Cinq Mars -- Volume 6

quest-ce qu

aroles de M

s given at Paris with all the luxury and bad taste of the time. The powerful Cardinal had determined to fill the first two towns in

of dominating, hoped to please. The tragedy of "Mirame" was to be represented in a hall constructed expressly for

ave a temple on each floor, belonged that day to pride alone, which occupied it from top to bottom. Upon each step was placed one of the arquebusiers of the Cardinal's guard, holding a torch in one hand and a long carbine in the other. The crowd of his gentlemen circulat

ppeared. The orchestra commenced a brilliant overture, and the pit was thrown open to all the men of the town and the army who presented themselves. Three impetuous waves of spectators rushed in and filled it in an instant. They were standing, and so thickly pressed together that the moveme

He began to repent of this, but too late. The impartial assembly was as cold at the tragedie-pastorale itself. In vain did the theatrical bergeres, covered with jewels, raised upon red heels, with crooks ornamented with ribbons and garlands of flowers upon their robes, which were stuck out with farthingale's, die of love in tirades of two hundred verses; in vain did the 'amants parfaits' star

sition signed to the court to remark the finest passages, and himself gave the signal for applause. It was acted upon from some of the boxes, but the impassible pit was more silent than ever; leaving the affair entirely between the stage and the upper regions, the

rupted the actors every time they wished to proceed. The King had the curtains of his box, until then closed, opened, to see what excited so much enthusiasm. The whole court leaned forward from their boxes, and perceived among the spectators on the stage a young man, humbly

efore by the care of Joseph, who had tutored the attendants upon the point before quitting Paris. Cardinal Mazarin exclaimed that it would be quicker to pass his Eminence through a long glazed window, which was only two feet

's Monseigneur; 'quaran

at's De Thou. What a pr

ver the future as

c, even had that word been a cry of hatred; for clamor can be stifled, but how avenge one's self on silence? The people can be prevented from striking, but who can prevent their waiting? Pursued by the troublesome phantom of public opinion, the gloomy minister only thought himself in safety when he reached th

s, submissive, and ranged around him, as if awaiting his orders. There was no longer a look to brave his look, no longer a word to raise itself against his will, not a project that men dared to form in the most secret recesses of the heart, not a thought which did not proceed from his. Mute Europe listened to him by its re

nal did not even perceive. The King's brother and the Duc de Bouillon stood in the crowd, whence the minister did not deign to withdraw them. Only he ostentatiously said that it would be well to dismantle a few

nne of Austria did not witness any play; but she could not refuse her presence at the fete of the Prime-Minister. She was in her oratory, ready to depart, and covered with pearls, her favorite ornament; standing opposite a large glass with Marie de Mantua,

rincess, and had bestowed all her care to lead her mind to the path which she had traced out for her, for the most decided feature in the character of Anne of Austria was an invincible obstinacy in her calculations, to which she would fain have subjected all events and all passions with a geometrical exactitud

lf for having thus, at one stroke, stifled the germ of a civil war which would have shaken the State to its very foundations. But when she approached her young friend and gazed on that charming being whose happiness she was thus destroying in its bloom, and reflected that an old man upon a throne, even, would not recom

as yet knew him not; but she still hoped that the conspirators assembled at Lyons would be able

had returned to Paris nearly at the same time; that Monsieur, relapsed for a while, had reappeared at court; that the Duc de Bouillon, on ceding Sedan, had also been restored to favor; and that if the 'grand ecuyer' had not yet appeared, the reason was the

d fetes had so rapidly succeeded each other, and so many mysterious duties had commanded her presence, that she had for reflection and regret scarce more than the time of her toilette, at which she was generally almost alone. Every evening she regularly commenced the general reflection upon the ingratitude and inconstancy of men-a prof

pleases the women, because it enhances the importance of things always secret, and elevates those whom they respect, so as to preclude the idea of exhibiting suffering in their presence. Marie was regarded as promised to King Uladislas; and she herself-we must confess it-had so well accustomed herself to this idea that the throne of Poland occupied by anothe

ere', are you ready? What means this pouting air? Come, let me fasten this ear

te myself at all, for no one knows better than your

iness. I told him, I remember, indeed, which was very decided," she added, with an important and even solemn air, "that he would be a rebel-yes, Madame, a rebel. I told him so at Saint-Eustache.

