G. P. R. James

Which shows that a Man who has climbed a Mountain may stumble at a Pebble; or the Consequences of one Oversight.

WE must once more go back to Narbonne, in order to explain the events which had there taken place since the day on which Chavigni possessed himself of the treaty with Spain. Cinq Mars, hearing nothing of his agent, of course concluded that he was quietly pursuing his way; and willing to take every precaution to insure the success of his plans, he spent the next day in riding over to the camp at Perpignan, and endeavouring to ingratiate himself with the officers and soldiers of that part of the army. The splendour of his train and equipages, the manly beauty of his person, his dexterity in all warlike exercises, and the courteous familiarity of his manners, attracted all eyes, and won all hearts; and Cinq Mars, well contented with the day’s success, did not return to Narbonne till very late at night.

The next morning had been appointed for hunting; but that day the King was rather later than usual, and Cinq Mars, as he waited in the saloon till Louis should be ready, took up a romance which some of the Pages had left behind, and stretching his tall elegant form at length in the window-seat, he began reading, to pass the time.

The book was The true History of Don Cleofas of Castille, and as Cinq Mars read on, he became interested in the fate of the hero. He had opened the volume at that part where the Knight rescues Matilda from the power of the Moors. He was in the act of persuading her to descend the staircase in the tower, at the foot of which the repentant Renegade waited with their horses; and Cinq Mars, whose whole heart was full of romance, at one moment entered entirely into the vehement and almost angry arguments of Don Cleofas, and then again felt for the alarm and doubt of the timid Matilda.

So much, indeed, was he occupied, that as some one passed to and from the King’s chamber, he scarcely raised his eyes to notice who it was; and when at last he did so, he found it was only a Page.

The tale went on, and his eye ran from sentence to sentence, to see if the fears of Matilda had proved fatal to their hopes of escape; and his heart beat with anxiety and alarm as the wind blew the door to behind them, and they listened to hear whether the Moors had been awakened by the sound. It was at that moment that another step met his ear, whose firm, decided pace plainly told that it was not that of a domestic. Cinq Mars raised his eyes, and as he did so, they encountered those of Chavigni, who was passing on to the apartments of the King. Chavigni bowed, with a peculiar smile. Cinq Mars returned his salutation, and again began reading his book. “It is all over with your power, Monsieur de Chavigni,” thought the Master of the Horse; “I will but read out this adventure of the two lovers, and then I will come to disturb your tÊte-À-tÊte with his Majesty.”

Cinq Mars read on. “Don Cleofas and his fair Matilda descended the staircase in the city walls; but before they reached the gate, the alarm was given, and by the time they had mounted their horses, all the garrison was armed for their pursuit. Flights of arrows followed them from the ramparts as they fled, and a body of horse kept close upon their track. But still Don Cleofas pursued his way, the bridle of Matilda’s horse thrown over his arm, and his right hand ready to grasp his sword, should the Moors overtake them. It was up the ascent of a steep hill that he took his way, and at the top he reined in his horse, on the edge of the crags which looked down into a peaceful valley below. Don Cleofas sprang to the ground, gave one look to the Moors who were following fast behind, and, as a last resource, catching Matilda in his arms, he leaped from the brink, bounding from rock to rock in the descent, with the agility of an izzard, till at length he reached the deepest part of the valley below.”—All this was told at full length in the romance. The terrors of Matilda, the daring of the Knight, the angry gestures of the Moors, the steepness of the descent, and the calm beauty of the valley, were all dilated upon and described with the utmost minuteness and accuracy; which very much delighted Cinq Mars, but took him a long time to read; so that just at the moment he had got them safely to near the end of their journey, the door of the King’s apartments again opened, and Chavigni passed through the room on his return. Perceiving this to be the case, Cinq Mars thought that he might as well go on with his book: which he had just begun to do, when Fontrailles entered the saloon and interrupted him. “In the name of Heaven, Cinq Mars,” exclaimed he, “what are you about?”

“I am waiting till the King is ready,” answered the Master of the Horse composedly, scarcely taking his eyes from the romance.

“And is it possible,” asked Fontrailles in a tone of angry astonishment, “that you have lain here reading that drivelling book, and suffered Chavigni to be again so long with the King?”

