The wily Statesman well knew, that Richelieu had that day a point to carry with the King of the deepest importance as to the stability of his power. The Queen, whom the Cardinal had long kept in complete depression, being now the mother of two princes, her influence was increasing in the country to a degree that alarmed the Minister for his own sway. It was a principle with Richelieu always to meet an evil in its birth; and seeing plainly that as the King’s health declined—and it was then failing fast—the party of Anne of Austria would increase, if he did not take strong measures to annihilate it—he resolved at once to ruin her with her husband, to deprive her of her children, and, if possible, even to send her back to Spain. “And then,” thought he, “after the King’s death I shall be Regent.—Regent? King! ay, and one more despotic than ever sat upon the throne of France. For twenty years this young Dauphin must be under my guidance; and it will be strange indeed if I cannot keep him there till my sand be run.” And the proud man, who reasoned thus, knew not that even then he trembled on the verge of the grave.
“Ainsi, dissipateurs peu sages
Des rapides bienfaits du temps,
Nos désirs embrassent des âges,
Et nous n’avons que des instans.”
However, the object of his present visit to Chantilly was to complete the ruin of the Queen; and Chavigni, who suffered his eyes to be blinded to simple right and wrong by the maxims of State policy, lent himself entirely to the Cardinal’s measures, little imagining that personal hatred had any share in the motives of the great Minister whose steps he followed.
A moment’s reflection convinced Chavigni that he might greatly promote the object in view by accompanying the King in the present instance. He knew that in difficult enterprises the most trifling circumstances may be turned to advantage; and he considered it a great thing gained at that moment, to lay Louis under the necessity of offering some amends, even for the apparent trifle of making him break his appointment with Richelieu. In riding with the King, he would have an opportunity of noting the Monarch’s state of mind, which he perceived was unusually irritated, and also of preparing the way for those impressions which Richelieu intended to give: and accordingly he avoided with consummate art any subject which might open the way for Louis to withdraw his previous order to accompany him.
Having already followed one royal hunt somewhat too minutely, we will not attempt to trace the present; only observing that during the course of the day, Chavigni had many opportunities of conversing with the King, and took care to inform him that the campaign in the Netherlands was showing itself much against the arms of France; that no plan was formed by the Government, which did not by some means reach the ears of the Spanish generals, and consequently that all the manœuvres of the French troops were unavailing; and from this, as a natural deduction, he inferred, that some one at the court of France must convey information to the enemy; mingling these pleasant matters of discourse, with sundry sage observations respecting the iniquity and baseness of thus betraying France to her enemies.
Louis was exactly in the humour that the Statesman could have wished. Peevish from the absence of Cinq Mars, and annoyed by the unexpected coming of Richelieu, he listened with indignation to all that Chavigni told him, of any one in France conveying intelligence to a country which he hated with the blindest antipathy.
The predominant passion in the King’s mind had long been his dislike to Spain, but more especially to Philip, whom he regarded as a personal enemy: and Chavigni easily discerned, by the way in which the news he conveyed was received, that if they could cast any probable suspicion on the Queen, (and Chavigni really believed her guilty,) Louis would set no bounds to his anger. But just at the moment he was congratulating himself upon the probable success of their schemes, a part of the storm he had been so busily raising fell unexpectedly upon himself.
“Well, Monsieur de Chavigni,” said the King, after the chase was over, and the Royal party were riding slowly back towards Chantilly, “this hunting is a right noble sport: think you not so, Sir?”
“In truth I do, Sire,” replied Chavigni; “and even your Majesty can scarce love it better than myself.”
“I am glad to hear it, Sir,” rejoined the King, knitting his brows; “’tis a good sign. But one thing I must tell you, which is, that I do not choose my Royal forests to be made the haunt of worse beasts than stags and boars.—No wolves and tigers.—Do you take me, Sir?”