From the Memoirs of a Minister of France
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Stanley Weyman >> From the Memoirs of a Minister of France
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When a man is in trouble foes spring up, as the moisture rises
through the stones before a thaw. I doubt if M. de Saintonge was
not more completely surprised than any by the stir which ensued,
and which was not confined to the St. Germains' friends, though
they headed the accusers. All whom he had ever offended, and all
who had ever offended him, clamoured for justice; while St.
Mesmin's faults being forgotten and only his merits remembered,
there were few who did not bow to the general indignation, which
the young and gallant, who saw that at any moment his fate might
be theirs, did all in their power to foment. Finally, the
arrival of St. Mesmin the father, who came up almost broken-
hearted, and would have flung himself at the King's feet on the
first opportunity, roused the storm to the wildest pitch; so
that, in the fear lest M. de Biron's friends should attempt
something under cover of it, I saw the King and gave him my
advice. This was to summon Saintonge, the St. Germains, and old
St. Mesmin to his presence and effect a reconciliation; or,
failing that, to refer the matter to the Parliament.
He agreed with me and chose to receive them next day at the
Arsenal. I communicated his commands, and at the hour named we
met, the King attended by Roquelaure and myself. But if I had
flattered myself that the King's presence would secure a degree
of moderation and reasonableness I was soon undeceived; for
though M. de St. Mesmin had only his trembling head and his tears
to urge, Clan and his son fell upon Saintonge with so much
violence--to which he responded by a fierce and resentful
sullenness equally dangerous--that I feared that blows would be
struck even before the King's face. Lest this should happen and
the worst traditions of old days of disorder be renewed, I
interposed and managed at length to procure silence.
"For shame, gentlemen, for shame!" the King said, gnawing his
moustachios after a fashion he had when in doubt. "I take Heaven
to witness that I cannot say who is right! But this brawling
does no good. The one fact we have is that St. Mesmin has
disappeared."
"Yes, sire; and that M. de Saintonge predicted his
disappearance," St. Germain cried, impulsively. "To the day and
almost to the hour."
"I gather, de Saintonge," the King said, turning to him, mildly,
"that you did use some expressions of that kind."
"Yes, sire, and did nothing upon them," he answered resentfully.
But he trembled as he spoke. He was an older man than his
antagonist, and the latter's violence shook him.
"But does M. de Saintonge deny," St. Germain broke out afresh
before the King could speak, "that my friend had made him a
proposal for his daughter? and that he rejected it?"
"I deny nothing!" Saintonge cried, fierce and trembling as a
baited animal. "For that matter, I would to Heaven he had had
her!" he continued bitterly.
"Ay, so you say now," the irrepressible St. Germain retorted,
"when you know that be is dead!"
"I do not know that he is dead," Saintonge answered. "And, for
that matter, if he were alive and here now he should have her. I
am tired; I have suffered enough."
"What! Do you tell the King," the young fellow replied
incredulously, "that if St. Mesmin were here you would give him
your daughter?"
"I do--I do!" the other exclaimed passionately. "To be rid of
him, and you, and all your crew!"
"Tut, tut!" the King said. "Whatever betides, I will answer for
it, you shall have protection and justice, M. de Saintonge. And
do you, young sir, be silent. Be silent, do you hear! We have
had too much noise introduced into this already."
He proceeded then to ask certain details, and particularly the
hour at which St. Mesmin had been last seen. Notwithstanding
that these facts were in the main matters of common agreement,
some wrangling took place over them; which was only brought to an
end at last in a manner sufficiently startling. The King with
his usual thoughtfulness had bidden St. Mesmin be seated. On a
sudden the old man rose; I heard him utter a cry of amazement,
and following the direction of his eyes I looked towards the
door. There stood his son!
At an appearance so unexpected a dozen exclamations filled the
air; but to describe the scene which ensued or the various
emotions that were evinced by this or that person, as surprise or
interest or affection moved them, were a task on which I am not
inclined to enter. Suffice it that the foremost and the loudest
in these expressions of admiration was young St. Germain; and
that the King, after glancing from face to face in puzzled
perplexity, began to make a shrewd guess at the truth.
"This is a very timely return, M. de St. Mesmin," he said drily.
"Yes, sire," the young impertinent answered, not a whit abashed.
