H. Noel Williams

Offer of Schomberg, Saint-GÉran and Marillac to take Montauban within twelve days—Advice of PÈre Arnoux—Diplomacy of Bassompierre—A humiliating fiasco—A second attempt meets with no better success—Bassompierre counsels the King to raise the siege, and it is decided to follow his advice—General exasperation against Luynes—Louis XIII begins to grow weary of his favourite—Conversation of the King with Bassompierre—The latter warns Luynes that he “does not sufficiently cultivate the good graces of the King”—Reply of the Constable—Louis XIII twits Luynes with the love of the Duc de Chevreuse for his wife—Puisieux, Minister for Foreign Affairs, and PÈre Arnoux, the King’s Jesuit confessor, conspire against the Constable—Disgrace of the latter—Bassompierre, at the head of the bulk of the Royal forces, lays siege to Monheurt—A perilous situation—Bassompierre falls ill of fever—He leaves the army and sets out for La RÉole—He is taken seriously ill at Marmande—His three doctors—Approach of the enemy—Refusal of the townsfolk to admit him and his suite into the town—A terrible night—He recovers and proceeds to Bordeaux—Death of the Constable before Monheurt.

During the next few days some progress was made by the Guards at Ville-Nouvelle; but the other two divisions seemed able to do little or nothing; while the garrison, strengthened by the accession of several hundred first-class fighting men, harassed them incessantly. On October 4, Louis XIII summoned another council of war at Picqueos, to which Bassompierre went. On his arrival he was met by PÈre Arnoux, the King’s Jesuit confessor, who said to him: “Well, Monsieur, Montauban is going to be given, so they say, to him who offers the lowest price for it, as they give the public works in France. In how many days do you offer to take it?” Bassompierre replied that no one would be so presumptuous as to name a day by which a place like Montauban could be taken, and that the duration of the siege would depend on many circumstances. “We have bidders much more determined than you are,” rejoined the Jesuit. And he told him that the leaders of the Le Moustier division had pledged “their heads and their honour” to take Montauban in twelve days, provided that the Guards would hand over to them the greater part of their cannon; and that it was with the object of deliberating upon this proposal that the council had been summoned. He then advised Bassompierre, with whom he was on very friendly terms, that he and colleagues “would do a thing agreeable to the King and the Constable by not opposing it, unless they were prepared to pledge themselves to place Montauban in the King’s hands in an even shorter time.”

Bassompierre thanked the Jesuit, and drawing Praslin and Chaulnes aside, told them of the proposal which the leaders of the Le Moustier division—Schomberg, Saint-GÉran and Marillac—intended to make at the council, though he did not tell them of the source of his information, which he allowed them to think was the King himself. He then pointed out that these officers, who had been in anything but good odour with the King and the rest of the army since their refusal to attack the bastion of Le Moustier, hoped to rehabilitate their reputation for courage by offering to accomplish a task which they must very well know to be impossible, even with the assistance of the Guards’ cannon. They undoubtedly believed, however, that Praslin and Chaulnes would refuse to surrender their artillery, in which event they would gain credit with the King for having made the offer, and, at the same time, throw the responsibility for being unable to carry it out upon the officers of the Guards’ division, of whom they were bitterly jealous. And he begged the two marshals “in God’s name” not to fall into the trap prepared for them by refusing to give up their cannon. The latter agreed to do as he advised, and they went into the room where the council was assembling.

The Constable opened the proceedings in a lengthy speech, in which he exhorted the marshals and generals present to “lay aside all emulations, jealousies and envies,” and co-operate loyally together for the service of the King. Then he turned to the leaders of the Guards’ division and “inquired how long precisely they would require to take the town.” Bassompierre and the two marshals, after a pretence of consulting together, answered that they had done, and would continue to do, everything that was humanly possible to achieve this result, but that they were not prepared to name any definite time. The Constable then said that the officers from Le Moustier were ready to pledge themselves to take the town in twelve days; and Saint-GÉran, turning to the King, exclaimed: “Yes, Sire, we promise it you upon our honour and upon our lives!”

Bassompierre and his colleagues applauded their resolution to render this great service to the King, and assured them that, as devoted servants of his Majesty, if there were any way in which they might contribute to the success of their enterprise, they had only to command them. Upon which the Constable said that the King wished them to send to Le Moustier sixteen of their siege-guns. To this they at once consented, and added that, if men were needed, they would willingly send 1,500 or 2,000, and Bassompierre himself would command them.

The officers from Le Moustier, much embarrassed, for they had counted with confidence on their demand for the Guards’ cannon being refused, thanked them, and said that their artillery was all that they required. The others then said to the Constable that, in view of the fact that they were surrendering practically the whole of their siege-guns, they presumed that the King would discharge them from the obligation of taking the town; and they were given to understand that all that would be required of them would be to divert the enemy’s attention from Le Moustier by occasional attacks and mines.

Within the next forty-eight hours the Guards’ cannon was delivered at Le Moustier; but when Bassompierre went there on the 10th, on the pretext of visiting a friend of his who had been wounded, to see how matters were progressing, he found that the batteries were very badly placed, and that, notwithstanding the weight of gunfire, comparatively little impression had been made on the defences.

On the previous day, Bassompierre, catching sight of La Force on the ramparts of Ville-Nouvelle, had gone forward, under a flag of truce, to speak to him. He found the Huguenot chief eager for some arrangement which would put an end to this fratricidal struggle; and, at his suggestion, he spoke to Chaulnes and urged him to persuade the Constable to meet Rohan, who, La Force had given him to understand, would be willing to approach Montauban for that purpose, and discuss with him terms of peace. This Chaulnes agreed to do, and on October 13 an interview took place between Luynes and Rohan at the ChÂteau of Regnies, some four leagues from Picqueos. After a long consultation, terms were agreed upon, subject to the approval of the King and the Council, which, says Bassompierre, were “advantageous and honourable for the King and useful for the State.” But when the Council met, Schomberg urged that a decision should be postponed until after he and his colleagues at Le Moustier had made their attempt to take the town, which he was confident would be successful. In that event, he pointed out, they would be able to impose much more severe terms on the Huguenots. And he swore “on his honour and his life” that he would take Montauban within the time specified. The King and the Council, impressed by such unbounded confidence, agreed to do as he advised.

On the 17th, the Constable sent for Bassompierre to come to Le Moustier, where he had gone to dine with Schomberg, and inquired whether a mine which he had instructed him to prepare some days before were finished. Bassompierre replied in the affirmative, upon which the Constable said: “It must be exploded to-morrow so soon as you receive the order from me, for, if it please God, to-morrow we shall be in Montauban, provided everyone is willing to do his duty.” Bassompierre answered that he could rely on the Guards’ division doing theirs, when Luynes told him that the explosion of the mine must be followed by a feint against the advanced-works of Ville-Nouvelle, in order to divert the enemy while the Le Moustier division stormed the town. Bassompierre had heard during the past two days a furious bombardment proceeding in that quarter, but when he scanned the defences, he could not perceive any practicable breach nor even the appearance of one. “Monsieur,” said he, “you speak with great confidence. May God grant that it may be justified!” Both the Constable and Schomberg appeared to regard the taking of the town as already assured, and, as he took leave of them, the latter said: “Brother, I invite you to dine with me the day after to-morrow in Montauban.” “Brother,” answered Bassompierre, “that will be a Friday and a fish-day. Let us postpone it until Sunday, and do not fail to be there.”

Bassompierre transmitted the order which he had received from the Constable to Chaulnes and Praslin, who instructed him to take charge of the mine, and to have everything in readiness for the diversion they were to make on the morrow.

The eventful day which, if Schomberg and his colleagues were to be believed, was destined to atone for all the toil and bloodshed of the past two months, arrived, and with it the King, the Constable, the Cardinal de Retz, PÈre Arnoux, Puisieux, the Minister for Foreign Affairs, and many other distinguished persons, who were conducted by them to carefully-selected positions from which they would be able to enjoy an uninterrupted view of the storming of the town. At the same time, they ordered their servants to pack up their plate, linen, and so forth, as they intended to sup and sleep in Montauban. “And many other things they did more ridiculous than I shall condescend to write down.”

Early in the afternoon, the Guards’ division received orders “to begin the dance,” and Bassompierre fired his mine, which blew a big hole in the enemy’s advanced-works in that quarter and sent an unfortunate young officer of the Guards, the Baron d’Auges, into another world. Mines, in those days, appear to have had an unpleasant way of taking toll of both sides. The Guards occupied the crater, but, in accordance with their orders, did not advance any further. At the same time, the troops at Ville-Bourbon made a similar diversion.

The great assault, however, tarried. It tarried so long that at length the King grew impatient, and sent to Schomberg and his colleagues to inquire the reason why they did not advance. They replied that there was no breach that was practicable. Presently, he sent again, and was informed that, though there was a breach, scaling-ladders would be required, and these had not yet arrived. The scaling-ladders were brought, and once more the King wanted to know why they did not attack. The answer was that the delay had enabled the enemy to repair the breach; it would have to be reopened by a fresh bombardment.

