Richelieu listened quietly. He attempted no useless prayer or argument, but bowed, and went.
There was something of a scene between Louis XIII. and his mother. Marie justified herself with success, as it seemed to her, solemnly assuring the King that Richelieu was in every way false to him; that his secret ambition was “to marry his niece to the Comte de Soissons and to make the Comte King.” These and many more accusations she poured into the sullen ears of her son. Let him be rid of this evil man, this terrible Minister, the ruin of France! Let him put his trust in faithful servants such as the brothers Marillac. With Michel as First Minister and Louis as Commander-in-chief, the safety and honour of France would be assured. But before all things let him keep his promise and be rid of Richelieu.
A stronger man than Louis XIII. would have found the position a difficult one. He had to choose between his mother—on whose side were his wife, his brother, nearly all the Court and half the kingdom—and the Minister whose personal influence over him was considerable, and on whom, as reason told him, the greatness of France, both within and without, now very largely depended. Duty to his mother, duty to his country—Louis XIII. had a conscience, and it was torn in two.
He was lodging at the Hôtel des Ambassadeurs, in the Rue de Tournon—once Concini’s house, sacked by the mob in 1616—for he had come up from Versailles to visit the Queen-mother, and the Louvre was under repair. He walked back from the Luxembourg, shut himself into his room with his gentleman-in-waiting, Saint-Simon—a wise young man whom Richelieu, luckily for himself, had appointed to the post—tore the buttons off his coat in a violent fit of nerves, and flung himself on the bed.
Presently he poured out his worried soul to Saint-Simon. What did he think of the Queen-mother’s conduct, and of the whole affair? The young man was very discreet; but he reminded the King that he was a king, as well as a son, and ventured to give his opinion that “the Cardinal was necessary to France.” “Enfin, sire, vous êtes le maître.” “Yes, I am,” said Louis, “and they shall feel it.”
The next day—Sunday, November 10, St. Martin’s Eve—Louis went again to the Luxembourg. He was resolved, it seems, to have his way, and to persuade or command his mother to change her mind. Bassompierre attended him to the palace, and gives some vivid details of the interview in the Queen’s cabinet, although neither he nor any other courtier was present. He says that while the King and his mother were talking, all the doors being carefully shut, “Monsieur le Cardinal arrived; who, finding the door of the ante-chamber fastened, entered the gallery and knocked at the door of the cabinet, but no one replied. At length, impatient of waiting, knowing the ways of the house, he passed through the little chapel, the door of which had not been closed: thus M. le Cardinal entered the cabinet. The King was somewhat astonished, and said to the Queen with dismay: ‘Here he is.’ M. le Cardinal, who perceived their astonishment, said to them: ‘I am sure you were talking of me.’ The Queen answered him: ‘We were not.’ On which he having replied to her, ‘Confess it, madame,’ she said it was so, and upon that spoke against him with great sharpness, declaring that she would have no more to do with him, and many other things.”
Richelieu preserved his sphinx-like patience. To Marie’s insults and reproaches he answered not a word; but he realized that he was in danger, and he did his best to soften the angry woman by pleading for himself, even with tears—which, says an enemy, he had at command—declaring his innocence and his entire devotion to Her Majesty.
The Queen, on her side, wept passionately, crying out that all he said and did was knavery and mummery. Then, turning to her son, she asked him if he preferred “un valet” to his mother; for he must choose between them two.
“Then it is only natural that I should be sacrificed,” said the Cardinal; and immediately, once more, he offered his resignation to the troubled King, begging to be allowed to retire to some place where he might end his days in repose.
To all appearance Louis accepted his resignation and granted his request, even advising him to retire to Pontoise. Cardinal de Richelieu left the palace and went back to his hôtel, the Petit-Luxembourg—the Palais-Cardinal, though in progress, was not yet finished—with every reason to believe himself a disgraced and ruined man.