"Very timely, indeed."
"Yes, sire. And the more as St. Germain tells me that M. de
Saintonge in his clemency has reconsidered my claims; and has
undertaken to use that influence with Mademoiselle which--"
But on that word M. de Saintonge, comprehending the RUSE by which
he had been overcome, cut him short; crying out in a rage that he
would see him in perdition first. However, we all immediately
took the Marquis in hand, and made it our business to reconcile
him to the notion; the King even making a special appeal to him,
and promising that St. Mesmin should never want his good offices.
Under this pressure, and confronted by his solemn undertaking,
Saintonge at last and with reluctance gave way. At the King's
instance, he formally gave his consent to a match which
effectually secured St. Mesmin's fortunes, and was as much above
anything the young fellow could reasonably expect as his audacity
and coolness exceeded the common conceit of courtiers.
Many must still remember St. Mesmin; though an attack of the
small-pox, which disfigured him beyond the ordinary, led him to
leave Paris soon after his marriage. He was concerned, I
believe, in the late ill-advised rising in the Vivarais; and at
that time his wife still lived. But for some years past I have
not heard his name, and only now recall it as that of one whose
adventures, thrust on my attention, formed an amusing interlude
in the more serious cares which now demand our notice.
V. THE LOST CIPHER.
I might spend many hours in describing the impression which this
great Sovereign made upon my mind; but if the part which she took
in the conversation I have detailed does not sufficiently exhibit
those qualities of will and intellect which made her the worthy
compeer of the King my master, I should labour in vain.
Moreover, my stay in her neighbourhood, though Raleigh and
Griffin showed me every civility, was short. An hour after
taking leave of her, on the 15th of August, 1601, I sailed from
Dover, and crossing to Calais without mishap anticipated with
pleasure the King's satisfaction when he should hear the result
of my mission, and learn from my mouth the just and friendly
sentiments which Queen Elizabeth entertained towards him.
Unfortunately I was not able to impart these on the instant.
During my absence a trifling matter had carried the King to
Dieppe, whence his anxiety on the queen's account, who was
shortly to be brought to bed, led him to take the road to Paris.
He sent word to me to follow him, but necessarily some days
elapsed before we met; an opportunity of which his enemies and
mine were quick to take advantage, and that so insidiously and
with so much success as to imperil not my reputation only but his
happiness.
The time at their disposal was increased by the fact; that when I
reached the Arsenal I found the Louvre vacant, the queen, who lay
at Fontainebleau, having summoned the King thither. Ferret, his
secretary, however, awaited me with a letter, in which Henry,
after expressing his desire to see we, bade me nevertheless stay
in Paris a day to transact some business. "Then," he continued,
"come to me, my friend, and we will discuss the matter of which
you know. In the meantime send me your papers by Ferret, who
will give you a receipt for them."
Suspecting no danger in a course which was usual enough, I
hastened to comply. Summoning Maignan, who, whenever I
travelled, carried my portfolio, I unlocked it, and emptying the
papers in a mass on the table, handed them in detail to Ferret.
Presently, to my astonishment, I found that one, and this the
most important, was missing. I went over the papers again, and
again, and yet again. Still it was not to be found.
It will be remembered that whenever I travelled on a mission of
importance I wrote my despatches in one of three modes, according
as they were of little, great, or the first importance; in
ordinary characters that is, in a cipher to which the council
possessed the key, or in a cipher to which only the King and I
held keys. This last, as it was seldom used, was rarely changed;
but it was my duty, on my return from each mission, immediately
to remit my key to the King, who deposited it in a safe place
until another occasion for its use arose.
It was this key which was missing. I had been accustomed to
carry it in the portfolio with the other papers; but in a sealed
envelope which I broke and again sealed with my own signet
whenever I had occasion to use the cipher. I had last seen the
envelope at Calais, when I handed the portfolio to Maignan before
beginning my journey to Paris; the portfolio had not since been
opened, yet the sealed packet was missing.
More than a little uneasy, I recalled Maignan, who had withdrawn
after delivering up his charge, "You rascal!" I said with some
heat. "Has this been out of your custody?"
"The bag?" he answered, looking at it. Then his face changed.
"You have cut your finger, my lord," he said.
