Volume III Part 22 (1/2)
”Suffer me, Madame,” said the painter, ”to proceed without delay to Paris charged with a letter from your Majesty to the King your son. The pretext for my journey shall be my desire to execute a portrait of my friend, the Baron de Vicq, our Amba.s.sador at the French Court; and as I do not doubt that his Christian Majesty will honour me with a summons to his presence, I will then deliver your despatch into his own hands. The happy results of my former missions render me sanguine of success on this occasion; while I pledge myself that should I unfortunately fail in my attempt to awaken the affection of the King towards your Majesty, it shall be from no want of zeal or perseverance in your cause.”
”My n.o.ble Maestro!” exclaimed Marie de Medicis; ”I would with confidence trust my life in your hands. My sorrows have at least not alienated your generous heart: and there still remains one being upon earth who can be faithful when my grat.i.tude is all that I can offer in return. Listen to me, Rubens. Even yet I am convinced that Louis loves me; a conviction which is shared by Richelieu; and therefore it is that he condemns me to exile. He fears my influence over the mind of the King my son, and has injured me too deeply to place any faith in my forgiveness. Our mutual struggle has extended over long years, and I have become its victim. Yet would I fain make another effort. I am old and heart-broken, and I pine to terminate my wretched existence on the soil of France. Surely this is not too much to ask, and more I will not seek to obtain. You were born under a fortunate constellation, Pietro Paolo; and I have confidence in your success. Go then, and may G.o.d guide and prosper you: but--beware of the Cardinal!”
”Fear not, Madame,” said the painter, as he rose from his knee, and placed writing materials before the agitated Queen. ”In so righteous a cause I shall be protected; but as further delay might prove fatal to our hopes, I would venture to implore your Majesty to lose no time in preparing the despatch of which I am to be the bearer.”
”It shall be done,” replied Marie, forcing a painful smile. ”It will in all probability be my last appeal; for should you fail, Rubens, I shall feel that all is indeed lost!”
The artist bowed profoundly, and left the room in order to give the necessary orders for his immediate departure; while his royal guest seized a pen, and with a trembling hand, and in almost illegible characters, wrote the following affecting letter:--
”Sire--During many years I have been deprived of your dear presence, and have implored your clemency without any reply. G.o.d and the Holy Virgin are my witnesses that my greatest suffering throughout that period has proceeded less from exile, poverty, and humiliation, than from the estrangement of a son, and the loss of his dear presence. Meanwhile I am becoming aged, and feel that each succeeding hour is bringing me more rapidly to the grave. Thus, Sire, would it not be a cruel and an unnatural thing that a mother should expire without having once more seen her beloved son, without having heard one word of consolation from his lips, without having obtained his pardon for the involuntary wrongs of which she may have been guilty towards him? I do not ask of you, Sire, to return to France as a powerful Queen; should such be your good pleasure, I will not even appear again at Court, and will finish my life in any obscure town which you may see fit to select as my residence; but, in the name of G.o.d and all the Saints, I adjure you not to allow me to die out of the kingdom of France; or to suffer me any longer to drag my sorrows and my misery from one foreign city to another; for you are not aware, Sire, that the widow of Henri IV, and the mother of the reigning monarch of France and Navarre, Louis XIII, will soon be without a roof to shelter her head, and a little bread for her support! You are not aware, Sire, that if the hour of my death were now to strike, no one would be beside me to close my eyes, and to say, 'This is the body of Marie de Medicis.' Take then compa.s.sion on my very humble request, Sire; and receive, whatever may be your decision, the blessings of your mother.
”In the city of Antwerp, the ninth day of October of the year of our salvation MDCXLI.--I, the Queen-mother, MARIE.”
As the painter-prince returned to the apartment, the Queen placed this letter in his hands; and glancing at his travelling-garb, said in a faltering voice: ”So soon, Maestro? But you are right, and I may the earlier look for your return.”
Alas! once more the persecuted Princess suffered her sanguine temperament to delude her into hope; but by one of those singular coincidences which appear almost fabulous, Rubens had scarcely taken leave of his family, and was about to enter the carriage that awaited him, when a courier in the livery of the Governor of the Low Countries galloped into the yard, and demanded to be ushered into the presence of the Queen. Startled and alarmed by so unexpected an apparition, Rubens had no alternative but to obey; and the messenger no sooner found himself standing before Marie de Medicis, than, with a profound reverence, he placed a letter in her hands, and with a second salutation retired.
The Queen-mother hastily tore open the packet, of which these were the contents:--
”Madame la Reine--We hereby inform you that the city of Antwerp cannot afford you a befitting asylum, and that you would do better to take up your residence at Cologne.
”Upon which, we pray G.o.d to keep you under His holy and efficient guard.--I, the Governor of the Low Countries,
”DON FRANCISCO DE MELLO.” [230]
Marie de Medicis sank back upon her seat, and silently held the insulting letter towards Rubens.
”There is indeed no time to lose, Madame,” exclaimed the artist, as he glanced rapidly over its contents. ”The spies of the Cardinal have tracked you hither, and you must quit Flanders without delay. Dare I hope that, in this emergency, your Majesty will deign to occupy a house which I possess at Cologne, until my return from Paris?”
