“On the Saturday,” writes Bassompierre, “Monsieur le Comte sent me word that he had learned on very good authority that my liberty was resolved upon, and that in twenty-four hours I should be released without fail. But on the Monday I saw Du Bois, who made me understand that it was pure deceit; and, although the First President sent to tell me the same day that I should go out before the end of the week, I did not in the least believe that I should be set at liberty.”

However, assurances of his approaching liberty were not wanting. First, the younger Bouthillier told Madame de Beuvron that the delay in setting her uncle at liberty was due solely to the suspicious conduct of Monsieur, of whom apparently the marshal was regarded as so devoted an adherent that it would be imprudent to give him his freedom until the King could feel sure that his brother had no intention of causing further trouble. Then, towards the end of June, Du Tremblay came to inform Bassompierre that he was charged by the Bouthilliers, père et fils, that he might never regard them again as honest men if he were still a prisoner in a fortnight’s time. Finally, a week later the son wrote that the Cardinal had given him his word that the marshal was to be set at liberty, and had authorised him to tell him so.

And so the miserable game went on month after month, year after year, the Cardinal gratifying his malignity by wantonly sporting with the hopes of his hapless prisoner, who was continually receiving the most confident assurances that his freedom was at hand, only to discover that they were worthless. It is indeed astonishing that so great a man should have descended to such paltry exhibitions of spite, and have persuaded, not only his colleagues in the Ministry, but his sovereign as well, to lend themselves to them. But Richelieu was a strange character, and combined in a singular degree qualities worthy of the most profound admiration with others which can provoke nothing but contempt.

But the cruel disappointments inflicted upon him by the malice of the Cardinal were far from the only mortifications which Bassompierre had to endure. His financial affairs were not in a prosperous condition, and his sojourn in the Bastille brought him to the verge of ruin. His creditors, whose appetites appear only to have been whetted by the sops which the sale of his post of Colonel-General of the Swiss had enabled him to fling to them, grew more clamorous than ever; his men of affairs proved unworthy of the trust he reposed in them and pilfered the débris of his fortune, and an Italian bank, by means of a forged document, seized upon a magnificent tapestry which he would not have parted with upon any consideration. Nor was this all. With the entry of France as a principal into the Thirty Years’ War, Lorraine had become the battle-ground of the hostile armies, and Frenchmen, Imperialists, and Swedes vied with one another in pillaging the châteaux and estates of the marshal and his family:

“The last day of June [1635] Monsieur le Prince arrived in Paris, returning from his post of lieutenant-general of the King’s army in Lorraine. On his departure, he had left orders that my château of Bassompierre was to be demolished, and this was subsequently executed.”

The destruction of this château, which was situated near Briey, may, of course, have been an act of military necessity; but it was more probably one of pure spite, since, as we know, there was little love lost between the marshal and Condé.

“On the 12th January [1636], I received the sad news of the death of my niece, the nun of Remiremont;[143] and, a few days later, I learned that the King’s commissaries had carried off all the corn from my house of Harouel, and this, not only without payment, but without even giving a certificate that they had taken it.

“The month of February arrived, at the beginning of which I learned from Lorraine that a certain Sieur de Villarceaux[144] had a commission from the King to raze my house of Harouel to the ground. This I felt most cruelly, and I sent to entreat the Cardinal to avert this storm from me.”

Harouel was spared, though it is doubtful whether this was done out of any consideration for its unfortunate owner.

In the following May Bassompierre succeeded in obtaining an ordinance from the King for the restoration of his corn. But Gobelin, Intendant of Justice and Finance in Lorraine, who in the days of the marshal’s prosperity had been his intimate friend, protested against this; and it was finally decided that he should be allowed to keep it for the use of the army, nor was Bassompierre able to obtain any pecuniary compensation.

“And, afterwards, when it was mentioned to the Cardinal de Richelieu, he observed that it was very strange that I should ask money of the King for my corn, seeing that I was so rich that I was building a sumptuous house at Chaillot; that I was having such splendid furniture made that the King had nothing like it, and that during the six years I had been in prison I still maintained such great state that it was impossible to equal it.[145]

“A few days later, in the same month, the Duke of Weimar was authorised by the King to refresh his army in the county of Vaudemont and in my marquisate of Harouel, which was delivered over to pillage. This he executed so well, that every kind of plunder, cruelty, and atrocity was practised there, and my estate entirely destroyed, save the château, which could not be taken by this army, which had no artillery.

