasons he im- plored the clemency of the King. This affair, in which such important persons were implicated, was naturally the chief topic of conversation both of Court and town. ~ We do not speak now,” writes Villeroy to Beaumont, the French Ambassador in England, on December 13, 165era ie re cnet eee oi iM ) ' | ~ mernyramanaen SO nn mete RT nn ae ~: Last Loves of Henri of Navarre ‘save of the trial of the Comtes d’ Auvergne and d’En- tragues and the Marquise de Verneuil. She and her father have not yet been examined, but I am of opinion that they will proceed to it soon.”’ The following day, in fact, Entragues was brought to the Palais de Justice and examined by the First President. He began by placing in the hands of the commissioners a copy of the memoir which he had presented to Henri IV. at Saint-Germain in the previous June, and posed, as he had in his interview with the King, as the martyr of his affection for his daughter. Asked by Harlay what was the real object of the con- spiracy, he replied that his sole purpose was to secure an asylum for his daughter from the animosity of the Queen. He denied emphatically that Henriette was aware of his negotiations with the Spaniards, which was proved, he declared, by the fact that, fearing that the Queen had designs upon her life, she had repeatedly appealed to the King to give her some fortress to which she might retire. His Majesty had offered her the citadel of Caen, and, if she had declined it, it was because Henri IV. would not allow her to appoint a governor of her own choosing. The First President asked him to explain why he had so persistently refused to surrender the promise of marriage which the King had given the marchioness. “T had sworn to my daughter,” he replied, “ not to give it up except to herself. Nevertheless, by dint of solicitations, I was induced to restore it; but when at Fontainebleau I offered the King to surrender it to him, ‘That promise is worth nothing, said he to me; ‘do what you wish with rt.’ ””’ In a second examination, he again asserted that Madame de Verneuil had known nothing of the conferences which he and the Comte d’Auvergne had had with Taxis, and when brought before the commissioners for the third and last time and shown a letter which had been seized at Morgan’s house, and which appeared 166Examination of Mme. ‘de Verneuil to prove that a copy of the promise oe marriage had been sent to Spain, he still persisted in his denials. The Comte d’Auvergne was next summoned before the court and examined by Sillery and Jeannin. In contrast to his step-father, he asserted, as he had when interrogated in the Bastille, that Madame de Verneuil knew all about the negotiations with Spain, his object being, without doubt, to throw on her the chief re- sponsibility for the conspiracy, aware that the King’s affection for her would prove an effectual safeguard. At the same time, he was in accord with Entragues as to the purpose of the negotiations, which, he said, had no other object than to assure his sister’s per- sonal safety. Asked if a treaty with Spain had been signed, he denied it and declared that, if such a document were shown to him, he would sign his death- watrant. On December 17, Madame de Verneuil appeared and was examined by Harlay. ‘Were you acquainted with Taxis, the Spanish Ambassador ?’’ asked the First President, ‘‘and how many times have you seen him ? ”’ “On one occasion only, the evening before his departure for Spain. The King had given me per- mission, and I conversed with him, besides, in the presence of several ladies.”’ ‘“ Have you received letters and presents from him ? You yourself, have you written to him ?”’ “I have never written to him nor received letters from him. Two years ago, he offered me two pairs of gloves and a box of sweetmeats, and the King authorized me to accept them.” To the questions which were next put to her con- cerning the relations of her father and brother with the Spaniards, she answered that, if they had treated on her behalf, it was from the King’s mouth alone that she had learned it. She had, however, since heard from other persons that her father, fearing for her life, in the event of the King’s death, had asked Taxis to demand 1672 OT TS Eonar. Last Loves of Henri of Navarre an asylum for her in the dominions of his master, the King of Spain. “ Who can have inspired you with such suspicions in respect to the Queen ?”’ inquired Harlay. “ The King is not unaware who it is.” “ It is not enough that the King knows. Tell us.” “Well, from different quarters I have been warned that the Queen, if the King were to fail me, would cause me to be imprisoned for the rest of my days.”’ ‘“ Who told you that ?”’ “I shall not name the persons, from fear of com- promising them.”’ ‘“ Have negotiations been carried on with Spain on behalf of your children ? ” “ No, on my behalf alone.” “Did your father promise Taxis to surrender to him the promise of marriage which the King had made you?” “IT have never heard him say that he has spoken of this promise to Taxis.” The evidence which Henriette had given was then read over to her and she was asked to sign it, but, before doing so, she turned to the First President and said : ‘‘ Entreat his Majesty to do me the honour of seeing mex This request having been refused, she continued : ‘’ Pray then his Majesty to send M. de Sillery to me. I have seen him already a week ago. If I answered him that I knew that my father had demanded for me an asylum with the King of Spain, it was because I hoped that his Majesty would question me himself on the matter ; but since this has not seemed good to him, I declare that I was in ignorance of it. I only said what J did in order to have the opportunity of speaking to the King.’ On January 3, 1605, Madame de Verneuil again appeared before the commissioners and was examined by Harlay in regard to Auvergne’s statement that she had asked Henri IV. for the keys of the Sainte- 168Pievanioatane of the’ NMacehioness Chapelle and given Taxis a rendezvous there. She denied having asked the King for the keys—his Majesty would bear her out and would probably remember who it was who had asked him for them. It was true that she had met Taxis there,’ but the meeting was purely accidental, and, since there were more than a hundred persons present, it would have been impossible for her to confer secretly with him. “Were you and the late Maréchal de Biron on friendly terms ?’”’ inquired Harlay, abruptly changing the subject. ‘“ Never on intimate terms.”’ “Did the marshal give you his portrait ?”’ No” “Then whence comes this one, found in your Si at Verneuil? Did you have it painted before or since the marsh l’s death ?”’ ‘A long time before the marshal’s death, a painter named Jean Pol brought me several of them. I kept the one which seemed to me the best with the idea of buying it, but I have not yet paid for it.” ’ To preserve, Madame, the portrait of a rebel is to approve of his perfidy,’’ remarked the First President severely. ‘‘ Are you willing to abide by what the painter will say ?”’ ~ No,” replied the marchioness dryly. The artist was in due course summoned before the court and requested to give his version of the matter. He stated that he had sold to Madame de Verneuil a portrait of Biron, and that, subsequent to this purchase, the marchioness, having seen in his studio another por- trait which had been commissioned by a friend of the marshal, had requested him to paint a replica of it for her. Shown the portrait seized at Verneuil, he recog- nized it as the last which he had painted. When ques- tioned as to the date of this commission, he answered 1 The lady had apparently forgotten that at her previous examination she had declared that she had only seen Taxis on one occasion, namely, on the evening before the Ambassador’s return to Spain, 169St eneene apenas eacteiementindten ion taco eahaeee ee ney en a Nee tA ty gate eee eg ist! Roves of Henri ‘off Niawaiee that he could not be positive, but he believed that it was a little time after Biron’s death. Although Henriette’s purchase of this portrait was only a proof of sympathy, not of complicity, the incident, in conjunction with her prevarications, created a very unfavourable impression. Unpleasant scenes took place when the accused were confronted with one another. On January 15, Entragues and the Comte d’Auvergne were brought face to face. The former, who was the first to be ques- tioned, spoke of the affection which he had shown the other from his infancy, out of respect for the memory of King Charles IX., and which he had continued to show him up to the time when the count had assailed the honour of Madame de Verneuil. Auvergne retorted that he had only spoken to the King because he knew that Sigogne was determined to reveal everything to his Majesty. This was the cause of the implacable hatred which the father and the daughter had conceived for him. And he affirmed anew, in the face of Entragues’s denials, that Madame de Ver- neuil had been aware of all the negotiations which had been conducted on her behalf. On the same day, the brother and sister faced one another. ‘“ What objections, Madame, have you to oppose to the count ?’’ inquired Harlay of the marchioness. “I have only too many,’’ answered Henriette, with a furious glance at Auvergne. ‘“‘ He has endeavoured to tarnish my honour, but I can appeal only to his conscience.” ‘““ Madame,” rejoined the First President, “ all your objections must be presented now. To-morrow they would no longer be admitted.” > ket it be so! “ bint elniienterermnebbenceehaiior pen nee) es rt hee eRee ot | a cee eee ee ee ee ee eee eer Last diated of Henri of Navarre me to Be this trick on you.’ Even admitting that what he has said of me was true, as a brother he. ought to have kept it secret. When I learned of his arrest, I rejoiced, I confess, to the bottom of my heart, for it was the only means of proving to the King the falsity of his accusations; but neither my father nor I have plotted against him. I defy anyone to produce wit- nesses who will prove the contrary. I have never made use in the Queen’s apartments of the language attributed to me, and my mother has never been obliged to leave the room. ? And much more to the same effect, the marchioness being apparently far more concerned to defend herself from the accusation of having received nocturnal visits from the fascinating Duc de Bellegarde than against the charge of conspiring with a foreign Power to subvert the State. The accused were subsequently examined anew, this time separately, but they had nothing of any importance to add to all their contradictory declarations. It mattered, in fact, very little what they said, for the papers seized at Marcoussis would undoubtedly suffice to establish the charge of high treason, and Jeannin bluntly told the King that, if the decision rested with him, he would have all their heads cut off. However, at this juncture a new personage appeared upon the scene who was to extricate Henri IV. from the highly embarrassing situation in which he found himself.CHAPTER xl Arrival of the Duke of Lennox, brother-in-law of the Comte d’Entragues, in Paris as Ambassador E xtr: Lordinary—He intercedes with Henri IV. in favour of the accused—Annoyance of V OY Minister for Foreign Affairs—His interview with the duke—Entragues, Auvergne and Morgan are found guilty of high treason and condemned to death— Madame de Verneuil ordered to be shut up in a convent until the Parlement should be ‘‘ more fully informed ’”’ concerning her part in the conspiracy—But the King directs that the sentence shall not take effect immediately—Deplorable weakness of Henri IV., whose decision in regard to the condemned is subordinated entirely to his desire to resume his former relations with Madame de Verneuil —Henriette decides to sue for pardon—Her letter to the King She is set at liberty—The sentence of death passed upon Entragues | and Auvergne commuted to one of perpetual impris Sut, | shortly afterwards, the former is released—Rebuff which Henri IV. sustains from the Duchesse de Nevers, with whom he has sought a new distraction—Madame de Verneuil is legally rehabilitated— } Accident to the King and Queen at the ferry at Neuilly—Henriette comes to Paris and is received in secret by the King—Her bon mot at the Queen’s expense—Exasperation of Marie de’ Medici, who insists on the marchioness being sent back to Verneuil—Passionate letters of Henri IV. to her 3ut he refuses to dismiss her rival, the Comtesse de Moret, at her bidding—And takes a third sultana, in the person of Charlotte des Essarts, Mlle. de la Haye—Partial disgrace of ous lacy Intrigue of Madame de Moret with the Prince de Joinville g—Joinville is again exiled. “SOME months before, the Duke of Lennox, brother- a in-law of the Comte d’Entragues, had been nominated for an embassy extraor dinary in France, and had said to Beaumont, the French Ambassador in England: “If I delay my departure, it is in order that | I may not have to intervene in the trial of my relatives However, early in January 1605, he suddenly decided that his mission would not admit of any further post- ponement, and on the 14th of that month he arrived in Paris. “IT am of opinion,’ wrote Villeroy to Beaumont 173 | Oey cee Fer nET Clete Tey eee ne eee fe ee eaLast Loves of Henri of Navarre “that he will refrain from interceding for his relatives, whose trial has advanced so far that judgment may be delivered this week. According to the information which I have had, they will all have need of his Majesty’s mercy.” * But, greatly to the annoyance of the Minister for Foreign Affairs, Lennox, notwithstanding the fact that, before leaving England, he had assured Beaumont that he would not meddle with the affair, lost no time in interceding with the King in favour of the accused. Villeroy had an interview with the duke and ex- pressed his astonishment that he should have broken his word to Beaumont, to which the latter replied that, when it was given, he was under the impression that the King had discovered some new facts which aggravated the culpability of Entragues, but that, finding that such was not the case, ‘“‘ he had reason to think that his Majesty would take in good part all that he might be able to say to incline him to clemency.” And he inquired what was to prevent the King from exercising his prerogative of mercy in favour of Entragues and his daughter. The Minister dryly replied that, if he did so, his action would be attributed neither to his kindness nor to the duke’s intercession, but to want of proofs and “to other considerations which had already been only too much discussed.”’ ‘Ah well!” said Lennox. “If his Majesty refuses me this favour, let him not expect to find me so attached to his interests with the King my master as I have been up to the present.”’ And with that the conversation ended. On February 1, Villeroy wrote again to Beaumont : ‘We are approaching the dénouement ; there is no doubt that Entragues and the Comte d’Auvergne will be condemned to death. As for the marchioness, she has not been convicted of being mixed up in her father’s 1 «« Correspondance diplomatique de Beaumont,” cited by La Ferriére. 