[LETTER XXI.]
The Duke of Lorraine and Vaudemont are, they say, expected here in the course of two or three days.
The tedious and difficult negotiations about peace have kept Paris in suspense for a long time. The following appears to be the result: the deputies from the insurgents have not been able to carry all their points, and the King, on his part, has not succeeded in inducing them to accept his terms. They have therefore agreed upon a compromise, the clauses of which are to be referred to Condé, Damville, and the confederate towns: should they accept them, peace will be declared; in the other case, war will be resumed. But it will be much easier to declare war than to carry it on, as France is terribly reduced, and the King himself is in the greatest straits for want of money.
The religious question, which in the Netherlands is the only obstacle to peace, has not been considered here as a matter of paramount importance, and the King has made no difficulty about granting liberty of conscience; there were other points which were more difficult for him to digest—to wit, that the rebels should have possession of two cities in each province, in addition to those which they now hold, as places of refuge in time of trouble. They demand also that members of their party should be admitted into the Parliaments, and that the King should pay the wages of the German reiters who have taken service with them; and, again, that the States-General be convened. If this last should be granted, the Queen Mother will be in great danger of losing her authority. There are some other points, which your Majesty will learn from the enclosed paper.
Never did France so hunger after peace; never was the country so unanimous in desiring it. On other occasions it has been sometimes the Order of the Clergy and sometimes the Order of the People, which has been averse to a pacification; now all exclaim with one voice that war means ruin. But the peace, I suspect, will not last long,[71] since it has been obtained by compulsion, and granted by necessity.
Moreover, I have observed that the authority of the Crown has marvellously declined; men have shaken off their respect for the King’s name, and are like horses who have got rid of their traces and fairly bolted. The revolutionary spirit is rampant; some people are extremely unpopular; feuds among the chiefs run high—these feuds are of old standing and cemented with the blood of slaughtered kinsmen; to settle and arrange such differences would require much trouble, ample time, and infinite tact. I see that some people in a high position think that it would be to the advantage of France if certain illustrious gentlemen were to quit the country, and all the nobles who wish for war were to find a field abroad, thereby relieving their country of anxiety and trouble. From all this we may safely conclude that quiet in France (if quiet be possible!) means a great disturbance in the atmosphere elsewhere. On this ground some—not without reason, perhaps—remember with regret, how useful Milan[72] was as a training-school for the education of young French soldiers, and also as a means of letting out, without injury to the rest of the body, that bad blood of which France has such store.
The nation desires Condé to be appointed to lead a force into the Netherlands to the assistance of Orange, for it is thought that it will be no small gain to France if he is sent beyond the borders. Condé is himself possessed of considerable resources, and will be well supported by his party, who wish to see him famous and great; they will the more readily fall in with this plan because it will remove him from the scene of danger and place him where he will be safe under the shadow of that great Prince (Orange).
Meanwhile the Royalists will rejoice at this opportunity of delivering France from a troublesome and restless crew, and congratulate themselves that the quarrel is to be fought out in the Netherlands instead of France.
I must explain that nothing is so hateful to your French gentleman as quiet and repose. He would rather be rolling the stone of Sisyphus than keep still; he is for ever hunting after an enterprise; he would fain do something great; if that something be honourable, all the better, but if there be difficulty on that score, he is not particular; so long as it affords a field for the display of courage and skill, and is thought dashing, the question whether it is right or wrong is absolutely immaterial. These are the ideas which nature has planted in him, and example confirmed, while long years of lawlessness and licence have made their practice a habit.