“At the end of the month of May the troops of the said Duke of Bernard of Weimar attacked our château of Removille, where five or six hundred peasants of both sexes and of every age had taken refuge. They carried it by assault on the 28th, and killed the men and the old women who were there, carried away the young women, after violating them, and, having pillaged the château, burned it with the children who were in it.”

In July of the following year the Château of Harouel, which had been occupied by the troops of the Duke of Lorraine, was bombarded by the King’s troops, and, after seventy cannon-shot had been fired at it, was surrendered to the French commander, who left a garrison of thirty soldiers there, to be maintained at Bassompierre’s expense.

In August, 1636, Bassompierre’s niece, Madame de Beuvron, went to the Cardinal to solicit her uncle’s liberty.

“But he answered her, in mockery, that I had been only three years in the Bastille and that M. d’Angoulême had been there fourteen; that the duke was returning very opportunely to give some good advice on the subject of my liberation. I omitted to mention that, at the alarm of the passage of the Somme,[146] MM. d’Angoulême, de la Rochefoucauld, M. de Valençay and other persons who had been exiled were recalled; but anger and hatred continued against me in such fashion, that, not only had they neither consideration nor compassion for my long sufferings, but, on the contrary, wished to increase them by this derision and mockery.”

It might be supposed that if, in these circumstances, Bassompierre had little to hope for, he had little to fear. Such, however, was not the case. Some notes written by him in the margin of a history of the reigns of Henri IV and Louis XIII, composed by the Historiographer Royal, Scipion Dupleix, the proofs of which are said to have been corrected by Richelieu himself, were published under his name, but entirely without his authority, by a monk named Père Renaud, the confessor of his fellow-prisoner the Abbé de Foix, to whom he had lent the copy containing them. The marshal’s criticisms were probably pretty stringent, but those which appeared in print were a great deal more so, and the work aroused a considerable sensation. Dupleix complained to the Cardinal, and, says Bassompierre, “they did not fail to report the matter to the King and to tell him that it appeared evident from these memoirs that I entertained an aversion to his person and State.”

About the same time, a soldier of the Light Cavalry named Valbois was arrested and brought to the Bastille, charged with having recited a sonnet against the Cardinal, beginning, ‘Mettre Bassompierre en prison;’ and the marshal was warned by his friends outside to destroy all his papers which might be capable of injuring him, as it was intended to seize them, with a view to bringing him to trial.

“I confess,” writes Bassompierre, “that this last warning, which followed so many unfortunate incidents, was almost sufficient to destroy my reason. It was the 9th of October [1637] that I received it. I passed six nights without closing an eye, and in an agony which was worse to me than death.”

Finally, however, Valbois, after being interrogated several times, probably with the object of ascertaining whether Bassompierre had had anything to do with the composition of the objectionable sonnet, was set at liberty, and, as no action was taken against him, the marshal’s mind became calmer. Nevertheless, he appears to have lived in constant apprehension lest his papers should be impounded; and this no doubt accounts for the fact that, in his Mémoires, the composition of which were now his chief occupation, he exercises a rigorous discretion in his comments on current events, although he was kept informed by his friends of everything that was happening in the world outside. “I shall say nothing,” he writes naïvely, as though to shelter himself from all reproach, “of the quarrel between the King and the Queen ... of the punishment of the nuns of the Val-de-Grâce ... of the dismissal of the King’s confessor, Père Caussin ... nor, finally, of the entry of the Chancellor into the Val-de-Grâce, where he caused the Queen’s cabinets and caskets to be broken open, in order to seize the papers which she had placed in them.”

Bassompierre did not confine his literary activity to his Mémoires; he wrote also the history of his embassies to Spain, Switzerland, and England, which was first published in 1668. In 1802 an octavo volume, bearing the title of Nouveaux Mémoires du Maréchal de Bassompierre, recueillis par le président Hénault et imprimés sur le manuscrit de cet académicien, appeared; but the best authorities on the period are agreed in regarding this work as apocryphal.