I had cut it slightly in unbuckling the portfolio, and a drop or
two of blood had fallen on the papers. But his reference to it
at this moment, when my mind was full of my loss, angered me, and
even awoke my suspicions. "Silence!" I said, "and answer me.
Have you let this bag out of your possession?" This time he
replied straightforwardly that he had not.
"Nor unlocked it?"
"I have no key, your excellency."
That was true; and as I had at bottom the utmost confidence in
his fidelity, I pursued the inquiry no farther in that direction,
but made a third search among the papers. This also failing to
bring the packet to light, and Ferret being in haste to be gone,
I was obliged for the moment to put up with the loss, and draw
what comfort I could from the reflection that, no despatch in the
missing cipher was extant. Whoever had stolen it, therefore,
another could be substituted for it and no one the worse. Still
I was unwilling that the King should hear of the mischance from a
stranger, and be led to think me careless; and I bade Ferret be
silent about it unless Henry missed the packet, which might not
happen before my arrival.
When the secretary, who readily assented, had given me his
receipt and was gone, I questioned Maignan afresh and more
closely, but with no result. He had not seen me place the packet
in the portfolio at Calais, and that I had done so I could vouch
only my own memory, which I knew to be fallible. In the
meantime, though the mischance annoyed me, I attached no great
importance to it; but anticipating that a word of explanation
would satisfy the King, and a new cipher dispose of other
difficulties, I dismissed the matter from my mind.
Twenty-four hours later, however, I was rudely awakened. A
courier arrived from Henry, and surprising me in the midst of my
last preparations at the Arsenal, handed me an order to attend
his Majesty; an order couched in the most absolute and peremptory
terms, and lacking all those friendly expressions which the King
never failed to use when he wrote to me. A missive so brief and
so formal--and so needless, for I was on the point of starting--
had not reached me for years; and coming at this moment when I
had no reason to expect a reverse of fortune, it had all the
effect of a thunder-bolt in a clear sky. I stood stunned, the
words which I was dictating to my secretary dying on my lips.
For I knew the King too well, and had experienced his kindness
too lately to attribute the harshness of the order to chance or
forgetfulness; and assured in a moment that I stood face to face
with a grave crisis, I found myself hard put to it to hide my
feelings from those about me.
Nevertheless, I did so with all effort; and, sending for the
courier asked him with an assumption of carelessness what was the
latest news at Court. His answer, in a measure, calmed my fears,
though it could not remove them. He reported that the queen had
been taken ill or so the rumour went.
"Suddenly?" I said.
"This morning," he answered.
"The King was with her?"
"Yes, your excellency."
"Had he left her long when he sent this letter?"
"It came from her chamber, your excellency."
"But--did you understand that her Majesty was in danger?" I
urged.
As to that, however, the man could not say anything; and I was
left to nurse my conjectures during the long ride to
Fontainebleau, where we arrived in the cool of the evening, the
last stage through the forest awakening memories of past pleasure
that combated in vain the disorder and apprehension which held my
spirits. Dismounting in the dusk at the door of my apartments, I
found a fresh surprise awaiting me in the shape of M. de Concini,
the Italian; who advancing to meet me before my foot was out of
the stirrup, announced that he came from the King, who desired my
instant attendance in the queen's closet.
Knowing Concini to be one of those whose influence with her
Majesty had more than once tempted the King to the most violent
measures against her--from which I had with difficulty dissuaded
him--I augured the worst from the choice of such a messenger; and
wounded alike in my pride and the affection in which I held the
King, could scarcely find words in which to ask him if the queen
was ill.
"Indisposed, my lord," he replied carelessly. And he began to
whistle.
I told him that I would remove my boots and brush off the dust,
and in five minutes be at his service.
"Pardon me," he said, "my orders are strict; and they are to
request you to attend his Majesty immediately. He expected you
an hour ago."
I was thunderstruck at this--at the message, and at the man's
manner; and for a moment I could scarcely restrain my
indignation. Fortunately the habit of self-control came to my
aid in time, and I reflected that an altercation with such a
person could only lower my dignity. I contented myself,
therefore, with signifying my assent by a nod, and without more
ado followed him towards the queen's apartments.
