The Sun King Conspiracy (17 page)

N
O one slept that night, as death prowled the bedchamber of Jules Mazarin. Both the servants and the members of Court attached to the Cardinal’s household remained awake, waiting. This activity, unusual as it was at that hour, gave the chateau a strange atmosphere. Everyone walked about on tiptoe and spoke in hushed voices, as if to avoid attracting ill luck. During the late afternoon of 8 March, the old Cardinal had sunk into a sort of unconsciousness. He no longer recognised anyone and talked deliriously with his eyes wide open, asking for his mother in Italian. Mazarin conversed out loud with Hortensia Bufalini, ‘mia Mamma’, as he must have done in his early childhood in the Abruzzi. In the evening his breathing had become increasingly irregular. The Chief Minister lay in his bed which now appeared to swamp his emaciated body. The immaculate sheets, changed with zealous affection by his old servants, were wrapped around him like a first attempt at a shroud. Care had been taken to put a little rouge on his cheeks in order to hide the extreme transparency of his face. His hair, which had become sparse as the illness progressed, had been combed. The fire crackled in the fireplace, providing the sole light in the room where His Eminence’s confessor stood deep in prayer, as did his doctors. The Queen Mother had remained at the dying man’s bedside until midnight. Then, exhausted by the long vigils of recent nights, Anne
of Austria had retired to her apartments, giving orders that she was to be informed ‘of any sign that destiny was progressing more quickly’. The King had returned the previous day to the Palais du Louvre, where he had rejoined his young wife. In the room next to the Cardinal’s bedchamber, Colbert kept vigil along with Lionne and Le Tellier.

On the other side of the wall, the dying man’s breathing suddenly became more laboured. Each movement of his chest brought on a hoarse whistling sound. Life was ebbing away from the man whose career had shaped the history of France. The doctors did not have time to inform Anne of Austria before the Cardinal passed away. The Swiss clock on the chimney breast was stopped at the moment when His Eminence’s eyes were closed by his confessor for eternity. It was forty minutes past two on the morning of 9 March 1661.

T
HE messenger had just arrived, having exhausted his horse on the road from the Château de Vincennes. As he handed over the letter he was carrying to the commander of the palace guard, the rider related the news already known by everyone who had served the Chief Minister at Vincennes. The commander immediately rushed to the steward of the King’s household and woke him to pass on the news and the letter. The steward pulled on his clothes and went out, preceded by two servants whose eyes were still swollen with sleep after their abrupt awakening. They carried candelabra to light the steward’s way through the darkened maze of the Louvre.

His Majesty was with the Queen that night. A year earlier, Louis XIV had resolved to marry the Spanish Infanta for obvious reasons of State. This union, ardently desired by Mazarin, constituted a masterstroke by the old Cardinal which put an end to the interminable conflicts between the two nations and at the same time concluded young Louis’ dalliance with his own niece, Marie Mancini. The young married couple, who were born in the same year, had met for the first time on the Île des Faisans, on the border between France and Spain, three days before their wedding. The King of France had shown Maria Theresa such consideration during the ceremony, which was celebrated at Saint Jean-de-Luz on 9 June
1660, that she had believed he sincerely loved her. But as soon as he returned to Paris in August of the same year, the young husband had once again displayed his interest in Marie. The Queen Mother, whose affection for her young daughter-in-law was reciprocated, and who kept a weather eye open for trouble, had put the situation to rights by sending the beautiful Marie far away from the young King. But after he had shown interest in his Spanish wife for a few months, Louis XIV had swiftly rediscovered his taste for new conquests …

Nevertheless, on the night of 9 March the sovereign had felt moved to spend the whole night with his wife. Was it the imminent demise of his beloved Cardinal that had provoked these moments of tenderness and love, or a sudden desire to become a father at a time when destiny was about to deprive him of his godfather? After this night of love, and despite the late hour, Louis XIV was still awake and deep in thought as he lay with his eyes wide open, watching his sleeping wife beside him.

She is small and plump and her wit hardly sparkles
, he told himself,
but I am sure she will give me fine children.

The King sat up at the sound of footsteps approaching his bedchamber. As he saw the steward bow low before him, he felt his heart race. Suddenly there was a lump in his throat. The letter he was handed was signed by Colbert. Its contents were sober: ‘His Eminence Cardinal Mazarin passed away peacefully on this day, 9 March.’

