Chapter XIX: Letter XXI

The Duke of Lorraine and Vaudemont are, they say, expected here in the course of two or three days.

The tedious and difficult negotiations about peace have kept Paris in suspense for a long time. The following appears to be the result: the deputies from the insurgents have not been able to carry all their points, and the King, on his part, has not succeeded in inducing them to accept his terms. They have therefore agreed upon a compromise, the clauses of which are to be referred to Condé, Damville, and the confederate towns: should they accept them, peace will be declared; in the other case, war will be resumed. But it will be much easier to declare war than to carry it on, as France is terribly reduced, and the King himself is in the greatest straits for want of money.

The religious question, which in the Netherlands is the only obstacle to peace, has not been considered here as a matter of paramount importance, and the King has made no difficulty about granting liberty of conscience; there were other points which were more difficult for him to digest—to wit, that the rebels should have possession of two cities in each province, in addition to those which they now hold, as places of refuge in time of trouble. They demand also that members of their party should be admitted into the Parliaments, and that the King should pay the wages of the German reiters who have taken service with them; and, again, that the States-General be convened. If this last should be granted, the Queen Mother will be in great danger of losing her authority. There are some other points, which your Majesty will learn from the enclosed paper.

Never did France so hunger after peace; never was the country so unanimous in desiring it. On other occasions it has been sometimes the Order of the Clergy and sometimes the Order of the People, which has been averse to a pacification; now all exclaim with one voice that war means ruin. But the peace, I suspect, will not last long,[71] since it has been obtained by compulsion, and granted by necessity.

Moreover, I have observed that the authority of the Crown has marvellously declined; men have shaken off their respect for the King’s name, and are like horses who have got rid of their traces and fairly bolted. The revolutionary spirit is rampant; some people are extremely unpopular; feuds among the chiefs run high—these feuds are of old standing and cemented with the blood of slaughtered kinsmen; to settle and arrange such differences would require much trouble, ample time, and infinite tact. I see that some people in a high position think that it would be to the advantage of France if certain illustrious gentlemen were to quit the country, and all the nobles who wish for war were to find a field abroad, thereby relieving their country of anxiety and trouble. From all this we may safely conclude that quiet in France (if quiet be possible!) means a great disturbance in the atmosphere elsewhere. On this ground some—not without reason, perhaps—remember with regret, how useful Milan[72] was as a training-school for the education of young French soldiers, and also as a means of letting out, without injury to the rest of the body, that bad blood of which France has such store.

The nation desires Condé to be appointed to lead a force into the Netherlands to the assistance of Orange, for it is thought that it will be no small gain to France if he is sent beyond the borders. Condé is himself possessed of considerable resources, and will be well supported by his party, who wish to see him famous and great; they will the more readily fall in with this plan because it will remove him from the scene of danger and place him where he will be safe under the shadow of that great Prince (Orange).

Meanwhile the Royalists will rejoice at this opportunity of delivering France from a troublesome and restless crew, and congratulate themselves that the quarrel is to be fought out in the Netherlands instead of France.

I must explain that nothing is so hateful to your French gentleman as quiet and repose. He would rather be rolling the stone of Sisyphus than keep still; he is for ever hunting after an enterprise; he would fain do something great; if that something be honourable, all the better, but if there be difficulty on that score, he is not particular; so long as it affords a field for the display of courage and skill, and is thought dashing, the question whether it is right or wrong is absolutely immaterial. These are the ideas which nature has planted in him, and example confirmed, while long years of lawlessness and licence have made their practice a habit.

Hugo de Blot, the Netherlander, is anxious to enter your Majesty’s service; as no better post is to be had, he has applied for the comparatively humble position of librarian. He has asked me to recommend him.

I am fully aware how little weight my word can be expected to carry, feeling as I do that I have need to be recommended myself instead of recommending others; still I trust your Majesty will not be offended at my mentioning the subject. I know De Blot to be both a good scholar and an honest man; there are, however, two people who will be able to give most positive testimony as to his character—Bishop Listhius[73] and Lazarus Schwendi,[74] for they both selected him to take care of their boys—he was their tutor for several years in Italy—and if they judged him fit to take care of their _boys_ (liberos) I conclude he is quite fit to take care of your Majesty’s _books_ (libros).

I do not wish to press the matter further. I have now given my testimony on behalf of an excellent gentleman, and at the same time I feel I have done my duty to your Majesty in introducing to your notice a man who will fill the post admirably. Your Majesty will now come to a decision as to the appointment, and of the wisdom of that decision, whatever it may be, I entertain not the slightest doubt.[75]

The Spanish Ambassador told me that the Duke of Medina de Rio Sicco is coming hither from his Sovereign to congratulate the King of France on his marriage. An ambassador is also coming from Portugal on the same errand: I believe he has been six months on the road, although he arrived a few days ago at Nantes, a town in Brittany.

The King is suffering from influenza, but is not supposed to be in any danger. There was a report quite lately that the Duke of Savoy had taken Savona, but it is not believed to be true. As to Jorneton, of whom your Majesty writes in the letter dated May 2, your Majesty’s orders shall be obeyed.

Madame de Montmorency, formerly wife of the Constable of France, who was then in such high estate, is now in great misery and affliction on account of her sons; she has earnestly besought the Queen to procure letters from your Majesty to the King of France, asking him to release her son, the Maréchal de Montmorency, from his long imprisonment. The Queen has given me instructions to write to your Majesty about this business. I should have had some hesitation in complying with her wishes, if any ground still existed for the dreadful suspicions which were at first entertained with regard to his case; but facts have now transpired which tend to show that these suspicions rested on little or no foundation, and people are beginning to take a juster view; indeed, the Queen Mother could not be kept from visiting Montmorency, and chatted with him for some time. Under these circumstances, I feel that I cannot do wrong in obeying the Queen’s orders, and that your Majesty might write to the King on the subject of Montmorency’s release in perfect confidence that such a suggestion will not be taken amiss in any quarter. Undoubtedly this great and honoured lady (Madame de Montmorency) has shown the utmost kindness and attention to the Queen during the whole of her residence in France; she has never failed to support her in every way, and on her assistance, advice, and loyalty the Queen has been always able to reckon; such services may well claim your Majesty’s kind consideration, and this is a good opportunity of manifesting your gratitude.

By adopting the course which I venture to suggest, your Majesty will not only gratify the Queen, but will also lay the whole House of Montmorency—which now, indeed, is brought low, but must one day rise again—under an obligation so great that it can never be forgotten.

Paris, June 7, 1575.