In the ante-chamber were several persons, who as I passed saluted
me with an air of shyness and incertitude which was enough of
itself to put me on my guard. Concini attended me to the door of
the chamber; there he fell back, and Mademoiselle Galigai, who
was in waiting, announced me. I entered, assuming a serene
countenance, and found the King and queen together, no other
person being present. The queen was lying at length on a couch,
while Henry, seated on a stool at her feet, seemed to be engaged
in soothing and reassuring her. On my entrance, he broke off and
rose to his feet.
"Here he is at last," he said, barely looking at me. "Now, if
you will, dear heart ask him your questions. I have had no
communication with him, as you know, for I have been with you
since morning."
The queen, whose face was flushed with fever, made a fretful
movement but did not answer.
"Do you wish me to ask him?" Henry said with admirable patience.
"If you think it is worth while," she muttered, turning sullenly
and eyeing me from the middle of her pillows with disdain and
ill-temper.
"I will, then," he answered, and he turned to me. "M. de Rosny,"
he said in a formal tone, which even without the unaccustomed
monsieur cut me to the heart, "be good enough to tell the queen
how the key to my secret cipher, which I entrusted to you, has
come to be in Madame de Verneuil's possession."
I looked at him in the profoundest astonishment, and for a moment
remained silent, trying to collect my thoughts under this
unexpected blow. The queen saw my hesitation and laughed
spitefully. "I am afraid, sire," she said, "that you have
overrated this gentleman's ingenuity, though doubtless it has
been much exercised in your service."
Henry's face grew red with vexation. "Speak, man!" he cried.
"How came she by it?"
"Madame de Verneuil?" I said.
The queen laughed again. "Had you not better take him out first,
sir," she said scornfully, "and tell him what to say?"
"'Fore God, madame," the King cried passionately, "you try me too
far! Have I not told you a hundred times, and sworn to you, that
I did not give Madame de Verneuil this key?"
"If you did not give her that," the queen muttered sullenly,
picking at the silken coverlet which lay on her feet, "you have
given her all else. You cannot deny it."
Henry let a gesture of despair escape him. "Are we to go back to
that?" he said. Then turning to me, "Tell her," he said between
his teeth; "and tell me. VENTRE SAINT GRIS--are you dumb, man?"
Discerning nothing for it at the moment save to bow before this
storm, which had arisen so suddenly, and from a quarter the least
expected, I hastened to comply. I had not proceeded far with my
story, however--which fell short, of course, of explaining how
the key came to be in Madame de Verneuil's hands--before I saw
that it won no credence with the queen, but rather confirmed her
in her belief that the King had given to another what he had
denied to her. And more; I saw that in proportion as the tale
failed to convince her, it excited the King's wrath and
disappointment. He several times cut me short with expressions
of the utmost impatience, and at last, when I came to a lame
conclusion--since I could explain nothing except that the key was
gone--he could restrain himself no longer. In a tone in which he
had never addressed me before, he asked me why I had not, on the
instant, communicated the loss to him; and when I would have
defended myself by adducing the reason I have given above,
overwhelmed me with abuse and reproaches, which, as they were
uttered in the queen's presence, and would be repeated, I knew,
to the Concinis and Galigais of her suite, who had no occasion to
love me, carried a double sting.
Nevertheless, for a time, and until he had somewhat worn himself
out, I let Henry proceed. Then, taking advantage of the first
pause, I interposed. Reminding him that he had never had cause
to accuse me of carelessness before, I recalled the twenty-two
years during which I had served him faithfully, and the enmities
I had incurred for his sake; and having by these means placed the
discussion on a more equal footing, I descended again to
particulars, and asked respectfully if I might know on whose
authority Madame de Verneuil was said to have the cipher.
"On her own!" the queen cried hysterically. "Don't try to
deceive me,--for it will be in vain. I know she has it; and if
the King did not give it to her, who did?"
"That is the question, madam," I said.
"It is one easily answered," she retorted. "If you do not know,
ask her."
"But, perhaps, madam, she will not answer," I ventured.
"Then command her to answer in the King's name!" the queen
replied, her cheeks burning with fever. "And if she will not,
then has the King no prisons--no fetters smooth enough for those
dainty ankles?"
This was a home question, and Henry, who never showed to less
advantage than when he stood between two women, cast a sheepish
glance at me. Unfortunately the queen caught the look, which was
not intended for her; and on the instant it awoke all her former
suspicions. Supposing that she had discovered our collusion, she
flung herself back with a cry of rage, and bursting into a
passion of tears, gave way to frantic reproaches, wailing and
throwing herself about with a violence which could not but injure
one in her condition.
