The tumult was more violent at Rouen than anywhere else, and the Parliament energetically resisted the mob.  It had sent two counsellors as a deputation to Paris to inform the king about the state of affairs.  “You may signify to the gentlemen of the Parliament of Rouen,” said Chancellor Seguier, in answer to the delegates, “that I thank them for the trouble they have taken on this occasion; I will let the king know how they have behaved in this affair.  I beg them to go on as they have begun.  I know that the Parliament did very good service there.”

In fact, several counsellors, on foot in the street and in the very midst of the revolters, had, at the peril of their lives, defended Le Tellier de Tourneville, receiver-general of gabels, and his officers, whilst the whole Parliament, in their robes, with the premier president at their head, perambulated Rouen, amidst the angry mob, repairing at once to the points most threatened, insomuch that the presidents and counsellors were “in great danger and fear for their skins.” [Histoire du Parlement de Normandy, by M. Floquet, t. iv.] It was this terror, born of tumults and the sight of an infuriated populace, which, at a later period, retarded the Parliament in dealing out justice, and brought down upon it the wrath of the king and of the cardinal.

Meanwhile the insurrection was gaining ground, and the local authorities were powerless to repress it.  There was hesitation at the king’s council in choosing between Marshal Rantzau and M. de Gassion to command the forces ordered to march into Normandy.  “That country yields no wine,” said the king “that will not do for Rantzau, or be good quarters for him.”  And they sent Colonel Gnssion, not so heavy a drinker as Rantzau, a good soldier and an inflexible character.  First at Caen, then at Avranches, where there was fighting to be done, at Coutances and at Elbeuf, Gassion’s soldiery everywhere left the country behind them in subjection, in ruin, and in despair.  They entered Rouen on the 31st of December, 1639, and on the 2d of January, 1640, the chancellor himself arrived to do justice on the rebels heaped up in the prisons, whom the Parliament dared not bring up for judgment.  “I come to Rouen,” he said, on entering the town, “not to deliberate, but to declare and execute the matters on which my mind is made up.”  And he forbade all intervention on the part of the archbishop, Francis de Harlay, who was disposed, in accordance with his office of love as well as the parliamentary name he bore, to implore pity for the culprits, and to excuse the backward judges.  The chancellor did not give himself the trouble to draw up sentences.  “The decree is at the tip of my staff,” replied Picot, captain of his guards, when he was asked to show his orders.  The executions were numerous in Higher and Lower Normandy, and the Parliament received the wages of its tardiness.  All the members of the body, even the most aged and infirm,