 

The years passed, and Bassompierre still remained in the Bastille. So far from uttering complaints, he sought rather, by his words and acts, to disarm the enmity of the all-powerful Minister. He protested vigorously whenever he learned that the malcontents or the enemies of Richelieu claimed him as one of their number; he lent his house at Chaillot to the Cardinal every time that he asked for it; and, what does him more honour, when in 1636 France was invaded, he offered to serve as a simple volunteer. All was useless. The most distinguished personages solicited his liberty; the poets interested themselves in his fate and attested by their verses a courageous gratitude for the favours which the marshal had bestowed upon them in the days of his prosperity. Richelieu remained deaf to all appeals.

“A rumour ran,” writes Bassompierre in 1638, “that the King had said to the Cardinal that he had it on his conscience to keep me so long a prisoner, and that, as there was nothing to allege against me, he could not detain me any longer. To which the Cardinal replied that, since the time of my being imprisoned, so many things had passed through his mind, that he could not now recollect the causes which had led the King to imprison me or him to advise it; but that he had them among his papers, and would look for them and show them to the King. I know not if this be true, but the rumour was current in Paris.”

It is little wonder that, if the question of his liberty, after more than eight years of detention, was treated in this fashion, the hapless victim of the vindictive Minister and the cold-hearted King was sometimes plunged into the depths of despair.

“I know not,” he writes, “whether those who conduct the King’s affairs hate me or wish to overwhelm me with affliction that they have detained me so long in the Bastille, where I can do nothing but pray to God that He will put an end to my long sufferings by my liberty or my death. What can I write concerning my life, since I pass it always in the same manner, save that from time to time some fatal accident happens to me?—For good fortune deserted me from the time I was deprived of my freedom.”

In this state of depression we can well understand the bitter grief which the death of a little dog, which was his constant companion, appears to have occasioned him:—

“There happened in the month of September [1639] an accident which is ridiculous merely to mention, and disgraceful for me to have taken to heart as I did, but which was much more insupportable to me than several others of more importance that have occurred to me in the course of my life. I had a little toy greyhound, called Médor, not more than six inches high, of a dun and white colour, the prettiest markings imaginable. He was the most beautiful, the liveliest, the most affectionate dog I have ever seen, a pup of my old bitch Diane, who had given birth to him about a year before her death, as though she had wished to leave me this consolation in my prison. It was certainly a very great one, for he afforded me much amusement and rendered my imprisonment more tolerable. I confess that I had conceived too great an affection for him. It happened that on Monday, the 12th of September, I ascended to the terrace of the Bastille with the Comtes de Cramail[147] and du Fargis, Madame de Gravelle,[148] and the Comte d’Estelan,[149] who had come to visit me that day, when a great, ugly black greyhound belonging to M. du Coudray, whom I always feared so much for my dog that I generally carried him in my arms when I knew that the other was on the terrace, started to play with him, and, in doing so, placed a paw on his little body in such fashion that he crushed his heart before my eyes. Assuredly, this accident crushed mine and distressed me to such a degree that I was sad for a very long while, and the memory of this poor beast torments my mind still.”

Bassompierre’s Mémoires conclude in October, 1640, with a reference to the death in exile of his brother-in-law Charles de Lorraine, Duc de Guise, the news of which had just reached him and appears to have caused him much distress.

CHAPTER XLII

Death of Richelieu—Bassompierre is offered his liberty on condition that he shall retire to his brother-in-law Saint-Luc’s Château of Tillières—He at first refuses to leave the Bastille, unless he is permitted to return to Court—His friends persuade him to alter his decision—He is authorised to reappear at Court—His answer to the King’s question concerning his age—He recovers his post as Colonel-General of the Swiss—His death—His funeral—His sons, Louis de Bassompierre and François de la Tour—His nephews.

At length, on December 4, 1642, Richelieu succumbed to the one enemy whom he was unable to subjugate, in full possession of all the power and splendour for which he had laboured so unceasingly. Save to his family and his immediate followers, his death brought little regret, for all classes had felt his iron hand, and even the King seems to have experienced a sense of relief at the thought that the short span of life that remained to him would be free from that overshadowing presence.

It was not, however, without considerable difficulty that the distinguished prisoners of the Bastille succeeded in obtaining their freedom. Mazarin and Chavigny demanded that they should be set at liberty; but Sublet des Noyers opposed it. The order of release was only signed by the King on January 18, 1643, and, as the liberated captives were not authorised to return to Court, Bassompierre refused to leave his prison. His friends, however, persuaded him to do so, and he retired, in accordance with the King’s orders, to the Château of Tillières, belonging to his brother-in-law, the Comte de Tillières.

