It is very difficult to decide who was to blame for this fiasco, for the evidence is exceedingly conflicting. The English officers, when they came home, threw all the blame on the Rochellois refugees who accompanied them, while the Rochellois bitterly retorted the accusation. The explanation given by Gardiner, who is always scrupulously fair in his criticism of naval and military operations, is as follows:—
“On the morning of the 8th [the 18th according to French chronology] a fresh apprehension seized on the commander [Denbigh]. The wind was blowing from Rochelle, and if he could not set fire to the ships of the enemy, the French might possibly set fire to his. He therefore gave the order to weigh anchor, that the fleet might retire to a little distance. When the minds of men are in a state of despondency, the slightest retrograde movement is fatal. The Rochellois weighed anchor as they were told, but they understood the expedition had been abandoned and made all sail for England. Thus deserted, the whole fleet followed their example.”
When the news that the expedition which he had only succeeded in sending out after so many difficulties and delays was on its way home, Charles I, who, only a day or two before, had sent orders to Denbigh to hold on at La Rochelle so long as possible and to send for reinforcements if he required them, was furiously indignant. He at once despatched Lord Fielding, Denbigh’s son, to Portsmouth to press into the King’s service every vessel he found there, and to direct his father to return at all hazards to La Rochelle and to await the reinforcements and supplies which would be sent him. But it was impossible for Denbigh to carry out these orders. His ships were full of sick men and very short of provisions, while some of them were urgently in need of repairs, and to send them to sea again before these were effected would, if bad weather came on, entail the loss of them and their crews. Besides this, three of his merchant-vessels laden with corn for La Rochelle had been snapped up by Dunkirk privateers within sight of the English coast, and they and their freights would have to be replaced. The King reluctantly acknowledged the force of Denbigh’s representations and sent orders to him to refit, while all the available maritime force of the country was being got ready to accompany him.
The retreat of the English produced a profound impression both in France and abroad. The clergy, assembled at Fontenai, in Poitou, voted a subsidy of three millions to aid the King to finish his work. The Comte de Soissons, who had contemplated raising the standard of revolt in Dauphiné and joining Rohan, sued for pardon and came to the Royal camp to make his peace with the King; while the Duc de la Trémoille, the greatest noble of Poitou, hastened to abjure the Protestant faith, and was received into the Catholic Church by Richelieu, who promptly rewarded his “conversion” by the command of the light cavalry. It appears to have been the almost general belief that the surrender of La Rochelle was near at hand, a belief which was strengthened when, a week after the departure of the English fleet, the Rochellois made an unsuccessful attempt to send their “bouches inutiles” through the lines of the besiegers, thus admitting that the town was already beginning to feel the pinch of hunger.
But those who counted on the early surrender of La Rochelle understood but little the grim tenacity of that people, so well personified by the inflexible seaman whom it had chosen as its chief. The mayor Guiton, ably seconded by the old Duchesse de Rohan and the eloquent minister Salbert, exhorted their fellow-citizens to endure all things for the sake of their faith and to choose death rather than dishonour. Nevertheless, so great was the despondency which followed the departure of the English that these zealots were unable to prevent negotiations being opened with the Royal army, though it is probable that they had no intention of allowing them to be carried through. Anyway, on May 31, a drummer from the town came to Bassompierre’s quarters; informed him that the citizens were debating the question of surrender, and requested that he would send someone to arrange for a conference. Bassompierre despatched the Comte, afterwards the Maréchal, de Grancey to La Rochelle, and sent to inform the King and the Cardinal, who expressed their approval; and on the following day commissioners were appointed on both sides. On the morrow, however, the negotiations were abruptly broken off by the Rochellois:
“Friday, the 2nd [June].—The Rochellois received a letter from the King of England by which he promised them to hazard his three kingdoms for their salvation, and that in a few days he would send such a fleet as would render them effectual aid. This encouraged the zealots to make the people resolve to suffer the last extremities rather than surrender. They instructed Grancey to inform me of this and sent me a copy of the letter.”
Alas for the unhappy Rochellois! Distracted by troubles at home and at his wits’ end for money, many weeks were to pass before Charles was to be in a position to redeem his promise, and long before that time the last extremities had come upon the people whom he and his favourite had so wantonly incited to revolt.
During the ensuing weeks an occasional attempt was made to revictual La Rochelle on the land side, but without success, and by the end of June the town was in the grip of famine. Half the population was already subsisting on vegetables, roots, and shell-fish, but soon these resources failed, and they were obliged to have recourse to all the deplorable expedients which hunger can impose on the revolted senses. Soon there was not a cat or dog in the town, and when these had disappeared, parchments, skins and leather were cut into shreds, soaked in water, boiled, and eaten, with a little syrup to season the dish. Some endeavoured to support life on bran and chopped straw; others declared war on rats and mice.
Several attempts were made to send the old men, women, and children out of the town; but Louis XIII, who had none of his father’s kindly heart, which had led him to have compassion on the fugitives at the time of the siege of Paris, gave orders for them to be driven back. Those who persisted in trying to pass through the Royal lines were taken and hanged. Guiton, more inflexible even than the King, ended by refusing to open the gates to the poor creatures whom he had expelled, and numbers of them perished miserably between the besieging army and the walls of the town.
About the middle of July, a rising in favour of peace broke out amongst the least zealous inhabitants. It was, however, speedily put down by the fanatical party, and Guiton caused several of the leaders to be executed. Early in August, however, a more regular attempt was made in the council of the town itself. Several of the magistrates of the Présidial inclined to submission, and one of them declared that they ought to surrender, provided that the King would leave them their walls and their religious liberty, pointing out that if the English fleet had been unable to effect anything when the canal was only partially closed, it could not reasonably be expected to be more successful now that the mole was completed. Guiton did not make use of the poniard which still lay on the council-table against the speaker, but he struck him with his fist. Another councillor then struck the mayor, and this unseemly brawl terminated by the Council ordering the arrest of Guiton. The latter however, raised the people against the moderate party, and the two councillors who had offended him had to go into hiding to escape being torn to pieces by the mob, who had been persuaded that there was no mercy to hope for from the King, and that, if they opened their gates, the men would be massacred and the women abandoned to the soldiers.