“Again!” said Cinq Mars, becoming more attentive; “he only passed once that I saw.”

“And ought he to have been there once, if that were all?” asked Fontrailles. “But let me tell you, Cinq Mars, he was there last night for more than an hour. Oh, Cinq Mars! Cinq Mars! is this a time, when our lives, our fortunes, and our country’s weal are at stake, to sit there dozing over a romance, and see our bitterest enemy have access to the King’s ear, but too easy to be abused? Depend on it, something more will come of this.”

“But why did you not let me know,” demanded the Master of the Horse, “that he had seen the King last night?”

“I learned it but this moment,” replied Fontrailles. “But here comes a Page from the King’s apartments. A message to you, Cinq Mars, on my life.”

The Page approached. “I am commanded by the King’s Majesty to acquaint you, Monseigneur,” said he, addressing the Grand Ecuyer, “that he feels himself too unwell to enjoy the pleasures of the chase to-day. But he desires that his indisposition may not prevent you, and the other gentlemen invited, from following your sport.”—And having delivered this message, the attendant withdrew without waiting for any reply.

“Well, now you see, Fontrailles,” exclaimed Cinq Mars, “there is nothing wrong here. Nothing can be more kind and considerate than, when ill himself, to wish us to follow the sport without him.”

An expression of heavy, deep-seated thought sat upon the brow of the clear-sighted, suspicious Fontrailles. He took two or three steps up and down the apartment, and then, turning to Cinq Mars with a countenance in which painful anxiety and bitter irony were strangely mingled, he considered his companion with an attentive glance, which ran rapidly over his tall elegant figure. “Cinq Mars,” said he, “you are more than six feet high, and could spare a few inches of your height upon an occasion—even were they to make you shorter by the head, you would still be a tall man. As for me, I am short already, and cannot afford to be cut down. A word to the wise—I go to shelter myself from pruning-knives. Do as you please. We shall meet in this world or the next. Adieu!” And turning on his heel, he quitted the saloon.

“The man is mad!” said Cinq Mars aloud as Fontrailles left him—“irretrievably cracked!” And jumping up from the window-seat, he descended to the court-yard, called the huntsmen together, mounted his horse, and led the chase as merrily as if nothing had happened but the ordinary trifles of a day.

Had he known all, very different would have been his feelings. The visit of Chavigni to the King was one on which the fate of France depended; and the wily Statesman had entered the apartments of the Monarch, prepared equally to guard every word he uttered himself, and to watch every turn of Louis’s irritable and unsteady mind.

The King was leaning on a table in his Cabinet, dressed for the hunting expedition we have mentioned, and more than an usual degree of peevishness was expressed in his countenance. “Well, Sir,” exclaimed Louis as Chavigni entered, “what other bad news have you the pleasure of bringing me? What other friends have turned traitors? What other power is about to invade my dominions? By the Holy Trinity! I never see your face but it makes me melancholy.”

Chavigni was not sorry to perceive the King’s irritability. The night before he had conveyed to him, in general terms, the news of a private treaty existing between Spain and some that Louis supposed his friends, and had promised to bring him that morning the names of the different parties engaged. He now came to fulfil that promise, and he saw that the former information had been working upon Louis’s mind, and raised in it a degree of impatience and anger that would fall heavily on the first object presented to his resentment. Nor did Chavigni doubt that he would easily be able to turn it in the direction that he wished.

“My Liege,” replied he, “when I find your Majesty’s confidence betrayed, your dominions threatened, and even your person in danger, it is my duty to give your Majesty timely warning, although the news be as unpleasant for me to bear as for you to hear. To conceal treason is the part of a traitor, and as one of your Majesty’s Council——”

“Well, well, Sir,” cried Louis, interrupting him, “spare your exculpation. The executioner is doubtless guiltless of the blood he sheds, but it is not a right honourable trade.”

An angry flush came over Chavigni’s countenance, but it quickly subsided; and he replied calmly, “I came here, as your Majesty knows, to give you more minute particulars of the information I rendered you yesterday; and to prove to you that some whom you esteem your dearest friends, and some who are your nearest relations, are the veriest traitors in France. The affair for no one can be more unpleasant than for myself, for there are some to whom I wish well, that have in this merited their death: therefore, Sire, if you find it too painful to hear, in the name of Heaven, let it rest in silence. I will hie me home and burn the papers I have brought here; and satisfied with having done my duty, only hold myself ready, when the misfortunes which must follow, do arrive, to serve your Majesty with my hand and heart.” And bowing profoundly, Chavigni took a step back, as if about to quit the presence.