”Rubens, you are my preserver!” faltered the wretched Queen. ”Do with me as you will. You will meet your recompense in Heaven.”
A few hours subsequently two carriages drove from the courtyard of Rubens; the first contained Marie de Medicis and two of her ladies, and took the way to Cologne; while the second, which was occupied by Rubens, drove towards Paris.
On the 12th of October the Queen-mother reached her final resting-place, and received permission to reside within the city; but this was the only concession accorded to her; and in one of the most ancient and gloomy streets in the immediate vicinity of the Cloth-market and the Church of Saint Margaret, she took possession of a Gothic house in which the greatest genius of the Flemish school had first seen the light. The room in which Rubens was born had been reverently preserved in all its original comfort by his family, and this apartment became the private chamber of the Queen; who, for a time, sanguine as to the result of the painter's mission, and rendered doubly hopeful by the constant reports which reached her of the rapidly-declining health of Richelieu, supported her new misfortunes with courage.
Unfortunately, however, for his victim, it was only physical suffering by which the Cardinal was prostrated, for never had his mental powers appeared more clear or more acute, or his iron will more indomitable, than at this period, when a slow but painful disease was gradually wearing away his existence; while superadded to this marvellous strength and freshness of intellect--marvellous inasmuch as it triumphantly resisted both physical agony and the conception of all those rapidly-recurring and conflicting political combinations by which he had excited alike the wonder and mistrust of every European state--his irritation and impatience under the restraint enforced upon him by his bodily ailments rendered him a more formidable enemy than ever.
Prematurely old, ruined in const.i.tution, ever dreading the knife of the a.s.sa.s.sin and the pen of the satirist, greedy of gold and power, wrapping himself lovingly in the purple and fine linen of earth, while conscious that ere long the sumptuous draperies of pride must be exchanged for a winding-sheet, Richelieu looked with a jaundiced eye on all about him, and appeared to derive solace and gratification only from the sufferings of others. He had pursued the unfortunate Duc de la Valette with his hatred until the Parliament, composed almost entirely of the creatures of his will and the slaves of his pa.s.sions, had condemned to death the representative of the proud race of Epernon; and he had no sooner accomplished this object than, emboldened by his fatal success, he next ventured to fly his falcon at a still n.o.bler quarry; and he accordingly accused one of the natural sons of Henri IV, the Duc de Vendome, of conspiring against his life. As, however, the Prince was not within his grasp, so that his condemnation could not consequently involve the loss of life, he contented himself with causing him to be declared guilty _par contumace_, and with subsequently making a display of affected generosity, and soliciting his pardon.
”Had he,” said the Cardinal, in his wiry and peculiar tone, which was broken at intervals by a hoa.r.s.e and hollow cough--”had he conspired against the sovereign or against the state, my duty as a minister, and my devotion as a subject, would have compelled me on this occasion to remain silent; but it was against my person alone that M. de Vendome threatened violence, and I can forgive a crime which extended no further.”
Great was the wonder, and still greater the admiration, expressed by the time-serving sycophants to whom he addressed himself. The several members of the Council argued and remonstrated, a.s.suring his Eminence that he owed it to himself to let justice take its course; and entreating that he would not endeavour to influence the sovereign on so serious an occasion, where his generous self-abnegation might involve his future safety; but Richelieu only replied with one of his ambiguous smiles that he could not, in order to save his own life, consent to sacrifice that of a Prince of the Blood; while at the same time he induced the King to exile the d.u.c.h.esse de Vendome and her two sons, MM.
de Mercoeur and de Besancon, from the capital. The members of the Court by which the Duke had been tried and condemned were then commanded to meet at an early hour in the morning on the 22nd of March at St.
Germain-en-Laye, where Louis XIII presided over the a.s.sembly in person; and they had scarcely taken their seats when it was announced to the King that Le Clerc, the secretary of the Cardinal-Minister, awaited in the ante-room the royal permission to deliver to the Chancellor a letter of which he was the bearer. His entrance having been sanctioned by the sovereign, Le Clerc placed his despatches in the hands of Seguier, who hastily cut the silk by which they were secured, and he had no sooner made himself acquainted with their contents than he addressed a few words in a low voice to the King.
”Gentlemen,” said Louis, as the Chancellor fell back into his seat, ”his Eminence the Cardinal de Richelieu is desirous that I should pardon M.
de Vendome; but such is not my own opinion; I owe my protection to those who, like M. le Cardinal, have served me with affection and fidelity; and were I not to punish all attempts against his life, I should experience great difficulty in finding ministers who would transact public business with the same courage and devotion as my cousin of Richelieu has done. M. le Cardinal eagerly demands a free pardon for the Duc de Vendome; but no, no; I will not concede that pardon at present; I will merely suspend the trial; and that measure will, believe me, prove the most efficient one to hold in check so impetuous a character as his.
Nevertheless, read the letter aloud,” he added, ”that the Court may have full cognizance of every circ.u.mstance connected with this unhappy affair.”
Seguier, after a profound obeisance to the sovereign, once more unfolded the packet, of which these were the contents: