University of Virginia Library


38

SCENE II.

A room in the Palais Cardinal (as in the First Act).
Richelieu.—Joseph.
François, writing at a table.
JOSEPH.
Yes;—Huguet, taking his accustom'd round,—
Disguised as some plain burgher,—heard these rufflers
Quoting your name:—he listen'd,—“Pshaw!” said one,
“We are to seize the Cardinal in his palace
To-morrow!”—“How?” the other ask'd;—“You'll hear
The whole design to-night; the Duke of Orleans
And Baradas have got the map of action
At their fingers' end.”—“So be it,” quoth the other,
“I will be there,—Marion de Lorme's—at midnight!”

RICHELIEU.
I have them, man, I have them!

JOSEPH.
So they say
Of you, my Lord;—believe me, that their plans
Are mightier than you deem. You must employ
Means no less vast to meet them!

RICHELIEU.
Bah! in policy
We foil gigantic danger, not by giants,
But dwarfs.—The statues of our stately fortune
Are sculptured by the chisel—not the axe!
Ah! were I younger—by the knightly heart
That beats beneath these priestly robes, I would

39

Have pastime with these cut-throats!—Yea,—as when,
Lured to the ambush of the expecting foe,—
I clove my pathway through the plumed sea!
Reach me yon falchion, François,—not that bauble
For carpet-warriors,—yonder—such a blade
As old Charles Martel might have wielded when
He drove the Saracen from France.
(François brings him one of the long two-handed swords worn in the Middle Ages.)
With this
I, at Rochelle, did hand to hand engage
The stalwart Englisher,—no mongrels, boy,
Those island mastiffs,—mark the notch—a deep one—
His casque made here,—I shore him to the waist!
A toy—a feather—then!
(Tries to wield, and lets it fall.)
You see a child could
Slay Richelieu, now.

FRANÇOIS
(his hand on his hilt).
But now, at your command
Are other weapons, my good Lord.

RICHELIEU
(who has seated himself as to write, lifts the pen).
True,—THIS!
Beneath the rule of men entirely great
The pen is mightier than the sword. Behold
The arch-enchanter's wand!—itself a nothing!—
But taking sorcery from the master-hand
To paralyse the Cæsars—and to strike
The loud earth breathless!—Take away the sword—
States can be saved without it!
(Looking on the clock.)
'Tis the hour,—
Retire, Sir.

[Exit François.
(A knock is heard. A door, concealed in the arras opens cautiously. Enter Marion de Lorme.)

40

JOSEPH
(amazed).
Marion de Lorme!

RICHELIEU.
Hist!—Joseph,
Keep guard.
(Joseph retires to the principal entrance.)
My faithful Marion!

MARION.
Good, my Lord,
They meet to-night in my poor house. The Duke
Of Orleans heads them.

RICHELIEU.
Yes—go on.

MARION.
His Highness
Much question'd if I knew some brave, discreet,
And vigilant man, whose tongue could keep a secret,
And who had those twin qualities for service,
The love of gold, the hate of Richelieu.—

RICHELIEU.
You?—

MARION.
Made answer, “Yes—my brother;—bold and trusty;
Whose faith, my faith could pledge;”—the Duke then bade me
Have him equipp'd and arm'd—well-mounted—ready
This night to part for Italy.

RICHELIEU.
Aha!—
Has Bouillon too turn'd traitor!—So, methought!—
What part of Italy?

MARION.
The Piedmont frontier,
Where Bouillon lies encamp'd.


41

RICHELIEU.
Now there is danger!
Great danger!—If he tamper with the Spaniard,
And Louis list not to my council, as,
Without sure proof, he will not,—France is lost.
What more?

MARION.
Dark hints of some design to seize
Your person in your palace. Nothing clear—
His Highness trembled while he spoke—the words
Did choke each other!

RICHELIEU.
So!—Who is the brother
You recommended to the Duke?

MARION.
Whoever
Your Eminence may father!—

RICHELIEU.
Darling Marion!
(Goes to the table, and returns with a large bag of gold.)
There—pshaw—a trifle!—What an eye you have!
And what a smile—child!— (kisses her)
—Ah! you fair perdition—

'Tis well I'm old!

MARION
(aside and seriously).
What a great man he is!

RICHELIEU.
You are sure they meet?—the hour?


42

MARION.
At midnight.

RICHELIEU.
And
You will engage to give the Duke's despatch
To whom I send?

MARION.
Aye, marry!

RICHELIEU
(aside).
Huguet? No;
He will be wanted elsewhere.—Joseph?—zealous,
But too well known—too much the elder brother!
Mauprat—alas—it is his wedding-day!—
François?—the Man of Men!—unnoted—young—
Ambitious— (goes to the door)
—François!


Enter François.
RICHELIEU.
Follow this fair lady:
(Find him the suiting garments, Marion,) take
My fleetest steed:—arm thyself to the teeth;
A packet will be given you—with orders,
No matter what!—The instant that your hand
Closes upon it—clutch it, like your honour,
Which Death alone can steal, or ravish—set
Spurs to your steed—be breathless, till you stand
Again before me.—Stay, Sir!—You will find me
Two short leagues hence—at Ruelle, in my castle.
Young man, be blithe!—for—note me—from the hour
I grasp that packet—think your guardian Star
Rains fortune on you!

FRANÇOIS.
If I fail—

RICHELIEU.
Fail—fail?
In the lexicon of youth, which Fate reserves
For a bright manhood, there is no such word

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As—fail!—(You will instruct him further, Marion)
Follow her—but at distance;—speak not to her,
Till you are housed;—Farewell, boy! Never say
Fail” again.

FRANÇOIS.
I will not!

RICHELIEU
(patting his locks).
There's my young hero!—

[Exeunt François—Marion.
RICHELIEU.
So, they would seize my person in this palace?—
I cannot guess their scheme:—but my retinue
Is here too large!—a single traitor could
Strike impotent the faith of thousands;—Joseph,
Art sure of Huguet?—Think—we hang'd his Father!

JOSEPH.
But you have bought the Son;—heap'd favours on him!

RICHELIEU.
Trash!—favours past—that's nothing.—In his hours
Of confidence with you, has he named the favours
To come—he counts on?

JOSEPH.
Yes:—a Colonel's rank,
And Letters of Nobility.

RICHELIEU.
What, Huguet!—

(Here Huguet enters, as to address the Cardinal, who does not perceive him.)
HUGUET.
My own name, soft— (glides behind the screen!)


RICHELIEU.
Colonel and Nobleman!
My bashful Huguet—that can never be!—
We have him not the less—we'll promise it!

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And see the King withholds!—Ah, kings are oft
A great convenience to a minister!
No wrong to Huguet either!—Moralists
Say, Hope is sweeter than Possession!—Yes—
We'll count on Huguet! Favours past do gorge
Our dogs; leave service drowsy—dull the scent,
Slacken the speed;—favours to come, my Joseph,
Produce a lusty, hungry gratitude,
A ravenous zeal, that of the commonest cur
Would make a Cerberus.—You are right, this treason
Assumes a fearful aspect:—but once crush'd,
Its very ashes shall manure the soil
Of power; and ripen such full sheaves of greatness,
That all the summer of my fate shall seem
Fruitless beside the autumn!

Huguet holds up his hand menacingly, and creeps out.)
JOSEPH.
The saints grant it!

RICHELIEU
(solemnly).
Yes—for sweet France, Heaven grant it!—O my country,
For thee—thee only—though men deem it not—
Are toil and terror my familiars!—I
Have made thee great and fair—upon thy brows
Wreath'd the old Roman laurel:—at thy feet
Bow'd nations down.—No pulse in my ambition
Whose beatings were not measured from thy heart!
In the old times before us, patriots lived
And died for liberty—

JOSEPH.
As you would live
And die for despotry—

RICHELIEU.
False monk, not so,
But for the purple and the power wherein
State clothes herself.—I love my native land
Not as Venetian, Englisher, or Swiss,
But as a Noble and a Priest of France;
“All things for France”—lo, my eternal maxim!
The vital axle of the restless wheels
That bear me on! With her, I have entwined

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My passions and my fate—my crimes, my virtues—
Hated and loved , and schemed, and shed men's blood,
As the calm crafts of Tuscan Sages teach
Those who would make their country great. Beyond
The Map of France—my heart can travel not,
But fills that limit to its farthest verge;
And while I live—Richelieu and France are one.
We Priests, to whom the Church forbids in youth
The plighted one—to manhood's toil denies
The soother helpmate—from our wither'd age
Shuts the sweet blossoms of the second spring
That smiles in the name of Father—We are yet
Not holier than Humanity, and must
Fulfil Humanity's condition—Love!
Debarr'd the Actual, we but breathe a life
To the chill Marble of the Ideal—Thus,
In thy unseen and abstract Majesty,

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My France—my Country, I have bodied forth
A thing to love. What are these robes of state,
This pomp, this palace? perishable baubles!
In this world two things only are immortal—
Fame and a People!

Enter Huguet.
HUGUET.
My Lord Cardinal,
Your Eminence bade me seek you at this hour.

RICHELIEU.
Did I?—True, Huguet.—So—you overheard
Strange talk amongst these gallants? Snares and traps
For Richelieu?—Well—we'll balk them; let me think—
The men at arms you head—how many?

HUGUET.
Twenty,
My Lord.

RICHELIEU.
All trusty?

HUGUET.
Yes, for ordinary
Occasions—if for great ones, I would change
Three-fourths at least.

RICHELIEU.
Ay, what are great occasions?

HUGUET.
Great bribes!

RICHELIEU
(to Joseph).
Good lack, he knows some paragons
Superior to great bribes!

HUGUET.
True Gentlemen
Who have transgress'd the Laws—and value life
And lack not gold; your Eminence alone
Can grant them pardon. Ergo you can trust them!


47

RICHELIEU.
Logic!—So be it—let this honest twenty
Be arm'd and mounted— (aside.)
So they meet at midnight,

The attempt on me to-morrow—Ho! we'll strike
'Twixt wind and water.— (Aloud.)
Does it need much time

To find these ornaments to Human Nature?

HUGUET.
My Lord—the trustiest of them are not birds
That love the daylight.—I do know a haunt
Where they meet nightly—

RICHELIEU.
Ere the dawn be grey,
All could be arm'd, assembled, and at Ruelle
In my old hall?

HUGUET.
By one hour after midnight.

RICHELIEU.
The castle's strong. You know its outlets, Huguet?
Would twenty men, well posted, keep such guard
That not one step—(and Murther's step is stealthy)—
Could glide within—unseen?

HUGUET.
A triple wall—
A drawbridge and portcullis—twenty men
Under my lead, a month might hold that castle
Against a host.

RICHELIEU.
They do not strike till morning,
Yet I will shift the quarter—Bid the grooms
Prepare the litter—I will hence to Ruelle
While daylight last—and one hour after midnight
You and your twenty saints shall seek me thither!
You're made to rise!—You are, Sir;—eyes of lynx,
Ears of the stag, a footfall like the snow;

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You are a valiant fellow;—yea, a trusty,
Religious, exemplary, incorrupt,
And precious jewel of a fellow, Huguet!
If I live long enough,—ay, mark my words—
If I live long enough, you'll be a Colonel—
Noble perhaps!—One hour, Sir, after midnight.

HUGUET.
You leave me dumb with gratitude, my Lord;
I'll pick the trustiest (aside)
Marion's house can furnish!

[Exit Huguet.