He was gone: the man whom the King of France had admired the most in the world, who had guided him ever since the death of Louis XIII, the man who – along with his mother, Anne of Austria – made up his protective family. Never again would he be there to advise
him, or to teach him how to govern. For the first time in his life, the terrible burden of his responsibilities weighed heavy upon his shoulders. At that moment, Louis XIV was strangely torn between grief at the death of his dear godfather, and the jubilation which bubbled inside him at the prospect of at last being sole sovereign of his Kingdom.

‘Madame,’ the King told Maria Theresa, who had just awoken, ‘immense tragedy has struck our nation: we have just lost our Chief Minister. I am going to Vincennes in order to make the necessary arrangements. I shall leave immediately, to ensure that the Queen Mother has the support of her son and the affection of her sovereign at this difficult time.’

The young Queen burst into tears at this announcement, which profoundly touched Louis XIV. It moved him to see his wife express feelings which he, as King of France, would have to hide. To combat the turmoil within him, he demanded his clothes and issued his first orders.

‘Steward, send a messenger to Vincennes immediately to announce my imminent arrival. Also, tell Colbert that I wish to convene a meeting of the inner council. Have my carriage and my personal guard ready to leave within the hour!’

As he left the capital that cold night, lulled by the din of the horses’ hooves galloping over the flagstones, Louis XIV thought of the hours to come and of how he would now to assume the government of his Kingdom.

The sound of hooves clattering along the paved esplanade alerted the musketeers who were stationed within sight of Vincennes. Louis XIV was in a hurry. In a hurry to embrace the Queen Mother,
whose infinite grief he could well imagine. In a hurry also to show everyone what he was capable of, even if, deep inside, the King was less self-assured than he wished to appear. As he entered the palace, he noted that the Cardinal’s guards had upended their rifles as a sign of mourning. The King had been joined on his journey from Paris by Marshals Villeroy, Gramont and Noailles, who now walked at his side. Anne of Austria was waiting for him, together with various ministers and Colbert, in the room adjoining the bedchamber where Jules Mazarin’s mortal remains lay.

‘The King,’ barked the sheriff, suddenly throwing open the doors.

The entrance of the sovereign at this hour of night, and in these circumstances, constituted an extraordinary spectacle that combined the pomp of life at Court and the sad simplicity of a family gathered together in mourning. The Queen Mother sat in an armchair beside the fire warming herself with a cup of chocolate spiced with cinnamon. Lionne was conversing in hushed tones with Le Tellier, Brienne and Colbert. Everyone stood to acknowledge the King of France’s entrance. The King rushed to his mother, who had already got to her feet to receive her son’s kiss. Straightaway he noticed that her eyes were swollen with weeping and fatigue.

‘Madame, know that I share your pain,’ the King told her affectionately as he took her in his arms. ‘I know how much your presence at my godfather’s side must have eased his last days.’

‘Sire,’ said the Queen Mother, unable to hold back her tears, ‘the Kingdom has lost its most faithful servant. Your presence brings us comfort and consolation. I am certain that, to his last breath, your godfather thought only of Your Majesty,’ added Anne of Austria, her voice jerky with sobs.

‘I want to see him,’ demanded the King.

This order surprised everyone, for it was quite unimaginable that
the King of France should be placed in the presence of death. In the ensuing heavy silence, Louis XIV repeated his order.

‘I want to see him!’

The sheriff then opened the door that separated the room containing the sovereign from the room in which the Cardinal’s body lay.

Louis stopped in his tracks, suddenly feeling an immense wave of grief wash over him at the sight of his godfather’s inert body. He stood there motionless, as though both fascinated and hypnotised by the spectacle of the bed that held the Chief Minister, lit only by the single, flickering flames from the candlesticks arranged around him. Tears flowed down his cheeks. At that moment, Louis relived the most memorable moments of his childhood with his godfather. Once again he heard the voice with its distinctive accent which had taught him so many things, and he became aware of the silence that meant he must now and for ever face his destiny alone.

Anxious not to make a spectacle of his grief, Louis XIV simply gestured to the servants to close the door.

‘Messieurs,’ the King said solemnly to the group surrounding Lionne and Le Tellier, ‘this is a time for prayer. Nevertheless I have asked Monsieur Colbert to summon all the ministers here present to my office, and I invite you to join me there.’

Realising that Louis XIV wished to be alone for a moment with his mother, Michel Le Tellier left the room and took the others with him.

‘Madame, in order to spare you the vexing burden of public affairs at this painful time, I have decided to limit this meeting to my ministers alone.’