“Hold, Monsieur de Chavigni,” said the King, “you have done your duty, we do not doubt. But unpleasant tidings, Sir, are not to be received pleasantly. Were it ourself alone that they aimed at, perhaps we might leave treason to overreach itself; but as the welfare of our kingdom is at stake, we must look the frowning truth in the face, and prepare to punish the guilty, be they who they may, that we may insure the safety of the innocent.”

“Louis the Just,” said Chavigni, advancing and using a term which had been bestowed upon the King by the astrologers of the day from his having been born under the sign ‘Libra,’ “Louis the Just will not act otherwise than justly; and if I prove not to your Majesty’s satisfaction that a most dangerous conspiracy is on foot, let your royal indignation fall upon me.”

“I know not what you call a conspiracy, Sir,” answered Louis, his mind reverting to the plans of Cinq Mars, to which, as we have seen, he had given his own sanction only a few nights before, and for the discovery of which he felt as much alarm as if Richelieu possessed the power of punishing him also.

“The conspiracy I speak of, Sire,” rejoined the Statesman, “is formed not only to oblige your Majesty to change your Ministers, but—”

“I can conceive no plan for obliging me to change my Ministers,” interrupted the King. “You must have mistaken, Monsieur de Chavigni; perhaps the persons whom you style conspirators, have only in view to make me dutiful petition and remonstrance, in which case I should give their arguments all due weight and consideration. Therefore, if this be the information you bring, I wish to hear no more.”

Long accustomed to observe every particular point of weakness in the King’s mind, Chavigni at once conceived the whole train of Louis’s thoughts, and judged from the very alarm which he saw in the Monarch’s countenance, that if the Cardinal’s power could once be re-established, it would be more unbounded than ever; and as these ideas passed through his mind, they called a transient smile upon his lip.

“Why do you smile, Sir?” demanded the King, sharply.

“Pardon me, Sire,” answered Chavigni. “But it was, that you should think me so weak as to trouble you upon such a subject. If leaguing with the enemies you have fought and conquered, be humble petition; if bringing foreign troops to invade your dominions, be dutiful remonstrance; if promising to deliver the strong places of France into the hands of Spain, be loyalty and faith,—then have I unnecessarily disturbed your repose.”

Chavigni’s speech worked upon the King, as he expected. “How say you!” exclaimed Louis, his eyes flashing fire. “Who has dared to conceive such a thought? Who has had the hardihood to unite himself to Spain—our sworn enemy—our mortal foe?—Prove your assertion, Sir—Prove that such a traitor exists in our dominions; and were he our own brother, we would doom him to death.”

Chavigni instantly caught at the idea. “Sorry I am to say, Sire,” he replied, “that your Majesty has but too truly divined the person. The Duke of Orleans, unhappily, is the chief of this dangerous conspiracy. Behold, my Liege, his name to this treaty with Spain;” and artfully contriving to conceal the greater part of the names with his hand in holding it before the King, he pointed out the great sprawling “Gaston,” which stood the first on the list of signatures.

Louis instantly recognised his brother’s hand-writing. “Gaston of Orleans! Gaston of Orleans!” he exclaimed, “will nothing satisfy you? Must you betray your country to her enemies, as well as plot against your brother’s life with magicians and astrologers?”

We have already had occasion to remark, that Louis, deeply imbued with all the superstitions of the age, put full faith in every part of astrology, and dreaded nothing more than the effects of enchantment. Nor could any thing free his mind from the idea, that his brother had, in former times, conspired against his life, with certain magicians who were actually executed for the crime; one amongst others being the famous PÈre Le Rouge, whom we have more than once noticed in this sage history. The Duke of Orleans himself escaped with a temporary banishment, but the circumstance still rankled in the King’s mind; and at present the anger which might perhaps have turned aside from Cinq Mars, had Chavigni at first suffered the favourite’s name to appear, now burst with full force upon the less favoured Gaston.