Henri d’Arnauld, Abbé of Saint-Nicolas d’Angers, in a journal addressed to the wife of Président Barillon, describes the incidents of this deliverance, which the invisible influence of Richelieu seemed still to be hindering:

January 4, 1643. ... Hope is held out to the two marshals who are in the Bastille that they will be liberated before the end of this month.

January 7th. ... The prisoners of the Bastille entertain great hopes of an approaching liberation.

January 11th. ... I do not see that the hopes which have been given to these gentlemen of the Bastille are based on too sure a foundation. I greatly wish that I am wrong in the opinion I have formed.

January 18th. ... Since the letter I wrote I went to the Bastille, to which M. de Romefort came, on behalf of M. de Chavigny, to inform MM. de Bassompierre, de Vitry and de Cramail that the King gave them back their liberty, but on condition that the first shall go to Tillières, M. de Vitry to Châteauvilain, and M. de Cramail to one of his houses. The two last received this news with joy; but M. de Bassompierre is up to the present very decided to refuse to go out on that condition, and all his friends and servants are quite unable to influence him in the matter. They ought to go out to-morrow. Perhaps, between now and then he will alter his decision.

Wednesday, January 21, 1643.—On Monday, MM. de Bassompierre, de Vitry, and the Comte de Cramail left the Bastille, the last two with great joy. As for the first, his relatives and friends had all the difficulty imaginable to persuade him to accept his liberty on condition of going to Tillières, and a hundred times I believed that he would refuse to do so. I was at the Bastille from 10 o’clock in the morning until 9 o’clock in the evening on the day on which they went out.... They are to remain here for three or four days. They have visited all the Ministers. There is some hope that the Maréchal de Bassompierre will not remain long where he is going.

January 25. ... The three persons who had come out of the Bastille were forbidden to visit Monsieur. They have taken their departure. The Marquis de Saint-Luc brought to the King a letter of thanks from the Maréchal de Bassompierre. The King, after reading it twice, observed: ‘I refuse to allow people to make terms with me, and the Maréchal de Bassompierre is one of the first who told me that I ought not to do it. If he had not decided to go to Tillières, I should have left him in the Bastille, to be maintained there at his own expense. I gain by the release of these persons 45,000 livres a year.’[150] ‘Yes, Sire,’ answered Saint-Luc, ‘and 100,000 blessings.’

Tuesday, January 28. ... The Maréchal de Bassompierre has left Chaillot this morning and will reach Tillières to-morrow.

March 11. ... The Maréchal de Bassompierre is so bored at Tillières that he declares that he repents of having left the Bastille and followed in that the advice of his friends.”

Some weeks later, and very shortly before his death, Louis XIII authorised the Maréchaux de Bassompierre and de Vitry and the Comte de Cramail to reappear at Court.

It is related that when Bassompierre went to pay his respects to the King, his Majesty received him very graciously and inquired how old he was. “Fifty, Sire,” was the reply. “Surely you are much older than that?” exclaimed the King, in surprise. “I deduct the twelve years passed in the Bastille, since they were not employed in the service of your Majesty.” And on being presented to a beautiful young girl, he observed: “Mademoiselle, how much do I regret my youth when I see you!”

Nevertheless, so greatly had the tone and manners of fashionable society changed since that fatal day when he had lost his liberty, that poor Bassompierre—Bassompierre who had formerly passed for the marvel of the old Court!—appears, with his habits of magnificence and gallantry, to have been regarded as a trifle antiquated, though, in the opinion of Madame de Motteville, “the remains of the Maréchal de Bassompierre were worth more than the youth of some of the most polished of that time.” The young men to whom Madame de Motteville refers formed the cabal of the “Importants,” whose ephemeral reign was terminated by the imprisonment of the Duc de Beaufort (September, 1643). To this cabal belonged the Marquis de la Châtre, who, on the death of Coislin, who had died in 1641 from wounds received at the siege of Aire, had succeeded him as Colonel-General of the Swiss. He was obliged to surrender this post, of which the marshal resumed possession, on condition of paying Le Châtre the 400,000 livres which he had received from Coislin. Bassompierre’s resignation was considered as null and void, and the post as not having been vacated.

