Were not this incident recorded by one of the actors in the adventure, it would have been impossible to have related it with any faith in its veracity; as, assuredly, never was the meaning of "secret service" defined more broadly or more unblushingly than in the instance of the sycophantic courtier who divested himself of his brilliant attire to don the tatters of a beggar, and exchanged his velvet-covered couch for the manure-heap of a city street; while as little would it be credited that any man in power would venture to suggest so revolting an expedient to an individual of high birth and position, the companion of princes, and the associate of Court ladies. Nor is it the least singular feature of the tale that the chronicler by whom it is told indulges in no expression of disgust, either at the indelicate selfishness of Richelieu, or the undignified complaisance of his adherent; although he evidently seeks to infer that the Cardinal did not venture to request so monstrous a concession from himself; and dwells with such palpable enjoyment upon all the details of Rochefort's overweening condescension, that it is easy to detect his dread of being suspected by his readers of an equal amount of disgraceful self-abnegation.
The arrest and subsequent execution of the ill-fated Cinq-Mars and his friend M. de Thou, together with the cowardly policy of Monsieur, who no sooner found his treason discovered than he once more wrote to demand his pardon from the King, and to renew his promises of future loyalty and devotion,[237] are circumstances of such universal notoriety that we shall not permit ourselves to enlarge upon them. It must suffice, therefore, to say that this new peril had merely served to increase alike the bodily suffering and the irascibility of Richelieu, who, even on the very brink of the grave, was indulging in schemes of vengeance. He saw on all sides only enemies armed against his life; and by a supreme effort, to which a less vigorous intellect than his own must have proved unequal, he rallied all the failing energies of nature to pay back the universal debt of hatred which he was conscious that he had incurred.
Such was the temper of his mind while the unfortunate Queen-mother was yet dreaming of a reconciliation with her son, and an old age of honour in her adopted country, through the agency of Rubens; but her still sanguine spirit had betrayed her into forgetting the fact that the dying tiger tears and rends its victim the most pitilessly in its death-agony; and this was the case with the rapidly sinking minister, who was no sooner apprised of the arrival of the painter-prince in the capital than he despatched a letter to Philip of Spain to urge him to demand the presence of Rubens on the instant at Madrid, and to detain him in that city until he should hear further from himself. The request of so dangerous an adversary as Richelieu was a command to Philip, who hastened to invite the illustrious Fleming to his Court with all speed, upon an affair of the most pressing nature; and when Rubens would have lingered in order to fulfil a mission which he considered as sacred, he was met by the declaration that Louis desired to defer the audience which he had already conceded until after the return of the Maestro from the Spanish capital. With a heavy heart Rubens accordingly left Paris, aware that this temporary banishment was the work of the vindictive Cardinal, who was thus depriving his unhappy benefactress of the last friend on earth who had the courage to defend her cause; but as he drove through the city gates he was far from anticipating that his freedom of action was to be trammelled for an indefinite period, and that he was in fact about to become the temporary prisoner of Philip IV.
Nor was the persevering cruelty of Richelieu yet satiated; he knew by his emissaries that the end of Marie de Medicis was rapidly approaching, but he was also aware that through the generous sympathy of Charles of England and the King of Spain she was still in the receipt of a sufficient income to ensure her comparative comfort; and even this was too much for him to concede to the mistress whom he had betrayed; thus, only a few months elapsed ere the pensions hitherto accorded to the persecuted Princess were withheld by both monarchs[238]; who, in their terror of the formidable Cardinal, suffered themselves to overlook their duty and their loyalty to a woman and a Queen, and their affection towards the mother of their respective consorts.
Overwhelmed by this new misfortune, Marie de Medicis found herself reduced to the greatest extremity. Unable to liquidate the salaries of those members of her household who had accompanied her into exile, she was abandoned by many among them; while the few jewels which she had hitherto retained were gradually disposed of in order to support those who still clung with fidelity to her fallen fortunes; but even this resource at length failed; and during the winter months, unable any longer to purchase fuel, she was compelled to permit her attendants to break up all such articles of furniture as could be made available for that purpose.[239]
This extreme of wretchedness, however, which would have sufficed to exhaust the most robust health and the most vigorous youth, was rapidly sapping the toil-worn and tortured existence of Marie de Medicis; and, aware that she had nearly reached the term of her sufferings, on the 2nd of July 1642 she executed a will which is still preserved in the royal library of Paris,[240] wherein she expressed her confidence that Louis XIII would cause the mortuary ceremonies consequent upon her decease to be solemnized in a manner befitting her dignity as Queen of France; and bequeathed certain legacies to her servants, and to the several charitable institutions of Cologne. This duty performed, she consented at the entreaty of her attendants to undergo a painful operation, and to submit to such remedies as were likely to prove most efficient, although she herself expressed a conviction of their utter uselessness. She then received the last sacraments of the church; tenderly embraced those who stood about her; and after a violent accession of fever, expired at mid-day on the morrow, with the breath of prayer upon her lips.[241] Once or twice, blent with the pious outpourings of her departing spirit, her attendants had distinguished the name of her son--of that son by whom she had been abandoned to penury; and on each occasion a shade of pain passed across her wasted features. Her maternal love did not yield even to bodily agony; but the struggle was brief. Her eyes closed, her breath suddenly failed: and all was over.
Thus perished, in a squalid chamber, between four bare walls--her utter destitution having, as we have already stated, driven her to the frightful alternative of denuding the very apartment which was destined to witness her death-agony of every combustible article that it contained, in order by such means to prepare the scanty meal that she could still command--and on a wretched bed which one of her own lackeys would, in her period of power, have disdained to occupy; childless, or worse than childless; homeless, hopeless, and heart-wrung, the haughty daughter of the Medici--the brilliant Regent of France; the patroness of art; the dispenser of honours; and the mother of a long line of princes.
Surely history presents but few such catastrophes as this. The soul sickens as it traces to its close the career of this unhappy and persecuted Princess. Whatever were her faults, they were indeed bitterly expiated. As a wife she was outraged and neglected; as a Queen she was subjected to the insults of the arrogant favourites of a dissolute Court; as a Regent she was trammelled and betrayed; the whole of her public life was one long chain of disappointment, heart-burning, and unrest; while as a woman, she was fated to endure such misery as can fall to the lot of few in this world.
The remains of the ill-fated Marie de Medicis were, in a few hours after her decease, transported to the Cathedral of Cologne, where they lay in state an entire week, during which period Rosetti, the Papal Nuncio, whose dread of Richelieu had caused him to absent himself from the dying bed, as he had previously done from the wretched home, of the persecuted Princess, each day performed a funeral service for the repose of her soul. Her heart was, by her express desire, conveyed to the Convent of La Flèche; while her body was ultimately transported to France and deposited in the royal vaults of St. Denis.
The widow of Henri IV had at last found peace in the bosom of her God; and she had been so long an exile from her adopted country that the circumstances of her death were matter rather of curiosity than of regret throughout the kingdom.