RICHELIEU.
How like a spider shall I sit in my hole,
And watch the meshes tremble.

JOSEPH.
But, my Lord,
Were it not wiser still to man the palace,
And seize the traitors in the act?

RICHELIEU.
No; Louis,
Long chafed against me—Julie stolen from him,
Will rouse him more.—He'll say I hatch'd the treason,
Or scout my charge:—He half desires my death;
But the despatch to Bouillon, some dark scheme
Against his crown—there is our weapon, Joseph!
With that all safe—without it, all is peril!
Meanwhile to my old castle; you to court,
Diving with careless eyes into men's hearts,
As ghostly churchmen should do! See the King,
Bid him peruse that sage and holy treatise,
Wherein 'tis set forth how a Premier should
Be chosen from the Priesthood—how the King
Should never listen to a single charge
Against his servant, nor conceal one whisper
That the rank envies of a court distil
Into his ear—to fester the fair name
Of my—I mean his Minister!—Oh! Joseph,

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A most convincing treatise.
Good—all favours,
If François be but bold, and Huguet honest.—
Huguet—I half suspect—he bow'd too low—
'Tis not his way.

JOSEPH.
This is the curse, my Lord,
Of your high state;—suspicion of all men.

RICHELIEU
(sadly).
True;—true;—my leeches bribed to poisoners;—pages
To strangle me in sleep.—My very King
(This brain the unresting loom, from which was woven
The purple of his greatness) leagued against me.
Old—childless—friendless—broken—all forsake—
All—all—but—

JOSEPH.
What?

RICHELIEU.
The indomitable heart
Of Armand Richelieu!

JOSEPH.
Nought beside?

RICHELIEU.
Why, Julie,
My own dear foster-child, forgive me!—yes;
This morning, shining through their happy tears,
Thy soft eyes bless'd me!—and thy Lord,—in danger
He would forsake me not.

JOSEPH.
And Joseph—


50

RICHELIEU
(after a pause).
You—
Yes, I believe you—yes—for all men fear you—
And the world loves you not.—And I, friend Joseph,
I am the only man, who could, my Joseph,
Make you a Bishop. —Come, we'll go to dinner,
And talk the while of methods to advance
Our Mother Church. —Ah, Joseph,—Bishop Joseph!

 

Richelieu not only employed the lowest, but would often consult men commonly esteemed, the dullest. “Il disoit que dans des choses de très grande importance, il avait expérimenté, que les moins sages donnoient souvent les meilleurs expédiens.” —Le Clerc.

Both Richelieu and Joseph were originally intended for the profession of arms. Joseph had served before he obeyed the spiritual inspiration to become a Capuchin. The death of his brother opened to Richelieu the Bishopric of Luçon; but his military propensities were as strong as his priestly ambition. I need scarcely add that the Cardinal, during his brilliant campaign in Italy, marched at the head of his troops in complete armour. It was under his administration that occurs the last example of proclaiming war by the chivalric defiance of herald and cartel. Richelieu valued himself much on his personal activity,—for his vanity was as universal as his ambition. A nobleman of the house of Grammont one day found him employed in jumping, and, with all the savoir vivre of a Frenchman and a courtier, offered to jump against him. He suffered the Cardinal to jump higher, and soon after found himself rewarded by an appointment. Yet, strangely enough, this vanity did not lead to a patronage injurious to the state; for never before in France was ability made so essential a requisite in promotion. He was lucky in finding the cleverest fellows among his adroitest flatterers.

Voltaire openly charges Richelieu with being the lover of Marion de Lorme, whom the great poet of France, Victor Hugo, has sacrificed History to adorn with qualities which were certainly not added to her personal charms.—She was not less perfidious than beautiful.—Le Clerc, properly, refutes the accusation of Voltaire, against the discretion of Richelieu; and says, very justly, that if the great minister had the frailties of human nature, he learnt how to veil them,—at least when he obtained the scarlet. In earlier life he had been prone to gallantries which a little prepossessed the King (who was formal and decorous, and threw a singular coldness into the few attachments he permitted to himself) against the aspiring intriguer. But these gayer occupations died away in the engagement of higher pursuits or of darker passions.