“Issue a warrant for his instant arrest,” exclaimed the King. “By Heaven, he shall not escape more than another man.”

“May it please your Majesty!” answered Chavigni, “to sign the warrant yourself. This is a case of no simple conspiracy, where the King’s brother is at its head, and many of the first in the kingdom its supporters; and the warrants ought not to be simple lettres de cachet of Council, but ought to bear the royal signature.”

“Well, Sir,” replied the King, “have the warrants prepared, and I will sign them. I am going now to hunt, and at my return we will examine these papers and speak farther.”

“I have the warrants drawn out here,” said the Statesman, not choosing to let the first impression subside. “It will not detain your Majesty a moment; I felt convinced that you would not allow justice to slumber, and therefore had them prepared. This is against the body of Gaston of France, Duke of Orleans,” he continued, looking at one of the papers.

“Well, give it to me!” exclaimed the King, taking up a pen; “it shall be done at once.”

Chavigni put the warrant in Louis’s hand, and looked at him with intense feeling, and a triumphant smile, as he hastily wrote his signature to it. “Now,” thought Chavigni, “I have you, one and all. Now, proud Cinq Mars, and calculating Bouillon, you are in my power! He signs the warrant against his own brother, and he dare not let you escape;” and, countersigning the warrant, he put a second into the King’s hand,—“That is against the Duke of Bouillon, Sire!” and he calmly took up the first, and placed it in his portfolio.

“The Duke of Bouillon!” exclaimed Louis, with a sudden start, remembering the orders he had sent him, and terrified lest Richelieu should have discovered them. “Is his name to that paper?”

“No, Sire!” answered the Statesman; “it is not. But in the treaty itself, there is abundant proof of his concurrence; and it was on its way to him in Italy when it was discovered. The same messenger bore it that conveyed to him your orders to march his troops into France:” and Chavigni fixed his keen penetrating glance upon the King’s countenance. Louis turned away his head, and signed the warrant; while Chavigni proceeded to place before him that against Fontrailles, and subsequently one which authorized the arrest of Cinq Mars.

“How!” exclaimed the King, “here are the first and most loyal men in my kingdom. Monsieur de Chavigni, this is going too far!”

“Their names, my Liege,” answered Chavigni, “are affixed to the treasonable treaty in my hand.”

“It cannot be!” cried Louis, an expression of painful apprehension coming over his countenance: “It cannot be! My faithful, loyal Cinq Mars is no traitor. I will never believe it!” And he threw himself into a seat, and covered his eyes with his hands.

Chavigni opened the treaty calmly, and briefly recapitulated the principal articles. “The first item is, my Liege,” he proceeded, “that Spain shall instantly furnish ten thousand men to enter France by the way of Flanders; and for a security to his Catholic Majesty, a second item provides, that the Duke of Bouillon shall place in his hands, for the time being, the Principality of Sedan. A third goes on to arrange, that five principal fortified towns of France shall be given into the hands of Spain; and the whole concludes, with a solemn alliance, offensive and defensive, between the conspirators and the Spanish King.—And to this treaty,” added he, in a firm, deep tone of voice, “stand the names of Cinq Mars and Fontrailles.”

“Cinq Mars has been deceived, misled, abused!” cried the King, with a degree of agitation almost amounting to agony.

“That will appear upon his trial, my Liege,” rejoined Chavigni; and then wishing rather to soften the hard task he called upon Louis to perform, he added, in a gentler manner, “Your Majesty was born under the sign Libra, and have always merited the name of Just. If any thing in extenuation of his fault appear in the case of Monsieur le Grand Ecuyer, that can be taken into your merciful consideration after his arrest; but having calmly given an order for the imprisonment of your own Royal brother, your Majesty cannot—will not, show the manifest partiality of letting a person equally culpable escape. May I once more request your Majesty to sign the warrant?”

“Well, well!” cried Louis, snatching up the pen. “But remember, Cinq Mars must be pardoned. He has been deceived by that treacherous Duke of Bouillon and that oily Fontrailles. Oh, he is all honour and loyalty; have I not experienced a thousand instances of his affection?—It is false! it is false!” And he dashed down the pen without using it.