174Entragues and Auvergne Condemned to Death plots, but pan a having et ondea to lene Benes with her children.” ! Judgment was, in fact, delivered on the following day, when the Parlement, on the demand of the Pro- curator-General, declared Entragues, the Comte d’Au- vergne and Thomas Morgan “attainted and convicted of the crime of high treason in the first de gree,’ and ordered that they should be de -prived of all their honours, dignities and possessions and have their heads cut off in the Place de Gréve. Concerning Henriette d’En- tragues, it directed that it should be “ more fully in- formed ’’ and that, meanwhile, she should be ‘‘ conducted under good and sure guard to the Convent of Beaumont- lez-Tours,’’ and remain there, “‘ under pain of being declared convicted of the crime imputed to her, with injunction not to communicate with any other persons than the nuns.’ The sentence, however, was not to take effect immediately, Henri IV. having forbidden | the court to go further. | The King, it is true, had at first appeared decided | to make an example, for the conspiracy was flagrant, )j despite all the denials of the accused. But this good resolution had not lasted long, and during the trial he had caused Madame de Verneuil to be secretly informed that she would obtain her pardon if she demanded it. The marchioness, however, though aware that she would be perfectly safe to take at his word a monarch always so indulgent where pretty women were concerned, preferred to maintain her attitude of injured innocence and curtly replied that ‘‘she had never offended the King, and that when there was no offence, there could be no pardon.” But Henri IV. persisted in his belief that eventually | she would sue for his forgiveness, and from the moment | that sentence was pronounced by the Parlement, his , sole preoccupation was to ascertain what impression | it had made upon Madame de Verneuil. * “Correspondance diplomatique de Beaumont.”’ 2 L’Estoile. 175Jabiru ein ia nach iil, Ala Abi noscinnchimaplnneToannceny yc aeTe ene wires a PSA na a ena ed aaa eee es aoe Toren aaa eet RCE es tS eee ere STS ST eT eee = — = SEE SY AT Last Loves of Henri of Navarre According to his custom, he wished to consult Sully, and summoning him to the Louvre, inquired what course he thought the marchioness would take. The Minister, after having asked and received his master’s permission to speak quite freely, replied that, in his opinion, if Madame de Verneuil believed that the King had been actuated merely by ‘‘amorous vexation,’ she was too cunning and too bold to be frightened by what had happened, ‘“‘ knowing well that they were only threats which would never be carried out.’’ On the other hand, if she thought that his Majesty had no longer any affec- tion for her, ‘“‘she would be all submission and would employ every means to soften him, even supplications, having faith in the force of her tears and the voice of their children.”’ Henri IV. begged Sully to go and see the marchioness, as he was curious to know whether she would charge the Minister to plead her cause with him. But the other declined, on the plea that it might expose him to the enmity of the Queen and deprive him of the means of serving his Majesty later. On the following day, as the King was on his way to Mass, the Comtesse d’Entragues and her younger daughter Marie, by many considered the most beautiful girl at the Court, presented themselves before him and threw themselves at his feet to implore his clemency. Touched by their despair, he courteously assisted them to rise and answered that he would endeavour to show them that he was a good King. He promised to assemble his Council that day in order to decide the question of pardon, and, with eyes dim with tears, said to the two ladies as he dismissed them: ‘‘ Pray to God that He may be willing to inspire the Council well, and myself also, who am now going to Mass for that purpose.” But the Council had not the same reasons as the King for pardoning the guilty, and it unanimously declared that the judgment of the court ought to be executed. Henri IV. remained undecided. The fact was that 176 i 8 ee On reDeplorable Weakness of Henri IV. his decision was being entirely subordinated to the attitude which Madame de Verneuil might assume towards him. He had found that his new mistress, Jacqueline de Beuil, did not enable him to forget the old. She had, indeed, little save her physical attractions to recommend her, and was “a doll without intelligence, a body without a soul.” “ The corrupt perversity, the fiery temper, the biting tongue of Madame de Verneuil,”’ writes one of his historians, “‘ were more stimulating to his jaded taste than the cloying sweetness of a more beautiful but soulless courtesan. He felt that he must have his Henriette back, and all the more because she affected to scorn him and would not sue for mercy.” } But, 1f he allowed her father and half-brother’s heads to be cut off, even he, dead as he was to all sense of seemliness, felt that he could scarcely again be Hen- riette’s lover. At the same time, he did not propose to disregard the unanimous advice of his counsellors and spare lives which were so justly forfeit, until the marchioness chose to humble herself before him and he was assured of a renewal of their former relations, so soon as a reasonable interval had elapsed. He therefore availed himself of the pretext of a fresh intervention on the part of the Duke of Lennox to accord the accused a further respite, “‘in order,’’ he writes to Beaumont, ~ to gratify him (Lennox) and oblige him to attach himself more to my interests and particularly to the maintenance of the good understanding between myself and his master,’’* and waited for Henriette to make appeal to his clemency. At length, the lady, perceiving that further resistance could serve no useful purpose, determined to take the step to which all this judicial comedy had tended, and addressed to the King the following epistle : » Perhaps your Majesty will be offended to see this letter emerge from my prison after having commanded 1 P. F, Willert, ‘‘ Henry of Navarre and the Huguenots in France.”’ 4 “Correspondance diplomatique de Beaumont.”’ 177 I2a Last Loves of Henri of Navarre that she who sends it was not to be allowed to go out. But since it is ordinarily permitted even to the most culpable to say what they desire, I entreat you, Sire, at least to grant me this liberty of writing out of compassion for me. . . . I do not demand the opportunity of justi- fying myself by words, since my past actions are sufficient evidence of my intentions, and your own judgment suffices to enable you to determine my just reasons. | request only that it be permissible for my anguish to make you hear my lamentations, and truly it is very reasonable, since your Majesty wishes me to suffer this anguish, that he permits me at least to speak of it, in order that he may be able to say afterwards that I have not deserved it. There was a time when your Majesty received from me sweet kisses, instead of the bitter words which come from me now, and sighs of love instead of sobs of affliction. I was always close to your mouth, and, better still, to your soul . . . and if I opened my mouth to tell you something, it seemed to you that Heaven was opening to receive you. But all these past pleasures are now changed into mortifications, and I believe that I should never have possessed that great blessing which I did not deserve, if it were not to suffer also this great affliction which I do not deserve in any way, and should not have been the happiest woman of my time, unless to be afterwards the most unhappy ; unhappy truly, since I have fallen from a place so high where love had lodged me, without love being dislodged in any way from my heart; unhappy because Heaven permits my condition to change, while my affection is not changed. I love as formerly; I burn with as much ardour as formerly, but not with as much felicity as I experienced before this last sorrow, because he who no longer loves anything save his own life seeks at this hour my death, or, if he does not desire it, he is the cause of it. “ Vou have never loved me, or, if you did, your love was but little ardent ; or, if it were, at least am I assured that that heart quite unchangeable in danger is very 178ao —_— The King Commutes the Capital Penalty changeable in its love. Our little children, young though they may be, do not fail to feel much resentment and etief, hearing my just lamentations before they under- stand themselves the reason of them. It seems that you ought to have compassion on me in having it on them. If you do not wish me to owe my liberty to my innocence, at least let it be due to your kindness, in the same manner as I am beholden to your past love, rather than to my own deserts. Thus, free in that way, I shall be more the slave of your Majesty, and much more his prisoner, when I shall be the least so.”’ This letter, notwithstanding its rigmarole, which, however, was very characteristic of the time, and its almost lachrymose sentimentality, was a masterpiece of feminine diplomacy, and it did not fail to have the effect which the writer desired. The King, in whom it had rekindled the fatal passion of which he was unable to cure himself, lost no time in signing an order for Henriette’s unconditional liberation and gave her per- mission to retire to Verneuil, and, some weeks later, com- muted the sentence of death which had been passed upon Entragues and Auvergne to one of perpetual imprison- ment, and re-established them in possession of their property. In order to save appearances, he attributed the pardon to which he had been only too happy to consent to the intervention of the Duke of Lennox— ‘a thing,’ he wrote to Beaumont, ‘‘ which I should have found difficult in granting to another, owing to the character of the crime; but I wished to oblige the duke out of respect for the King his master.’ As for Morgan, who had been a mere supernumerary in the affair, he profited by the clemency shown the chief conspirators and was set at liberty, on condition that he left the country. Not long afterwards, Henri IV., with the idea, no doubt, of pleasing Madame de Verneuil, caused Entragues to be released from the Bastille and permitted him to retire to Malesherbes, where he was to be kept 179 12*Last Loves of Henri of Navarre under observation. The Comte d'Auvergne, however, remained a prisoner and expiated his share in the conspiracy—or the accusations he had brought against his half-sister—by a captivity of nearly twelve years, as it was not until 1616 that Marie de’ Medici, who wished to oppose him to the revolted nobles, set him at liberty, Henri IV., however, was aware that some little time must be allowed to pass before he could resume his former relations with Madame de Verneuil, at any rate openly, and being, as we have said, somewhat weary of the Comtesse de Moret, he sought a new distraction with Catherine de Lorraine, Duchesse de Nevers. That lady’s affections, however, happened to be engaged already, though not, it would appear, by their lawful owner, and, to his Majesty’s mortification, she repulsed his propositions and, what was more, informed her husband. The duke took the affair in very bad part and sent one of his gentlemen to complain to the King in his name. The Vert-Galant excused himself as well as he could, but he was furious with the duchess. ‘Would you believe it,” said he to his intimates, “‘ this false prude has repeated all to her husband ? She is more discreet when she gives rendezvous to Bellegarde.”’ The King was still smarting from the rebuff which he had experienced at the hands of Madame de Nevers when he received a letter from Henriette. The mar- chioness was still under the shadow of the decree of the Parlement which had ordered that it should be more fully informed in regard to her, and she now wrote to Henri IV. to entreat him to deliver her from this per- petual menace. Her letter, doubtless, contained renewed assurances of her affection and her entire submission to his Majesty’s wishes, very gratifying to one whose amour-propre had just been so deeply wounded. Any- way, he hastened to do as she desired, and towards the middle of September sent to the Parlement the following document for registration : “ Our Procurator-General has had sufficient time to 180Henriette Rehabilitated bring new charges. Since the actions of Madame de Verneuil have given to all complete satisfaction, and as she has desired nothing so much as to be justified of the matter of which she is accused ; as also we do not ignore the particular affection wherewith we have honoured her, it would be unjust for her to remain all her life in a state of uncertainty. MRecollecting the affection which we have borne her and the children whom we have had by her, and being sufficiently en- lightened concerning what has passed in this affair, we have desired and desire that all proceedings and | investigations shall cease entirely, and that she shall | be at full liberty both as to her person and property. And we impose silence on all our procurators-general present and to come and enjoin our trusty servants of our court of the Parlement to register the present letters.”’ Madame de Verneuil was thus legally rehabilitated, | but, impatient though Henri IV. might be to renew their lhaison, he did not as yet venture to do so. Early d in January 1606, however, he permitted her to come to | Saint-Germain to see her children, and, encouraged by this concession, the marchioness demanded authori- sation to return to Paris and reside there as she had formerly. This request the King refused, though sorely against his will,, and Henriette did not press him, but resolved to watch for the first favourable opportunity. Nor had she to wait very long. On June 9, the King and Queen, accompanied by the Princesse de Conti and the Ducs de Vend6me and de Mont- pensier, were returning from Saint-Germain to Paris in a coach drawn by six horses. On arriving at Neuilly, where they had to cross the Seine, it was raining heavily, in consequence of which the royal party decided not _ 7 According to M. Merki, the cause of Henri IV.’s refusal was his irritation at the conduct of Entragues, who was found to be continuing from Malesherbes his correspondence with Spain and was also suspected of having concerted a plan to enable the Comte d’Auvergne to escape | from the Bastille. | I8rLast Loves of Henri of Navarre to alight ; but, as the coach was entering the ferry-boat, one of the shaft-horses slipped and fell, dragging down the other and overturning the coach and its occupants into the river, which at this point was narrow, but very deep. The attendants who were following on horseback flung themselves into the river to rescue the King, who, however, being a good swimmer, bade them go to the assistance of the Queen. Marie de’ Medici would appear to have been in considerable danger, until André de Vivonne, Sieur de la Chataigneraie, seized her by the hair and drew her to the bank,’ which the other oc- cupants of the coach had no difficulty in reaching. There was considerable delay before another coach could be procured to take their Majesties to Paris, but though the Queen, ‘‘ who had drunk more water than she would have wished,’ kept her bed for two days, neither of them suffered any ill effects from their immersion. As soon as she was informed of this mishap, Madame de Verneuil hastened to Paris, where she was received in secret by the King. ‘““ Sire,’ said she, as she threw herself into his arms, “my joy at learning that you had escaped such a danger must be my excuse. If I had had the misfortune to lose your Majesty, I should have fallen into the hands of the Queen, who detests me.”’ And, being unable to resist the temptation of a bon mot, she added: ‘“‘ Oh my King, if I had been there, when I saw you out of danger, I should have cried: ‘The Queen drinks!’ ” * This malicious speech was duly reported to Marie de’ Medici and revived all the animosity which Henriette’s disgrace had temporarily appeased. So exasperated was her Majesty that she shut herself up in her private apartments and sent to inform her husband that she should decline to leave them so long as the marchioness 1 For this service La Chdtaigneraie received from Marie de’ Medici a present of jewels to the value of 4,000 écus. He was also granted an annual pension, and was subsequently appointed Captain of the Queen’s Guards. 2 L’Estoile. 1821 ; ; eer eet ee Henri I[V., King of France. ‘vom an engraving after the painting by Porbus. [To face P. Id2, ; 1 eee ai ‘ren eminem nig tyes Sa hae aie Lut LAE hed bee vib Ser oers Cabetenaa bsPassionate! eters) ae the King remained in Pal Bin cite that oe ceed to eee her word, the King gave way and regretfully sent his mistress back to Verneuil. But, after this brief reunion, he found it harder than ever to live without her, and accordingly begged the Queen to consent to her return to Paris, on condition that she should come incognito and should not show herself to anyone. ‘“No,”’ answered Marie angrily, “ this creature is so bold and so ambitious that she would never rest until she had succeeded in seeing you in public. I will not submit to this affront.”’ And she even went so far as to forbid the ladies of the Court to visit Madame de Verneuil, under pain of finding the door of her Majesty’s apartments closed to them. As the Queen was again in an interesting condition, Henri IV. felt obliged to humour her and to derive what consolation he might from resuming with Henriette the passionate correspondence of the early days of their liaison. “T think only of pleasing you and of strengthening our love,” he writes to her on October 6, ee We are having fine weather here, but everywhere, save when near you, I am so bored th at I am unable to endure it. Find some means whereby I may see you 1n private.’ New and substantial favours accompanied these tender epistles, and on the death of the poet Desportes, Abbé de Tiron, the numerous benefices which he had possessed were conferred on the little Duc de Verneuil, which, of course, meant that for a good many years to come his mother would enjoy theirrevenues. Encouraged by such proofs of the royal affection, Madame de Ver- neuil decided that she was now strong enough to dethrone her rivals and accordingly demanded the dismissal of Madame de Moret. But the King could not as yet make up his mind to discard a lady whose favours he had purchased at so high a price and of whose society he might be glad when Henriette happened to be spiteful and his consort sulky; and all that the marchioness 183See ee ete ne eeaneeenaned ere STextes ny re eraser encom PE ee eT Pees = Le Aa, ge Renae wearer Se Last Loves of Henri of Navarre could extract from him were vague promises that her wishes should be complied with. ‘““She (Madame de Moret) shall go soon,” he writes, “but do not say anything about it, for word is sent to Paris of everything that you say.”’ And, to persuade her to have patience, he sent Sillery to her with a considerable sum of money to render the counsels which he was charged to give her more palatable. As time goes on, the monarch’s letters grow more and more passionate, so much so, indeed, that in some cases it would be quite impossible to transcribe them literally. ‘““Away from your presence,’ he writes to her on October 23, ‘“‘ I have no more joy than there is salvation away from the Church.” And having learned that Henriette proposed to pay a visit to her parents at Marcoussis, he announces his intention of joining her there and hopes that she will lend him “Ja moitié de votre lit.” ‘Good-bye, my soul,’ he concludes, “I kiss you a million times.”’ The marchioness having adjourned this rendezvous, on November 3 he writes again : “TI shall have the pleasure of seeing you to-morrow without fail. I desire it more than you, for I love you more than you love me. Pretend to be ill... and make up your mind to pay your footing so soon as you alrive. ge Singular to relate, the incorrigible Vert-Galant, while resuming his relations with Madame de Verneuil and apparently more infatuated with her than ever, not only declined to part at her bidding with Madame de Moret, but proceeded to extend the resources of his seraglio by the addition of a third sultana. The lady in question was Charlotte des Essarts, Mlle. de la Haye,’ 1 “«Lettres-Missives.’’ 2 La Haye would appear to have been an estate belonging to the Des Essarts. Daughters of noble families not infrequently took the name of one of their father’s estates. 184A Wav Sultana ioushter a Francois des Besant Rieutenante Genee of the King in Champagne, who had contrived to make her royal admirer believe that she was a novice in this métier, which, as we shall presently see, was very far from being the case. Early in 1607, his Majesty, in order to escape the surveillance of the Queen and the keener eyes of Hen- riette, shut himself up with his new conquest at Chantilly, obligingly placed at his disposal by the Connétable de Montmorency, under the pretext of enjoying the excellent hunting which the neighbourhood afforded. Howev er, despite these precautions, the affair was very soon an open secret, and on March 21, the poet Malherbe, who was usually well informed about what was happening in high circles, writes to one of his friends : ‘““ Mile. de la Haye yesterday bravely hunted the stag. There are many different reports respecting her favour. However that may be, her establishment is arranged. The King has furnished it with tapestries and silver plate. For the silver and the presents some say two thousand livres, others three thousand.”’ The Queen appears to have decided to ignore this fresh escapade on the part of her volatile husband, as she had in the case of Madame de Moret. The ex- planation is that Marie de’ Medici resented her husband’s infidelities far less when she shared his attentions with several women than when she dreaded the dangerous influence of Henriette de Entragues alone. It is also probable that, provided that lady remained at a distance from the Court, the irregularity of the King’s conduct was not altogether displeasing to her, since it obliged him to purchase her complaisance by shutting his eyes to her extravagant generosity to her unworthy Italian favourites, Leonora Galigai and Concini, and the un- bounded influence they exercised over her. As for Madame de Verneuil, not a little to the King’s 185Se eee eee Petia wwe erent mined | yee enmninons senha es ov eet eR reap themed Inger nare-ipa titel 51 Sina eis cilia ors iil Ab SD wii peta aah meen b eptewenreysdraehn enon neisienyeaihnek peepee seater payiiianenee TS ert, ae ey . SE Last Loves of Henri of Navarre relief, she appeared to regard the affair with contemp- tuous indifference, and, when he came to see her, mstead of making a scene, contented herself with a bon mot. “Your Majesty,’ masters ; z/s vous logent dla haye, au vent et a la plime. The marchioness had, in fact, very speedily summed up Mlle. de la Haye, and did not even condescend to show herself jealous of what she felt confident was nothing but a fassade. Nor was her judgment at fault, since Henri IV. was already growing weary of his new toy when, some weeks later, an incident occurred which precipitated her disgrace. It appeared that this pretended novice had in- augurated her career of gallantry by an intrigue with M. de Beaumont, who had lately been replaced at the English Court by the Comte de la Boderie, and had exchanged with him numerous tender letters. Dis- carded after a short while by the diplomatist, she had not forgiven him their rupture, and believing herself more in favour than she was in reality, she ventured to criticize his conduct during his recent embassy. In- formed of this, Beaumont retaliated by sending the letters which his former mistress had written him to the King, who, angry at discovering how he had been de- ceived, at once determined to break with Mlle. de la Haye. The lady, however, declared that she was enceinte, and though Henri IV. was at first under the impression that this was only a pretext to gain time and save herself from too abrupt a dismissal, it proved to be correct. The King accordingly sent her to Le Tressoir, a little country-house belonging to him about two leagues from Fontainebleau, where in due course she gave birth to twin daughters.” d said she, “has very bad quarter- Dot 1 L’Estoile. 2 Both were legitimated and, when they grew up, entered religion and were provided with rich abbeys, one Jeanne Baptiste de Bourbon, becoming Abbess of Fontevrault, while her sister, Marie Henriette de Bourbon, was Abbess of Chelles. 186Mme. de Moret and Joinville On her recovery, Charlotte des Essarts, who had been | created Comtesse de Romorantin, was pardoned and restored to the royal favour, or, at any rate, to a measure of it. But “having been accused,’ Malherbe tells us, ~ Of permitting herself to be visited by M. de Reims,’’? she decided to anticipate her inevitable disgrace by demanding the King’s permission to retire to the Con- vent of Beaumont-les-Dames. This request was at once granted, but the lady does not appear to have remained in the convent very long, and on her return to the world formed a connection with the Archbishop of Rheims which was the cause of much scandal. This \ prelate secretly married her with a dispensation from the Pope and had by her three sons and two daughters, who, however, were declared illegitimate. He died in r6ar, and, after several gallant adventures, Charlotte des Essarts contracted a second marriage with Du Hallier, ( governor of Nancy. Madame de Moret, who in 1607 presented the King / with a fine boy,* was also giving his Majesty abundant } cause for jealousy, and, singularly enough, the first | trouble was occasioned by a brother of the ecclesiastic who had been responsible for the rupture with Charlotte des Essarts. The Prince de Joinville, who, it will be remembered, had been sent to Hungary to fight the Turks, after his intrigues amorous and political of which we have spoken elsewhere, had recently returned to the i Court. Here he met Madame de Moret, and having decided that, as she was deemed worthy of his sovereign’s affection, she must also be worthy of his, straightway proceeded to lay siege to her heart, which capitulated after a very brief resistance. But there were always 1 Louis de Lorraine, Cardinal Archbishop of Rheims, a son of the | Duc de Guise who was assassinated at Blois. , 2 Antoine de Bourbon, Comte de Moret. He was legitimated in 1608, and provided with four rich abbeys. In after years he showed much promise as a soldier, but was killed at Castelnaudery in 1632, at the age i of twenty-five. 187Last Loves of Henri of Navarre too many people interested in keeping an eye upon the favourites of the King for the affair to be kept secret for long, however many precautions might be taken, and Henri IV. soon got wind of it. He lost no time in taxing the countess with her infidelity, which she most strenuously denied, but he left her only partly convinced of her innocence and in a very ill humour, and wrote to Sully : ‘Although I have parted on bad terms with her, I do not fail to be curious to know the truth of a rumour which is being circulated here that the Prince de Join- ville is visiting her. Ascertain the truth about it and send it me ina note, which I will burn, as you will do with this.” We do not know what report Sully sent his master, but, anyway, it must have served to confirm his sus- picions, since he endeavoured to surprise the lovers. But having communicated his intention to Bassompierre, that gentleman, who was on friendly terms with both Joinville and Madame de Moret, secretly warned them to be on their guard, and the attempt failed. However, the countess, perceiving that it would be useless to deny that she had been receiving visits from Joinville, told the King that he ought not to take umbrage at the court which the prince was paying her, since his inten- tions were perfectly honourable and he had promised to marry her. Thereupon his Majesty sent for Join- ville’s mother, Catherine de Cléves, Duchesse de Guise, and began to inveigh against her son, saying that he had abused the indulgence which had been shown him ; that, as one of the accomplices of Biron, he deserved to be languishing in the Bastille, to which he would most assuredly go if he did not keep his promise to the Com- tesse de Moret. The duchess inquired what promise he had made Madame de Moret. “To marry her,” rejoined the King, ‘‘ and it is only at that price that I am willing to overlook his conduct. 188Joinville Banished from France Dea ih marry my mistress, well and good! But let him not continue to play the gallant with her, for that is what I will not suffer. If I pardon the prince, it is because he is your son and you are my relative.”’' But the Duchesse de Guise, who did not want for spirit, took up the cudgels on behalf of her son, and declared her intention of doing everything in her power to prevent him from committing such a misalliance as the King wished to force upon him. The conversation grew heated and terminated by Henri IV. vowing that he would have Joinville arrested ; and the only concession which his relatives were able to obtain was that he should leave the kingdom. And so, for the third time, this too susceptible prince took the road to exile and set out for Nancy. ‘He is at this moment in Lorraine,” writes Puisieux to La Boderie, the French Ambassador in England, ‘very greatly embarrassed. That is to pay dearly for his passions. If he comes to London, it is sufficient for you to know that he has not been prudent.” And L’Estoile notes in his ‘‘ Journal”’ ~ The Prince de Joinville leaves the Court and retires to Saint-Dizier, fortified place of his government. Disgraced by his Majesty on suspicion of some amour- ettes between him and the Comtesse de Moret, an ordinary and too common reason to-day for the disgraces of our Bourt,’’ scarcely had Joinville departed than Madame de Moret took another gallant, a young Breton gentleman named Grandbois, who was a near relative of rahe Grand Equerry Bellegarde. The affair, however, would not appear to have been conducted with much discretion, as it was soon discovered, and ‘“‘ the young lover was forbidden to visit her.’ ? 1 The Duchesse de Guise was his first cousin, her mother, Marguerite de Bourbon, Duchesse de Niv ernais, having been an aunt of Henri IV. 2 Malherbe. 