That bleeding wound of civil war had so weakened the campaign in North Italy as to make it ineffectual. An Austrian force, pouring down over the Saint-Gothard, had reinforced Genoa, and Lesdiguières, with no fleet to support him, had been obliged to retire. But the Spaniards had failed to recover the Valtelline. It remained for the present in the hands of the French; a difficult question to be settled with the Pope, and Cardinal Barberini’s mission to that end resulted in nothing but words. He went back to Rome, in high discontent, at the end of September, and Richelieu, so far from slackening his hold, sent the Maréchal de Bassompierre to reinforce the Marquis de Cœuvres in Switzerland. It seemed that there was nothing to be done in the Catholic interest with “le Roy du Roy,” the man people already called atheist, Huguenot, “le Cardinal de la Rochelle.”
This was not quite the case, however. Though Richelieu would not treat with Cardinal Barberini, he had already entrusted his other self, Père Joseph, with powers for negotiating with Urban VIII. at Rome. At the moment, the mission of Barberini made this impossible, but it seems that the Capuchin—never publicly mentioned in State affairs, but always to be found pulling the strings for Richelieu in the background—passed on his instructions to the Comte du Fargis, French ambassador at Madrid, who set to work on the hard task of framing a treaty to please everybody—Spain, Austria, the Pope, the Grison Leagues and France—but notably that secret party in France, headed by the Queen-mother, M. de Marillac, afterwards Chancellor, and Père de Bérulle, among whom Richelieu’s opponents were now to be found. M. du Fargis, in his communications with the Spanish Minister, Count Olivarez, considered rather the wishes of this French ultra-Catholic party, reported to him by his brilliant and mischievous wife, now in Paris, than the intentions of Richelieu. The consequence was, that several attempts at a treaty were scornfully repudiated by the French government, and it was not till May 1626 that any agreement was arrived at. A nominal sovereignty over the Valtelline was restored to the Grisons, and Spain renounced any right of passage. The Catholic religion was established in the valley, and the forts were restored to the Pope, to be demolished by his troops. All parties were fairly satisfied, except the Duke of Savoy, whose quarrel with Genoa was coolly set aside without any reference to him. And the English government, which had almost forced the French Huguenots to accept an unprofitable peace from Louis XIII. in February, saw with immense irritation the conclusion of peace between France and Spain. This was not the end they had worked for; and the secret diplomacy of Richelieu was regarded in England as a dishonourable trick.
He cared not at all. Peace was necessary to him at this time: how necessary, a glance at his home projects is enough to prove. He now set to work upon them in earnest; backed up by public opinion, both in 1625 and 1626, in the shape of assemblies of the Notables—princes, dukes, and peers of France, archbishops and bishops, crown officers, presidents of courts of law, and the provost of the merchants of Paris. At these assemblies the chief personages of the kingdom were invited to advise the King. Richelieu took care that their advice should accord with his own, for his day of absolute power was only dawning. He had his way with them: as a body, they gave their consent to his policy at home and abroad.
The creation of a navy was his most popular measure. No longer should the King of France be forced to borrow ships where he could, to protect French coasts and French merchant vessels against “pirates of all nations.” Michel de Marillac, if he had secretly opposed Richelieu in the affair of the Spanish treaty, was heartily with him here, and he was one of those whose eloquence led the Notables to vote with enthusiasm the building or purchase of forty-five battle-ships. The sea-going trade of France, its enormous losses and dangers under the present system, was the text which inspired Marillac.
“We have everything we need,” he cried, “to make us strong at sea. We have wood and iron for ship-building, linen and flax for sails and cordage; sailors in abundance, who will serve our neighbours if not employed at home; the best ports in Europe ... and yet our neighbours rob us of our fishing ... pirates ravage our coasts and carry off the King’s subjects captive to Barbary.”
It was time, he said, that France should wake from her lethargy of many years.
The words of Marillac on this occasion were the thoughts of Richelieu, and he set about carrying them out in his own way. He had already taken to himself supreme power over naval affairs, by buying out the Duc de Montmorency and presenting himself with letters patent which conferred the new office of Grand Master and Superintendent-General of Navigation and Commerce.
Authority over the army—which he made almost entirely from small and chaotic beginnings till it became the force that conquered at Rocroy—was gained by Richelieu through the abolition of the old office of Constable of France. The Duc de Lesdiguières, its last holder, died in 1626, and military supremacy under the King passed into the hands of a War Minister—that is to say, into those of Richelieu himself.
Equally difficult with the creation of army and navy were the necessary reforms in the Church, in finance, in local government, and the establishment throughout France of order and the royal authority. The Cardinal shrank from nothing. Many of the details of his projected work were never carried out, and it has been well said that he was a more successful statesman abroad than at home, where a mass of privileges and vested interests, with the growing necessity for heavy taxes, were millstones hung round a financial reformer’s neck. Richelieu’s success in crushing the great nobles brought no benefit to the common people; it was all for the advantage of the King. Among his early dreams were those of encouraging agriculture and manufactures after the example of Henry IV. and Sully; but he did little good of this kind, except in the way of colonisation. Under his protection new French commercial companies, after a long struggle with England, gained a more secure footing in Canada and the West Indies.
For the first few years of Richelieu’s ministry he was working against tremendous odds. His health was terribly bad. All through the winter of 1625-6 he suffered from fever and constant headaches, so that he was often forced to leave Paris in the midst of his work and to fly for rest and change to one of his country-houses. Once at least, when summoned back on public affairs to the Petit-Luxembourg, he writes to Claude Bouthillier: “I am so persecuted by my head ... my pain is excessive.... I am so persecuted by my head, I know not what to say. But even were I worse, I would rather die than not drag these important affairs to a conclusion.”