Stunned by the announcement, the Queen Mother did not know how to respond to this sudden exclusion, which came as a terrible surprise. At that moment, Anne of Austria felt alone and weak. Had she not taken on more than her share of power since the death of Louis XIII, especially during the terrible ordeals of the Fronde? She asked herself what her son could possibly reproach her for, and was particularly stung as his unexpected announcement came only hours after the death of her loving companion.

The King did not take time to concern himself with his mother’s reaction. He kissed her on the forehead and left the room. Outraged, Anne of Austria turned on her heel and walked back to her apartments.

‘I suspected as much. I suspected that he would be ungrateful and would wish to show his strength,’ she muttered as she went.

Q
UICKENING his pace as he crossed his gardens and headed for the esplanade at the Château de Vincennes, Nicolas Fouquet was oblivious to the beauty of the frost-covered branches. He clenched his fists in the pockets of his immense coat, his jaw tense with worry.

‘Confound my spies and my agents,’ he muttered through his teeth. ‘They never alerted me, the villains. And why was I not informed about this meeting or the King’s arrival? Doubtless an oversight,’ he forced himself to believe.

But he could not rid himself of the sombre premonition which gripped him.

The Superintendent greeted the Queen Mother with a bow as she wandered through the great anteroom outside the King’s apartments.

‘Madame, I have only just heard the sad news.’

The Queen smiled at Fouquet, happy to see a friendly face amid the succession of ordeals that made up this painful day.

‘Good day to you, Monsieur Superintendent. The King,’ she said, speaking the words with unaccustomed emphasis, ‘sent for you, I presume?’

‘Indeed not, Madame, I came without any summons to meditate
at the deathbed of Monsieur Cardinal. But I am told that the King is holding a council meeting …’

‘A restricted council, as you and I are both now aware.’

A few yards away, the King stood by the window of his small private office, his eyes fixed on the paved courtyard below. Behind him, Lionne, Séguier, Le Tellier and Colbert listened in silence as he uttered short, sharp sentences interspersed with long silences.

‘We shall make the funeral arrangements later. As regards the Cardinal’s affairs, the will is to be respected but there will be no widespread publication of its details. Monsieur Colbert, you will assemble the Cardinal’s records and give an account of their content to me alone, and without committing anything to paper. As for the appointments which the Cardinal made, I shall make known tomorrow at nine o’clock in council – you will organise the meeting, Chancellor – the new organisational structure which we will adopt.’

The King turned to face the motionless ministers again.

‘I thank you. Until tomorrow.’

Still silent, the four men bowed at length and headed for the door.

‘Colbert, a further word please,’ the King called him back.

Suppressing a smile, Colbert stopped to allow the other three to leave. They didn’t so much as a glance at him.

‘Sire?’

Louis XIV sat down and softened his tone a little.

‘Monsieur, my godfather, may his soul rest in peace, told me how much I would be able to trust you.’

He silenced Colbert’s protests with a wave of his hand.

‘He told me what you have achieved. He told me what a burden you bore in order to defend us against agitators and those who spoke evil of us. You should know that I remember such things. I want you
to share your concerns with me. In addition, you are to inform me personally about the confidential files in your charge. I thought my godfather appeared anxious in his last days, particularly after the fire and the theft by the brigands … Do you know anything more about this? Were his worries well founded?’

‘Sire, I do not wish to nourish fears which have no basis,’ said Colbert. ‘Certainly there are dangers, and some people close to the centre of power do dare to harbour questionable ambitions. But with your permission I will reserve my conclusions until I am sure, with proof, names and facts. I shall devote myself to the task.’

‘Very well. As the Cardinal will doubtless have informed you, you are to be endowed with the rank of Steward of Finance, to work alongside the Superintendent. I am sure this role will aid you in your investigations,’ said the King enigmatically.

Colbert’s eyes shone with joy as he bowed to indicate his gratitude.

‘Go, you seem tired. Get some rest. I shall have need of all your energy in the weeks to come.’

‘Sire, your glory has need of no one,’ Colbert said quietly as he backed towards the door, bowing repeatedly.

Raising his prominent eyes just as he passed through the door, the little man saw the sun’s rays strike the young man’s hair through the glass, creating a halo of light around his arrogant face.

As he passed through the succession of rooms leading to the other wing and the Cardinal’s apartments, Colbert’s heart beat fast. Lost in his reverie he did not see Nicolas Fouquet, who had lingered in the courtyard after his visit to bow before Mazarin’s dead body. As the Superintendent watched the little black-clad man walk by, he felt his stomach knot again.