He was the subject of all species of critical judgments; La Rochefoucauld and Saint Simon spoke admiringly of his "prodigious genius." Anne of Austria called him a "factionist." Mazarin, who as he loved neither virtue nor vice, could not judge justly of one of Plutarch's heroes, did not like Retz; but he feared him. Mademoiselle said in her memoirs: "The Cardinal tells me that he believes that Retz has a black soul." People who knew no better laughed at the Archbishop's nephew, and Retz involuntarily fostered their delusion. His swarthy face, crooked legs, and near-sighted awkwardness were well fitted to call forth the gayety of light-minded courtiers. To add to his questionable appearance, he robed himself in the costumes of a cavalier; his doublets and other garments were of gaudy stuffs, belaced and bedecked with baubles which were in all respects, and without any qualifying reservation, beneath the notice of a serious or an appreciative gentleman. His personal carriage (a prancing and tiptoeing swagger) impressed strangers with the idea that he was an unfortunate ballet-master whose troubles had dethroned his reason. But there are men upon the earth who are so constituted that they can support all the ridicule that can be heaped upon them; Retz was one of them; the fact that he was pleasing to women proves it.
While this enterprising episcopal agitator was engaged in earnest contemplation of the first effects of the mischief that he had made in his own quarter (the quarter of Notre Dame) the Parisians were preparing for battle; the fathers were polishing their muskets, the children were sharpening their pocket-knives. But Paris was calm, the rioters had gone back to the faubourgs. The streets were clear between the Tuileries and the Palais Royal, and Mademoiselle paid a visit to the Queen. She was in the Queen's salon when the Parliamentary deputation arrived, acting under stern orders from "the nation's depths," to demand the release of Broussel. Anne of Austria was angry; she refused the demand and the deputies went back to the bourgeoisie. They were not gone long; Mademoiselle was still with the Queen when they returned with the people's ultimatum: The people will have Monsieur Broussel! Anne of Austria was not dull and every possible contingency had been covered by her astute mentor. She ordered Broussel's release and the deputies departed, calm but triumphant.
Mathieu Molé negotiated the release, and while he talked to the Queen a member of Parliament, accompanying him, explained the political situation to Mademoiselle. The deputy's discourse was a clear statement of ugly facts and their consequences; it gave Mademoiselle an insight into the reasons and the secret views of the magistrates. The canaille spoke so loud that all the world could hear; the people's messengers held their heads as high as the nobles. As Mademoiselle watched "the long robes" file out of the royal presence she realised that all the riots and all the menaces had been but the beginning; she knew that the time was coming when, married or not married, every woman in France would be given her chance to do her duty.
When Broussel returned to the people the barricades disappeared; but the canaille was still nervous; a practical joker cried out that the Queen was preparing another Massacre of Saint Bartholomew, and the old muskets followed by the pocket-knives rushed into the streets. Another joker said that the Queen of Sweden with her army was at the gates of Saint Denis, and a prolonged roar was heard and the mob filled the streets and began to pillage. So, amidst alarms and alternations of hope and fear, the days passed for a time. The people of Paris rioted, then returned to their wretched homes. Whatever the day had been, the night brought vigilance. All slept dressed, ready for action. Mademoiselle, who was everywhere at once, was not afraid. When the canaille growled the loudest she went her way. She was happy; she revelled in sound and in movement and in the fears of the Court. At a ball in the rue Saint Antoine she heard shots fired all night and "danced to the music of the guns."
The Queen was anxious to be far from Paris; Mazarin too craved rest; but the royal habit of carrying about all the furniture of the household made secret escape difficult. The people were watching the Palais Royal; they were determined that the Queen should not leave them. Nevertheless the Court decided to make the attempt.
Apparently there had been no change at the royal palace; the roast-hasteners and the soup-skimmers were in their places, and all the mouth-servants were watching with ears pricked to hear the first whisper of an order, ready to hand water or to run at the beck and call of the myrmidons of the myrmidons. In the streets around the palace lounged the people, silent and sullen, giving vent to angry criticisms or watching for "tall Mademoiselle." Mademoiselle appeared frequently at her windows, and the people greeted her with friendly cries. Paris was calm; the silent river, bearing its gilded galleys, its charlatans, jugglers, serenaders, and shouting and singing river-men, ran by under its bridges as it had always run; the Parisians laughed at their own suspicions; one group left its post, then another, and thus, gradually relaxing their vigilance, the King's warders returned to their homes. The 12th September, before daylight, a few wains loaded with furniture crept away from the Palais Royal and took the road to Rueil. At daybreak the more suspicious of the Parisians approached the palace and watched and listened. Evidently the royal life was still progressing in regular order. The following morning before Paris was awake the young King was drawn from his bed, dressed, carried out into the courtyard, hidden in a coach, and set upon the road taken by the furniture. Mazarin accompanied him. Anne of Austria, "as the most valiant" (to quote the words of Mme. de Motteville) remained in the palace to cover the retreat of her Minister. In the course of the morning she was seen in various parts of Paris; that evening she vanished as the King and the Cardinal had done before her.
II
The royal flight deflected Paris. The members of Parliament reproached themselves for their excess of severity. They made overtures to the Queen.
It was believed that Anne of Austria, assured of the safety of her little brood, would reopen some of her old foreign correspondence and attempt to avenge her wrongs. Broussel had been released against her will—the city had raised the barricades—the Minister was an Italian and the Queen was anything but French! Paris prepared for the worst. Whence would the trouble come, from Spain or from England?