g that time have been weeping, have been imploring all your power in his favor; have sought but a word that might inform me of his proceedings. I have thought but of him; and even now I refuse every day the throne of Poland, because I wish to

hich afflicted her all the more that it was herself who had encouraged it. "Come, you will see the union t

surrounded by silent courtiers, were playing at chess upon a small low table. All the ladies who entered with the Queen or followed her, spread through the

seemed to shun the crowd, and to seek apart a moment to speak to each other of themselves. Every one received them with a s

py," she whispered to the Queen, remembering the censu

ournful event so interesting to her, placed herself with Marie behind the King. Monsieur, the Prince-Palatine, and the Duc de Bouillon

are most surprisingly beau

Mazarin alone, leaning over his chair, followed all the strokes with a servile attention, giving gestures of admiration every time that the Cardinal played. Application to the game seemed to have dissipated for a moment the cloud that usually shaded the minister's brow. He had just advanced a tower, which placed Louis's king in that false position which is calle

ll go before me. He

ef to his mouth, which he withdrew covered with blood. To hide it, he threw it under the table, and looked around him with a stern smile, as if to forbid observation. Louis XIII, perfectly ins

ruck the hour of midnight

ng at twelve Monsieur le Grand

mself forward, upsetting the table. Marie de Mantua lay senseless in

ur axe has a

the ladies of the court, only came to herself to burst into a torrent of tears. As soon as she ope

s of the Palais-Cardinal and those of the Louvre pressed the people of Paris. The late disturbances had given them a taste for public movements. They rushed from one street to another with a curiosity at times insulting and hostile, sometimes walking in silent procession, someti

raised, it was to read aloud in a sneering tone the legends and inscriptions with which the idiot flattery of some obscure writers had surrounded the portraits of the minister. One of these pictures was guarded by arqueb

justement que la

eu Mars dans Pa

s fetes because they served as a covering for disorder. All Paris was in an uproar. Men with long beards, carrying torches, measures of wine, and two

nons l

, c'es

temps c

s sont

s quelq

ommes

is de

nt har

, Jean

s sont

ois de

nt har

Jean d

s sont

overed the latter, the peaceful citizens who were led there by simple curiosity. Two young men, wrapped in cloaks, thus thrown one agai

d Corneille to Milton. "I t

ieur? Do you hear them? Wh

s sont p

onsieur. Listen to

re dead. Let us dance; we are the masters. The old Cardinal

Monsieur?" asked Corneille. "All o

ho is called great among you, and even by

n to the concluding part of this letter, which I received to- day. Draw near this

could not take a sudden resolution. I was unfortunately stationed near the scaffold; and I saw our unfortunate friends advance to the foot of it, supporting the poor Abbe Quillet, who was destined to behold the death of the pupil whose birth he had witnessed. He sobbed aloud, and had strength enough only to kiss the hands of the two friends. We all advanced, ready to throw ourselves upon the guards at the announced signal; but I saw with

hich shall die first?

nd Saint-

ink best,' ans

, addressing M. de Th

de

ou; and, turning to M.

ll show me the way to

of the precipice; but let us meet death nobly, and w

le on every side, without appearing to recognize any of us, with a majestic and charming expression of face; he then knelt down, raising his eyes to heaven, adoring God, and recommending himself to Him. As he embraced the crucifix, the father confessor called to the people to pray for him; and M. le Grand,

My God, I offer thee my death

w to be bound. I saw the two trembling hands of the Abbe Quillet, who raised the crucifix. At this moment a voice, as clear and pure as that of an angel, commenced the 'Ave, maris stella'. In the universal silence I recognized the voice of M. de Thou, who was at the foot of the scaffold; the people repeated the sacred strain. M. d

eater martyr. I do not know whether God was pleased to grant him this last favor; but I saw with horror that the executioner, terrified no doubt at the first blow he had given, struck him upon the top of his head, whither the unfortunate young man raised his hand; the people sent forth a long groan, and advanced against the executioner. The poor wretch, terrified still more, struck him another blow, which only cut the skin and t

Lude, myself, and others of the chief conspirators have retired. We are going to England to await until time shall deli

NTR

ely saw so powerful. Their last sigh was that of the ancient monarchy. Nothing more

has he sought to do? He would, then, create republics for

his life. He has worked for the present and not for the future; he has continued

lishman

her path. This man has shaken all that he ought to ha

s people, Monsieur, is gifted with an immortal energy, which nothing can destroy; its imagin

pon the space which separates the statue of Henri IV from the Pl

y at the sight. Gratitude prostrates the poor people before this statue of a good king! Who knows what other monument another passion may raise near this? Who

is devoured by it, without having force enough to seize it wholly. By an utter absurdity, he is a tyrant under a master. Thus has this colossus, never firmly balanced, been all but overthrown by the finger of a boy. Does that indicate genius? No, no! when genius condescends to quit the lofty regions of its true home for a human

ITOR'S B

ne animal. It is a

ge one's sel

irit of sel

hing which is su

rain from inquiring

er to be struck,

serve as opium t

not as yo