Bassompierre did not long enjoy this return of favour. On October 12, 1646, his servants found him dead in his bed at Provins, where he had stopped for the night, while returning to Paris from a visit to the elder Bouthillier’s country-house. He had evidently passed away peacefully in his sleep, “as he was found in his customary position, one hand under the pillow at the place where his head rested, and his knees a little raised.”[151] His body was brought in a coach to Chaillot; the intestines, the tongue, and the brain were buried in the parish church before the high altar; the heart and the rest of the body were delivered by the curé to the Minims of Migeon, whose convent was close to the château, and deposited in a chapel to the left of the high altar, in the choir of their church. The Duc de Chevreuse and “other nobles and ladies of high quality, with a great number of bourgeois and inhabitants of Chaliot (sic),” assisted at the funeral ceremony.

The Maréchal de Bassompierre left two sons; one by Marie d’Entragues, the other by the Princesse de Conti. The first, who was called Louis de Bassompierre, took Holy Orders, and, after being provided, doubtless through his father’s influence, with two rich abbeys, was consecrated Bishop of Oloron, a see which he subsequently exchanged for the more important one of Saintes. He was, in later years, appointed almoner to Monsieur, brother of Louis XIV; but this post he resigned, in order that he might reside continuously in his diocese, in which respect he set an example which other bishops would have done well to follow.

The Bishop of Saintes was a pious and worthy man, beloved by the poor and esteemed by everyone. During the troubles of the Fronde he laboured to maintain in their allegiance to the Crown, or to bring back to their duty, the population of Saintes, Brouage and the surrounding country, and it was he who negotiated the accommodation of the Comte, afterwards the Maréchal, du Daugnon with the Court. He died in Paris, whither he had come on business connected with his diocese, on July 1, 1676. “Hélas!” writes Madame de Sévigné, “à propos of sleeping, poor M. de Saintes has fallen asleep this night in the Lord in an eternal sleep. He had been ill for twenty-five days, bled thirteen times, and yesterday morning he was without fever. He talked for an hour with the Abbé Têtu (these kind of improvements are nearly always deceptive), and on a sudden he fell back in agony, and, in short, we have lost him. As he was extremely lovable, he is extremely regretted.”

“The worthy prelate,” says the Gazette de France, “has left his friends sensibly afflicted, the poor of his diocese in the extremity of grief, and all those who knew him edified by the exemplary actions of his life, and his Christian resignation at death.” By a will, made the year before his death, he left all his property to the poor and the churches of his diocese.

The marshal’s son by the Princesse de Conti was known as François de la Tour. He is described by Goulas as “one of the handsomest and bravest men of the Court”; and Tallemant des Réaux writes:

“He [Bassompierre] had a son by the Princesse de Conti, who was called La Tour-Bassompierre; it is believed that he would have recognised him, if he had had the leisure. This La Tour was brave and well made. In a duel in which he took part as second, having to fight with a man who for some years had had a disabled right arm, but had accustomed himself to make use of his left, he allowed his right arm to be bound and, nevertheless, beat his adversary.”

François de la Tour appears to have resembled his father in other respects besides courage and good looks, as, in September, 1639, we find Bassompierre complaining that “a person who was very nearly related to him, named La Tour, had been gambling and had expended in a prodigal fashion a great deal of money, which had occasioned him much vexation.”

François de la Tour was wounded on August 10, 1648, at the taking of Vietri, in the kingdom of Naples, and appears to have died of his wounds. “It is,” observes the Marquis de Chantérac, “without doubt of him that the Gazette de France speaks in announcing, under date January 27, 1648, that the Sieur de Bassompierre, naval captain, had distinguished himself in the engagement which had taken place between the King’s forces, commanded by the Duc de Richelieu, and those of Spain, under the orders of Don Juan of Austria, in the Gulf of Naples.”

Of the three nephews of the marshal, the eldest, Anne-François, Marquis de Bassompierre, was killed in a duel in May, 1646, without having married. The second, Charles, Baron de Dommartin, married Henriette d’Haraucourt; but his male posterity continued only to the second generation. The third, Gaston-Jean-Baptiste, Marquis de Baudricourt and de Bassompierre, left descendants who were attached successively to the service of Lorraine and of France. The last male representative of this branch was Charles-Jean-Stanislas-François, Marquis de Bassompierre, who died in 1837. The families which to-day bear the name of Bassompierre would not appear to be connected in any way with the House of Betstein.

THE END


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