While this revolution of the palace was proceeding, Paris resounded with acclamations, and when evening fell, bonfires blazed at all the crossways. The people went almost frantic with joy at their deliverance from the arrogant foreign favourite whom they had come to regard as a public enemy. The Parlement, which hastened to declare that “the King was not bound to justify his action,” the municipality, all the public bodies of the town, sent deputations to felicitate his Majesty, and everyone applauded his coup de main as if he had committed the finest action in the world. “They gave him the name of ‘Just,’ for having caused a man to be killed without trial!” observes Henri Martin.
This explosion of public joy was followed by atrocious scenes. The following morning some noblemen’s lackeys, followed by a rabble drawn from the dregs of the populace, entered the Church of Saint-Germain l’Auxerrois, where the body of Concini, “naked, in a wretched sheet,” had been secretly buried the previous night, disinterred it, dragged it through the streets with obscene cries, in which the name of the Queen-Mother was mingled with that of the murdered marshal, and finished by tearing it to pieces and burning the remains before the statue of Henri IV on the Pont-Neuf.
At three o’clock in the morning of the 25th, the Comte de Tavannes, grandson of the celebrated marshal of that name, arrived in Auvergne’s camp with orders from the King to suspend hostilities against Soissons; and, a few hours later, Bassompierre and his party set out for Paris. Scarcely had they crossed the Aisne, than they encountered a regiment of Liégeois cavalry, part of the force which had been raised by Concini for service against the Princes. The Liégeois, who had just learned of the marshal’s assassination, called upon them to halt, and their officers held a sort of informal council of war. Bassompierre suspected that it was their intention to take him and his friends along with them as hostages for their safe return to their own country; and when presently an officer detached himself from the rest and came towards them, he assumed the air of a hunted fugitive and, before the other had time to open his mouth, inquired anxiously whether, if his party joined them, they would undertake not to surrender them if called upon to do so. The officer, thinking from this that they must be some of the Maréchal d’Ancre’s personal following, who were perhaps pursued, told him bluntly the Liégeois had quite enough to do to provide for their own safety, and that everyone must look to himself. Upon which he turned on his heel and rejoined his comrades, and the whole regiment mounted their horses and rode away. Bassompierre and his friends waited until they were out of sight, and then resumed their journey to Paris.
CHAPTER XVIII
Bassompierre arrives in Paris—Marie de’ Medici is exiled to Blois—Bassompierre’s account of the parting between Louis XIII and his mother—The rebellious princes return to Court and are pardoned, but Condé remains in the Bastille—His wife solicits and receives permission to join him there—Arrest of the Governor and Lieutenant of the Bastille, on a charge of conniving at a secret correspondence between Barbin and the Queen-Mother—Bassompierre is placed temporarily in charge of the fortress—The Prince and Princesse de Condé are transferred to the Château of Vincennes—Bassompierre goes to Rouen to attend the assembly of the Notables—A rapid journey.
On the following day—April 26—Bassompierre reached Paris and lost no time in waiting upon Louis XIII, who received him very graciously and “commanded him to love M. de Luynes, who was a good servant.” He inquired if he might be permitted to pay his respects to the Queen-Mother, who since the 24th had been kept a close prisoner in her apartments. The King replied that he would consider the matter, which meant that the request did not meet with his approval. Bassompierre, however, was anxious not to appear to fail in respect to a princess who had been so good a friend to him, and whose disgrace, besides, might very well prove to be but a temporary one. And so, in default of being able to convey them himself, he sent his compliments to her Majesty every evening, through the medium of her dressmaker, the only person, with the exception of her servants, who was permitted to enter her apartments.
Meanwhile, negotiations were in progress for the Queen-Mother’s retirement from Paris and the Court, upon which Luynes had persuaded the King to insist. It was Richelieu who negotiated the conditions on Marie’s behalf. That astute personage, recognising that the victorious party was not inclined to pardon him, had attached himself to Marie de’ Medici, who had appointed him chief of her counsellors, hoping ere long to succeed in reconciling her with Luynes and Louis XIII, or with Louis XIII against Luynes, and, in either event, to recover the position he had lost. He obtained, after considerable difficulty, permission for her to reside no further off than Blois, for which she set out on May 3.
Bassompierre has left us an interesting account of the parting between Louis XIII and his mother, of which he was an eye-witness:
“All the morning people seemed to be doing nothing but load carts with the Queen’s baggage. The King, meantime, was at the Council, where the things which the Queen was to say to the King on parting from him, and the answers which the King was to make, were decided upon and committed to writing. It was also agreed that nothing further should be said on either side, and that when the Queen was dressed for her journey, the princesses should see her, while the men were to take leave of her after the King had done so. Neither the Maréchal de Vitry[121] nor his brother, Du Hallier[122] were to be amongst them.
“Then the King descended to the Queen’s apartments; where the Queen was awaiting him in the passage leading from her chamber, so as to enter it at the same moment as he did. The three Luynes[123] walked before the King, who held the eldest by the hand. M. de Joinville and I followed the King and entered after him. The Queen kept a good countenance until she saw the King approaching. Then she began to weep bitterly and put her handkerchief to her eyes and her fan before her face; and, when they met, she led him to the window which overlooks the garden, and removing her handkerchief and her fan, spoke as follows: ‘Monsieur, I am sorry that I have not governed your State during my regency and my administration more to your satisfaction than I have done. Nevertheless, I assure you that it was neither from lack of care nor endeavour; and I beg you to regard me always as your very obedient servant and mother.’ ‘Madame,’ replied the King, ‘I thank you very humbly for the care and pains you have taken in the administration of my kingdom, with which I am content, and hold myself obliged to you; and I beg you to believe that I shall always be your very humble son.’