Except the visits which I paid in the night-time to the Hotel de Chevreuse, I conversed with none but canons and cures.  I was the object of raillery both at Court and at the Palace of Conde; and because I had set up a bird-cage at a window, it became a common jest that “the Coadjutor whistled to the linnets.”  The disposition of Paris, however, made amends for the raillery of the Court.  I found myself very secure, while other people were very uneasy.  The cures, parish priests, and even the mendicants, informed themselves with diligence of the negotiations of the Prince de Conde.  I gave M. de Beaufort a thrust now and then, which he knew not how to parry with all his cunning, and the Duc d’Orleans, who in his heart was enraged against the Court, continued his correspondence with me very faithfully.

Soon after, the Marechal du Plessis came to me at midnight and embraced me, saying, “I greet you as our Prime Minister.”  When he saw that I smiled, he added, “I do not jest; you may be so if you please.  The Queen has ordered me to tell you that she puts the King and Crown into your hands.”  He showed me a letter written in the Cardinal’s own hand to the Queen, which concluded thus: 

“You know, madame, that the greatest enemy I have in the world is the Coadjutor.  Make use of him rather than treat with the Prince upon those conditions he demands.  Make him a cardinal, give him my place, and lodge him in my apartments.  Perhaps he will be still more attached to the Duc d’Orleans than to your Majesty; but the Duke is not for the ruin of the State.  His intentions in the main are not bad.  In a word, madame, do anything rather than grant the Prince his demand to have the government of Provence added to that of Guienne.”

I told the Marshal that I could not but be highly obliged to his Eminence, and that I was under infinite obligations to the Queen; and to show my gratitude, I humbly begged her Majesty to permit me to serve her without any private interest of my own; said that I was very incapable for the place of Prime Minister upon many accounts, and that it was not consistent with her Majesty’s dignity to raise a man to that high post who was still reeking, as it were, with the fumes of faction.

“But,” said the Marshal, “the place must be filled by somebody, and as long as it is vacant the Prince will be always urging that Cardinal Mazarin is to have it again.”

“You have,” said I, “persons much fitter for it than I.”  Then he showed me a letter signed by the Queen, promising me all manner of security if I would come to Court.  I went thither at midnight, according to agreement, and the Marshal, who introduced me to the Queen by the back stairs, having withdrawn, her Majesty used all the arguments she could to persuade me to accept the place of Prime Minister, which I was determined to refuse, because I found that she had the Cardinal at heart more than ever; for, as soon as she saw I would not accept the post of Prime Minister, she offered me the cardinal’s hat, but with this proviso, that I would use my utmost endeavours towards the restoration of Cardinal Mazarin.  Then I judged it high time for me to speak my mind, which I did as follows: