But in actual fact he was very solitary and intensely sad. For once in his life he seems to have lost faith in his star, and as the conviction that he would die in exile gained strength, he thought a good deal of the poor little diocese he might never see again. He wrote a curious document, a kind of last will, dated February 8, and addressed to the Chapter of Luçon. After some expressions of sincere affection, he leaves his body to the Cathedral, “that I may repose when dead in the same place where, living, I desire to be....”
“... The place of my sepulture shall be, if you please, immediately above the singers’ desk, leaving the higher part of the choir, as more honourable, for those who shall come after me....
“I leave you also all the silver plate of my chapel, my ornaments, and hangings of Flemish tapestry, to adorn the choir, without any condition whatever, trusting to be helped by your prayers....
“If I could leave you anything more, I would very willingly do so; my will surpassing my power, my wishes for you must supply the defect.
“The first benefit I wish you is to live in clear consciousness of your condition, keeping before your eyes that this world is but illusion, and that there is no profit or contentment except in the service of God, who never forsakes them who serve Him.
“I desire for you a bishop who, equalling me in affection, may surpass me in all other qualities.... I conjure him, whoever he may be, to reside with you, to visit his diocese, to encourage in their duty, by his example and his teaching, those who have the care of souls under him, to maintain and augment the seminary founded at Luçon, to which I leave a thousand livres and my whole library....”
To this seminary for priests, a favourite foundation of his, Richelieu had already given the revenues of an abbey in Poitou. He ends his testament by beseeching the Chapter to live in the closest union with his successor.
“After this, Sirs, it only remains to conjure you to love my memory as that of a person who tenderly loves you and passionately desires your salvation.”
Richelieu’s final farewell to the Luçon Chapter was written four years later, in less affectionate and more businesslike terms. He was about to be plunged in the political whirlpool which swallowed the rest of his life, when he resigned the see in favour of M. de Bragelogne, receiving in exchange the Abbey of Notre Dame du Wast in the diocese of Le Mans, a canonry and prebend at St. Martin of Tours, and a retiring pension of 6,000 livres.
The town of Blois was asleep in the dark small hours of February 23, when Queen Marie de Médicis got out of her window in the Château, climbed or slid down a hundred and twenty feet of ladders—a really wonderful feat in a woman of her size and indolence—hurried through the silent streets to the bridge over the Loire, got into a coach with two or three attendants and some boxes of money and jewels, and drove off, first to Loches, then to Angoulême. When Blois, castle and town, awoke in the morning, the captive royal bird had flown.