189a | .] f i , & i et oe { a) p t io Bi 7 wie ‘ it 1 | ‘is ie wth heowentp Ach ind cd rey ety are re ataaera TY vale Seeiee dena " IS - Last Loves of Henri of Navarre After this new infidelity, Henri IV., though he did not dismiss Madame de Moret, felt obliged to place her in a sort of semi-disgrace and to abstain from visiting her for a time, in consequence of which he found himself almost forced to return to Madame de Verneuil.CHAPTER XII Henri IV. obtains for the little Duc de Verneuil the reversion of the Archbishopric of Metz—Birth of the future Gaston d’Orléans— The King spends ten days in Paris with Henriette—Flat refusal of the Connétable de Montmorency to consider the question of a marriage between his son and the marchioness’s daughter—Anger of Madame | de Verneuil, who lays the blame upon the King—Passionate letter of Henri IV., who is unable to perceive that the marchioness remains his mistress merely for the sake of the material advantages she derives from the position—The Queem and the favourite again at war—Intervention of Sully—Change in the tone of the King’s letters to Henriette—He reproaches her with her coldness and indifference to his wishes—And finally declares that ‘‘ her ingratitude has over- whelmed his passion ’’—Love-affair between Madame de Verneuil | and the Duc de Guise, whom she induces to sign a marriage-contract with her—Indignation of the duke’s relatives—Henri IV. intervenes and orders Guise to retire to his government of Provence—Intrigue of Madame de Moret with the Comte de Sommerive—Unpleasant i consequences to a gentleman who has threatened to inform the King—Sommerive is exiled and dies of fever at Naples. peree yr rere eee Tre N order to avoid fresh squabbles with the Queen, Henri IV. had not yet authorized Madame de Verneuil to take up her residence in Paris, but he e< gerly availed himself of every opportunity of seeing her. In March 1608, the little Duc de Verneuil was taken ill with measles at Saint-Germain, upon which he wrote suggesting that this would provide her with an admirable pretext for coming to Paris. And as the marchioness delayed her visit, he reproached her with “‘ having lost a fine occasion of giving herself the means of seeing him with- | out inconvenience.” ‘‘ You have shown,” he continues, | the indifference with which you regard me by your feeble excuses. Let your interest, then, be the cause which will enable me to see you. Le Maire will tell you the reasons for which it is necessary.”’ ? | 1 ‘* Lettres-Missives.’’ Igea eee ae Last Loves of Henri of Navarre The King, in fact, was at that moment endeavouring to obtain for his son by Henriette the Archbishopric of Metz, the revenues of which were believed to be worth 100,000 livres, on the death of the Cardinal Charles de Lorraine. The Pope at first refused the necessary dispensations, but eventually the affair was terminated to the satisfaction of the marchioness. As the Queen was expecting shortly to be brought to bed, and he feared, in the circumstances, to give her any cause for irritation, for the next few weeks Henri IV. felt obliged to refrain from seeing his mistress, but he continued to bombard her with passionate epistles. “Iam unable,” he writes on April 12, “to pass a day without making you think of me. I do not repent of it, but, on the contrary, I wish to love you more than I ever did; but also I wish to be yours without exception or modification.”’ On April 25 Marie de’ Medici gave birth to a son, the future Gaston d’Orléans, who was to cause so much trouble during the succeeding reign, and so soon as she was pronounced out of danger, the enamoured monarch, burning with impatience, hurried off to Paris, where Henriette was awaiting him. “He has passed ten days with her,” writes the Vene- tian Ambassador. ‘‘She has demanded of him three things: her return to the Court, the guardianship of her children, and, finally, the town of Metz, of which her son is bishop, as a place of surety.”’ Of these three things, however, the marchioness did not obtain even one, the King putting her off with promises which she knew very well he had no intention of fulfilling. To add to her mortification, she had conceived the idea of betrothing her daughter to the son of the Constable, which would, of course, be a most brilliant match for the girl. But to the first overtures which were made to him, Montmorency replied by a flat refusal, couched in terms very offensive for the mother. Henriette laid the blame upon the King, who, she considered, ought to have brought pressure to 192 )ov Tender Letter paar upon the Constable to face fin to consent to | her wishes, and, in great wrath, took herself off to Verneuil. With the idea, doubtless, of touching the heart of his mistress, Henri IV. wrote reminding her of the happy days which they had spent together at Malesherbes at the beginning of their intimacy : ~ My dear heart, your mother and your sister are at Beaumont, where I am invited to dine to-morrow [ will write you news of them. A hare led me to the rocks opposite Malesherbes, where I experienced that ‘the remembrance of past pleasures is sweet.’ I longed to have you in my arms, as I have held you there. Bear it in mind in reading my letter. I am assured that this memory of the past will make you despise all the present, at least you would do so were you to traverse the roads over which I have passed to visit you) 2, . eMiy dear | love, if I sleep, my dreams are of you; if I wake, my i thoughts are the same. Receive, thus prepared, a i million kisses from me.”’ ! | ' Blinded by that eternal confidence of lovers,’ writes one of Henri IV.’s historians, “ who alw ays per- suade themselves that the heart of their mistress beats in unison with theirs, he did not perceive e that the mar- chioness had arrived at satiety.” ? Although he was now in his fifty-fifth year and looked a great deal older, and for the reasons which we have mentioned elsew here, his person must have been, not only unattractive, but positively repulsive, to any woman of refinement - although nothing was more certain than that Henriette had conspired against his kingdom, if not against his life, with the enemies of Fr: LNCe ; although he had had superabundant proof that she Temained his mistress ! merely for the material advantages which she might derive from the position, he was, extraordinary as it 1 “‘Lettres-Missives,’’ May 22, 1608. 2 La Ferriére, ‘‘ Henri Iv.” 193a PIPPI Th ala eta weet det ery " a ae nn ene A SST LOIS RE RS TT TT NT ST 3 e batons aes or - - SEAS ae a pe a et, Skee LS See * Se erg eee ee Last Loves of Henri of Navarre may seem, still under the illusion that she loved him; whereas the vindictive creature, furious at not having been able to obtain all that she expected from her restora- tion to favour, was seeking only to avenge her dis- appointed hopes. Not being able to attack the husband directly, she once more took the offensive against the wife, which afforded her the twofold satisfaction of annoying the woman whom she hated and, at the same time, destroying the King’s domestic peace. On this occasion she would appear to have placed no restraint whatever upon her venomous tongue, and her gibes, which were, of course, duly reported to Marie de’ Medici, goaded the latter to the point of frenzy. Her Majesty retaliated in lke manner and expressed her opinion of Madame de Ver- neuil with the utmost candour ; and the friends of both ladies joining in the fray, the Court was again divided into two hostile camps, each apparently determined to make all the mischief it could. Henri IV., bombarded as usual by incessant com- plaints from wife and mistress, sent for Sully and per- suaded him, much against his will, to undertake the ungrateful part of mediator. The Minister accordingly proceeded to the Queen’s apartments, where he found Marie de’ Medici engaged in drawing up a long letter to her husband, wherein she set forth her grievances—they all concerned Madame de Verneuil—and called upon him to redress them without delay. This, when completed, she submitted to Sully, who found it a little too outspoken and persuaded her to allow him to dictate another, which he sent to the King, who was on a visit to the Constable at Chantilly. The letter, which, while perfectly respect- ful in tone, made very plain to his Majesty the extent of his own responsibility for the unfortunate state ot affairs which prevailed, did not, as the Minister had, of course, foreseen, prove at all palatable to his master, who wrote bidding him ascertain who was its author, as it had evidently been dictated. On his return from Chantilly, Henri IV. went to see Sully, handed him the 194The Queen and the Favourite at War letter and asked him what he thought about it. The other, after pretending to read it, inquired what there was in it to which his Majesty took exception. The King replied that it seemed a very well-written letter, “full of excuses, humilities and submissions,” but that, even while flattering him, it galled him; that, taking it sentence by sentence, he would not know where to find fault with it, but that, as a whole, it annoyed him and would annoy him still more if it were made public. And he expressed the opinion that it was probably the work, not of the Queen, but of one of her intimates, and wished to know if Sully had any idea who it was. The Minister was then obliged to admit that he himself was the author, and producing the rough draft of the letter, laid it before the King, who took the jest in very good part and began to laugh. Henri IV. then charged Sully to see the Queen again and urge her to exercise more restraint where Madame de Verneuil was concerned, and endeavour to persuade her to get rid of Concini and his wife. He was also to visit Henriette and advise her to remain quiet and to be more guarded in her language, if she did not wish to be shut up in a convent.! But, un- fortunately, all the Minister’s trouble was wasted, for, though both ladies were ready enough to promise amend- ment, they had no intention of keeping their word, and, besides, there were too many people interested in main- taining the dissensions in the Royal Family, notably the Concini, who knew very well that a permanent recon- ciation between the King and Queen would almost certainly mean their dismissal. 1 This statement of Sully concerning the King’s intentions in regard to Henriette, as M. Merki points out, appears to be contradicted by a letter which Henri IV. wrote to the lady at this moment: ‘‘ My dear heart, I arrived yesterday evening at five o’clock. I have not found any alteration. Bonneuil, who came in this morning, tried to speak to my wife of my journeys to Verneuil. She said to him: ‘ The King is all powerful ; I do not wish to know anything about it.’ She has followed M. de Sully’s advice to interrupt all the tales which they try to tell her. We shall leave here Friday ; if you are willing to come Thursday evening, [ should have the boon of seeing you before leaving. . . . Love me well, my dear heart,”’ 195 Lg ECT el ee eee Fae en epee eee ae ee aea . eigen a — —- 5 Last Loves of Henri of Navarre Notwithstanding all the domestic unpleasantness of which she was the cause, Madame de Verneuil continued in high favour, and Henri IV.’s letters to her as passionate asveVel : “T shall give the rest of the day to my pleasure, which will be to see you, to kiss you and to embrace you.” And again : “ Believe that I love you more dearly than all that is in the world; if you are wise, you will be able to keep me in this state.” And in a third letter : “My heart, I envy the bearer of this because he will enjoy your presence. . . . I begin to believe that you love me ; as for me, my heart, do not doubt that I love you more than all the rest of the world. I swear it to you and will prove it to you by my actions.’ But, as the year 1608 draws towards its close, the tone of his Majesty’s letters changes and they become full of complaints and reproaches. “T beg you,’ he writes, “‘to increase my content- ment instead of troubling it. You are able to do it, you ought to do it, you must be willing to do it.” In another letter he informs her that he proposes to come to Paris to see her. She replies that she is on the point of returning to Verneuil. Wounded to the quick, he writes : “ You threaten me with your going away to Verneuil ; do so if it will please you. If you do not love me, I shall be very glad not to see you; if you say you love me, it is a bad proof of it to go away when I arrive. With this truth, I kiss your hands. . . . I shall be in Paris on Thursday, as badly satisfied with you, if you do not change your tone, as ever I was.”’ 196‘The King Reproaches Henriette The marchioness’s reply would not appear to eee done much to mend matters, for a few days later he writes again : “You show plainly, my dear heart, your nature by your letter, which, instead of apprec iating and cherishing the demonstrations of my affection, calls them ‘ baits to deceive.’ Thus shall I waste all my life the attentions which I shall render you. . . . God erant that it may not be so, and that henceforth you pay me according to my worth.” Madame de Verneuil’s treatment of her royal admirer continued to be very far from what the latter considered that he had the right to expect, for in another letter he declares that she has “ deprived him of everything that she could.’’ He loves her so dearly that he himself of no account in comparison, but let her not think “ to nourish him with stones after having given him bread.” | “ Consider,’ he continues, ‘‘ my age, my rank, my mind | and my affec tion, and y ou will do whi it you do not do.”’ The lady apparently sought to excuse herself, but, | meantime, the King had learned certain things which had ereatly displeased him, for he writes again : “Your fine words are well received by me when they are preceded by actions, but when they are only intended to cover your shorte omings, I reg sard them as deceitful. I found this morning at Mass prayers in Spanish in our son’s hands; he “told me that you had given them to him. I only wish him to know that there is a Spain; and it has proved so unlucky for you that you ought to desire that the memory of it should be lost. J have not for a long time been so unpleasantly en- | lightened in regard to you as I am; I believe that you . trouble little about it. I should desire to see you, for | have discovered many things ; but, since you have other considerations, manage your affairs as may please you.”’ And then comes a letter which might almost be 197Last Loves of Henri of Navarre . i! regarded as a definite congé, if we did not know that || Madame de Verneuil continued in the good graces of He Ri the monarch—though henceforth only as a sort of inter- | 1 fa mittent mistress—almost to the end of his life : HW “It is not my indolence which deprives you of Pee news of me, but the belief which five years have forcibly Hey Ti impressed upon me that you do not love me. Your actions, during that time, have been so contrary to | your words, and, let us say more, to the love which you owe me, that finally your ingratitude has overwhelmed : my passion, which has resisted more than it could have i | done in the case of any other.”’ There can, we think, be very little doubt, from more HET | than one phrase in these letters, that the chief cause | of the King’s annoyance with Madame de Verneuil HI was his discovery of a new adventure upon which that | lady had recently embarked. Henriette, together with her younger sister Marie, who was already following in her footsteps, was in the habit of visiting the wealthy banker Barthélemy Cénamy —the ‘“‘ Marquis des Millions,’ as he was called—at his sumptuous villa at Conflans, where he was accustomed to entertain the princes and nobles of the Court. The ae Duc de Guise was also a frequent visitor at Conflans, | particularly when the Entragues sisters happened to a re 3 be there, the reason being that he had fallen in love with a Marie. But the latter’s heart had already been subju- gated by Bassompierre, who knew how to take care of ) his conquest, and the duke could make no impression | upon it. Henriette, who would have greatly preferred Hi | him to the confidant of Henri IV., could not bring herself Tia ay to allow so great a parti to escape, and devoted herselt rey to the task of making him forget her sister. She suc- ceeded so well that presently the susceptible prince was vt even more enamoured of her than he had been of Marie me d’Entragues, and ‘‘ passed entire nights beneath her | windows.” He was thus surprised by Bassompierre, 198 natch pememe ties initiate the i bret patilh Ll ae teenies rnenennh j—eseqmrnyipenitn See, Cee ere tear ten te enenen Seren ae Say aE he i, eres ede tay Tied Sage HtHenriette and the Duc de Guise | who was on his way to visit his mistress, and Madame de Verneuil, being at once informed, “ simulated com- passion and permitted him some liberties.’ Finally, she conceived the idea of making him marry her, and, while waiting until she could disengage herself from her liaison with Henri IV., she sought to bind him by a promise of marriage. It was to return to the point from which she had started and to play again the game which she had played with the King. So skilfully did she manceuvre that the duke was soon ready to agree to anything, but, warned by her first adventure, she decided to have something more binding i than a mere promise, and accordingly lost no time in | causing the banns to be published, contenting herself by veiling the real names under transparent pseudonyms, a practice which appears to have been not uncommon at this epoch. Next, she had the marriage-contract drawn ) up by two notaries, who signed the document, and had it initialled by a priest. Finally, she affixed her own signature to it and made the Duc de Guise affix his. | The affair was soon an open secret, and on January 3, )) 1609, we find La Boderie, the French Ambassador in | London, writing to Villeroy : “The Ambassador of England (in Paris) has sent word that M. de Guise is marrying the marchioness, and some rather indiscreet words in regard to this matter have escaped from the Queen of England’s mouth. She has sent the marchioness a box of diamonds on which is her portrait, as she has done for the Princesse de Conti.” _From Conflans, the scene of all these intrigues, | Villeroy replied on February 20 : | “As for the understanding between the Queen of Great Britain, the Marquise de Verneuil and M. de Guise, I shall not tell you anything else for the present, but | | am certainly of opinion that you should act discreetly concerning it.”’ 199on rt ee Last Loves of Henri of Navarre But the matter went no further for the time being since the old Duchesse de Guise and other relatives of the duke were furious when they learned of what was in the wind, and loudly proclaimed their opinion that it was nothing but a manceuvre of Madame de Verneuil to embroil the Guise family with Henri IV., to say nothing of the disgrace of such a misalliance. Finally the King intervened,’ and, having severely reprimanded the duke for his conduct, sent him to his government of Provence, with orders to remain there. The mistresses of Henri IV. appeared to possess an irresistible attraction for the members of the younger branch of the House of Lorraine, for, shortly afterwards, Madame de Moret, tempted by one of those lying promises of marriage which the King had made fashionable, allowed herself to be courted by the Comte de Sommerive, younger son of the Duc de Mayenne. A friend of the lady, a M. de la Borde, took upon himself to remonstrate with her upon this new love-affair, and told her that, if it continued, he should feel obliged to inform the King. On learning of this threat, Sommerive, in high indignation at such impertinent interference, caused La Borde to be waylaid by his lackeys and severely beaten. This incident greatly diverted the Court, but Henri IV. took it very seriously indeed. > Im truth, said he ta Sully,.* the best of this raé¢e (the Guises) is worthless, and I have a good mind to deal severely with him.” The Duc de Mayenne and his elder son came to the King to intercede for the culprit ; but his Majesty turned a deaf ear to their entreaties, and Sommerive was exiled, as Joinville had been. Less fortunate than that gentle- man, who had proceeded to England and was having a very pleasant time at the Court of James I., he went to Naples, where he died from an attack of fever. It was to pay dearly indeed for tasting forbidden fruit. 1 Jt was when first informed of this affair that Henri IV. is reported to have observed: ‘‘ Well, we must leave the nobles bread and harlots, as they have been deprived of so many other things.”’ 200CHAPTER XIII The last love of Henri IV.—Charlotte de Montmorency—Contemporary descriptions of her beauty—Her betrothal to Bassompierre—The Duc de Bouillon, out of hostility to Bassompierre, urges the King to marry her to the Prince de Conde, First Prince of the Blood— Mlle. de Montmorency, with other ladies of the Court, visits his Majesty while he is laid up with the gout—Henri IV. falls madly in love with the girl and resolves to appropriate her for himself— \ His conversation with Bassompierre, who is obliged to relinquish i his betrothed to the Prince de Condé, whom his Majesty hopes to find tractable—Marriage of Condé and Charlotte de Montmorency— The infatuation of the King for the young princess becomes the talk of Court and town—Condé declines to accept the odious role intended for him—And, after a stormy interview with the King, leaves the Court with his wife—He returns in order to attend the marriage of | the Duc de Vendéme and Mlle. de Mercceur—But, after another 1 violent altercation with his Majesty, carries off the princess to his | Chateau of Muret, in Picardy—Henri IV. follows his inamorata ul at a country-house—Condeé determines to leave France with his wife—But dissimulates his intention and i promises to bring the princess to the Court—A messenger arrives | in Paris with the news that the Prince and Princesse de Condé are | on their way to Flanders—Consternation of the King—Despite the advice of Sully, he sends troops and police in pursuit of the fugitives Refusal of the authorities of Landrecies to surrender them—The princess is authorized to take up her residence with the Princess of Orange at Brussels, and Condé makes his way to Cologne. Hee: is very improbable that Madame de Verneuil would ever have ventured to risk the favour of Henri [V. by an intrigue with the Duc de Guise, much less have attempted to inveigle that nobleman into a secret marriage, had not chance e given her a rival in the royal affections infinitely more formidable than Charlotte des Essarts or Madame de Moret, and she had felt convinced that the empire which she had exercised for more than eight years was practically at an end. A manuscript preserved in the Dupuy collection in the Bibliothéque Nationale relates that at the time of the birth of his younger son, Gaston, Duc d’Orléans, | (April 25, 1608), Henri IV. conceived the idea of having | 201rene = ae ee ee ee ee ee eT ee Perey ener e Last Loves of Henri of Navarre the child’s horoscope drawn, and, for this purpose, sent for Cosmo Ruggieri, an astrologer who had been much in vogue in the time of Charles IX. and Catherine de’ Medici, but had since fallen into neglect. With the old necromancer’s predictions so far as they affect the young prince we need not concern ourselves, but the closing sentence in the answer which he gave the King is of interest : “This nativity, Sire, augments the time of your pleasures, but more with insipid youth than with others, for, as has several times been written, there are dealings with women entirely contrary to the welfare and repose of the State. I believe also, from this nativity, that soon you will have some new love, who will cause you to forget or to abandon all former affections.” This “ new love’’—this child—whom Ruggieri fore- told, and ‘‘ who was to amuse herself by playing with the King’s heart as she had lately played with her doll,’ was Charlotte de Montmorency, daughter of the Con- stable by his second wife, a woman of such extraordinary beauty that she passed for being bewitched and for having the power to bewitch others.’ Charlotte, who had made her first appearance at the Court in the spring of 1608, while only in her sixteenth year, had inherited her mother’s beauty. “ From the time that she was four years old,” writes Tallemant des Réaux, “it was clearly seen that she would be an ac- complished beauty.’ She had “ blonde hair, a full figure, a perfect face.”’ Malherbe has consecrated to her praise these flattering verses : ‘““ A quelles roses ne fait honte De son teint la vive fraicheur ? Quelle neige a tant de blancheur Que sa gorge ne la surmonte ? Et quelle flamme luit aux cieux Claire et nette comme ses yeux ? ” 1 La Ferriére. 2 She died in a strange and mysterious fashion at Chantilly in 1598, and, according to a chronicle of the time, ‘‘ the devil, who had endowed her with her astonishing and dangerous beauty, had strangled her.”’ 202The Prince de Condé And the Cardinal di Bentivoglio declares that she was ‘‘marvellously fair and possessed in her eyes and her countenance incomparable charms.”’’ The girl was betrothed to Bassompierre, the most dashing gallant of the Court. The King had given his consent to the marriage, and had promised to make his favourite First Gentleman of his Chamber, in place of Charlotte de Montmorency’s uncle, the Duc de Bouillon, the nominal occupant of the post, who was to be induced to surrender it in return for a sum of 100,000 livres. But the duke disliked Bassompierre, and, irritated by some fancied slight which he had received at the hands of that gentleman, he roundly declared that he should have neither his niece nor his office, and, profiting by the illness of the Constable, which had caused the marriage to be postponed, he began to intrigue to prevent it. He therefore spoke to the King of the Prince de Condé, the First Prince of the Blood, who was now of an age to be married, and pointed out that the only suitable wife for him was Mlle. de Montmorency. If he did not marry her, he would be obliged to remain unmarried, unless he espoused one of the Guises or some foreign princess, which would, for political reasons, be very undesirable. And he ended by making the monarch share his views and, at the same time, giving him the idea of a new love-adventure. The Prince de Condé was a posthumous son of Henri de Bourbon, second prince of that name, who had died in March 1588, poisoned, according to common report, by his second wife, Catherine Charlotte de la Trémouille, with the assistance of a page named Belcastel and other persons. Although the fact of poisoning was not proved, the doctors who performed the autopsy having been unable to agree, the princess was imprisoned and was not released until seven years later, when the pro- ceedings against her were annulled by the Parlement of Paris and she was declared innocent. The little prince was born on September 1, 1588, six months after his 1 “ Relation du Cardinal Bentivoglio,’’ Paris, 1642. 203 cm steev van , , Pes i ciate LeAnn nd emeneenin pi aatagnreyolenalpimmnnteniiinrnsist herpes ay —atee Ryans enti bata hppest jhe hehe ey perenne eeae we ae neey erry es ees er ee Or 16 be ¢ : of j j 3 H H 3 t i ERNE Tt ved 1 Cat i Coen } ' } | f a \ , } 7 Shi til t | : | } ; : { ; {a} } i | \ ; iba ; wee } Peay i } \ ; | : ‘ ! | t } ' jGloomy Presentiments just a little forced, since practically all authorities agree that, during the last days of his life, the King had quite lost his joyous elasticity of spirits. “‘ Those about him,” writes one of his historians, ‘‘ complained that he had become morose and irritable, and lamented that he should be thus changed by the violence of his passion for the Princess of Condé. He himself, as we have seen, attri- buted his melancholy to this cause. But he had other and juster reasons for his disquiet. He was too humane and had too deep a sense of the value of peace to begin so great a war with a light heart. When he had drawn the sword before, it had been in self-defence ; but now he was the aggressor; it was he who would have to render an account of the bloodshed and misery to come. Besides, he had too much experience not to know that the most careful precautions, the most artful combina- tions, avail nothing against the insolent caprice of Fortune. The success of his plans, everything, depended on his life. The thrust of a lance, a stray bullet, might, at the very moment of victory, prove more disastrous to the cause than the most ruinous defeat. He had dark forebodings that his life might be cut short before he had met the enemy.” ’ It may, at first sight, seem strange that Henri IV., who for twenty years had lived in the shadow of the assassin’s dagger, who had schooled himself to despise the danger and had declared that life with such fears would be worse than death, adding that “he was in God’s Hand and that he whom He guards is well guarded,” should now have yielded to them. But the conviction was very general that Spain would not allow the King to put his threats of war into execution without having recourse to her wonted weapon,” and the Dutch 1 P. F, Willert, ‘‘ Henry of Navarre and the Huguenots in France.” 2 ‘‘Tetters arrived from Cambrai, Antwerp and other towns in Flanders, in which the King’s death was spoken of three days, four days, ten days even before it happened. At Cologne and at Maestricht, eight days before the murder, they were shouting out in the streets that he had been killed, and they mentioned the instrument: a large knife.’’— M. Charles Merki, ‘‘ La Marquise de Verneuil et la mort d’Henri IV.” 277Last Loves of Henri of Navarre Ambassador, d’Argens, had even begged Marie de’ Medici to warn her husband to be on his guard. Henri’s discernment could not fail to tell him that this conviction would never have been so widespread if, amongst all who possessed and expressed it, there were not some who knew only too well what was in the wind. Sully has related how, during his visits to him at the Arsenal, the King would sometimes sit silent and pensive, tapping with his fingers on his spectacle-case, and then suddenly spring up, exclaiming: ‘“ Pardieu/ I shall die in this city, I shall never leaveit. They will kill me!” After which outburst, he would calm down, seat himself again and console himself by remarking that ‘“‘ what God had willed was inevitable and that a man must cheerfully bow to his destiny without attempting to oppose it.” Sully, as we know, is not always the most veracious of chroniclers ; but the same objection cannot apply to Bassompierre, whose testimony where Henri IV. is concerned is generally regarded as unimpeachable, And this is what he says : ‘I shall relate many things touching the presenti- ments which the King had before his death and which gave warning of the event. A little while before he said to me: ‘I know not how it is, Bassompierre, but I cannot persuade myself that I am going to Germany, neither does my heart tell me that you are going into Italy.’ Several times he said to me and to others also: ‘I believe that I shall die soon.’ ... The following morning, the 14th of the said month (May), M. de Guise, passing by my lodging, took me to go and meet the King, who had gone to hear Mass at the Feuillants. On the way, we were told that he was returning by the Tuileries, upon which we went to intercept him and found him talking to M. de Villeroy. He left him, and taking M. de Guise and myself one on either side of him, said: ‘I come from the Feuillants, where I saw the chapel which Bassompierre is having built there, and over the door has been placed this inscription : “ Quid 278Henri IV. entrusting the government to Marie de’ Medici. From the painting by Rubens.i } a f i 1 } uy i | i i 7 I ; 4 i 1 yiGloomy Presentiments vetribuam Domino pro omnibus que retribmit mihi?” And I said that, since he was German, he should have put: “ Calicem salutaris accipiam.”’ M. de Guise, laughing heartily, said to him: ‘ You are to my mind one of the most agreeable men in the world, and our destiny created us for one another. For had you been a man of medium station, I would have had you in my service, cost what it might; but, since God has made you a great King, it could not be otherwise than that I should belong to you.’ The King embraced him and me also, and said: ‘ You don’t know me now, but I shall die one of these days, and when you have lost me, you will know my worth, and the difference there is between me and other men.’ Upon that I said to him: ‘Mon Dieu, Sire, why do you never cease to afflict us by saying that you will soon die ? There is no felicity in the world like to yours : you are but in the flower of your age, in pertect health and strength of body, full of honours beyond any other mortal, in the tranquil enjoyment of the most flourishing kingdom in the world; loved and adored by your subjects ; possessed of property, with a beautiful wife, beautiful mistresses and beautiful children, who are growing up. What more could you have or desire to have?’ Then he sighed and said: ‘My friend, all this I must leave.’ ”’ Before parting from the King on that fatal day, Bassompierre informed him that he had received a com- plaint from the captains of the Light Cavalry, of which he had recently been appointed Colonel, that their companies were insufficiently armed and that they were unable to obtain the weapons which they required, and begged his Majesty to give instructions that these should be supplied to them. Henri IV. told him to come to him that afternoon at the Arsenal, where he proposed to visit Sully, who was ill, and he would direct the Minister to let him have the arms he wanted. And, upon Bassompierre remarking that he would very willingly give Sully at the same time the money that 279Last Loves of Henri of Navarre they were worth to enable him to replace them, he laughingly replied by quoting two verses from a well- known song : ‘«Que je n’offre a personne, Mais a vous je les donne.” 1 On his return to the Louvre, Henri IV. dined, and afterwards spent some time in the Queen’s cabinet, in conversation with his wife and two other ladies. Then he went to his own apartments, threw himself on his bed and tried to sleep. He could not do so, however, and, rising, went to the door and inquired of the exempt of the Guards on duty in the corridor what time it was. Nearly four,” was the reply, and at the same moment the clock of Saint-Germain-]’Auxerrois struck the hour. With the familiarity which the King encouraged be- tween himself and his soldiers, the exempt said to him: “Sire, your Majesty looks tired and worried. You had better take a little air; it will refresh you.” ~ Very well,” answered the King; ‘“ order my coach; I will go to the Arsenal to see the Duc de Sully, who is wl,” The coach arrived, but the King, who had returned to the Queen’s apartments, appeared quite unable to make up his mind to leave the Louvre, and kept repeat- ing half to himself: ‘Shall I go? Shall I not?” At last, he announced his intention of going, and left the room, but went only a few paces, when he returned and said to Marie de’ Medici: “Ma mie, shallI go?” She, seeing him so undecided, begged him to stay, but after some further hesitation he finally decided to go. “I wish to speak to M. de Sully,” said he, “‘ otherwise, I shall not sleep in peace. I shall but go and return, and shall be here within the hour.’ And, having kissed the Queen several times, he took leave of her and went to meet his fate.” On descending to the courtyard, the King found Vitry, the Captain of the Guards, who wished to accom- 2 Malherbe, ‘““ Lettres.’’ 1 Bassompierre, ‘‘ Mémoires.”’ 280ee ae ene ablagg line! The King Leaves the Louvre pany him; but he declined his services and sent him to the Palais de Justice to hasten the preparations which the Parlement was making for the Queen’s entry. Nor would he take with him any of the Guards, and his escort consisted merely of eight or ten running footmen, who ran or walked beside the coach, and some gentlemen on horseback. The coach in which Henri [V. set out for the Arsenal was one of those huge, clumsy contrivances then in use amongst the great, with its floor so near the ground that a moderately. stout man could scarcely have crawled lseneath it. Above it, supported by eight slim pillars, | was a kind of roof or canopy, which more resembled the top of an open tent or summer-house than anything else.' On entering it, the King took his seat at the back, on the left, with the Duc “a? Epernon on his right hand ; facing him, by the door, were the Duc de Mont- bazon and the Marquis de la Force, while at the door, : on d’Epernon’s side, were the Maréchal de Lavardin and | Créqui, who commanded the Gardes Frangaises. In | the front part of the capacious vehicle sat the Marquis de Mirebeau and M. de Liencourt, first equerry to the King. The coach was open on both sides, the leather cur- tains with which it was furnished having been drawn back, on account of the fine weather and because the King wished to see the preparations: triumphal arches, artificial rocks, theatres, emblems, inscriptions of honour, figures and fictions drawn from the Bible and mythology, which were being made in Paris for the Queen's entry. On reaching the Croix du Trahoir, in the Rue Saint- Honoré, the King was asked w hich road he wished to take, and gave orders that they should take that which passed the Cemetery of the Innocents. The coach accordingly left the Rue Saint-Honoré and turned into the Rue de la Ferronnerie, which ran parallel with the cemetery, a very narrow street at this period, which 1 J. Bloundelle-Burton, ‘‘ The Fate of Henry of Navarre.’ 281ee en Oe nee ee ee eres elit ere eeernp hth neiehert: iret 9 tetera be A rn 6 an get me nadg Ste Lined ib nt napenesonnn cep iciieey Sy ee ee ae agate seared bo T° She ee LTS ete setlist =e SR A bh se Last Loves of Henri of Navarre there had long been a question of widening.’ Several vehicles blocked the street—it has even been asserted intentionally—amongst others a cart laden with wine-casks and another filled with hay. The royal coach was obliged to graze the shops, which were principally occupied by vendors of scrap iron, and at last, finding further progress impossible, came to a stop near the Rue de la Lingerie, before a shop or tavern which bore the sign of the Sala- mander.? Most of the footmen then left the coach in order to pass through the cemetery and rejoin it at the end of the Rue de la Ferronnerie. Two only remained, but one had gone forward to assist in clearing the street, and the other was bending down to refasten his garter. The gentlemen who accompanied the King on horseback had been obliged to fall behind. There was therefore no one to prevent a person from approach- ing the coach. Henri IV., with his right arm resting on d’Epernon’s shoulder, was listening to a letter which the duke was reading to him, when suddenly a man sprang on to a mounting-block—a common enough object in those days in the streets of Paris—which the coach was almost touching, and from it on to the axle of the near hind wheel, and struck at the King with a knife. The man was Ravaillac. For days he had been prowling round the Louvre ; since the morning he had been dogging his intended victim’s footsteps. When he learned that the King had ordered his coach, he had exclaimed, as_ he afterwards confessed: ‘‘I have thee; thou art lost!” He had followed the slow-moving equipage from the 1 In 1554, Henri II. had signed letters-patent ordering the widening of this street, which was the most direct route from the Louvre to the Chateau des Tournelles, in the Rue Saint-Antoine, and of which he must have often experienced the inconvenience. But the Tournelles were demolished after the death of Henri II., and, in consequence, the improve- ment was not carried out. 2 Malherbe says opposite the shop of the ‘‘ Crowned heart pierced by an arrow.”’ But itis very difficult to-day to fix the exact site of this. The probability, however, is that it stood on the spot occupied by No. 11 or No. 14 of the present street, the latter house being the nearest to the Rue de la Lingerie, 282ee nani Assassination of Henri IV. | Louvre, ma che block in the Rite ae ie Fecronhent ied siven him his opportunity. The assassin’s first blow glanced off the body between the armpit and the left ‘breast, inflicting merely a desh wound. ‘“Ah/ jesus blessé,”’ cried Henri IV. “What is it, Sire ?”’ inquired Montbazon anxiously.’ iw “Cenest nen! Cen’est nen/’’ answered the King, lout the last words were almost inaudible, for Ravaillac had struck a second blow, which pierced the left lung and severed the venous artery. He endeavoured to strike yet again, but only pierced the sleeve of Montbazon, who was supporting the King in hisarms. The hapless monarch, blood streaming from his mouth, was already dead. His crime accomplished, the assassin made no attempt to escape; he remained standing by the coach, the fatal knife in his hand and a dazed expression on his face. Saint-Michel, one of the gentlemen who had followed the King on horseback from the Louvre, drew i his sword and would have run him through, as La | Guesle had Jacques Clément after the murder of | Henri IlI, But d@’ Epernon stopped him. ‘Do not | strike him,” he cried, ‘‘ on pain of your life!’’ And he gave orders for Ravaillac to be arr ested, and conducted to the Hotel de Retz, which was close at hand. It was at this moment that a singular incident occurred. The Baron de Courtemer, another of the gentlemen who had followed the King, was, at La Force’s request, hastening to the Arsenal to inform Sully of the trag sedy, when he encountered a little way down the street, a band of ten or a dozen armed men, of whom two were on horseback, who cried out: “ Death to the assassin. Slay him at once! He must die now—on the spot!’”’ And they were about to throw themselves upon Ravaillac, when Courtemer drew his sword and 1 It is not strange that Montbazon should have asked this question, since not one of those in the coach—there were five, without speaking of the two on the front seat—was ever willing to acknowledge that he had seen the King stabbed,ee a ee Se Se EE ey Se eee eee ee OE ee Last Loves of Henri of Navarre ordered them back, while d’Epernon cried: ‘‘ Harm him not! Your lives for it if you touch him.” There- upon they turned about and disappeared in the crowd which was flocking into the Rue de la Ferronnerie from all the neighbouring streets. ‘“'Who were these men? Why were they there ?” asks the Comte de la Ferriére. ‘‘ Were they hired by the Duc d’Epernon and la Verneuil ? Did they come also to slay the King, and, finding the business done and taking Ravaillac for one of themselves, wish to get rid of him to assure impunity ?”’ M. de la Ferriére’s answer is that the episode con- stitutes ‘‘one of those mysteries which history has bequeathed to us and of which the secret has remained impenetrable.’’* But, as we shall see in the succeeding chapter, some writers are not of this opinion. The excitement in the street was by this time indescribable, and to calm to some degree the ever- increasing crowd surging around the royal coach, d’Eper- non called out that the King was only wounded. The leather curtains of the coach were then closed, and it returned to the Louvre. Towards five o’clock, Marie de’ Medici was in her cabinet with the Duchesse de Montpensier, when she heard a great commotion and people shouting: “ Bring wine! Bring a surgeon!” as was customary when an accident had occurred. Uneasy, she opened the door of the King’s bedchamber and hurried across it into his erand cabinet, where she caught the sound of subdued voices and of heavy steps ascending the staircase. They were those of the King’s escort who were bringing back the lifeless body of their master. On learning the fatal news, Marie gave way to the most uncontrollable grief, ‘“‘making all the Louvre resound with tears and extraordinary lamentations.”’ * “ , 1 “‘ Henri IV.: le Roi: 1’ Amoureux.’ 2 Bassompierre, Richelieu, Fontenay-Mareuil and, in fact, all the best contemporary authorities are in accord with regard to the grief shown by Marie de’ Medici. On the other hand, the Fontanieu manuscript, 284Assassination of Henri IV. But almost parece eiicey, ene @iaaceiion came to her, holding by the hand the little prince who was already no longer the Dauphin. ‘“Monsieur,’’ cried the Queen, then ?”’ “Madame,” replied the Chancellor rather sharply, ‘in France the King does not die ! ”’ He indicated the little boy and added more kindly : “Here is the King, Madame!” At this moment, the fact that Henri IV. was dead was not known except at the Louvre and at the Couvent des Augustins, where the Parlement was temporarily housed, as the Palais de Justice was then being prepared for the coronation fétes of Marie de’ Medici. On his return to the Louvre, d’Epernon had taken counsel with the Duc de Guise, and aie had despatched a number of their friends on horseback through Paris to announce that the King was only wounded. “Then the two nobles repaired to the Augustins, where d’Epernon, “ holding his sword in his hand. but in its sheath, informed Messieurs that they must give orders for the safety of the State and name the Queen Regent, in view of the fact that her son was under age.’ So threatening was the tone in which he spoke that the assembly was quite overawed, and, after a show of deliberating, the Regency was proclaimed and a deputation sent to the Louvre to inform Marie de’ Medici. When at length the news of the King’s death spread through the capital, the grief of the people was inde- scribable, and ‘‘ everyone cried, wept and lamented, great and little, young and old.’* For, with the c¢ is the King dead to»which we have already had occasion to refer, says: “‘ The astonishment was great at the little grief which she (the Queen) testified at the King’s death.’’ Saint-Simon, who, of course, wrote more than a century later, though he had access to sources of information which few historians have possessed, affirms that the Queen received the news of her husband's death with “a presence of mind, an indifference and an indecency which occasioned scandal.’’ The first writer is, however, obviously very hostile to Marie de’ Medici, while, as is well know n, Saint-Simon’s prejudices often caused him to pervert factsin the most flagrant manner. 1 L’Estoile. 255 Pte Fa ei — ee li aaa — ti 'Ane eet amen Sapp an weeds ht hah ee eee 4 4 oa -_ r i : @ t ] a | if i § b4 e a 7 ; | id hr | ji rs , } 4 le , } ay l Last Loves of Henri of Navarre exception of a small section of fanatical Catholics, which had never forgiven him for having been a Huguenot and for continuing to protect his co-religionists, Paris had ended by loving the Béarnais, and citizens, like L’Estoile, who that morning had waxed indignant over the debauchery of the Court and the greed of the tax-gatherers, now wept for “the greatest king in the world and the best.”’ 286ST aS, A DRE RATT Loree ~ nm CHAPTER KIX rial of Ravaillac—His barbarous execution—He persists up to the end in declaring that he has had no ac COO Ee De scene which follows the execution—Jacqueline d’Escoman, a former waiting- woman of Madame de V erienill accuses the marchioness and d’ Eper- non of having instigated the murder of Henri IV.