The King stared at her for a moment in sheer dismay. Then his
chagrin turned to anger; which, as he dared not vent it on her,
took my direction. He pointed impetuously to the door. "Begone,
sir!" he said in a passion, and with the utmost harshness. "You
have done mischief enough here. God grant that we see the end of
it! Go--go!" he continued, quite beside himself with fury.
"Send Galigai here, and do you go to your lodging until you hear
from me!"
Overwhelmed and almost stupefied by the catastrophe, I found my
way out I hardly knew how, and sending in the woman, made my
escape from the ante-chamber. But hasten as I might, my
disorder, patent to a hundred curious eyes, betrayed me; and, if
it did not disclose as much as I feared or the inquisitive
desired, told more than any had looked to learn. Within an hour
it was known at Nemours that his Majesty had dismissed me with
high words--some said with a blow; and half a dozen couriers were
on the road to Paris with the news.
In my place some might have given up all for lost; but in
addition to a sense of rectitude, and the consciousness of
desert, I had to support me an intimate knowledge of the King's
temper; which, though I had never suffered from it to this extent
before, I knew to be on occasion as hot as his anger was short
lived, and his disposition generous. I had hopes, therefore--
although I saw dull faces enough among my suite, and some pale
ones--that the King's repentance would overtake his anger, and
its consequences outstrip any that might flow from his wrath.
But though I was not altogether at fault in this, I failed to
take in to account one thing--I mean Henry's anxiety on the
queen's account, her condition, and his desire to have an heir;
which so affected the issue, that instead of fulfilling my
expectations the event left me more despondent than before. The
King wrote, indeed, and within the hour, and his letter was in
form an apology. But it was so lacking in graciousness; so
stiff, though it began "My good friend Rosny," and so insincere,
though it referred to my past services, that when I had read it I
stood awhile gazing at it, afraid to turn lest De Vic and
Varennes, who had brought it, should read my disappointment in my
face.
For I could not hide from myself that the gist of the letter lay,
not in the expressions of regret which opened it, but in the
complaint which closed it; wherein the King sullenly excused his
outbreak on the ground of the magnitude of the interests which my
carelessness had endangered and the opening to harass the queen
which I had heedlessly given. "This cipher," he said, "has long
been a whim with my wife, from whom, for good reasons well known
to you and connected with the Grand Duke's Court, I have thought
fit to withhold it. Now nothing will persuade her that I have
not granted to another what I refused her. I tremble, my friend,
lest you be found to have done more ill to France in a moment of
carelessness than all your services have done good."
It was not difficult to find a threat underlying these words, nor
to discern that if the queen's fancy remained unshaken, and ill
came of it, the King would hardly forgive me. Recognising this,
and that I was face to face with a crisis from which I could not
escape but by the use of my utmost powers, I assumed a serious
and thoughtful air; and without affecting to disguise the fact
that the King was displeased with me, dismissed the envoys with a
few civil speeches, in which I did not fail to speak of his
Majesty in terms that even malevolence could not twist to my
disadvantage.
When they were gone, doubtless to tell Henry how I had taken it,
I sat down to supper with La Font, Boisrueil, and two or three
gentlemen of my suite; and, without appearing too cheerful,
contrived to eat with my usual appetite. Afterwards I withdrew
in the ordinary course to my chamber, and being now at liberty to
look the situation in the face, found it as serious as I had
feared. The falling man has few friends; he must act quickly if
he would retain any. I was not slow in deciding that my sole
chance of an honourable escape lay in discovering--and that
within a few hours--who stole the cipher and conveyed it to
Madame de Verneuil; and in placing before the queen such evidence
of this as must convince her.
By way of beginning, I summoned Maignan and put him through a
severe examination. Later, I sent for the rest of my household--
such, I mean, as had accompanied me--and ranging them against the
walls of my chamber, took a flambeau in my hand and went the
round of them, questioning each, and marking his air and aspect
as he answered. But with no result; so that after following some
clues to no purpose, and suspecting several persons who cleared
themselves on the spot, I became assured that the chain must be
taken up at the other end, and the first link found among Madame
de Verneuil's following.
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