"Sir," replied Louis haughtily, "were I to be governed by the inclinations of my people, I should cease to be a King!" [183]
From any other sovereign than Louis XIII a revocation of the sentence just pronounced against one so universally beloved as Montmorency might well have been anticipated, but the son of Henri IV was inaccessible to mercy where his private feelings were involved; and not only did he resist the entreaties and remonstrances by which he was overwhelmed, but he even refused to suffer the Duchesse de Montmorency, the Princesse de Condé, and the Duc d'Angoulême--the wife, sister, and brother-in-law of the prisoner--to approach him. He was weary of the contest, and eager for the termination of the tragic drama in which he played so unenviable a part.
While all was lamentation and despair about him, and the several churches were thronged with persons offering up prayers for the preservation of the condemned noble, the King coldly issued his orders for the execution, only conceding, as a special favour, that it should take place in the court of the Hôtel-de-Ville, and that the hands of the prisoner should not be tied.[184]
Thus, on the 30th of October, the very day of his trial, perished Henri de Montmorency, who died as he had lived, worthy of the great name which had been bequeathed to him by a long line of ancestry, and mourned by all classes in the kingdom.
The unfortunate Marie de Medicis, who received constant intelligence of the movements of the rebel army, had wept bitter tears over the reverses of her errant son; but she had no sooner ascertained that by the Treaty of Béziers he had pledged himself to abandon her interests, than her grief was replaced by indignation, and she complained vehemently of the treachery to which she had been subjected. With her usual amiability, the Archduchess Isabella sought by every means in her power to tranquillize her mind, representing with some reason that the apparent want of affection and respect exhibited by Gaston on that occasion had probably been forced upon him by the danger of his own position, and entreating that she would at least suffer the Prince to justify himself before she condemned him for an act to which he was in all probability compelled by circumstances. But the iron had entered into the mother's soul, and the death of the Comtesse du Fargis, which shortly afterwards took place, added another pang to those which she had already endured.
The beautiful lady of honour had never been seen to smile since she was made acquainted with the fact of her mock trial and her execution in effigy in one of the public thoroughfares of Paris. The disgrace which, as she believed, would thenceforward attach to her name, not only wounded her sense of womanly dignity, but also broke her heart, and a rapid consumption deprived the unhappy Queen-mother of one of the most devoted of her friends.
It can scarcely be matter of surprise that, rendered desperate by her accumulated disappointments and misfortunes, Marie de Medicis at this moment welcomed with avidity the suggestions of Chanteloupe, who urged her to revenge upon the Cardinal the daily and hourly mortifications to which she was exposed. At first she hearkened listlessly to his counsels, for she was utterly discouraged; but ere long, as he unfolded his project, she awoke from her lethargy of sorrow, and entered with renewed vigour into the plan of vengeance which he had concerted. Whether it were that she hoped to save the life of Montmorency, of whose capture she had been informed, or that she trusted to effect her own return to France by placing herself in a position to make conditions with Richelieu, it is at least certain that she did not hesitate to subscribe to his views, and to lend herself to the extraordinary plot of the reverend Oratorian.
"Your Majesty is aware," said Chanteloupe, "that Monsieur has not dared to avow his marriage with the Princesse Marguerite; and I have sure information that the minister who endeavoured to effect a union between his favourite niece and the Cardinal de Lorraine without success, has now the audacity to lift his eyes to your own august son. The Queen is childless, and Richelieu aspires to nothing less than a crown for La Comballet."
"Per Dio!" exclaimed Marie, trembling with indignation.
"The lady is at present residing in the Petit Luxembourg," pursued the monk calmly; "in the very hôtel given by your Majesty to his Eminence during the period when he possessed your favour--"