“Finally,” says Bassompierre, “after having wasted the whole day up to six o’clock in the evening, and kept 600 gentlemen and a great number of people of note under arms all day, without doing or attempting to do anything, unless it were to kill a good many people of the town who showed themselves, they sent to tell the King that they had freshly reconnoitred the place where the attack must be delivered, and that truly it was not practicable. And upon that everyone went home.”

Next day, Louis XIII sent a message to Ville-Nouvelle requesting one of the two marshals or Bassompierre to come to Picqueos; and it was decided that Bassompierre should go. He found the King in his cabinet with the Constable, the Cardinal de Retz, and RoucellaÏ, and it was plain that his Majesty was in a very ill-humour. “Bassompierre,” said he, “you have long been of opinion that nothing of any use would be accomplished on the side of Le Moustier.” “Your Majesty will pardon me,” answered Bassompierre, “but I never believed that everything that was proposed would succeed. Nevertheless, one must judge things by the results.” The King then told him that Schomberg and his colleagues had assured him that in five days they would be able to establish a battery of their heaviest guns on a knoll within a very short distance of the walls, and open a breach which would enable them to storm the town; and inquired what he thought about it. Bassompierre replied that, if they did succeed in establishing a battery there, the town must fall; but he very much doubted whether the enemy would allow them to do it. “And I,” exclaimed the King angrily, “refuse to wait for what they wish to do. For they are deceivers; and I will never believe anything they say again.” The Constable here interposed, and begged his Majesty to remember that the generals at Le Moustier were as much mortified as he was at the fiasco of the previous day. And he asked that they might be given another chance of redeeming their promise to take the town. To this the King agreed, and Bassompierre was told to arrange another diversion when the time for the assault to be delivered should arrive.

However, it never did arrive. During the next few days the knoll was fortified without any interference from the enemy, and nothing remained but to get the guns into position. But, on the early morning of the 25th, the garrison exploded a mine under the knoll which blew it up with its defences, and followed this up by a murderous sally against the Picardy Regiment, who were driven out of their trenches with heavy loss. Three nights later, they made another sortie, this time at the expense of the Champagne Regiment, and, breaking right through it, penetrated to the besiegers’ battery-positions and destroyed one of their largest guns.

After this it was obviously impossible to continue the siege with the smallest hope of success; the winter was coming on; the army, badly paid and badly fed, with no confidence in its leaders, and harassed incessantly by a bold and resolute enemy, was becoming demoralised and was dwindling every day from death, sickness and desertion. Of 30,000 men who had encamped before Montauban at the end of August, only 12,000 effective combatants remained; and the division before Ville-Bourbon was now so weak that its leaders were obliged to ask the Guards for assistance to enable them to hold their trenches against the perpetual attacks to which they were exposed.

On the morrow, the Constable came to Le Moustier and summoned a council of war to decide what was to be done. “Everyone saw plainly,” says Bassompierre, “that we had no longer the means of continuing the siege; but no one wished to propose that it should be abandoned.” At length, Bassompierre took upon himself to do so and urged that they should “reserve the King, themselves and this army for a better future and a more convenient season.” To this the other leaders offered no opposition, and the Constable proceeded to communicate their decision to the King. Louis XIII, with tears in his eyes, directed Bassompierre to supervise the raising of the siege, and afterwards to march, with the greater part of the army, on Monheurt, a little town on the Garonne which had just revolted, as he and the Constable desired to terminate the campaign with a success, however unimportant it might be.

To raise the siege without the risk of incurring further losses was far from an easy task, as, unless every precaution were taken, there was grave danger that the garrison, flushed with success, might sally out and fall upon the rear of the army while it was crossing the Tarn. However, Bassompierre appears to have made his arrangements with considerable skill, and on November 10 the last of the troops were withdrawn, with no more serious interference than a little skirmishing.

The disastrous result of the siege of Montauban caused general exasperation against Luynes, who met with a very bad reception from the people of Toulouse—numbers of whose relatives and friends had fallen during the siege—when he accompanied the King thither about the middle of November. The High Catholic party was particularly furious, and accused the Constable, not only of incapacity, but of treason. What was a more serious matter for him, was the fact that the King was growing weary of his favourite.

This change in Louis XIII’s attitude towards the man whom he had raised so high, and who had so long exercised such an absolute dominion over him, seems to have begun some months before; but it was at first carefully concealed from all but two or three of his intimates.

