Hardly, however, had the conversation begun, when a little door leading from the chapel of the Luxembourg into the Queen’s cabinet, which their Majesties had not thought of securing, gently opened, and the tall, scarlet-robed figure and pale, thin face of the man whose fate they had met to decide appeared to their astonished eyes. Richelieu, informed of the King’s return to Paris and his arrival at the Luxembourg, had formed a shrewd suspicion of what was in the wind, and had determined to be present at the interview between mother and son. Finding the doors of the ante-chamber locked, he had made his way to the cabinet along the gallery of the palace, and, on discovering the door of the cabinet also secured, had bethought himself of that which communicated with the chapel.
“All is lost; here he is!” exclaimed the King, looking as guilty as a timid schoolboy detected by a stern master in some breach of discipline. The Cardinal advanced with a smiling face. “I will wager,” said he, “that their Majesties were speaking of me.” And then, turning to the Queen-Mother, he added: “Confess it, Madame.” “We were,” replied Marie. And then, beside herself with passion at the Minister’s audacity, she broke forth into a torrent of accusations and reproaches, charging him, amongst other things, with plotting to marry his niece to the Comte de Soissons and set him upon the throne in place of the King. The Cardinal appeared to quail before the tempest; he fell on his knees and protested his innocence; he wept; he was in despair. But this pretence of humility, instead of disarming the wrath of the Queen-Mother, served only to inflame it. “It is for you,” she cried, turning to the King, “to decide whether you intend to prefer a valet to your mother.” “It is more natural,” interposed Richelieu, “that it is I who should be sacrificed.” And he demanded pardon and permission to retire. The King remained silent; Marie overwhelmed him with a fresh storm of reproaches, and he quitted the room, convinced that his power was at an end.
Louis XIII, dumbfounded by the violent scene of which he had been a witness, informed his mother that he was quite unable to come to a decision that day, and quitted the Luxembourg.
On the following morning the King signed a despatch which his mother had extracted from him which gave the sole command of the army of Italy to Louis de Marillac and recalled Schomberg and La Force, who were adherents of the Cardinal. Then he departed for Versailles, without again seeing the Queen-Mother, but the Keeper of the Seals, Michel de Marillac, whom Marie had designated as Prime Minister in place of Richelieu, had orders to follow him.
This order appeared decisive; all the Court believed that the Cardinal had fallen. A crowd of courtiers invaded the Luxembourg, where the Queen-Mother paraded her triumph and received their felicitations, without deigning to inconvenience herself by following the King to Versailles, as some of the more prudent of her friends urged her to do. She flattered herself that she held the place of Catherine de’ Medici; but she had none of Catherine’s finesse and intelligence; Catherine, in similar circumstances, would not have allowed the King out of her sight for a moment.
Anne of Austria, Monsieur, the Spanish Ambassador, the grandees were transported with joy; and couriers started to carry the good news to Madrid, Vienna, Brussels, and Turin. It was reported that the hated Cardinal was busy making his preparations for departure; that he intended to retire to the government of Le Havre, and that his mules had been seen defiling along the Pontoise road.
It would appear, in fact, that Richelieu, believing himself ruined, had for a moment contemplated taking refuge at Le Havre, but that two of his friends who had remained faithful to his fortunes, Châteauneuf and the Président Le Jay, had strongly opposed this resolution and persuaded him to remain in Paris. Anyway, he did so, and in the course of the afternoon he received a message from the First Equerry, Saint-Simon, bidding him come with all speed to Versailles.
Saint-Simon and the Cardinal de la Valette, who had followed the King, had pleaded the cause of Richelieu; but it is probable that “reasons of State” had pleaded still more eloquently for him. For Louis, with all his faults, did not, as we know, lack intelligence; and now that the decision which for weeks he had postponed had to be made, he recognised that the Cardinal’s dismissal would mean his own reduction to impotence, disorder, corruption, and intrigue at home and the triumph of the enemies of France abroad. His hesitation was at an end, and he authorised Saint-Simon to send for Richelieu.
The Cardinal came; he threw himself at the feet of the King, who raised him up and praised the zeal and fidelity which he had shown in his service. He knelt again and offered to retire, so as not to be a subject of discord between mother and son. Louis declined to accept his resignation, and then gave orders that they should be left alone together, and proceeded to discuss with the Cardinal the measures to be adopted against the cabal. It was decided that Michel de Marillac should be deprived of the Seals and banished the Court, and that another despatch should be sent to the Army of Italy, cancelling the one which was already on its way and ordering Schomberg to have the Maréchal de Marillac arrested and sent a prisoner to France. And so, while the Queen-Mother was triumphing at the Luxembourg, Richelieu triumphed at Versailles. That day—November 11, 1630—has remained famous in history as “The Day of Dupes.”
“The Day of Dupes”! This name has been attributed to Bassompierre, and no one was better able to appreciate its justice, since, whatever he may say to the contrary—and he would fain have us believe that he was only the innocent victim of circumstances—the marshal was undoubtedly one of these dupes. But let us listen to his explanations.