—She appears before the Parlement—She is arrested and pronent to trial on a charge of making false accusations—Madame de Verneuil and d’Epernon sum- moned to appear me are privately examined by the First Presi- dent, Achille de Harlay—His significant answer to an inquiry from the Regent—The trial is adjourne d—Harlay resigns the office of First President, and his successor proves more amenable to Court influence—All the persons incriminated by d’Escoman declared innocent and their accuser sentenced to perpetual imprisonment ) —Her mémovre justificatif—Had Ravaillac really accomplices ?— tI Contention of M. Charles Merki that the assassination of Henri IV. (| was “‘a vengeance of women’”’ considered—Probability that the crime of Ravaillac merely anticipated another attempt upon the , King’s life. EANWHILE, the assassin had been conducted to the Hotel de Retz, where he was subjected to a preliminary examination. From the first, he denied that he had been instigated to commit the crime by anyone, and when they c ontinued to press him, replied, jesting: ‘‘ Take care that in the end I do not say that (tc was you!” From the Hotel de Retz, Ravaillac was presently removed to the Conciergerie, where he was confined in | a cell in “ the square tower,” which was without doubt | the Tour de |’ Horloge, ‘‘ seated and tied in a chair, with fetters on his feet and his hands bound behind his back.” During the next three days he was examined by the Yirst President, Achille de Harlay, President Jeannin and others. But, unless torture were resorted to, “‘ there was no appearance e that he would ever reveal or ‘confess, still less denounce any of his abettors or accomplices, 287ee cat ueae Tee bepetes F i 4 F ; H i : Sn ern Se s ee Rear aeemereetineanati teat Et AS OA eee Re: Rg ce Se ——— Last Loves of Henri of Navarre since from day to day he became more resolute and obstinate.’ On May 18, therefore, the court whick had been constituted to try him decided that he shoule be put to the question extraordinaire. It was to no purpose, however, for Ravaillac still persisted in denying that he had been “‘ induced, counselled or paid to commit the said deed.’’ His sole motives, he declared, were those which we have mentioned elsewhere, namely, that the King was the protector of the Huguenots and intended, as he had heard, to make war on the Pope. All kinds of rumours were in circulation ; people accused the Duc d’Epernon, Madame de Verneuil, the Spaniards, the Jesuits,’ the Queen herself.” It was obviously advisable that the affair should be terminated with as little delay as possible, and it was doubtless for this purpose that Marie de’ Medici had nominated Jeannin—“‘ a man belonging to her, upon whom she could reckon,’ says Tallemant des Réaux—to direct it, Jeannin pushed matters on, and on May 27, thirteen days after the crime, the court declared Ravaillac “ duly attainted and convicted of the crime of lése-majesté divine and human in the first degree, for the very wicked, very abominable and very detestable parricide committed: on the person of the late King Henri IV., of very noble and very honourable memory,’ and condemned him, after first being put to the question, “‘ for the revelation 1 A Jesuit, one Father d’Aubigny, to whom Ravaillac had confesse¢’ before his crime, was summoned before the court. The assassin, it was asserted, had shown him “a portion of a knife, on which there was 4 heart and a cross, declaring that it was to kill the King if he refused to convert those of the Religion (7.e., the Huguenots).’”’ But d’Aubigny denied everything, even to having seen Ravaillac, being naturally very unwilling to be mixed up in the affair. Few believed him, however, and L’Estoile reports that a violent quarrel took place between Loménieé and Father Cotton, the former openly accusing Cotton and other Jesuits of having instigated the murder of the King. 2 Marie de’ Medici, very probably with the intention of giving the lit to these sinister rumours, professed the utmost animosity against tht murderer of her husband, and actually sent her equerry to inform thé) judges that a certain butcher had offered “‘ to flay this wretch alive, promis: ing to make him last a long time and to leave him sufficient strength after he was despoiled of his skin to endure the punishment.’’—Piertt Matthieu, ‘‘ Histoire de la mort déplorable d’Henri IV.” 288- ee ee ee eee) Execution of Ravaillac £ his accomplices,’ to the awful punishment reserved yr regicides. In accordance with the expeditious habits of the ‘me, the sentence was executed that same day. “A+ ten o’clock in the morning,” reports the “ Journal ‘'e L’Estoile,”’ “at the rising of the court, Ravaillac was yrought into the refreshment-room, where he was rdered to kneel down. Then the registrar pronounced 1is sentence, which everyone has heard and seen and can ‘ead everywhere in print, in accordance with which, « order to cause him to reveal his accomplices, he was abjected to the torture of the brodequins,’ during which 1e confessed nothing ; and after they had thrown water | ver him and given him wine, he merely entreated the Yourt, the King, the Queen and everyone to pardon lim, recognizing anew that he had committed a great rime, but declaring that he had not been entreated, olicited or induced by anyone, ‘although he did not loubt that there were many who were very pleased by it.’ “At three o’clock, they took him from the chapel | » go to the punishment, and from the said chapel up i 9 the gate of the Conciergerie all the prisoners hooted | im fiercely and shouted: ~‘ Death to the traitor ! Yeath to the dog!’ and they would have thrown them- elves upon him, if the archers who stood there strongly irmed had not prevented them. On going out to mount nto the scavenger’s cart, he found so great a concourse and multitude of people, excited and infuriated, that the raards and archers, although in great number and, as has been said, armed to the teeth, had great difficulty mn protecting him from its fury, each one endeavouring o lay hands on him, men, women, girls and even little hildren, with such tumult, shouts and yells, imprecations 1 “The horrible torture known as Jes brodequins, which was similar to he old Scottish torture of the ‘ boot,’ was administered in the following , tanner: A wooden boot was placed on the foot and leg, and into it vere hammered wedges of iron growing larger and larger, until the miserable ufferer either answered in the manner desired or was unable to answer mything at all, through his having swooned from the agony of his crushed eg.”’—J. Bloundelle-Burton, ‘‘ The Fate of Henry of Navarre.” 2389 19rene re Last Loves of Henri of Navarre and mialedictions that one could not hear another speak. They were not, indeed, able to save him from many cuffs and blows, and some women imprinted upon him the marks of their teeth and nails, so great was the fury which the people showed.”’ From the Conciergerie, Ravaillac was conducted to Notre-Dame, before the principal door of which, wrapped in a sheet and with a lighted torch in his hand, he per- formed his penance and, in the phraseology of the time, made his ‘‘ amende honorable a Dieu.” Thence, the cart bore him to the Place de Gréve, where the wretched man saw the preparations which had been made for his barbarous execution: the pincers which were to tear his flesh, the cauldrons of molten lead, boiling oil and pitch which were to increase the torment of his lacer- ated body, the four great horses which were to dis- member him. One of these horses appeared to be tired or unwell, whereupon, amidst a great roar of applause from the multitude, a mounted man alighted from his own horse and led it up to take the place of the other. It was then that Ravaillac gave utterance to words which, if they are correctly reported by L’Estoile, would be of great significance, as appearing to indicate that he had committed the crime at the instigation of others : “ They greatly deceived me when they endeavoured to persuade me that the blow I struck would be well received by the people, since it furnishes itself horses to tear me to pieces.” But other writers give these words differently, and, anyway, L’Estoile’s accuracy would seem to be nega- tived by the account which the chronicler himself gives of Ravaillac’s conduct in his last moments : " Having demanded a Salve Regina of the people, it was refused with tumult and violence by the populace, who began to shout more than before that it was not necessary for him and that he was damned like Judas. He turned again then towards his confessor, M. de Filesac, who had been given him with M. de Gamaches, both 290Execution of Ravaillac hoest Pad feed men, virtuous men and amoneet the leading and most competent doctors of theology in all the Sorbonne. He entreated him to give him absolution ; but the confessor refused, saying that that was forbidden, if he declined to reveal his abettors and accomplices. Ravaillac asserted that he had none, as he had always protested ; however, M. de Filesac refused in any way to do more. ‘Give it me then, cried the assassin, ‘at least conditionally, in case what I say be not true; it is a thing which neither you nor any other person is able to refuse me.’ ‘I consent to it,’ then replied the confessor, ‘but on this condition, that in case it be not so, your soul, on leaving this life, will go straight into hell to all the devils; which I declare to you from God as being quite certain and infallible !’”’ Before this incident occurred, Ravaillac’s right hand, holding the knife with which he had committed the crime, had been struck off, and he had been eight times subjected to the excruciating torture of the pincers, followed by the application of ‘‘ molten lead, boiling oil and pitch and a mixture of wax and sulphur.” While enduring these torments, the greffier, standing by, had exhorted him to reveal the names of his accomplices, to which he replied : “ T have already said and I say again that it was I alone who did it.” Finally, the horses were brought, and at the third strain of the animals, which, according to Matteo Botti, the Tuscan Ambassador, were assisted by persons dragging at the ropes, the poor wretch expired. The last scene was perhaps the most horrible of ai fon as the executioner, after dismembering the corpse, was about to cast ° ‘the members and quarters into the fire,” the populace rushed upon them, tore them in pieces and carried them off. ‘‘ There was not a good mother who did not wish to have her piece. They burned the flesh at all the crossways,’ and even at the Louvre, where Marie de’ Medici might have seen the Swi iss roasting some under the balcony of her apartments | 291 19*net oe ee 06 ae “a Spckeaeeea nena caer ean cae vita ti Last Loves of Henri of Navarre Ravaillac was dead, declaring with his last breath that he had no accomplices, but it was the almost unanimous belief of the time that he had been only an instrument, and people were confident that sooner or later those who had instigated him would be discovered. And, in point of fact, before many months had passed, it seemed as if this belief was about to be justified. On January 11, 1611, the Queen of Navarre, Mar guerite de Valois, was hearing Mass in the Church of Saint-Victor, when a good-looking woman of the middle- class approached her : ‘ Madame,” said she, “do you recognize me ?”’ ~ Yes, I recognize you,’’ answered Marguerite, after a moment’s hesitation. ‘‘ You are Jacqueline d’Es- coman. It is you who came to me to ask me to take you into my service.” ' That is true, Madame. ...I have grave revela- tions to make concerning the death of the late King, ] pray you deign to listen to me.”’ The Queen at first refused, but, impressed by the woman's earnestness, ended by yielding to her entreaties, and told her to come and see her at the magnificent hotel which she had built for herself on the left bank of the Seine, opposite the Louvre. The woman came, and so soon as she was alone with Marguerite, said : “I know all those who incited that miscreant (Ravaillac) to attempt the King’s life: they are the Duc d’Epernon and the Marquise de Verneuil. I am ready to depose to it in a court of law.”’ She then proceeded to relate a most extraordinary Story : At a date which is not mentioned, but would appear to have been sometime in 1607, she had entered the 1 Her maiden name was Jacqueline le Voyer, and she had, when very young, married a man called Isaac de Varennes, Sieur d’Escoman or Coman, though whether he had any right to this title is doubtful. Little is known about this man, except that he was at one time a soldier in the Guards, and his wife had been living apart from him for some considerable time. 292Accusations of Jacqueline d’Escoman service of Madame de Verneuil as a waiting-woman. in that capacity, at Christmas 1608, she accompanied her mistress to the Church of Saint-Jean-en-Gréve to near Father Gontier preach. One evening, on entering the church, the marchioness went to a pew in which a man was sitting, in whom d’Escoman recognized the Duc d’Epernon. During the whole of the service the two conversed together in low tones ; but not so low that the waiting-woman, who was kneeling behind them and listening very attentively, was unable to overhear part of what they said. And from this she gathered that the subject of their discussion was a plot against the life of the King. Some days later, the narrative continues, Madame de Verneuil, who had gone to Marcoussis, sent her a man with the following note : “Madame d’Escoman, I send you this man by Etienne, a valet de chambre of my father ; I recommend him to you ; take care of him.” This man was none other than Ravaillac. She received Ravaillac without seeking to ascertain who he was, gave him dinner, and obtained a bed for him at the house of one Lariviére, a confidant of her mistress, though he continued to take his meals at Madame de Verneuil’s hdtel. One day when he was breakfasting, she inquired the reason of the interest which the marchioness appeared to take in him, to which he replied that it was on account of the care which he took of M. d’Epernon’s affairs. On this assurance, she brought him some legal documents to elucidate, but on her return he had disappeared, and she saw him no more for some months. Surprised at these suspicious occurrences, d’Escoman endeavoured to insinuate herself into the confidence of her employer, and learned that a man named Ledain was being employed by Madame de Verneuil to correspond with Spain. Finally, Madame d’Escoman determined to reveal what she knew before it was too late. She approached the Comte de Schomberg and Mlle. de Gournai, a friend 293 oe a Last Loves of Henri of Navarre Bloundelle-Burton, have both endeavoured to prove that Ravaillac’s crime anticipated by only a few moments another attempt upon the King’s life by the band of armed men which, it will be remembered, appeared in the Rue de la Ferronnerie immediately after the murder.! Space forbids us even to summarize the arguments of these two writers, and it will therefore be enough to say that between them they have succeeded in making out a very strong case against these men and also against d'Epernon, whom they both charge with being the employer of the supposed bravoes. Whether they are right or wrong, however, it is practically certain that there was a conspiracy against the life of Henri IV. on foot, and very probably more than one, and also that the Court of Madrid was im- plicated. Everything points to it: the persistent rumours of the King’s death in foreign countries, and particularly in Flanders, days before it actually occurred; Henri’s gloomy presentiments that his end was near at hand, due, without doubt, to vague warnings which had reached him, of some of which he perhaps did not care to speak ;* the indecent exultation of the Spaniards at the murderous blow which had removed their great enemy, and, finally, the disappearance from the Spanish archives and from those of their allies of all documents covering the period immediately preceding and following the crime. This last circumstance is perhaps the most significant of all. 1 “The Fate of Henry of Navarre.’ Loiseleur, ‘‘ Ravaillac.’’ * Foscarini told the Queen of Navarre that, after the King’s death, a letter from the Princesse de Condé was found amongst his papers warning him that it was intended to make an attempt on his life; and he had also been advised “‘ not to go out on the 14th, because there was great danger.”’ 8 When the news of the murder reached Madrid, the Archbishop of Toledo said to Philip III.: ‘‘ Your Majesty ought to impress upon your mind the words of St. Paul: ‘ Si Deus pro nobis, quis contranos?’”’ The Spanish Court went into mourning, but the people exulted openly ; the courtiers declared that it was a “‘ miraculous blessing ’’ from Heaven, and the clergy from the pulpit gave thanks to the ‘“‘ Divine Omnipotence.” 308CHAPTER XX Complete reversal of Henri IV.’s policy by the new Government— Troubled regency of Marie de’ Medici—Marriage arranged between the Duc de Guise and the widowed Duchesse de Montpensier opposed by Madame de Verneuil, on the ground of the marriage-contract which the duke has signed with her—Guise repudiates his signature— The Comte de Soissons, the Cardinal de Joyeuse and d’Epernon chosen to arbitrate upon the matter—The Regent intervenes and obliges Henriette to withdraw her opposition to Guise’s marrliage— Temporary reconciliation between the two women—lIt is ended by Marie de’ Medici intervening on behalf of Bassompierre in the suit brought against him by the marchioness’s sister, Marie d’Entragues —Henriette definitely retires from Court—Marriage of her daughter Gabrielle de Verneuil—Last years and death of Madame de Verneuil. a IV.’s dream of a monarchy which should be triumphant both within and without the realm vanished with him. His warlike projects and his crusade against the House of Austria were abandoned, and Spanish and Jesuit influence dominated the Court of France, with the result that, in 1612, a double marriage was arranged, Louis XIII. being betrothed to Anne of Austria and Madame Elisabeth to the future Philip IV. As for Sully, he was disgraced, and the millions which he had amassed for the war squandered by Marie de’ Medici on her unworthy Italian favourites and on the returned Condé and other princes and nobles, for the purpose of securing their support for the new régime. Such ill-advised liberalities served only to inspire con- tempt for the feeble Government and to whet the appetite of the grandees, whose quarrels, revolts and threats of revolt, all of which had no other object than to aggrandize themselves at the expense of the Crown, make up the history of the regency of Marie de’ Medici. When, at last, in 1616, the Queen-mother summoned up courage to clap Condé into the Bastille, that prince 309Last Loves of Henri of Navarre had succeeded in extorting from her over six million livres, while, during the same period, Mayenne had obtained two millions, Nevers 1,600,000, Longueville 1,200,000, Bouillon a million and Vendéme 600,000, without speaking of the pensions and offices which they had secured. In the midst of these troubles, of this shameful rapacity, people already regretted the strong hand of the dead King, and Madame de Verneuil is said to have observed : ‘Oh! if our little man were able to return, how he would seize the scourge and drive all these merchants out of the temple! ”’ But “the little man” slept in the vaults of Saint- Denis, and, if Henriette had really contributed to his end, which we decline to believe, she had already good cause to repent of it. For, despite the comedy of an official reconciliation, Marie de’ Medici, now all-powerful, had suffered too much through her to forgo altogether the satisfaction of avenging herself ; nor were opportunities wanting. At the end of 1610, a marriage was arranged between the Duc de Guise and the widowed Duchesse de Mont- pensier, to whose heart Henri IV. had once unsuccess- fully laid siege. But, less than two years before, Guise, as we have already mentioned, had given a promise of marriage to Madame de Verneuil—a promise which was perfectly in order—and it was in her power to oppose the projected union. The duke made overtures to the lady, in the hope of arriving at some arrangement, but without result. Evidently, she was determined to punish her faithless admirer and that, if she could not be Duchesse de Guise and take rank after the Princesses of the Blood, no other woman should occupy that coveted position. Guise, furious at his discomfiture, then re- solved to declare that he had never signed the marriage- contract which Madame de Verneuil had in her possession. The Comte de Soissons, the Cardinal de Joyeuse and d’Epernon were chosen by the parties to arbitrate upon 310Statue of Henri IV, (Paris). [To face p. 310.vee wat th er a. ee = 4) wei: * 4 - . Henriette and the Duc de Guise the matter, aa the fecuinent was laid before them. After examining it, they decided to summon the notaries who had drawn it up; but one of them was dead, and the other, a very old man in feeble health, fearful, no doubt, of offending so great a personage as Guise, abso- lutely denied that he had had any thing to do with the affair. Henriette, however, asserted her good faith so stoutly, and was so warmly supported by Soissons, who had reasons of his own for wishing to prevent Guise from marrying Madame de Montpensier, that in all probability the decision would have been in her favour, when the Regent took upon herself to intervene. Marie de’ Medici disliked Soissons and desired to conciliate the Guises, while the temptation to checkmate her former rival was difficult for her to resist. She therefore sent Jeannin to Madame de Verneuil to tell her that “‘ it would be agreeable to her if she were willing to waive her objections to the proposed marriage,’ and Henriette, to whom the Minister did not fail to point out the impolicy of offending at the same time the Regent and the House of Guise, felt obliged to obey. The Duc de Guise, delighted at this result, undertook to reconcile Madame de Verneuil with the Queen, promis- ing that this time the reconciliation should be a real one. After some difficulty, he succeeded, and for a time the marchioness appears to have been quite a welcome visitor at Court. But this good understanding did not last very long, for the v indictive Italian could not forgo an opportunity of mortifying her rival, and had the meanness to strike at her through her younger sister, Marie d’Entragues. Marie had in her possession a promise of marriage from Bassompierre, by whom she had had a son. As that gallant declined to carry it out, the lady, urged on by her relatives, brought an action against him before the Parlement of Rouen to compel him to make her his wife. In ordinary circumstances, she would, in all probability, have won the day, but Marie de Medici sent the maitre des requétes Marillac to Kouen, 311a SaaS Ee a haere ea nn a ae = nen no er ait atc Last Loves of Henri of Navarre with letters in her own hand to the judges recommending Bassompierre’s cause, and they gave their verdict in his favour. Poor Marie d’Entragues deserved a better fate, for she was a beautiful and charming girl, and appears to have been sincerely attached to her faithless lover.’ The years passed ; Concini, who had blossomed into the Maréchal d’Ancre, was assassinated ; Leonora Galigai, declared guilty of lése-majesté and sorcery, was executed in the Place de Gréve ; Marie de’ Medici was exiled to the Chateau of Blois, and Louis XIII., or rather his favourite Luynes, assumed the reins of government. Madame de Verneuil saw nothing of these events ; comprehending that, now that she had lost her pro- tector, she had ceased to be a person of importance and not caring to play a secondary part, she had definitely retired from Court. The marchioness, however, emerged from her retire- ment for a short time at the end of 1622, when her daughter, Marie Angélique de Verneuil, was married with great splendour in the cathedral at Lyons to Bernard de Nogaret, Marquis de la Valette, d’Epernon’s second son. The King and Queen and the whole Court attended the ceremony, amongst those present being Richelieu, who had just been made cardinal. Madame de Verneuil gave her daughter a dowry of 100,000 écus, and Louis XIII. one of twice that amount. The marriage of this legitimated daughter of France was doomed to unhappiness even before it had taken place. At the betrothal ceremony, the Marquis de la Valette, “‘ seized with jealousy,” slapped his future wife’s face before all the Court. Frightened for his half-sister, Louis XIII. begged her to break with a man of so violent a temper, but she refused. Four years later, she died in childbed, and it was rumoured that her death was due to her husband’s ill-treatment or to poison.’ 1 See the author’s “‘ A Gallant of Lorraine’’ (Hurst and Blackett, 1921). 2 Madame de Motteville, “‘ Mémoires.” 312Last Years of Madame de Verneuil Madame de Verneuil did not long survive her ill- | fated daughter. During her last years, if we are to believe Tallemant des Réaux, she became a slave to the pleasures of the table, in consequence of which she grew enor- mously stout. That sylph-like figure which Henri IV. had so much admired eventually acquired an amplitude exceeding even that of Queen Marguerite, who, in her old age, the same chronicler tells, found doors through which she could not pass. Like so many amoureuses, including the aforesaid princess, Henriette, towards the end of her life became very devout and charitable, and in 1622, she founded the Couvent des Annonciades Célestes, which was con- structed in the Marais, near the Hotel de Sévigné. Henriette d’Entragues, Marquise de Verneuil, Com- tesse de Beaugency, Baronne de Villiers Saint-Paul, died at Verneuil on February 9, 1633, at the age of fifty-four. Henriette’s son, Gaston Henri de Verneuil, Duc de Verneuil and Bishop of Metz, who succeeded to all her | property, after being an ecclesiastic until 1666, abandoned | Holy Orders and was appointed Governor of Languedoc. Four years later, ‘““ weary of celibacy at the age when it becomes a necessity,’ he took unto himself a wife, in the person of Charlotte de Séguier, the widowed Duchesse de Sully, daughter-in-law of Henri IV.’s great Minister. He died in 1682, without issue, and the duchy became extinct. The Chateau of Verneuil passed, in 1784, into the possession of the Condé family. More fortunate than Henriette d’Entragues, the Comtesse de Moret, after the death of her royal lover, secured a husband. In 1617, she married the Marquis de Vardes, the last offshoot of that illustrious house which traced its descent from the Maréchal du Bec, the companion of St. Louis in his fatal African expedi- tion." From this marriage two children were born, a daughter, who married the Duc de Rohan, and a son, that dashing Marquis de Vardes who became the favourite 1 La Ferriére. 3t3a Last Loves of Henri of Navarre of Louis XIV. and of the ladies of his Court, and counted amongst his numerous victims the then Princesse de Condé, the Duchesse de Roquelaure, and Olympe Mancini, Comtesse de Soissons. Finally, however, he became too presumptuous, and having spoken lightly of Henrietta of England, Duchesse d’Orléans, to whose love he had ventured to aspire, he was, on that princess’s complaint, given a taste of the Bastille and afterwards banished from the Court. As for Charlotte de Montmorency, Princesse de Condé, the cause of so much trouble, she returned to France after the death of Henri IV., and having dis- avowed the compromising letters in which she had addressed the Vert-Galant as ‘‘ my all” and “ my dear knight,” was officially reconciled to her husband. Condé, however, could not easily bring himself to forgive her, and the tie between them would appear to have been for some years merely a nominal one. When, however, in September 1616, Condé was arrested and sent to the Bastille, the princess went to Marie de’ Medici and very generously begged to be permitted to share her husband’s imprisonment. Her request was refused, but, after the disgrace of the Queen-mother, Louis XIII. permitted her to rejoin Condé, with whom she was subsequently transferred to the Chateau of Vincennes, where she remained until the prince was set at liberty in 1619. The result of the reconciliation between husband and wife was the birth of two children, Anne Géneviéve de Bourbon-Condé, Duchesse de Longueville, the heroine of the Fronde and, in later life, the protectress of the Jansenists, and Louis II., Prince de Condé (‘‘ the great Condé ’’). Charlotte de Montmorency appears to have preserved her remarkable beauty to an advanced age. ‘‘ Her beauty was still great,’ writes Madame de Motteville, ‘when in my childhood I was at the Court, and it lasted to thefend of her life. We praised it without flattery.” 314The Princesse de Condé The same writer enibates to the princess a pone which has sometimes been misinterpreted : ‘What a pity that the Cardinal di Bentivoghio (the Papal Nuncio at Brussels while she was there) did not become Pope, so that I might be able to boast of having had amants of all conditions: popes, kings, cardinals, princes, dukes, marshals of France, even simple gentlemen | ee By the word “ amants’’ Madame de Motteville un- doubtedly intended the reader to understand admirers and suitors, certainly not successful lovers, for, though Charlotte de Montmorency was no doubt an incorrigible flirt, there is no reliable evidence of her ever having been unfaithful to her marriage vows.” She appears to have been one of those cold, vain women, who, in- satiable for admiration, take pleasure in inspiring passions which they are incapable of returning. 1 Lenet tells us that the princess once said to him: “‘ Do not be astonished if the Cardinal di Bentivoglio has flattered me in the portrait which he has drawn of my beauty. He was very much in love with me ; I have a favourable star which makes me beloved by old men.”’ 2 Tallemant des Réaux, upon whose unsupported testimony we should hesitate to condemn anyone, accuses her of having had an intrigue with the Cardinal de la Valette, who, he says, squandered so much money upon her that when he died, in 1640, his revenues were mortgaged for ten years; other writers give her as lovers Chavigny and Bassompierre, whom she was to have married. But this is probably mere gossip. THE ENDPRINTED AT THE CHAPEL RIVER PRESS ’ KINGSTON, SURREY.r ie Stet eee ete eae ee No ee a eee shui atid need deec eaee eh eee ee eae a Se ee Withnateenl Miineaetibas ren ie tag oed SN eee es i ESF aN anges ower ne paper cere cl see ee ee te ae ed ny IT