Cardinal de Richelieu

by Eleanor C. Price

Now, in the autumn, the Duke of Mantua found himself again in a desperate plight. The Emperor Ferdinand, victorious over the Protestants of the north, turned to revenge the check that France had given to his feudal authority and to the armies of Spain. The unlucky Grisons found their country once more overrun, this time by an imperial army under Marshal Colalto, which descended the Val Tellina and stormed across the Lombard plain to the siege of Mantua, very slightly hindered by a Venetian force which had come to the Duke’s aid. At the same time the valiant old Marquis Spinola, the Spanish governor of Milan, invaded Montferrat and again besieged Casale, where M. de Toiras, the hero of the Isle of Ré, was now in command.

It looked as if the French were to lose all advantages gained by their brilliant spring campaign. The whole aspect of affairs was alarming, for the danger was not only that which the Duke of Mantua’s imploring letters pressed upon the King. Imperial armies were massing on the eastern frontier of France, threatening Champagne, and it was necessary that a French force should be sent to watch them. The Duke of Lorraine’s loyalty was uncertain. It cannot have been without misgivings that Richelieu placed that gate of the kingdom in charge of his suspected enemy Louis de Marillac, with Monsieur, the light and treacherous, in nominal chief command.

As to himself, he left Court intrigues behind him, left his master to the persuasions of men and women who hated him, and accepted the royal commission of “Lieutenant-Général de là les Monts,” which not only gave him the supreme command of the new Italian campaign, but made him the actual representative of Royalty in all matters political and military. No Constable of France had ever reached such a height of delegated power.

At ten o’clock in the morning of December 29 he took leave, says Aubery, of the King and the Queens at the Louvre. “He then dined in the chamber of Madame de Combalet, his niece, then lady-in-waiting to the Queen-mother, and towards three o’clock in the afternoon he mounted into his coach, having with him the Cardinal de la Valette and the Duc de Montmorency, who were both at one portière, and the Maréchaux de Bassompierre and de Schomberg at the other. Outside the gates of the Louvre he was joined by a troop of a hundred cavaliers, all men of rank, who accompanied him for half a league outside the city, where his train and his guards awaited him.... Thus he took his way, in the depth of winter, to carry succour to Montferrat, leaving the Court and Paris in a season whose rigour is particularly felt in the open country.”

Letters written by the Cardinal from Lyons show how his thoughts lingered behind at Paris, among the enemies and friends he had left there. Having obtained a piece of the True Cross from the Célestins at Avignon, he sent it, with a letter, to Marie de Médicis, by the hands of his niece, her lady-in-waiting. Enclosed with the treasure was a confidential letter to Madame de Combalet—one of his three friends in Marie’s household, the other two being his cousin Charles de la Meilleraye, captain of the guard, and Denys Bouthillier de Rancé, private secretary—asking her to beg from Her Majesty the favour of three lines in her own hand, to be shown to those who made it their business to inquire if she had written to him. Such lines would be of more value, he says, than whole sheets from the secretary, “qui est bon pour d’autres, mais non pour une antienne créature.”

The odd touch of something like sentiment, appealing to the Queen’s memory, seems to justify what has been said of the great Cardinal—that he did not understand women. It looks as if he had persuaded himself that the recent reconciliation would be lasting, that Marie had forgotten her grudges and might be expected, in his interest, to silence the curious and the impertinent.

A campaign against Germany and Spain sounded formidable, but in fact it resolved itself into a duel between Cardinal de Richelieu and the Duke of Savoy. That cunning old prince did not at once break through the Treaty of Susa, which bound him to take the French side in case the Duke of Mantua was again attacked by Spain; but he did his best, by every device in his power, to hinder the march of the French army. The danger did indeed become less immediate; plague, fever, and floods forced Marshal Colalto to retire from Mantua, and M. de Toiras held his own in Casale. Even before Richelieu had crossed the mountains, the Pope’s intervention brought about some talk of peace, while Charles Emmanuel made endless difficulties as to the terms on which the French, to gain Montferrat, should pass through the territories of Savoy.

But all these delays only made Richelieu more resolute and more impatient. He descended into Dauphiné, swept an army over the Alps in terrible weather, and took up his quarters at Susa, still in French hands. Charles Emmanuel continued the game he was playing with both sides; the Cardinal soon knew that while negotiating with him as to joint action against Spain the Duke was in communication with the Spanish and imperial commanders, was trying to make sure of the passes behind the French army, and was delaying the supplies purchased with French gold for Casale. The Duke seemed, in fact, to hold the key of the situation.

This state of things did not last long. It may be said that when the Marquis du Chillou exchanged sword for crosier France lost a great field-marshal; yet it is only partly true. Over and over again Richelieu the soldier proved himself the match in genius, will, and spirit of Richelieu the cardinal and statesman. The conqueror of La Rochelle was now fully equal to the difficult campaign forced upon him by the disloyal movements of the Duke of Savoy.

Instead of crossing the frontier into Montferrat, to the immediate relief of Casale, Richelieu marched his 22,000 men on Rivoli, where his false ally, with his sons and the armed forces of Savoy, lay in wait to command the French rear. At the news of this advance, Duke and princes, Savoyards and Piedmontese, fled back pell-mell to Turin.