Omitted, in representation, from l. 402 to 419.

Richelieu did in fact so thoroughly associate himself with the State, that, in cases where the extreme penalty of the law had been incurred, Le Clerc justly observes that he was more inexorable to those he had favoured—even to his own connections—than to other and more indifferent offenders. It must be remembered as some excuse for his unrelenting sternness that, before his time, the great had been accustomed to commit any disorder with impunity—even the crime of treason, “auparavant on ne faisoit poser les armes aux rebelles qu'en leur accordant quelque récompense.” On entering into the administration, he therefore laid it down as a maxim necessary to the existence of the State, that “no crime should be committed with impunity.” To carry out this maxim, the long-established licence to crime made even justice seem cruel. But the victims most commiserated from their birth or accomplishments, as Montmorenci, or Cinq Mars, were traitors in actual conspiracy against their country, and would have forfeited life in any land where the punishment of death existed, and the lawgiver was strong enough to vindicate the law. Richelieu was in fact a patriot unsoftened by philanthropy. As in Venice (where the favourite aphorism was, Venice first, Christianity next), so, with Richelieu, the primary consideration was, “what will be best for the Country?” He had no abstract principle, whether as a politician or a priest, when applied to the world that lay beyond the boundaries of France. Thus he, whose object was to found in France a splendid and imperious despotism—assisted the Parliamentary party in England, and signed a treaty of alliance and subsidies with the Catalan rebels for the establishment of a Republic in Barcelona;—to convulse other Monarchies was to consolidate the growing Monarchy of France.—So he, who completely crushed the Protestant party at home, braved all the wrath of the Vatican, and even the resentment of the King, in giving the most essential aid to the Protestants abroad. There was, indeed, a largeness of view in his hostility to the French Huguenots, which must be carefully distinguished from the intolerance of the mere priest. He opposed them, not as a Catholic, but as a Statesman. The Huguenots were strong republicans, and had formed plans for dividing France into provincial commonwealths; and the existence of Rochelle was absolutely incompatible with the integrity of the French Monarchy. It was a second capital held by the Huguenots, claiming independent authority, and the right to treat with Foreign Powers. Richelieu's final conquest was marked by a humanity, that had nothing of the bigot. The Huguenots obtained a complete amnesty, and had only to regret the loss of privileges and fortifications which could not have existed with any security to the rest of France.

Pria Veneziana, poi Christiane.”

The guard attached to RIchelieu's person was, in the first instance, fifty arquebussiers, afterwards increased to two companies of cavalry and two hundred musqueteers. Huguet is, therefore, to be considered merely as the lieutenant of a small detachment of this little army. In point of fact, the subdivisions of the guard took it in turns to serve.

This tract, on the “Unity of the Minister,” contains all the doctrines, and many more to the same effect, referred to in the text, and had a prodigious influence on the conscience of the poor king. At the onset of his career, Richelieu, as deputy of the clergy of Poitou, complained in his harangue to the king that ecclesiastics were too rarely summoned to the royal councils, and invoked the example of the Druids!

Joseph's ambition was not, however, so moderate; he refused a bishopric, and desired the Cardinal's Hat, for which favour Richelieu openly supplicated the Holy See, but contrived somehow or other never to effect it, although two ambassadors applied for it at Rome.

The peculiar religion of Père Joseph may be illustrated by the following anecdote:—An officer, whom he had dismissed upon an expedition into Germany, moved by conscience at the orders he had received, returned for farther explanations, and found the Capucin disant sa messe. He approached and whispered “But, my father, if these people defend themselves—” “Kill all” (Qu'on tue tout), answered the good father, continuing his devotions.