A few days after this conversation, Bassompierre was sent to Paris, at which he was much relieved, “since he found that confidences of the King were very dangerous”; and when, some weeks later, he rejoined the army at the beginning of the siege of Montauban, he took care never to approach his Majesty unless he were sent for.

The King began to laugh, and told Bassompierre that he would answer for Puisieux’s discretion. Then he began a long tirade against his favourite, and appeared particularly indignant that the latter should, on the death of Du Vair, the Keeper of the Seals, which had occurred at the beginning of August, have persuaded him to give him the vacant post, notwithstanding that it was as contrary to usage as to common sense for a man to hold the Seals and the Constable’s sword.[1]

Bassompierre left the royal presence, feeling very uneasy. He saw clearly that Luynes was losing his hold over the King; but he knew that it might be some time before the young monarch would be able to summon up sufficient resolution to shake it off entirely; and, meanwhile, if Puisieux, whom he thoroughly distrusted, were to abuse the King’s confidence, and lead the Constable to believe that he was endeavouring to influence his Majesty against him, he would find himself in an even more difficult situation than he had the previous year. He therefore decided that his safest course was “to make some representations to him [Luynes] on the subject, for his good,” without, however, allowing the Constable to suspect that the King had spoken to him. They would probably be well received, for, since his return from Spain, the favourite’s manner towards him had been very cordial, and he appeared most anxious that Bassompierre should identify his interests with his own by marrying his niece.

The favourite took Bassompierre’s warning in very good part, but made light of it:

During the closing weeks of the siege of Montauban, whenever the King had an opportunity of speaking to Bassompierre privately, he “complained incessantly of the Constable.” The love—it was of a very innocent kind—which Louis had hitherto entertained for Luynes’s beautiful wife, Marie de Rohan, no longer protected her husband. This love had, in fact, changed into hatred, since his Majesty had perceived that the lady was accepting other attentions, without doubt less platonic than his.

And he took a particularly mean way of avenging himself.

A few days after the siege of Montauban had been raised, the King’s other two confidants, the Jesuit PÈre Arnoux and Puisieux, the former of whom suspected Luynes of desiring to make peace with the Protestants on their own terms, joined forces to procure the downfall of the favourite. But they had underrated the power which habit and the fear of change exercised over the cold heart and indolent mind of Louis XIII. He betrayed them to Luynes, or, perhaps, the pusillanimous Puisieux may have betrayed his fellow-conspirator. Anyway, Luynes learned of the intrigue and insisted on the Jesuit’s disgrace; and “the first news that I had from him [the King],” says Bassompierre, “was that he had been constrained to abandon PÈre Arnoux to the hatred of the Constable.” The King added that Bassompierre “might be assured that there was nothing against him.” Nevertheless, says that gentleman, “I did not fail to be in great apprehension, although I could say that every time that the King had spoken to me on the subject I had warded off his blows, and that I had been infinitely distressed that he had ever made me the recipient of his confidence.”

However, Bassompierre need not have been alarmed, as it was very soon to be beyond the power of Luynes to injure anyone.

On November 16 Bassompierre and his army encamped before Monheurt, and on the 18th the trenches were opened. A day or two later he had an exceedingly narrow escape of his life.

He was riding, followed by two aides-de-camp, from the trenches of the Piedmont Regiment, to those of the Normandy Regiment, a journey which he had made several times already without interference from the garrison, although it was well within musket-shot of the town, and “dressed in scarlet, with the cross on his cloak, and mounted on a white pony, he was easily recognisable.” Suddenly, the advanced bastion and counterscarp bristled with musketeers, who began firing at him and “with such fury that he heard nothing but balls whistling about him.” One ball struck the pommel of his saddle and another pierced his cloak, but he managed to reach a large tree without being hit, and took shelter behind it. Here he was in safety, though the enemy fired more than a hundred shots at it. At length, the firing ceased and, thinking that they had exhausted their ammunition, he mounted and galloped towards the trenches of the Normandy Regiment. However, they had only been waiting for him to show himself, and, so soon as he did so, they began firing at him again as fiercely as ever. “But,” says he, “as my hour was not yet come, God preserved me against the attempt; though I believe I was never nearer death than I was on that occasion.”

The weather was very bad, rain falling incessantly, and the soldiers were nearly up to their knees in mud. Nevertheless, they worked well, and by the 22nd, on which day the siege-artillery arrived, they had pushed their trenches close to the walls.