Chavigni gazed on him for a moment with a feeling very nearly allied to contempt. “Well then, your Majesty,” he said at length, “is it your pleasure that I cause the arrest of the Dukes of Orleans and Bouillon, with Monsieur de Fontrailles, and others concerned in this conspiracy, and let Monsieur de Cinq Mars know that Louis the Just makes a distinction between him and other men?”

“No, no, Chavigni,” replied Louis, mournfully; “give me the paper—I will sign it—But Cinq Mars must be saved. He has been deceived—I will sign it;” and turning away his head, he wrote his name with a trembling hand. But still he continued to hold the warrant, as if unwilling to part with it, repeating more than once in a tone rather of entreaty than command, “Indeed, indeed, Chavigni, he must be saved!”

“Will your Majesty look at this part of the treaty to see that I have stated it correctly?” said the Statesman, offering the papers to the King. Louis laid down the warrant to receive them; and Chavigni instantly raising the order for the arrest of Cinq Mars from the table, placed it in his portfolio with the rest. Louis saw that it was gone beyond recall; and dropping the treaty from his hands, hid his face in his cloak with feelings near akin to despair.

Chavigni’s object was gained, and the power of Richelieu re-established. Not only all the conspirators were delivered bound into his hands, but the King himself was virtually in his power. Too weak, as the Statesman well knew, to stand alone, or to choose new ministers for himself, Louis had no resource but to yield himself once more blindly to the guidance of the Cardinal; and from the moment he had signed the warrant against Cinq Mars, Chavigni looked upon him but as a royal tool to work out the designs of that great unshrinking politician, who had already so long used him for his own purposes.

The unfortunate Monarch, also, was but too well aware of his own want of energy, and of the unsupported situation in which he had left himself; and yielding to his ancient dread of Richelieu, he charged Chavigni with a multitude of exculpatory messages to the Minister, calling him his best friend and his cousin, and adding various civil speeches and professions, which both Chavigni and the Cardinal knew how to estimate.

“There are many other persons, Sire,” said the Statesman, as he was about to depart, “who are implicated more or less in this unhappy conspiracy; but as their guilt is either in a minor degree, or their rank less elevated, I will not trouble your Majesty to put your personal signature to the warrants against them. In the mean time, allow me to hint that the King ought not to be seen hunting with traitors when they are known to be so.”

“No, no,” replied Louis, mournfully; “I am in no mood for hunting now. But where go you, Monsieur de Chavigni? You will not leave me for long,” added the King, feeling that he must have some one to lean on, and little caring who, so that they yielded him support. “You will not leave me for long in this case of danger.”

“I am about to proceed to Corneille,” replied Chavigni, “to order up a body of the Cardinal’s guard. At present, I have no escort but a few servants. We are surrounded by the retainers of the different conspirators, and, were I to attempt the execution of your Majesty’s warrants, we might meet with opposition. But I will soon set that at rest, and before to-morrow morning there shall be a thousand men in Narbonne, truly devoted to your Majesty’s service.”

The King gave an involuntary shudder; and Chavigni, with a mockery of profound respect, which he felt but little, took leave and quitted the presence.

The moment he was gone, Louis called to one of the attendants, and carefully shutting the door when he had entered, “FranÇois,” said he, “you are a silent, cautious man—I can trust you: Go to Monsieur le Grand Ecuyer, and, if he is alone, tell him, that France is a climate dangerous for his health, to betake himself elsewhere, and that speedily. But if there is any one with him, merely say, that the King feels himself too unwell to enjoy the pleasures of the chase to-day; but that he desires that his indisposition may not prevent the gentlemen invited from following their sport. But, FranÇois, watch well Cinq Mars’s return; find him out alone, and give him the first message. Only beware, that in it the King’s name is never mentioned. Do you understand?”

The Page bowed profoundly, but still maintained the same unbroken silence, and retired to fulfil the King’s commands. The presence of Fontrailles, however, prevented him from delivering the warning, until the Master of the Horse returned from hunting, when he found an opportunity of speaking to him alone. Such a caution, delivered by the King’s own Page, alarmed the favourite; and though it was by this time late, he sent a servant to see if the city gates were shut. The servant scarcely gave himself the trouble to inquire, but returning immediately, informed his master that they were. Cinq Mars stayed—and before the next morning, every avenue from Narbonne was occupied by the Cardinal’s guard.