The reversal of the situation took place on the famous “day of dupes,” on which the queen-mother, presuming too much on her power, challenged the cardinal, in the king’s presence, with his ingratitude and treacheries.  No one doubted but that Richelieu’s day was over, and the whole court crowded to the queen-mother to share her imaginary triumph.  But the king went the same day to Versailles, and the cardinal followed him; the queen, fearing that she would find Versailles dull and uncomfortable, remained behind; and the wily statesman made such good use of his opportunity that the king’s consent was won to the downfall of his mother.  She was soon arrested, and her sorrows lasted as long as her life.

Many were implicated in her ruin, and were exiled or thrown into the Bastille, or brought to the scaffold; and so much bloodshed and so many fortunes reversed brought odium on the name of Richelieu.  The mild regency of Marie de Medicis was remembered, and all the great families lamented that liberty was a thing of the past.

For my part, I thought that the queen’s cause was the only one, which an honourable man could follow.  She was unhappy; the cardinal was rather her tyrant than her lover; she had been good to me, and had trusted me; Mademoiselle d’Hautefort, with whom I had great friendship, was her friend, too—­sufficient reasons, these, to dazzle a youth who had seen almost nothing of the world, and to turn his steps in a direction quite contrary to his interests.  King and cardinal alike soon came to detest me, and my life thenceforth was troubled by the visitations of their displeasure.  In recording the scenes in which I have had a part, I have no intention of writing history, but only of touching on a few personal episodes.

Richelieu’s Death

War was declared in 1635 against the King of Spain, and I accompanied the French army of twenty thousand men which marched to the support of the Prince of Orange in Flanders.  During neither this nor the following winter was I allowed at court.  Madame de Chevreuse, who had been sent to Tours on the occasion of Richelieu’s triumph had heard a good account of me from the queen, and invited me to see her; we soon struck up a very great friendship, and I came to be a confidential intermediary between the queen and her, and was often entrusted by one or other of them with most perilous commissions.

When I was at last readmitted to court in 1637, I found the queen in great trouble.  She had been accused of a crime against the state, a treasonable understanding with the Spanish minister; some of her servants were arrested; the chancellor examined her like a criminal; it was even proposed to seclude her at Havre, annul her marriage, and repudiate her altogether.  In this extremity, abandoned by all the world, she proposed that I should kidnap her and Mademoiselle d’Hautefort and carry them off to Brussels.  Difficult and dangerous as this project was, it gave me greater joy than any I had known, for I was at an age when a man likes to engage in dashing and heroic feats.  Happily, however, the chancellor’s investigations proved her majesty not guilty.