Meanwhile, Bassompierre had received a secret communication from the Marquis de Mirambeau, the commander of the garrison, who offered to surrender Monheurt, in consideration of receiving a sum of 4,000 crowns and a formal pardon for his offence of having taken up arms against the King. The MarÉchal de Roquelaure, lieutenant-general of Guienne, had lately arrived to take the nominal command of the siege operations. But he left their direction entirely in Bassompierre’s hands, and, as Mirambeau had requested that he should not be informed of his offer, it was communicated to Louis XIII, who was still at Toulouse. This decided the King and the Constable to come to Monheurt, “in order to have the honour of taking it.”

On the 23rd, Bassompierre, after inspecting one of his batteries, advanced a few paces in front of it to survey some point in the defences. “The gunners,” he says, “not thinking that I was there, discharged their pieces, the wind of which threw me very rudely to the ground, and left me with a singing in my right ear, accompanied by insupportable twinges.” Two hours later he was taken ill with fever, but he remained on duty all that day, during which the trenches were pushed up to the border of the moat. Next morning, however, he was so much worse that he wrote to the King and the Constable asking to be relieved of his command, and saying that he proposed to go to La RÉole, where he could secure skilled medical attention, for he was too prudent to trust himself to the care of the army surgeons. He also begged them to send him a doctor.

Next morning he received a very kind letter from the King, granting his request and informing him that he was sending a doctor, upon which he embarked in a boat, accompanied by his personal attendants and a guard of Swiss halberdiers, and set off down the Garonne towards La RÉole.

On arriving at Tonneins, about midway between Monheurt and Marmande, he learned that a small force of cavalry was crossing the river to the right bank, and that they were the Constable’s own company of gensdarmes.

He sent for the officers in command to inquire where they were going, and was told that they had received orders from the MarÉchal de Roquelaure to take up their quarters in a little town called Gontaud, about half-a-league from Marmande. He expressed his surprise that Roquelaure should send a small body of cavalry, unaccompanied by infantry, to an open town in the midst of the enemy’s country, where there was a great danger of their being surprised; and, aware that the King and the Constable would certainly cancel the order if they were informed of it, begged the officers to return, while he sent a message to the King requesting that they should be quartered at Marmande, which was a walled town. But the officers pointed out that the baggage had already been sent on to Gontaud; and, on their assuring him that they would keep a sharp look-out that night, and on the morrow ask to be transferred to safer quarters, he allowed them to proceed, although he felt very uneasy.

On reaching Marmande, he felt so much worse that he decided to remain there for the night, instead of continuing his journey to La RÉole, and therefore had himself carried to an inn in the suburb, and sent for a doctor. But the only one who could be found was a country-practitioner, to whose tender mercies Bassompierre did not feel inclined to entrust himself. However, shortly afterwards, a quack doctor named Duboure, whom the Baron d’Estissac had sent after him, arrived on the scene. Duboure was none too sober, but he possessed remedies which afforded the patient some temporary relief, and about nine o’clock in the evening one of the King’s own physicians, named Le Mire, whom his Majesty had sent, made his appearance. The great man, after consulting, for form’s sake, with his humble colleagues, “proceeded to scarify him and apply leeches to his shoulders, in order to remove the furious tingling which he had in the head.”

When morning dawned, the good citizens of Marmande, having satisfied themselves that there were no Huguenots lurking in the vicinity, at length summoned up courage to open their gates, and the unfortunate Bassompierre was carried to an inn and put to bed. Here he lay for a fortnight between life and death, “stricken with a purple fever,” and it was only his iron constitution which eventually turned the scale in his favour. The crisis once passed, however, he mended rapidly, and in a few days was sufficiently recovered to continue his journey to La RÉole, and thence to Bordeaux, where he arrived on December 15, to await the King.

Louis XIII and the Constable had arrived at Monheurt on November 28, and had taken up their quarters at a village called Longuetille, about a league from the town. The place was taken on December 12; the lives of the inhabitants were spared, but the garrison was put to the sword, and the place pillaged and burned to the ground. Luynes, however, was not present to witness this sorry triumph. While the flames were devouring the conquered town, he lay at Longuetille, in the grip of the same pestilential fever from which Bassompierre so narrowly escaped, and which was now ravaging the Royal army. The disasters of the campaign, and the unceasing anxiety as to the future to which he had been for some time a prey, had told upon his strength, and three days later he died, in his forty-fourth year. “He was little regretted by the King,” says Bassompierre; “while his death was hailed with joy by the bulk of the nation, with whom he had long been intensely unpopular. Even the Ultramontane party, whose cause he had so well served, received the news with satisfaction.” They had been infuriated by the belief that he intended to make peace with the Huguenots, and ascribed the Montauban fiasco to the fact that the Almighty refused to make use of so unworthy an instrument for the destruction of the heretics.