The Royal army had now invested Montpellier, which Rohan was determined to defend to the last extremity, if he were unable to obtain a treaty for the whole body of his co-religionists; but it seemed as though peace would intervene to prevent further bloodshed. The Huguenots had abated many of their pretensions, and Louis XIII, on his side, was not disposed to press too hardly upon them. Affairs without were becoming more and more alarming; and if the Ultramontane party, blinded by religious hatred, desired to continue the war until the Protestants were entirely crushed, level-headed men saw with grief France rendered impotent abroad and a prey to civil strife to satisfy the bigotry of fanatics and the egoistic ambition of the Prince de Condé. Lesdiguières, who desired to terminate his career by the deliverance of Italy, resumed his negotiations with Rohan, and in an interview between them at Saint-Privat conditions of peace were decided upon. The King was prepared to sign the articles and to make his entry into Montpellier; but the inhabitants firmly refused to open their gates to him. If, said they, the King would withdraw with his army to a distance of ten leagues, they would admit the Constable with what forces he wished to enter, and a week hence, when his army had been disbanded, they would receive his Majesty with all possible magnificence.
“The fact was,” writes Bassompierre, “that Monsieur le Prince, mortal enemy of the peace which was being negotiated, had said on several occasions that, if the King entered Montpellier, he would cause the town to be pillaged, whatever precautions might be taken to prevent it. This had so alarmed the people of Montpellier that they preferred to have recourse to any other extremity than that of receiving the King; and, as their final answer, which they gave that day to M. de Bullion,[8] they offered all obedience, provided the King did not enter their town, of which they considered the pillage assured, if they opened their gates to him.”
Louis XIII at once summoned the council to consider the answer which Bullion had brought back, and after the latter had read it to those present, called upon him to give his opinion.
Bullion, who seems to have been a man of sound common-sense and had been a witness that morning of the genuine alarm with which the extravagant boasts of Condé had inspired the people of Montpellier, strongly urged the King to humour them and “to seek solid advantages, without allowing himself to be stopped by little formalities which are not essential.” “If,” said he, “the town of Montpellier were refusing you the obedience and submission which is your due, I should say that it is necessary to destroy and exterminate it. But it is a people alarmed and terrified by the threats which have been launched against them to plunder and destroy them, to violate their wives and daughters and to burn their houses, who entreats you in the name of God to receive its obedience through your Constable, who will enter, when you have withdrawn, with such forces as he pleases, to make your Majesty’s authority recognised there, which is the same thing as though you entered yourself. Why do you wish for a mere punctilio to refuse a peace so useful and honourable for your Majesty; and prefer to undertake a long war, of which the issue is doubtful and the expense excessive, in a country where the heat is immoderate, and to expose your own person to the injuries of war and of the season, when you can escape them without loss or blame?”
The King was visibly impressed by this excellent advice, and when Condé sprang to his feet and began angrily declaiming against Bullion and “the cabal which had forged this peace without the knowledge of the Council and were endeavouring to conclude it with disgrace and infamy,” he sternly bade him resume his seat, saying that he would have an opportunity of giving his opinion when his turn came.
Not improbably influenced by the attitude of the King, counsellor after counsellor rose and expressed his approval of the advice given by Bullion. When Bassompierre was called upon, Condé exclaimed impatiently: “I know his opinion already, and we can say of it ad idem.” To the general astonishment, however, Bassompierre was for once in accord with Condé, and advised the King to break off the negotiations forthwith and “show, by a noble and generous disdain, how deeply he was offended by the propositions of those of Montpellier.” “If,” said he, “your Majesty were before Strasbourg, Antwerp, or Milan, and were concluding a peace with the princes to which those towns belong, the stipulation that you should not enter them would be tolerable; but that a King of France, victorious and supported by a powerful army, in place of granting peace to a handful of his rebel subjects, without resource and reduced to extremity, should receive it from them on the disgraceful conditions which they have just proposed, is a proposition so insulting that it cannot be suffered nor even listened to.... The King who accepts those conditions must be prepared to receive terrible insults from the other towns, who will be rendered audacious by this example and assured of impunity by this unworthy toleration.... Sire, in the name of God, take a firm resolution and persevere in it, and insist even upon the ruin of this people, because it is rebellious, and because it is also insolent and impudent; or to reduce it to entire submission and complete repentance.”
He then pointed out that his own interests were opposed to the advice which he was offering the King, and that he was actuated entirely by regard for his Majesty’s service and honour, since he had already been promised the marshal’s bâton and had nothing to gain at the siege of Montpellier, “save much toil, dangerous wounds and perhaps even death.” It was also possible that unfortunate accidents might arise which might oblige the King to defer his promotion to the office of marshal or even compel him [Bassompierre] to refuse the honour. “Nevertheless,” he concluded, “I shall take these risks, and I beg your Majesty very humbly to delay my reception [as marshal] until the town of Montpellier shall be reduced to its obedience, and your Majesty avenged of the affront which these rebels have desired to inflict upon you.”
“When I had finished speaking,” says Bassompierre, “Monsieur le Prince, who had listened to me attentively, rose and said to the King: ‘Sire, here is an honest man, devoted servant of your Majesty, and jealous of your honour.’ The King rose also, which obliged all the others to rise, and his Majesty said to M. de Bullion; ‘Return to Montpellier and tell the people of the town that I grant conditions to my subjects, but that I do not receive them from them. Let them accept those which I have offered them or let them prepare to be forced to do so.’ And thus the council ended. Monsieur le Prince did me the honour to approach and embrace me and to say aloud so many kind things of me that I was covered with confusion.”
There can be no doubt that Bassompierre, who was an honest man and a devoted servant of the Crown, was actuated by what he considered to be his duty in tendering this advice to his sovereign, which had touched Louis XIII on his weakest spot—his exaggerated regard for his own dignity. But it is equally certain that he had committed a disastrous mistake, both from a political and military point of view, in counselling the King to sacrifice the interests of his realm for what Bullion had rightly described as “a mere punctilio.” For, not only was an immediate peace of the most vital importance to the interests of France, both at home and abroad, but the reduction of the people of Montpellier to “entire submission and complete repentance” was a task which, in the most favourable circumstances, could not be effected except at immense expense and at the cost of hundreds of valuable lives. It is indeed amazing that, after the terrible lesson of Montauban, anyone could have been so rash as to embark upon another great siege for reasons so inadequate.
The siege began in anything but an auspicious manner. In the early hours of September 2, Bassompierre and Praslin advanced against the ridge of Saint-Denis, where the citadel now stands, and carried it without any resistance, since there was only a guard-house there, the occupants of which fled at their approach. Leaving Valençay there with some 1,500 men to hold it, they returned to camp, and, after attending a meeting of the Council, Bassompierre, who had to be up all the following night to superintend the opening of the trenches, went to his tent to snatch a few hours’ sleep. About midday, he was awakened by the sound of heavy firing, and, hurrying out, he saw the troops whom he and Praslin had left on the ridge of Saint-Denis in disorderly retreat, hotly pursued by the enemy.